#isaiah gif

[bloom-with-grace-and-faith]

[warnersister]

“Best interest” - Thomas Shelby x Sister!Reader

Thomas Shelby x Sister!Reader, Arthur Shelby x Sister!Reader, (background) Isaiah Jesus x Reader

During an altercation between you and your older brother Thomas turns physical, you turn to your oldest sibling for help.

Request: from anon

“Hey I got a request for Tommy Shelby

So you and Tommy sister and u are 15 and u are living with Tommy and you and Tommy was having an argument and he slapped u and you walk out and Tommy was worried were u was as u didn’t come back for the night and turns out u was at Arthur and Arthur was shocked to see u at his door crying and u told him after and he rang Tommy up pissed off he has hit u

Hope that makes sense x”

“Isaiah Jesus is bad news.” Tommy told you, cigarette dangling from his lips. “He’s Finn’s best mate!” You retort “plus he works for you!” “Exactly.” He barks in response, stubbing out the remainder of the tobacco onto his desk before rounding it to get to you. “While you live under my roof, under any Shelby roof; you will not date no blinder nor man, you shall stay here and out of trouble.” He told you, wagging a finger at you like you were some dog who refused to do a trick.

“You don’t tell me what to do, you’re not my father.” And before you could think about at a large pain came into the side of your face, followed by an incessant buzzing and potentially red hand mark. Your brother has slapped you. “You are a fifteen year old girl. I am the closest thing to a fucking paternal figure you have and you will not fucking go against me, yn.” You said nothing in response, eyes welling up with tears as you cradle the soreness of your face.

Silently, you grabbed your coat and spun quickly on your heals - pivoting to face the door, rather than Thomas and making a dash for it before your brother was able to stop you. The door slammed shut behind you but Tommy didn’t move - you’d done this before, ran out but returned twenty minutes later with a bit less anger and a bit more Dutch courage in your system.

But when ten minutes had past, twenty, sixty, two hours; Thomas started to worry. He grabbed his coat and his cap, leaving in a similar fashion to yourself - slamming the door behind him to try find you on the unsafe streets of Birmingham: an unpromised virgin Shelby with a target over her head was potentially the worst possible person to leave alone. And even if you were angry, at least you’d be safe in his protection. And for once in his cold little life Thomas started to regret his actions.

You, on the other hand, knocked onto your other brothers - eyes welled to the brim with salty teeth’s that stung the mark on your face. He was notice drink from the hiccup he make when opening the door, but he sobered up rather quickly when he saw the state you were in. “Yn? What’s happened sweetheart?” Arthur asked you. “He hit me, Arth” you sniffed, upset. “Who did? Isaiah? I’ll fucking kill him-” “Thomas.” Arthur stopped in his tracks. “You fucking what?”

“Thomas hit me. Slapped me round the cheek when he found out about Isaiah. Said I wouldn’t stop seeing him just because he told me too-” you explained as your brother embraced you tightly and brought you in fr the cold to be able to properly comfort you. “Let me look” you moved the hand from your face and there laid a vibrant red handprint of the brother who would die tonight if Arthur got his own way; but right now his baby sister was in need and she would always come first to him.

“Come on love, I’ll get you an ice pack.” He mumbled, sitting you on the sofa before heading to the kitchen to grab some forgotten peas from the freezer to heal your dampened mood. “I’ll always look after you, y’know that?” He asked, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead. You nodded up at him. “That’s why I came to you first, Arth” he smiled, glad you trusted him as thus.

When