#india open boxing

[indianfasttrack]

Pushpa 2 box office day 2 early report: Allu Arjun-starrer heads toward Rs 400 crore globally

The preliminary report on Pushpa 2’s second-day box office receipts: On day two, the movie made over Rs 62 crore in India across all languages, according to Sacnilk’s preliminary projections. Early update on Pushpa 2’s second day of box office receipts: On its first day of release, Pushpa 2: The Rule shattered all previous records with a global box office receipt of an incredible Rs 294 crore.…

[mytechai]

Dunki Box Office Collection Day 1 Shah Rukh Khan Film May Earn 30 Crores On Opening Day Thursday Net In India

Dunki Box Office Collection Day 1: शाहरुख खान की फिल्म ‘डंकी’ आज दुनिया भर के सिनेमाघरों में रिलीज हो गई है. फिल्म को रिलीज के पहले दिन दर्शकों का बेहद शानदार रिस्पॉन्स मिला है. ‘डंकी’ के फर्स्ट डे फर्स्ट शो देखने के लिए सिनेमाघरों में भारी भीड़ नजर आई. वहीं फैंस ने अपने किंग खान की फिल्म का जोरदार स्वागत किया है. सोशल मीडिया पर वायरल हो रहे कईं वीडियो में फैंस थिएटर्स के बाहर और अंदर नाचते हुए…

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Oliver/Reader/Felix}

It had been a long time since your world has revolved around anyone but Felix Catton. He was like that; undeniably, unassumingly magnetic. You'd watched countless fawning, fairweather friends drawn into his orbit, only to be cast out when he eventually got bored of them, but not you, never you. Maybe you were a toy in the beginning, the thing they'd all called you when they were feeling especially petty, but it became clear that Felix has wanted to keep you around.

You weren't a toy, you weren't family, you were a sharp and beautiful tool, too good, too useful to be put down. Your loyalty was rewarded with a life in his shape. Felix was like the sun, and you lived your life enjoying his warmth, and wanting to keep him shining.

And there's something about the way Oliver Quick thinks and talks that you almost recognise. The others call him a toy but the look in his eyes says he's capable of so much more than that. Oliver Quick is not one to be tossed aside either, and you'll do all you can to make Felix see that too.

The three of you; head, heart, hand.

Oliver thinks. Felix feels. You do.

Need to Know: established fwb!Felix/reader, there will be smut, Oliver is a weird obsessive perv and reader recognises and is pretty into it, obviously manipulation, AU with a happy poly ending

[ IN PROGRESS ]

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty-Two

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Four

Part Twenty-Five

Part Twenty-Six

Part Twenty-Seven

Part Twenty-Eight

Part Twenty-Nine

Part Thirty

Part Thirty-One

Part Thirty-Two

Part Thirty-Three

Part Thirty-Four

Part Thirty-Five

Part Thirty-Six

Part Thirty-Seven

Part Thirty-Eight

Coda

[ PLUS + ]

a long way down to the bottom of the river - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU (angst / one-shot)

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had) - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU 2 (Oliver/Reader / fluff / one-shot)

seen and not heard - Felix & Reader's First Meeting (fluff / one-shot)

all this, and love too (will ruin us) - Reader Murders Oliver For Trying To Kill Felix (Felix/Reader / angst / one-shot)

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue - Reader Dies At The Maze Instead Of Felix (Felix/Oliver / heavy angst / two-shot)

alone with you - Felix Won't Believe The Reader's Dead (Felix/Reader / heavy angst / one-shot)

and other things that happened by the red staircase - Felix Fingers His Cousin (humour / one-shot)

at the other end of the leash - Felix Beats The Shit Out Of Someone For Trying To Assault The Reader (hurt/comfort / one-shot)

they stare at me (and i stare at you) - CEO!Reader AU With Enemies-To-Lovers (Felix/Reader / miniseries)

love the hand that feeds you - puppy play smut (Felix/Reader/Oliver / post head, heart, hand canon / one-shot)

Ask Box Vignettes;

Reader's Family History of Wealth

Felix/Reader - Joking About The Future

Felix/Reader - Sick Day

Felix/Reader/Oliver - Attending Colin & Araminta's Wedding (Crazy Rich Asians Crossover)

AU Tags;

Vampire AU

Fae AU (ft. Demifae!Oliver)

Crazy Rich Asians Crossover

Oliver & Reader Siblings AU

CEO!Reader AU

Felix Catton's Adventures in Employment

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Unrelated Fics & Headcanons;

baby, put your back into it - {Farleigh/Reader/Oliver} - (pwp / two-shot)

Euphoria AU - (12 Years Post Saltburn Canon / dot point headcanons)

you're not the main character - {One-Sided India/Reader} - (drabble)

----

Other Tags;

#manic-writer; all fics

#it-shouts-back; all asks

#manicpixieart; my posts

[herpsandbirds]

Hello, not sure if your requests are open but if they are could I request some not-well-known tortoises and 🐢 turtles? I've requested a few things already though so if its a problem that's OK!

I would like to ask one question though- do you also run mammilianmammals (I think that's how the url is spelled?) I know you run typhlonectes (again I think that's how it's spelled) all 3 including this one are wonderful blogs I was wondering if you ran that one as well.

Great job as always and thanks in advance if you do this request!

Youre always welcome to send asks or requests. If the function is enabled, then I'm here for you. No need to apologize.

Yes, my mammals blog is Mammalian Mammals. My cute animals and animal re-blog blog is Fucxing Cuties.

I really love turtles (and tortoises). I have some really nice chelonians for you...

Coahuilan Box Turtle (Terrapene coahuila), family Emydidae, endemic to the vicinity of Cuatro Ciénegas in Coahuila, Mexico

ENDANGERED (~1500 left in the wild)

Unlike other species of North American box turtles, this species is aquatic.

photograph via: Turtle Conservancy

Southern River Terrapin (Batagur affinis), male in breeding colors, family Geoemydidae, Cambodia

CRITICALLY ENDANGERED.

photograph by Brett Bartek

Cochin Forest Cane Turtle (Vijayachelys silvatica), family Geoemydidae, from the Western Ghats of India

ENDANGERED.

photograph by Davidvraju

Western “Namaqualand” Tent Tortoise (Psammobates tentorius trimeni), family Testudinidae, Northern Cape, South Africa

ENDANGERED.

photograph by m_burger

Stripe-necked Musk Turtle, Sternotherus minor, family Kinosternidae, in a river in Tennessee, USA.

photograph by Isaac Szabo

Malayan Snail-eating Turtle (Malayemys macrocephala), family Geoemydidae, Bangkok, Thailand

Photograph by Artur Tomaszek

Meso-American Slider (Trachemys venusta), family Emydidae, Honduras

Photograph by Paul Freed

Painted Terrapin (Batagur borneoensis), male, family Geoemydidae, found in SE Asia

CRITICALLY ENDANGERED.

photograph by Andrew Brinker 

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

tumne jo kahaa ༉‧₊˚.

Summary: every time that y/n speaks to lando in hindi, and he falls in love even more

✎ ln x desi!reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖

✎ fluff ⊹ ࣪ ˖

masterlist ☾☼

lando norris was in love with his girlfriend. like, head over heels, i-will-give-you-my-life-but-live-for-you-if-you-ask kind of love. he loved her confidence and her humour, and how she loved to make jokes about him being british and her being indian. he loved her ambition and her independence and her vulnerability. he loved how much she loved and how she lit up the room every time she walked in.

he, especially, loved when she spoke in hindi. he loved her voice. hearing it healed him on a level he did not understand. but, pair it up with her speaking her native language, and somehow it sounded better. it felt like home.

lando was used to her talking to her family and friends in hindi, and sometimes even caught her talking to herself in hindi. it was the language that she grew up surrounded in, it made sense. the way formula one fans would go silent when the radio sound would go off on their screens, lando became completely silent just so he could listen to her talk. he barely ever understood what she would say, mainly because she would talk too fast for him, but he still listened.

he picked up on a few words here and there, and from context, he had a rough idea what they meant. y/n had never spoken to him in hindi, and it worried him that maybe she did not feel comfortable enough talking to him in a language that she was most comfortable in.

he understood on some levels that as a woman of colour, she had faced a lot of prejudice at her place of work. he could never relate to it, but he knew from watching carlos, checo, lewis, zhou, yuki, and more the way that people discriminated against them. he saw first hand the amount of hate comments that the asian drivers had received, and how carlos and checo's driving had often been discredited because they were spanish or mexican. to avoid facing that kind of discrimination, y/n chose to only ever speak in english, aside from the times that she was speaking to her friends and family in india.

the first time it had happened though, the first time that she spoke to him in hindi was a few months into the relationship, and lando hadn't realised until that moment just how in love he was.

1.

y/n had been busy with work. he knew that she was having a stressful week with the amount of workload her boss put on her just to see if she had what their team needed. whatever the fuck that meant. but, he knew y/n, and he knew that she would take everything her boss threw at her with stride and finish everything needed.

it was almost time for dinner, and lando tried his best to not disturb his girlfriend. he had stuck around in his gaming room for most of the time, and occasionally came out to remind y/n to drink water to change her position so that she didn't hurt her back or her neck.

opening the fridge, lando stared at the contents. his trainer had already sent in his week's meals. pulling one of the boxes out, he searched for something that y/n could eat. opening different boxes, he found one with leftover pasta from last night's dinner. he figured it would be good enough to eat, and since it was y/n's comfort food, she wouldn't mind having pasta two nights in a row.

"y/n, lovie, do you want to have last night's pasta? i can heat it up for you now," lando asked.

y/n was distracted, but she had heard his question, and in her distracted state, she said, "haanji,"

lando froze. y/n had responded to him in hindi. his girlfriend had responded to him in a language that she felt the most herself in. he peeked towards the living room, making sure that he was hidden from her view. quickly shoving the pasta in the microwave, lando couldn't help but dork dance a little bit.

his girlfriend loved him! his girlfriend was comfortable with him! his girlfriend felt safe with him! he threw his fist in the air as he silently jumped around till the microwave beeped.

quickly taking out the bowl, he filled up her bottle with water, and took her dinner to where she was sitting on the couch. her eyes were focused on the screen, her glasses almost falling off her nose.

setting the bowl and her bottle on the coffee table, lando gently ran his fingers through her hair till she looked up at him, confused for a moment.

"hi, lovie," lando said softly. he pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, as she smiled at him.

"hi. what are you doing here? i thought you were streaming?" she asked, setting her laptop aside.

"i am. i got hungry, so i came to get my dinner, and then i noticed that you hadn't eaten as well, so i heated up last night's pasta."

y/n groaned, "oh my god, i needed pasta right now. thank you, baba." she was already settling on the floor, squeezing herself in the space between the couch and the coffee table.

lando leaned down and pressed a kiss at the top of her head, "are you done with work?"

stuffing a mouthful of pasta, y/n shook her head. lando sat on the couch, running his fingers through her hair continuously, hoping that it was soothing. he waited patiently for her to swallow her food.

"nahi. my boss is making me do a million changes constantly, and every time i give him my reasons for the changes i did, he fights me, and then agrees with me. it's so annoying," y/n ranted.

lando hummed, "that does sound annoying,"

"right!" y/n vented out her work frustration in between bites, and lando sat there with a smile on his face. she had spoken to him in hindi, though not a lot of words, but it counted nonetheless.

once y/n was done with her dinner, and lando had made sure that she had drank enough water, he kissed her softly before letting her get back to work, and he took his dinner and went back to his streaming, where max yelled at him for taking so long.

he didn't even care. all he cared about was the woman sitting in his living room who was letting him into a part of her that she kept guarded from the rest of the world.

the second time it happened, it was on a race weekend. y/n had accompanied him for practice race 3 and the qualifying on saturday. between the first and the second time, lando had learned a lot more hindi, but only the basics. he would ask y/n what some of the words that she was saying meant, and he honestly wasn't surprised when most of them turned out to be cuss words.

2.

lando had kept y/n close to him as much as possible in the paddock. neither of them wanted the media to know about their relationship just yet, so y/n disguised herself as someone part of the team and hung around in places where lando could see her.

y/n kept herself busy, talking to oscar, or some of the mechanics or the pr team. it was fun talking to the people who were part of lando's work life, and she had enjoyed herself thoroughly. lando was exceptionally happy that she was happy and comfortable.

y/n had watched from the practice race from the paddock. lando and she had decided that before and after the races, they would find each other in his driver's room. lando claimed that he needed his good luck kiss from his girlfriend. y/n claimed that he was just being clingy.

after the practice sessions were over, lando had quickly found her in his driver's room, kissing her as soon as the door closed. the two stayed there talking till someone came, calling lando for qualifying.

the process repeated.

y/n watched the qualifying from the paddock, eyes locked on the screen. she watched as lando qualified from q1 to q2 and then from q2 to q3, and she cheered with the rest of the team when lando got p2.

jumping from her seat, y/n quickly ran to lando's driver's room, and bounced on her feet as she waited for him. though, she didn't have to wait long, because before she knew it, lando was bursting in the room.

his arms wrapped around her waist, and he was picking her up as the two laughed.

"i'm so proud of you!" y/n exclaimed.

"p2, baby!"

before they could celebrate further, one of the pr team member was knocking on the door, calling lando for the media work.

sighing, lando quickly kissed y/n, before he left. y/n smiled as she watched him go, incredibly proud of him and how far he had come.

she knew that media would take some time, so she settled on the couch, covering herself up with lando's hoodie. it was cozy and it smelled of him and she didn't realise when she fell asleep.

lando had tried to wrap up media as soon as possible. they always asked him the same questions every time, and lando desperately wanted to go back to y/n.

he repeated the answers that the media trained him to say, and he smiled and laughed at all the right places. he said what the media wanted to hear, and he made small talk with all the drivers he met on the way back. he even stopped to quickly speak to andrea and zak. but, with every second away from his girlfriend, he was getting all the more impatient.

once all his duties were over, he practically ran to his driver's room. pushing the door open, he stopped short, a smile taking over his face.

his adorable girlfriend was cuddled on the tiny bed that he had with his mclaren hoodie clutched in her hands. closing the door softly behind him, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook her awake.

"lovie?"

y/n let out a soft groan before she opened her eyes, looking up at lando. "hi, lan. hogaya sab?"

lando nodded, "mhmm. i'm done with media and everything, and now we can go home,"

y/n nodded. she heard what he said. but, she closed her eyes again and cuddled further into lando's hoodie. softly, she said, "chaddar chahiye."

lando chuckled, "we've got blankets at home, baby. we can go home and cuddle and sleep till tomorrow morning,"

she opened her eyes slightly and held out her pinky finger to him, "promise?"

he laughed, curling his finger around hers before leaning in and pressing a kiss to their joined fingers, "promise, lovie. let's go, now."

y/n sat up, satisfied with lando's promise. she let him hold onto her as they quickly left the paddock and headed towards his car, where she promptly fell asleep again, her pinky finger locked in his.

moments like these, lando wished he could remember forever. if he had the ability to turn memories into movies, he would turn this moment into a never ending movie.

over the years, he had gotten good at understanding her hindi. he could understand sentences, though he could never form a single one. the pronunciations were too difficult for him, but he appreciated y/n trying to teach him nonetheless. especially when she taught him the correct way to pronounce 'shawarma'.

3.

something that was lando's favourite little habit that y/n had was how she had an internal clock for some things. it was never for anything useful like eating meals on time or drinking enough water. it was more for things like calling up her mother when it was lunch time in india, or texting him when he'd be home.

her mind somehow instinctively called or texted at the same time every day, and he never understood how that was possible. but, he refused to question it.

a conversation that the two had almost every time he was out for work or at the gym, training, at exactly 7:52 pm, y/n texted him asking where he was.

she always looked forward to him coming home, and it made lando's heart warm, knowing that someone he loved, loved him enough to want him around.

she was more than enough for him, but he was also enough for her.

though, it was on their first anniversary when she called him a name that truly made him realise just how much she loved him.

4.

lando had stayed up all night putting the final touches to his gift for y/n. since he enjoyed art, and she loved collecting his art work, lando had bought a clear lamp to keep at her bedside and decorate it on his own.

he'd been told that it was a shitty gift idea. but, y/n was afraid of sleeping in complete darkness, so maybe it wasn't such a shitty idea? he didn't know, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

unfortunately, staying up all night and spending the entire anniversary day with his girlfriend doing boyfriend-girlfriend things had tired him out beyond belief and he had fallen sick.

as he lay on the couch wrapped in blankets, he listened to his girlfriend's muttering, "meine pehele kaha tha ki mat karo, par kisi ne sunni? nahi. meri baat sunta kaun hai iss ghar mein."

"babe, i'm sorry," lando whined.

sighing, y/n sat close to her boyfriend and said, "jaan-e-mann, i don't care about anything else more than you. you need to take care of your health first. i love the gift, i promise, but i just needed you."

he stared at her for a second before saying, "that one's new. i haven't heard that one before,"

tilting her head in confusion, she asked, "what's new? jaan-e-mann?"

lando nodded, pulling the blankets closer to his face.

her cheeks turned red as she explained, "jaan-e-mann means my love, my life, my beloved. you are my love, my life, and my beloved. you are my jaan. my jaan-e-mann,"

his smile was wide, and he reached out his hand towards her. she took his hand, and he interlocked their fingers before he whispered, "you're my jaan-e-mann too,"

y/n leaned in, kissing lando, before she pulled back and slapped his chest, "i'm still mad at you for getting sick!"

lando let out a playful groan. he was her jaan-e-mann. nothing else mattered.

✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! for the non-desi readers, "meine pehele kaha tha ki mat karo, par kisi ne sunni? nahi. meri baat sunta kaun hai iss ghar mein." this line basically means, "i had warned you before to not do it, but did anyone listen? no. no one listens to me in this house." i have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

[eunoia-writes]

Confessions • Felix Catton x Reader

Summery - after a night of drinking bottle after bottle of wine Felix makes a confession which spirals his and y/n’s life into a whirlwind of romance only to be momentarily put on hold due to his jealousy.

Warnings - Drinking, jealous!Felix, Felix being a bit of a dick, secret romance

There was a soft humm of laughter from the other room while y/n walked into the dimly lit kitchen in search for the other wine bottles. She opened the fridge grabbing a bottle of Red and a bottle of white before she walked back into the living room where everyone was sat reminiscing on old summers stories. She placed the bottles down before sitting back down next to her friend, Farleigh.

“Y/n… do you remember that guy that put the love note your dorm letter box?” Indi said laughed as Felix groaned while y/n just nodded. Felix grabbed the bottle of red and topped up her glass before Turing to face his friend Indi.

“Can we not talk about this for the 100th time?” Felix asked

“Oh but why it was so adorable the way he fumbled over his words and laughed at everything y/n said.” Indi added

“Y/n doesn’t need someone who laughs at everything she says or can’t form a coherent sentence. Hell she’s smarter than all of us.”

y/n couldn’t help but blush slightly. Yes it was wrong and juvenile of her to he crushing on her friend who protects her no matter what cost.

“That’s real sweet of you, Fi.” Oh how he adored that nickname she gave him

“Anything for you.” He said looking at her for what could have been slightly too long

“We should really head off.” India said sharing a look with Felix y/n couldn’t quit read.

“We’ll see you guy tomorrow?” Felix said his arm wrapping around y/n’s waist. The pair had always been close and the physical touch of their relationship had never bothered either of them.

“Definitely we be here around 2.” Farleigh Said before the three of them made there way out of Felix’s flat

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying?” y/n asked as she helped Him clear away a few things. Felix smiled

“you’re always welcome to stay here you know that.” Felix said pouring the last of the wine down the drain as y/n leaned against the counter

“What was that look Indi gave you about earlier?” y/n more asked him, he immediately stopped what he was doing and turned to her

“What do you mean?” He asked confused

“Fi, don’t do that you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She said as he moved closer to her

“Fine fine, she has been telling me how I should tell you that it wasn’t Daniel who wrote you that letter, it was me.” Felix said

“Fi that’s not funny.” She said looking up at him “come on tell me what it was.”

“Im being serious y/n, I had the biggest crush on you when we first came to Oxford.”

“oh come on that’s not true.” She said she didn’t realise how close they now were neither did he

“I still do.” he whispered

“Felix.”

“I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He whispered just inches away from her

“Stop it.”

“Y/n.”

“Felix.”

“That’s not funny.” Instead of saying another word Felix just leans in kissing her softly which she immediately reciprocates a surge of electricity coursed through them, igniting a passionate exchange that transcended words. Time seemed to halt as Felix pulled her impossibly close wanting nothing more than her close to him.

“Believe me now?”

—

The pair had been seeing each other for a while now they decided to keep it a secret knowing the complications of their loved ones finding out. They wanted it to be there’s and there’s only.

Felix, with a playful smile masking the excitement in his eyes, told Farleigh he was going for a run. This wasn’t anything new for him every so often Felix took himself off on a run to clear his head if Farleigh wasn’t so caught up in himself he’d of probably noticed the escalations in the amount of times his friend seemed to be disappearing. This worked in their favour though.

Felix jogged down familiar paths, exchanging pleasantries with others on campus as he made his way to the back road that was far less traveled by to the one place he craved to be.

"Hey there," Felix greeted, panting slightly from his faux jog. Y/n grinned, as he walked into her flat and straight over to her "Thought I could use some company for my workout ." They chuckled, finding solace in their secret rendezvous.

Things were going well for a while the two sharing nothing but pure unadulterated admiration of each other Beneath the facade of friendship, stolen glances and secret smiles told a tale of something deeper. Their perfect secret relationship thrived in the subtleties – a brush of hands, lingering gazes, and whispered confessions hidden amidst the mundane. The world remained oblivious to the symphony of emotions playing out beneath the surface, allowing Felix and y/n to savor the intimacy of their unspoken connection for themselves. Y/n adorned nothing more than the late nights in his arms talking about anything they could think of but what she hated most was waking up to an empty bed.

It had been almost three months of sneaking around before anything of great significance had its effect on them. All until the party at Farleighs new flings flat.

As they mingled at the party, Felix couldn't shake the knot of jealousy tightening in his chest. Y/n , unaware of Felix internal struggle, engaged in casual conversation with a charming boy named Jake. Felix gritted his teeth, feigning a smile while attempting to mask the possessiveness bubbling within. In a strained attempt at nonchalance when y/n returned to his side later that night, Felix remarked, "Jake seems pretty interested in you tonight."

Y/n, oblivious to the brewing tension, responded with a casual shrug, "Oh, he's just friendly."

Unable to contain his frustration any longer, Felix snapped, "Friendly? Or maybe you're enjoying the attention a bit too much, y/n." The words hung heavy in the air, and y/n's eyes widened with surprise and hurt.

"What's your problem?" Y/n shot back, her own defenses rising. Felix fuelled by the fear of losing y/n to the allure of someone else, retorted,

"My problem is that everyone thinks you're fair game. Maybe it's time they know the truth – that we're more than just friends."

Y/n now fully grasping the depth of Felix's jealousy, countered, "Are you threatening to expose us? You know we can't do that, Felix. Fuck me you were the one who wanted it to be a secret so bad." The argument escalated, echoing the clash between the passion they shared in secret and the turmoil of emotions exposed in the harsh light of reality.

“Oh fuck me y/n, maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything If you weren’t such an attention whore!”

“Excuse me!” She said through gritted teeth trying not to cause a scene

“Don’t play dumb, god forbid my attention is on something other than you for a moment you start acting like a brat.” Felix said and y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing, how dare he talk to her this way. She wasn’t one of his little flings that only lived to please him. She had more respect for herself and wouldn’t bat an eyelid at leaving if he didn’t treat her the way she wanted.

“I don’t know where you get off speaking to me like that but you better cut that shit out.” She said tempers growing for the both of them

“God I could have anyone I wanted but I choose to be with you and do nothing if you -“ Felix began at this point it was soon to turn nasty between then

“No one asked you to do nothing.” She snapped

“Fuck off.” He mumbled under his breath pinching the bridge of his nose as she turned to look at him arms folded across her chest while they stood on the balcony

“I will fuck off, I told you do what you want Felix.” she was staring daggers at him while he let out a frustrated sigh there friends all a few feet away watching the whole ordeal go down not a single of of them having a clue what was happening.

“Like you wouldn’t go off at me if I even looked at anyone else!” He said usually if someone as tall as Felix was getting pissed off at you while towering over you it would be enough to intimate anyone, but not y/n. She wasn’t one to back down from an argument.

“Well I didn’t ask you not to, do what you fucking want. Talk to a few girls shag them for all I care I’ll just fucking laugh at ya.” She spat clearly pissed off at not only him but the thought of him touching anyone else made her skin crawl.

“Maybe I will!”

“You know what Felix, go fuck yourself.” Y/n almost yelled as she stormed out of the flat knowing he wouldn’t dare follow her.

The argument with Felix lingered in her mind like a relentless echo, leaving her overwhelmed with a torrent of conflicting emotions. As she stormed out into the night, the crisp air did little to cool the heat of frustration burning within her. The music and laughter from the party slowly faded, replaced by an unsettling silence that mirrored the void growing in her chest, each step marked by the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she fought to maintain composure, not wanting to reveal her vulnerability to the indifferent darkness. The dimly lit streets witnessed the internal storm playing out on y/n’s face, the glow of streetlights casting shadows that mirrored the turmoil within. With each step, she found herself grappling with the realisation that the argument had not only fractured her connection with Felix but also exposed the fragility of the carefully constructed façade they had maintained.

Alone in the dark, y/n finally allowed herself to cry, the frustration and heartache escaping in silent sobs that mingled with the night's hushed symphony. The journey home became a painful pilgrimage through the shadows of her own unresolved emotions, the echoes of the argument haunting her every step.

Days passed in a heavy silence between Felix and y/n after their heated argument. Felix grappling with a mixture of regret and longing, found the absence of y/n more challenging than expected. Each passing moment without her presence heightened the ache in his heart. Felix had never felt this way before. No one had every evoked the same emotions from him that y/n does and the lack of communication became increasingly unbearable. Felix scrolled through old messages, the weight of the unsent apologies pressing down. Pride clashed with the undeniable truth – Felix missed y/n more than words could express. Swallowing the pride, He finally sent a hesitant message, "Can we talk?" The pause that followed felt like an eternity.

Y/n - Come over?

Felix shot up from his bed wasting no time rushing over to her flat rehearsing exactly what he wanted to say to her , everything from how sorry he was for the way he treat her and that he should have never spoke to her that way because he let his idiotic jealousy take the wheel to how stupid he feels for making her keep what they have a secret and how he wants nothing more than to shout it from the rough tops. However upon letting himself in with the key she’d given him not too long ago that all faded when He walked into the flat to find her curled up on the couch in his jumper and her beloved blanket she’s had for as long as he’s known her.

“Y/n.” He whispered as she stirred from her sleep while he sat down on the edge of the couch a few feet away from her

“Hi.” She said as she sat up rubbing her eyes slightly bringing her knees to her chest as she looked over at him

“I’m so sorry baby.” He began but before he could go on his tangent of how sorry he was and how much he adores her she whispered almost inaudibly

“Do you not trust me?” Felix felt his heart sink he hated that he’d upset her

“I do trust you baby, i was just being jealous I should have never taken it out on you.” He said cautiously moving closer to her not wanting to make her uncomfortable “I hate the idea of someone else looking at you the way I do, the idea of you making someone feel the same way you make me feel.”

“I’d never do that intentionally.” She said looking at him with her big do eyes that made him melt the same why they did when he first saw her

“I know… I’m so sorry for speaking to you like that and I’m so sorry for making you keep us a secret.” He told her as she shuffled closer to him letting him pull her into his lap

“What?” She asked confused

“You’re my girl, and I want no I need everyone to know that.” He told her and she couldn’t help but smile. Felix had never outright claimed anyone so y/n couldn’t help but feel special that she was the first

“But Fi, I don’t want you to feel like you have too… baby come on it’s about time I tell my parents and everyone else you’re my girlfriend.” Felix watched the way her eyes lit up as he said that word

“Girlfriend?” she whispered while Felix just nodded leaning in to kiss her softly “I like that.” She mumbled into the kiss

“Missed you.” He whispered as he pulled away

“I missed you too, I’ve hardly slept not having you here next to me.” Felix let out a sigh of relief knowing that she missed him just as much as he missed her.

“Then let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Felix scooped her up carrying her into her bedroom just as he had done so many nights before. In one swift motion he laid her down before crawling beside her and letting her get comfortable as she found her place on his chest.

“Y/n.” He whispered his hand running through her hair. It took her a few seconds to hum in response but he didn’t mind “I love you.” He said the words lingering in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Y/n absorbed the sweet declaration like a lullaby. The words wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, and a tender smile played on her lips as sleep gently claimed her. In that moment, the room held the echo of those three precious words, affirming what they both already knew before they both drifted into the night.

[stephdrawsjohnlock]

Fandom Trumps Hate 2025!

Looking for a scene drawn for your story? A piece to help inspire you to write a fic? A new icon? How about covers for your story with full print-ready Graphic Design service? Maybe a pinup, or some trading cards (up to 10)?? Maybe a gift for someone, or just your vision of a character(s) (up to 3 character sheets) for your AU?

Well, that’s just some of the stuff I’m willing to offer for this year’s @fandomtrumpshate​​ Charity Event! FTH is a WONDERFUL community project that supports amazing non-profits through donations for fanworks via this wonderful annual event!

I am offering ONE fanart Piece for BBC Sherlock or Good Omens!

Because of my day job's circumstances this year where I will be guaranteed to be indisposed for about 3 months and unable to work on my personal projects, I feel I am only able to offer up one piece this year instead of my usual 2 to 4. This will be my sixth year, and the piece will be for either the BBC Sherlock or Good Omens fandoms, starting at 10$ for the non-profit of your choice!

Here are some past FTH pieces I’ve done, if you’re interested in seeing the scope of the work you would be getting from me:

2020:

GO - :FTH 2020 – Lagniappe for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

GO - :FTH 2020 BONUS – Réveillon for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

2021

SH - :This Year: (FTH #1 for @discordantwords​​)

SH - :Burlesque Johnlock: (FTH #2 for @ohlooktheresabee​)

2022

SH – :A Quiet Moment: (FTH #1 for @totallysilvergirl)

SH – :Against the Wall: (FTH #2 for @anarfea)

2023

SH – :Let Me Come to You: (FTH #1 for  ShakespearelovedLadyMacbeth)

SH – :Couch Cuddle: (FTH #2 for @discordantwords)

SH – :More Every Minute: (FTH #3 for @totallysilvergirl)

2024

GO – :Come On, Dear: (FTH #1 for Box Human)

GO – :You're Alright?: (FTH #2 for mltrefry)

====

And of course, you can browse all my art (primarily fanart) to see my range:

@stephdrawsjohnlock​​

stephdrawsfanart on Instagram

@stephratte​​ (Primary Multifandom Art ​Blog)

stephratte on deviantART

I will draw any ship from either of the above fandoms, though I do prefer Johnlock or the Husbands. All my work is done digitally at a minimum 2000x2000 print-ready piece in Procreate. Traditional media (markers, India ink, and pencils) is also available if you prefer, done on illustration or marker paper at the paper’s size, with the option of acquiring the original if you choose. I will also do it at a requested size if you have a preferred format for something specific (like a book cover or a comic panel). Feel free to DM me if you have any questions before bidding on me, or to see if I am able to draw what you would like!! I want you to be satisfied that I can achieve what you want!

The browsing begins on February 21, and the bidding opens on February 25! I hope I once again get a chance to do a fantastic piece for one of y’all!! I love doing this so much, so keep an eye out for the official info post link once FTH officially opens!

Thank you to everyone who is interested!

**NOTE!! If you've bid on me before and want to try again, I've changed my User Name this year to this blog's name, StephDrawsJohnlock (I-J), for easier finding once the listings are posted!

[fatehbaz]

What it meant to "do geology" in Hutton's time was to apply lessons of textual hermeneutics usually reserved for scripture [...] to the landscape. Geology was itself textual. Rocks were marks made by invisible processes that could be deciphered. Doing geology was a kind of reading, then, which existed in a dialectical relationship with writing. In The Theory of the Earth from 1788, Hutton wrote a new history of the earth as a [...] system [...]. Only a few kilometers away from Hutton’s unconformity [the geological site at Isle of Arran in Scotland that inspired his writing], [...] stands the remains of the Shell bitumen refinery [closed since 1986] as it sinks into the Atlantic Ocean. [...] As Hutton thought, being in a place is a hermeneutic practice. [...] [T]he Shell refinery at Ardrossan is a ruin of that machine, one whose great material derangements have defined the world since Hutton. [...]

The Shell Transport and Trading Company [now the well-known global oil company] was created in the Netherlands East Indies in 1897. The company’s first oil wells and refineries were in east Borneo [...]. The oil was taken by puncturing wells into subterranean deposits of a Bornean or Sumatran landscape, and then transported into an ever-expanding global network of oil depots at ports [...] at Singapore, then Chennai, and through the Suez Canal and into the Mediterranean. [...] The oil in these networks were Bornean and Sumatran landscapes on the move. Combustion engines burnt those landscapes. Machinery was lubricated by them. They illuminated the night as candlelight. [...] The Dutch East Indies was the new land of untapped promise in that multi-polar world of capitalist competition. British and Dutch colonial prospectors scoured the forests, rivers, and coasts of Borneo [...]. Marcus Samuel, the British founder of the Shell Transport and Trading Company, as his biographer [...] put it, was “mesmerized by oil, and by the vision of commanding oil all along the line from production to distribution, from the bowels of the earth to the laps of the Orient.” [...]

---

Shell emerged from a Victorian era fascination with shells.

In the 1830s, Marcus Samuel Sr. created a seashell import business in Houndsditch, London. The shells were used for decorating the covers of curio boxes. Sometimes, the boxes also contained miniature sculptures, also made from shells, of food and foliage, hybridizing oceanic and terrestrial life forms. Wealthy shell enthusiasts would sometimes apply shells to grottos attached to their houses. As British merchant vessels expanded into east Asia after the dissolution of the East India Company’s monopoly on trade in 1833, and the establishment of ports at Singapore and Hong Kong in 1824 and 1842, the import of exotic shells expanded.

Seashells from east Asia represented the oceanic expanse of British imperialism and a way to bring distant places near, not only the horizontal networks of the empire but also its oceanic depths.

---

The fashion for shells was also about telling new histories. The presence of shells, the pecten, or scallop, was a familiar bivalve icon in cultures on the northern edge of the Mediterranean. Aphrodite, for example, was said to have emerged from a scallop shell. Minerva was associated with scallops. Niches in public buildings and fountains in the Roman empire often contained scallop motifs. St. James, the patron saint of Spain, was represented by a scallop shell [...]. The pecten motif circulated throughout medieval European coats of arms, even in Britain. In 1898, when the Gallery of Palaeontology, Comparative Anatomy, and Anthropology was opened in Paris’s Museum of Natural History - only two years after the first test well was drilled in Borneo at the Black Spot - the building’s architect, Ferdinand Dutert, ornamented the entrance with pecten shell reliefs. In effect, Dutert designed the building so that one entered through scallop shells and into the galleries where George Cuvier’s vision of the evolution of life forms was displayed [...]. But it was also a symbol for the transition between an aquatic form of life and terrestrial animals. Perhaps it is apposite that the scallop is structured by a hinge which allows its two valves to rotate. [...] Pectens also thrive in the between space of shallow coastal waters that connects land with the depths of the ocean. [...] They flourish in architectural imagery, in the mind, and as the logo of one of the largest ever fossil fuel companies. [...]

---

In the 1890s, Marcus Samuel Jr. transitioned from his father’s business selling imported seashells to petroleum.

When he adopted the name Shell Transport and Trading Company in 1897, Samuel would likely have known that the natural history of bivalves was entwined with the natural history of fossil fuels. Bivalves underwent an impressive period of diversification in the Carboniferous period, a period that was first named by William Conybeare and William Phillips in 1822 to identify coal bearing strata. In other words, the same period in earth’s history that produced the Black Spot that Samuel’s engineers were seeking to extract from Dayak land was also the period that produced the pecten shells that he named his company after. Even the black fossilized leaves that miners regularly encountered in coal seams sometimes contained fossilized bivalve shells.

The Shell logo was a materialized cosmology, or [...] a cosmogram.

Cosmograms are objects that attempt to represent the order of the cosmos; they are snapshots of what is. The pecten’s effectiveness as a cosmogram was its pivot, to hinge, between spaces and times: it brought the deep history of the earth into the present; the Black Spot with Mediterranean imaginaries of the bivalve; the subterranean space of liquid oil with the surface. The history of the earth was made legible as an energetic, even a pyrotechnical force. The pecten represented fire, illumination, and certainly, power. [...] If coal required tunnelling, smashing, and breaking the ground, petroleum was piped liquid that streamed through a drilled hole. [...] In 1899, Samuel presented a paper to the Society of Arts in which he outlined his vision of “liquid fuel.” [...] Ardrossan is a ruin of that fantasy of a free flowing fossil fuel world. [...] At Ardrossan, that liquid cosmology is disintegrating.

---

All text above by: Adam Bobbette. "Shells and Shell". e-flux Architecture (Accumulation series). November 2023. At: e-flux dot com slash architecture/accumulation/553455/shells-and-shell/ [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticisms purposes.]

[bumpkling]

consider me a house fandom Australian Cultural Liason: here’s some chase family christmas headcanons!

rowan and his mum definitely drag chase and retcon sister along to midnight mass on christmas day. it, as the name suggests, starts at midnight (imagine sitting awake in lousy wooden chairs on CHRISTMAS EVE/DAY as like. an eight year old. catholicism is stupid) and includes receiving communion (the little wafer, and the wine if you’re old enough). there’s a roman catholic communion chant specific to midnight mass for all you latin enjoyers (me): in splendoribus sanctorum, ex utero, ante luciferum, genui te (in the brightness of the saints, from the womb, before the day star, i begot you)

it’s hot and dry this time of year in australia, so spending the whole of christmas day or boxing day at the beach or the pool is common. i imagine chase and his sister competing in made-up competitions — “i bet i can make the water splash taller with a cannonball!” — with their mum as a judge

“classic catches” is a common one: basically, one person throws the cricket ball out across the pool, and the other takes the most spectacular jump/dive they can to try and catch it before landing in the water (there’s a bluey episode about it). we see chase catch pens/case files/miscellaneous objects a few times throughout the show, so i think he’s honed the skill through games like this lol

bundaberg ginger beer is a classic aussie drink for the summer. it’s not alcoholic, and kind of a stronger ginger ale, made in queensland. virtually synonymous with summer. chase feels like an adult holding the heavy glass bottle, sipping it by the pool, trying not to screw up his face at the strong taste

his family have a christmas day lunch with. yes: prawns on the barbecue. but if i catch any of you calling them shrimp i will have harsh words. you’ve been warned

i have no idea whether other places do this, but christmas meals in australia usually feature ‘christmas crackers’ or ‘bonbons’ (there is a bluey episode about these too). they’re paper and kind of shaped like wrapped tootsie rolls, with trinkets, paper crowns, and little joke cards inside the middle. they’re called crackers because you open them by pulling on either side with someone else, tug-of-war style, and when one side breaks, a little fire cracker lights and makes a small explosion with a crack sound. i think chase looooooves the stupid little crowns and wore them all day as a kid.

on boxing day every year, australia hosts a match of test cricket against another international cricket team. cricket is a slow sport (the boxing day test is like five days long), but visit any aussie household with an adult man present, and the boxing day test is absolutely on the tv. it’s one of those things that make most australians patriotic, even if for the rest of the year they couldn’t care less. i don’t think chase was a cricket kid, but he liked watching craig mcdermott’s fast-bowling against india in ‘85. gave him something to talk about with his mates when school started again.

that said, rowan absolutely had tickets to the big game almost every year, either as work gifts or consolation for his wife and kids when he couldn’t (read: didn’t want to) be there during the holiday celebrations. since it’s held at the melbourne cricket ground, chase probably attended a few. they’re gruelling all-day matches, and not exactly entertaining for young kids, but chase probably looks back at the memories fondly: his mum slathering him with zinc and bug spray, constantly yelling at him to keep his hat on, promising to buy him an icecream at half-time

chase seemed pretty aware of his surroundings as a kid, at least in his home. he never failed to catch his mum’s solemn expressions while cleaning up wrapping paper and preparing platters of fruit and cold cuts, while retcon sister played happily with her presents. rowan never labelled his gifts “from Santa”, not even when retcon sister was young enough not to know: their mum always did.

every year, chase was jealous of retcon sister about something. did she get a larger slice of panettone? did she get one more gift from rowan? did she get to be blissfully ignorant on christmas day, swimming and snacking and not having to worry about how many times mum had topped up her white wine, or how heavy her sighs became as the day got hotter? their competition wasn’t always friendly — sometimes he got pissy, and spat cruel insults at her until she ran off to cry in private. neither of them ever told their mother

[i-really-like-phrogs]

I don't know if this has been asked before, but do you take commissions?

Hello! This ask has never been addressed before, but I am more than delighted to receive it!

I am actually currently in the process of getting a method of payment set up, so that may be coming up very soon. My digital resources are blocked at the moment due to the loss of my Apple Pencil, so I will be offering physical illustrations done in India ink on watercolor paper. I will also be starting off by selling some pre-made illustrations, one small and two large. (No spoilers from me, but if you’re on the market for some pinups you can actually pin up, I’ll be posting some updates pretty soon. 😉)

So yes, that is something I will open soon. If not in time for the holidays, then early in the New Year. If you or anyone else is interested, for now I am happy to provide more info in the ask box.

Thank you so much for your interest and taking the time to ask me this question. Here’s a lil sneak peek for what’s to come:

[pherelesytsia]

Who did this to you? - 9

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend’s house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing 

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 8

Chains, bloodied and graced with torn rotting flesh, moulding in the light of the wanning moon, dangled in all directions in the howling wind. Bones cracked under polished shoes freckled by grime and coated with rotting leaves. The lightbulbs among the broken were shining faintly, breaking the doom, the utter darkness ruling in the endless corridor leading into different vacant rusty halls.

The wind was howling, a lonely wolf, a hound greeting the full moon. Water dripped through the holey ceiling of metal and musty wood. The old building, far away from civilisation, with shattered windows barricaded by boards was surrounded.

The man clothed in a form-fitting suit didn’t bear a map, didn’t need a compass to find the right path. The faint stench of mould lingered in the stiff air. Rats fled in great haste, screeched and warned the brothers hiding in the holes in the ground and empty chests. A few dark grey strands illuminated the dark sea. Untroubled Thomas followed the path. His fingers tapped against the polished metal. He did not put his gaze over his shoulder, focused on the light showing the end of the tunnel. Deep hush voices exchanged brief words and the grin on his lips widened, thought of ways to harm the men who had dared to touch his wife.

Thomas tilted his head. The light hit the tip of his shoes, but the Shelby, a demon, the devil himself waiting patiently, remained in the shadows. Deftly, he leapt to the side, hiding behind the cargo crates stacked high from India, Africa and the far East. Footsteps echoed and a soft whimper, a kitten, a newborn calling for its mother, fell silent. More men, dark dressed creatures, followed the order with drawn weapons and waited for the signal. Thomas leaned forward, peering through the crack between the crates. Two men, shabbily dressed, stood in the light of the flickering yellowish bulb, but his keen eyes couldn’t find the source of the whimper.

            “The money?” the thinner one pecked, wiping the oil from his fingers on his trousers.

The taller one laughed, folding his arms in front of his bulging chest. 

            “The woman will pay us off. I called her. By the end of the day, we’ll get the money.”, “We should have killed his wife right away,” the other said, leaning against the cargo boxes.

            “Karl, I would have killed her, but the other guy came. We would have died otherwise. I know him, Solomons. He would have killed us,” he interjected.

            “And what are we supposed to do now, Jimmy?” Karl questioned.

            “And what will happen to us, Karl?” Jim asked.

Karl shrugged his shoulders. Eyes widened in shock, screams followed, bullets pierced flesh and grazed bones. Men in suits stormed the old run-down complex, a tsunami swallowing villages and towns. Closely followed by his men, Thomas entered the room, stepped closer with his gun drawn, fired and hit the bull’s eye, ran ahead, searched and cursed, but didn’t find the woman. Sweat cascaded his face, turned, and hoped the men could answer his questions, but the eyes had paled. Cursing, Thomas stared at his brothers opening the crates in the hope of finding Peggy in one of them.

            “Where is she?” Arthur asked, heaving.

John cursed, nearly fell into the crate. Perplexed, he stared into the distance, cursed under his breath, turned with paled features towards his brothers and mumbled a short prayer.

            The moon wandered on, over land and mountains, on and on, climbing hills and swimming over lakes and raging streams. Under the cover of the moon, ghastly shadows crept forth. Light burned in the mansion far away from civilisation, from towns and villages. The vehicles parked in front of the mansion were not neatly lined up. Curtains were drawn and didn’t allow to witness the people warming themselves by the flames, gnawing on the hardened biscuits and awakening the sense with the dark unsweetened liquid. The phone didn’t ring, and the bell didn’t announce a guest.

The clock was ticking, heels clicked against the creaking hardwood. Voices had died down, the women did not chatter as the gentle voice breathing delicate word into the microphone sang of love and gentle kisses. The women exchanged meaningless glances, glanced at the man they thought would never enter the house, who had settled down by the fireplace and was leafing through the book with his legs crossed, staring again and again at the doors and windows in search of grim faces pursued by evil intentions. Y/N warmed her fingers on the cup filled with tea and dipped her tongue in the warm liquid.

            “Don’t worry, they will be here soon. It’s just a matter of time. Don’t worry, my dear.” Ada breathed.

She flashed the shaking woman a smile, breathed encouraging words, but they couldn’t banish the fear from her heart.

            “They’ve been gone for a long time. At least three hours now.” Y/N breathed.

            “You worry too much Y/N/N. The Shelby can take something. If he’s not here by seven, then we’ll go looking for him together.” Alfie joked.

Y/N stretched her arms into the air. Sleep gnawed on her bones and the voice in her head assured her that all would be well, that Thomas was on his way back, that the door would open soon and he would stand with Peggy and a promise to change by her side. She counted the seconds, focused on the clock, yet Y/N had lost track of time and space a long time ago. Her eyes widened. The tiredness was gone with the wind. Groaning, Y/N jumped and threw the blanket away. A wall, the last wall of defence rose in front of her and a palm settled on her back.

            “Come, little one. We will go together. You stay here. I have everything under control. I saw a car.” Alfie said.

Y/N tried to argue, telling him to stay with the others, that she wanted to go alone, but no words crossed her lips and nodded. Alfie smiled, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, stuffed his gun into the pocket, and guided Y/N away from the richly set table. Keys jingled. Alfie pushed Y/N behind him, but the young woman went ahead. The cold air brushed her skin and painted her cheeks. Brows almost touched. Y/N looked questioningly at Peggy, shook her head, and lips parted.

            “Peggy?” Y/N whispered, not believing her eyes, convinced she was about to awake from a dream.

She looked healthy. Not a drop of blood clung to the long white evening dress, looked like a woman on her way to church to walk down the aisle. The hair was laid in curls, dotted with pearls and glass shaped in tears. The bouquet, white and red flowers fell to the ground. A smile, false as a fox’s, sweet as a snake’s voice, spread on her lips.

            “You’re well?” Y/N questioned.

            “Why shouldn’t I be well? I am glad to see that you are well. I see nothing happened to you while I was away. I told you to wait for me at home. I could never have forgiven myself if something bad had happened to you.” Peggy spoke coldly, stoically, emotionlessly.

            “Where’s Thomas? He’s out looking for you. I was worried about you.” Y/N uttered.

Spreading her arms, Y/N wanted to enclose Peggy in a tight hug, but fingers clawed deep into the thin material covering her, forcing her to stagger backwards.

            “Alfie, can you please let go of me?’ Y/N demanded.

Y/N turned and stubbornly demanded to be let free, but Alfie shook his head.

            “Why do you have to make everything more complicated? Get in there and don’t do anything stupid or you’ll all regret it. Are we clear?”, “I wouldn’t do that.” Alfie interjected. He removed his hand from the pistol and rose his hands into the air after he pulled Y/N closer to his chest.

            “Peggy?” Y/N breathed, hoped the person bore a mask, but it was Peggy.

Colour drained from her features. Cold metal pressed deeper into her skin. Bloodshot eyes forced Alfie to step back and told him not to dare to waste a single thought about doing something he might regret. Questions nor curses crossed Y/N´s lips pressed into a fine line. A lonely tear cascaded down her left cheek and left a red burning mark on her skin. Y/N questioned her life, every decision she had made, every word and complain she had said to Peggy in hope she would aid her. Synchronically, Ada and Polly arose, aimed, but no shots pierced the air. Peggy chased Alfie away to stand by the wall and he listened and placed the weapon on the ground as the women as Peggy stood tall behind the crumbling shield.

            “Why?” Y/N inquired, her heart bursting through skin and bone.

Peggy laughed and combed through Y/N´s locks with her long light-coloured nails.

            “I should be in your place. It would have been so easy. But those idiots let you get away and then you were at my door and I just had to let you in. I called these fools. I knew they would be at the bar, and informed them that you were with me, that they should walk in and take care of you. I then set off here, wanting to inform all of you that something might have happened to Y/N. I would have taken your place, but this man had to interfere with my plan.” Peggy joked.

Her bloodshot eyes slid from one person to another and pointing her finger at the tall man settling down on the armchair by the crackling fire.

            “How would you have done it? The Shelby wouldn’t have to believe you. Nobody would have.” Alfie questioned, with his arms crossed in front of his body.

            “Nobody? Suddenly everybody was searching for Y/N. When I returned home, she was gone. I am a good actress, I had classes when I was young and played in the theatre, always the evil and wicked,” the woman huffed.

She chuckled.

            “Thomas would have believed me. I would have played the good friend, helping him through this rough path. I just wanted to play the worried friend. I would have helped to find Y/N and then after a good month the case would have gone cold. The postman would have brought a letter from overseas and the problem would have been solved. Thomas would have found a good friend in me and later a wife,” she sneered.

            “But they trashed your house.” Y/N breathed, eliciting a malicious laugh from the mad woman.

            “I was a bit angry and had to let my anger run free. My plan was perfect.” she huffed, stroking Y/N’s skin with the weapon.

            “You wanted to kill me?” Y/N breathed.

            “No one cared about you, you told me everything, your former husband barely cared about you, you slept alone, spent your days alone, were air for everyone, I didn’t expect anyone to care about you.” Peggy laughed.

Y/N gulped, nodded, and breathed a soft prayer, prayed for the safety of all of them a few steps away from her.

            “A confident woman. Why would I marry you?” a deep voice sneered.

Smiling, Peggy turned around, fixed her hair and let go of Y/N, but she was rooted into the ground, turning into a statue overgrown by moss.

            “All these months you’ve been using me.” Y/N

The veil fell, and the wind carried away the dense mist. Y/N balled her hands into fists, nails bore deep into the soft flesh, but no sound escaped her lips. She faced Peggy, unfearful of the weapon in her right hand.

            “You never told me to give Thomas a chance, to at least try to get along with him. You never said anything nice about him. When he gave me flowers or chocolate, you told me he’d cheated on me and feared I would find out.” Y/N whispered, her voice raising with every fallen word.

She remembered the forgotten, the lonely nights, the long calls, the endless hours spend in the small room and crying her heart out to the wrong person, hoping Peggy would help her like only a friend could.

            “We spoke on the phone when Thomas didn’t come back that evening and instead of telling me that he must be working but you swore on your parents’ lives that you saw him in the arms of a woman.” Y/N cried out.

Y/N faced her friend, unfaced and untroubled by the loaded gun.

            “I suppose that was a lie, too. Probably everything you told me was a lie,” Y/N whispered.

She remembered the nights she was pouring out her heart and the answers that were as false as the snake’s words. She raised her eyes and looked up at Thomas. The man swallowed, saw the questions in his wife’s eyes and smiled.

            “I was never unfaithful, Y/N. I was a terrible husband, but I was always faithful to you,” Thomas assured her.

            “I believe you,” Y/N whispered, but Thomas had heard the answer.

Y/N advanced, oblivious to the woman in the wedding garment, wanting to go towards her husband, but Peggy made it impossible for her to do so, getting in the way.

            “Enough of this sweet talk.” Peggy chuckled.

Metal dazzled the eyes. She grabbed Y/N by the collar, scratched her skin, pressed her tightly against him. And the men and women, apart from Thomas, recoiled with their hands up. Thomas stashed his hands in his trouser pockets and nodded, guessing what she would demand.

            “You let me out and nothing will happen to her.” Peggy requested.

The Shelby nodded, exchanged brief glances with his brothers.

            “Good, go, you know the way. You hand Y/N over to me at the door. I leave my gun here and you put yours away. Do we understand each other?” Thomas spoke.

            “I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands here, Thomas, but I’ll take your offer. But I want them out of here. I want them all out of here in the kitchen.” Peggy interjected.

Thomas gestured to his siblings to leave, nodding, indicating that they should be on their way, that they shouldn’t worry, but his eyes betrayed him. Slowly, they rose from the sofa and did as Thomas ordered them again to leave. Heels clicked against the hardwood. Hush voices exchanged words, and the door slammed shut.

            “Can we go?” Thomas probed.

Thomas walked ahead, showed the way, paused at the open door, pushed it wide open and motioned the woman to leave. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to free Y/N from the woman’s clutches, heard the soft whimpering as Peggy grabbed her former friend. Teeth gritted. Peggy stopped and turned with Y/N.

            “Here you go.” she shoved Y/N in his direction.

Y/N staggered forward, threatening to fall like a soldier, but arms wrapped tightly around her body, pressing her tightly to his chest. Thomas breathed loving words into her ear, pressed his dried lips on her skin and pressed featherlight kisses on her cheek. He murmured a prayer and begged for her forgiveness. Sweat danced down his face. He pressed another fleeting kiss on her temple. Thomas put his hands over her ears, deafening her to the screams and bullets piercing the air and suddenly, after all this time filled with screams and prayers, silence reigned over the land.

TagList:

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[kaisserin]

SCUDERIA

You met at a Ferrari event. You and your black stallion performed to the music from Formula 1 for the presentation of the new car Scuderia. Sebastian Vettel was there. You liked the German champion right away. Kind, friendly, sociable. He didn't even stop asking about the horse's condition after a long performance.

A couple of days after that, he texted you. You've been texting almost all night. The correspondence turned into friendly meetings. Friendly meetings in dating.You kissed wherever you were sure the cameras wouldn't catch you.

You were both professional athletes who didn't like noise. Quiet happiness was better for you.

That was until you were called up as a rider from your country for the Olympic Games. The program has been approved. You and your steed were supposed to repeat your performance from the Ferrari event.

Equipment, a faithful horse under the saddle, familiar music are the key to your success. But this competition was different from the previous ones in that this time your boyfriend was sitting in the stands wearing a cap and sunglasses to disguise himself.

The Olympics were your triumph. Thanks to your performance on the first day, your national team took the first place. And on the second day of the competition, you win the individual competition.

On the podium, you can't help but scream with delight and don't notice how you kiss the medal, repeating the gesture of celebrating your beloved. You look at the stands, wave at them and show the heart with your palms. So it seems to the cameras. In fact, it's all for one person who smiles and proudly waves the flag of your country, supporting you.

And then something happens that is not included in the rules of awarding. You turn to your horse, who has been standing with the trainer all this time, approach him, stroke his velvet nose, and then kneel in front of him and bow several times. One-on-one like Sebastian in India back in 2013.

You don't notice Vettel disappearing from the podium. And only after the victory lap does he come up to you. Without glasses and a cap, allowing the cameras to recognize him. You groan and smile at his open appearance. Sebastian strokes your horse's neck, and then gets down on one knee, being level with your ankle and pulls out a red velvet box from his pocket. Inside there is something you didn't dare to dream about.

He smiles slyly and asks in a light manner familiar only to him:

-Do you agree that both Scuderia (scuderia means stable from Italian) have Vettel within their walls?

I will be glad not only to receive your likes, but also to feedback💚💚💚

[cyborg-squid]

FGO's Arjuna and Krishna

Reading the (translated and abridged) Mahabharata has made me think a little bit more a character that is mentioned a couple times by Arjuna: Krishna.

When I watched Arjuna's second interlude (since I unfortunately don't have a copy of my own), Krishna is mentioned as a sort of... representation of Arjuna's dark side, the negative emotions he tried to repress no given form. But it was just that, a metaphor and a representation, a name given to the negative yet natural feelings that he experienced, which were amplified by his position as a Hero, specifically him being almost the 'chief' hero out of all five Pandava brothers. Digression: It's actually something that he has in common with Abigail Williams, the extreme pressures of their respective societies (mythic war India and puritan New England) making them view their natural emotions (Arjuna's jealousy and Abby's childlike mischief) as something dark and unwanted, and their repression of those feelings left them both open to malevolent outside influences.

So when this line happened in Lostbelt 4 (an otherwise extremely good chapter), I was a little put off by it. It felt like something of a cop-out, or a misntepretation on either my part or the writers, having Krishna/dark Arjuna be an actual entity contributing to the Lostbelt, instead of Krishna just being the sort of metaphor for Arjuna's dark internal feelings. On my first read of Lostbelt 4, at least.

But now having read (most) of the Mahabharata, my perspective on what 'Krishna' is in Fate has changed somewhat, in the Epic, Krishna is very much his own character and entity, rather than just something inside Arjuna. I'll admit to maybe not having the best grasp on the theology of it all, but Krishna is a manifestation and avatar of the god Vishnu, who is basically the omni-god (oversimplifcation) of the Hindu pantheon. And most importantly in the epic, more so than any death-becoming world-destroying powers, Krishna is dharma. The quickest way I can describe dharma is that it is like one's fate (concept not franchise) and conduct, it is what one must and will do, according to both one's class status (like the Ksatriya warrior class that most of the epic characters are) and ones own self. Despite being in the same class, two people can end up having very different dharma, like Bhima and Duryodhana, for example.

What ties in with the Fate series is that... Krishna is still a dark 'side'. I'm not saying this to slander him or portray him as a villain, he is dharma, what he says goes, and if an act is adharmic (going against dharma) to either the performer of the act or to others, it can be made dharmic simply by Krishna's will.

And that is a large part of what he does in the Mahabharata, as he is forbidden from fighting directly in the Kurukshetra war, instead acting as Arjuna's charioteer and the chief advisor of the Pandavas. It is he who instructs Arjuna to shoot Karna in the back while Karna's wheel is stuck (due to treachery), even though such an act would be cowardly, against the rules of war, and adharma, it is permitted because it is Krishna's will. Earlier and similarly, when a noble hero on the Kaurava side is about to slay one of Arjuna's disciples, the distant Arjuna, at Krishna's urging, interrupts their duel by shooting the arms off of the Kaurava general, saving his friends life but earning him the rebuke of said general, who correctly assesses that it was Krishna who drove Arjuna to commit such an adharmic act that he wouldn't otherwise commit.

It's not just Arjuna that Krishna manipulates, during Bhima and Duryodhana's final duel, Krishna instructs Bhima to strike his foe below the belt (literally), a move that incapacitated Duryodhana and was as illegal in a mace duel as it is in boxing, but was nonetheless permitted because Krishna.

And while Krishna permits acts that violate dhama when it benefits his friends and chosen side, he will not tolerate it from others, such as when Ashwatthaman, confronted after the night-raid where he killed hundreds of Pandava soldiers in their beds, throws his weapon at Arjuna's pregnant wife. Which is very uncool and very much adharmic (then as now), and Krishna punishes him by cursing him with eternal injuries (in FGO, it is the rage curse that Ash has) and immortality, condemning him to walk the world cursed forever. Maybe that's a fitting punishment, maybe it isn't, that's subjective, but it does kinda show how Krishna's double standard operates, he's willing to punish breaches of dharma done by others, while at the same time encouraging the Pandavas to violate dharma.

This does not go unnoticed by other characters in the epic, and Krishna is not completely infallible; many of the Pandavas express doubts or discomforts over their breaches of dharma, and only wise Yudhistra, himself a lord of dharma, can match Krishna in moral rhetoric. Krishna himself also blames several breaches of dharma, encouraged by him or not, on the fact that the world is, at this point, in the Kali Yuga, an age of pain and strife, where breaches of dharma are to be expected.

Duryodhana, himself a wicked man (not an insult, both he and the narrative know it), remonstrates Krishna as he lays dying, pointing out the various dirty tricks Krishna told the Pandavas to use, and then basically giving that Skyrim quote "My ancestors are smiling at me, [Pandava]. Can you say the same?" Because dharma is a multifaceted concept, a man as wicked as Duryodhana will still go to heaven and meet with his warriors and kinsmen there, for even with all the evil stuff he did, he still acted according his dharma as a Ksatriya, and his own personal dharma (being the villain of this story), while the Pandavas now have to live with the guilt and pain over what they have done. (The multifaceted nature of dharma is also why FGO Ash can have contradictory sounding skills of 'Violation of Chivalry' and 'Revered Soldier'.)

To bring it all back to Arjuna's interludes and Lostbelt 4, the mention of Krishna in LB4 makes a lot more sense to me and coheres more, know that I'm more well informed on Krishna as a proper 'character' than I was before. And Krishna as a character does, in fact, not clash (in my opinion) with 'Krishna' as Arjuna's dark side and the evil voice inside his head, because the 'real' Krishna was evil voice in his ear during the War. The point of Arjuna's 2nd interlude is that, even if such an adharmic act was permitted and encouraged by Krishna, Arjuna still bears guilt over killing Karna in that way. And coming to terms with that, recognizing that both the feelings that drove him to strike in that way, and subsequently feelings of guilt over it, are part of what makes him and us human, that he is allowed to be human and fallible yet still follow the path of the Ksatriya and a Servant to the best of his ability...

...Arjuna is a really good character, guys. Really good. And he and Karna's and Aśvatthāman's (and presumable Bhima and Duryodhana's, when OC1 arrives) stories mesh really really well with the Mahabharata, there's a real sense of cohesion between them that I'm really beginning to appreciate.

[city-of-ladies]

Edith Garrud - The suffragette that knew martial arts

The first British female teacher of jujutsu, Edith Garrud (1872-1971) taught the suffragettes to protect themselves.

A passion for martial arts 

Edith Margaret Williams was born in Bath in 1872 and started her career as a physical instructor for girls. She shared this passion for physical culture with her husband, William Garrud, a wrestling and boxing instructor.

They came in contact with Edward Barton-Wright who had spent three years in Japan, and studied judo and jujutsu. He elaborated his self-defense techniques known as “bartitsu” and opened his club in London in 1899.

The Bartitsu Club was notably opened to women. Edith was thus able to train alongside her husband. By 1908, Edith and William became jujutsu instructors themselves with William in charge of the men’s class and Edith teaching the women and children. 

Jujutsu specializes in speed, precision and the use of soft, flowing movements to deal with aggression rather than using just brute strength. The couple showcased their skills through demonstrations. In one of them, Edith defeated a male aggressor played by her husband. The sight of this 4ft-11inch (150cm) woman effortlessly throwing a much taller man greatly impressed the audience. 

In 1907, Edith starred in a short film Jujutsu down the footpads in which an innocent lady overpowers two ruffians. 

Vote for women

Edith took an interest in the cause of women’s suffrage. In 1909, she was invited by the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU) to give a demonstration in the presence of Emeline Pankhurst and other leading figures of the movement. As William was ill, Edith demonstrated alone and invited members of the audience to test her skills. This included subjecting a skeptical police officer to a powerful shoulder throw. 

In 1910, Edith also wrote a series of essays, advocating for the growing community of female martial artists and how self-defense could free women by giving them the means to protect themselves:

“You constantly read in the papers reports of dastardly attacks on helpless women by thieves and ruffians. A woman who knows jujutsu, even though she may not be physically strong, even though she may not have even an umbrella or parasol, is not helpless. I know many women personally who have tried the tricks I shall explain to you and come out on top. They have brought great burly cowards nearly twice their size to their feet and made them howl for mercy.”

The bodyguards

The suffragettes faced dangerous and violent situations. This was especially the case on Friday 18th November 1910. 300 WSPU members marched on the House of Parliament and faced police officers armed with batons. Women were subjected to six hours of beatings and arrests and there were widespread reports of sexual abuses.

Emeline Pankhurst thus asked Edith to train a group of women that would be known within the WSPU as the Bodyguard. Led by Gertrude Harding, they acted as agitators, disruptors and decoys. 

Edith trained them in hand-to-hand combat and the use of homemade concealed weapons such as wooden India clubs and the fashioning of cardboard body armor. The suffragettes took advantage of their opponent's surprise and exploited their weaknesses.

They for instance struck directly at a police officer’s helmet to knock it from his head. Policemen were held accountable for the loss of uniform items and had to pay for their replacement. They cut the suspenders so that the policeman had to hold back his pants, blinded the police with a charge of umbrellas etc.

When told by a policeman that she was making an “obstruction” during a demonstration near the House of Commons, Edith pretended to drop her handkerchief, threw the policeman over her shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. 

In prison, suffragettes went on hunger strikes and were subjected to force-feeding. The “Cat and Mouse Act” of 1913 allowed hunger-striking prisoners to be released and then re-incarcerated as soon as they had recovered their health. The Bodyguard thus protected and hid those women.

Edith for instance hid militant suffragettes in her dojo, telling the police not to disturb her lessons and leave her property. 

A quiet retirement

Edith’s contributions to the suffragist movement ended with the beginning of the First World War. Little is known of her life afterward. 

She and her husband would run the Golden Square dojo until their retirement in 1925 and retired to a quieter life. William passed away in 1960. In an interview in 1965, Edith said that her recipe for a long, happy and healthy life was: 

“Self-discipline. Of course, I had to be extremely disciplined to succeed at jujutsu and hold my own with men […] but it is the mind which really has control, not only of your muscles and your limbs and how you use them, but also your thoughts, your whole attitude to life and other people.”

She died in 1971. A plaque on the building that had been her home can be seen today: “Edith Garrud 1872–1971. The suffragette who knew jiu-jitsu lived here”.

Further reading

Dorlin Elsa, Se défendre : une philosophie de la violence  

Godfrey Emelyne, Femininity, Crime and Self-Defence in Victorian Literature and Society: From Dagger-Fans to Suffragettes

Kelly Simon, "Edith Garrud: The jujutsuffragette". In McMurray, Robert; Pullen, Allison (eds.), Power, Politics and Exclusion in Organization and Management

Ruz Camila, Parkinson Justin, ““'Suffrajitsu': How the suffragettes fought back using martial arts”

[gleefullypolin]

Stacy's Tipsy Musing's - Colin Bridgerton Hot Takes – Bonus Question

Ok boys and girls, we need to have a little chat about Colin Bridgerton.

Part 2 has been out now for a couple of days and there have been a lot of hot takes to come out of the season. A LOT of hot takes. I’m going to break this down into 4 parts. 4 questions that I'm seeing really bad hot takes about Colin.

Now none of this is new, I gotta say before Season 3 aired Colin was a hot button topic anyway. He seemed to be the Bridgerton brother that lots of people love to spew hate takes on anyway. But damn I gotta say its painful seeing the Polin fandom have so many bad takes falling from their lips.

So, I figured...having a little drink tonight, sitting down for Father’s Day (Happy Father’s Day, Colin) I’d give you the opinion on some of these takes that you didn’t ask for...Mine!

Last time we talked about Colin’s entrapment statement to Pen and if he truly meant it.  Question 1, Question 2, Question 3, Question 4, now lets get to the bonus question:

I can’t believe Colin was going to just take 20,000 pounds from the Bridgerton funds, he doesn’t even have a job to take money from the family?

I had to hit on this one because I see it so often, this BS about Colin not having a job and taking all the family’s money to travel.

Well first off, at the end of the season, he published a book. Sooooo, that’s his own money coming in now. Also, his wife is Lady Whistledown so I’m pretty sure they are just fine.

But at this point where the conversation comes up, he talks about how he’s going to go to Benedict to get the money (Because Anthony has already left town to go to India for God knows how long). I’m just going to say this once. He is not asking to take the Bridgerton Family money, he is asking to take Colin Bridgerton’s inheritance money out. However, because it is such a large sum, he has to ask Benedict to do it. It’s his money. NOT the family’s money.

I’m just sick of hearing this. SICK OF IT!

Thanks for listening to my musings tonight! I hope you learned something from all my drabbles, whether you agreed with me or not. If you think of any other questions, my ask box is always open!

Happy drinking!

[ashsimpsalot]

Same colour, different eyes

(Jay Menha x reader)

You know your husband better than anyone on this planet.

Maybe not better than his own mother but you did spent a massive amount of time with her, she taught you a trick or two.

So when Jay shows up at your door step after a long mission in India you didn't think much. You two needed each other like alcoholics, you knew he was going to knock on your door, with a box of your favourite chocolate and distant eyes, it was just the matter of when. It just so happen to be that this time it took a year.

Sanjay didn't look like the type for relationship but he surprise everyone around him.

So you did what you always do, pick a mission together, start small, build up trust, eventually it leads back to India.

The first time he brought you there, in the middle of a job, you didn't think much. It was just another small house at the side of the beach, what more could it be? It's silent, quiet, anonymous, exactly what you two needed as a safe house.

But the second time he brought you there? You knew something was off.

Sanjay Menha doesn't do patterns, the only pattern he knew how to draw was you and you could see his wrist flicking to sketch a new one.

After a while you start to see it, the one room he always avoid, the empty eyes, not like his usual ones though, more like when he's swallowing guilt, his mind wandering when he stares into the darkness of the beach's horizon.

You're his wife, you know him better than anyone in this planet.

You had the blanket wrapped around your chest, mindlessly reached at the blunt your bare husband was smoking. He was leaning against the bed frame, eyes staring at the door, more like pass it.

"so who was she?" you asked after a small inhale. Finally his eyes shifted. "she?" that stupid low voice you always fall for.

You let out a chuckle, your eyes closed, blunt rolling betweeing your thumb and index finger. "don't play dumb, baby, it's not a good look on you," you said with a stupid smile, he hated it, you figured him out and you talked as if nothing changed.

"you came here with her, hm? Stayed in the room across," you continued, finally opening your eyes to look at him. His face stoic but his eyes let out a small plea. To ignore the issue, like you've both been doing for years.

"must've been a hell of a girl, making you break your rules," you added, offering him the blunt, which he didn't take. You shrugged and take another hit.

Jay mumbled your name. You hummed but honestly he didn't know what to say. "what happened? She died? She left?"

He took a deep breath before sighing. "left," Jay finally admitted. You let out a chuckle. "fuck, is that why you've been looking at me like that?"

Jay's frown deepen, turning to look at you, finally. "like what?"

You smiled again. "like you finally love me again?"

Jay sits up almost frantically. "what? I love you." He had turned his body to look at you fully. You sat up, leaning against the headboard and placed your head on his shoulder. "you're cute when you lie," you kissed his shoulder as you mumbled those words into his flesh.

Jay's hand wrapped itself around your waist. He didn't know what to make of this. He planted his face into your hair, sighing when he smelt your shampoo. "I love you. Believe me," he pleaded.

You just hummed, enjoying the sting in your throat when the smoke takes its path to invade your lungs. "you started to look at me different. You wish she comes back?" you asked, honestly you don't even know what you're doing. Are these questions to hurt him, to hurt you, maybe you're just trying to validate yourself.

"if she comes back, who'd you choose?"

"jaanu-"

"jaanu? Hm? Is that what you called her too?"

Jay mumbled your name again, sweetly, the same way he had said it before when you just woke up, when all you could feel was his warmth. "I'm not mad, we were on a break" you tried to rationalise yourself, but how could you, you're as insane as he is.

"I love you," Jay pleads. "I love you," he repeated. You're not sure who he's trying to convince.

"samira," Jay pulled back, confused when that name fell out of your lips. He's staring at you, trying to calculate how in the ever loving fuck did you know?

"she called, I answered. Told her you were here," you said with a sweet smile that sent his stomach sick. "are you playing with me?" he asked standing up. You enjoyed the sight of his bare body, though the sight is a bit funny as your husband tries to find his pants, his phone to be exact.

"she needed help or something. Told her you were here," you repeated. Jay paused to look at you. "jaan, you're not joking, right?" He's still trying to figure you out.

You shrugged. A small smile creeped up on you when you heard the front door bangs. "one way to find out," you replied. Taking another hit of the blunt.

"honey, baby, what," he asked as he finally reached a sweatpants to throw on. "don't play with me, are we-" Jay half thought you called the cops on him, that is till he heard her voice.

Her voice

"better go," you played. "stay here, promise, stay," Jay said mindlessly as he walked out of the door.

He should've known you're not the type to listen to orders.

A/n: hi ik back from the dead..... I can't write more ngl the hospital stuck a needle in my right hand. I'll be discharged tomorrow tho IDK WHAT THE PLOT FOR THIS OKAY I JUST MISS YOU GUYS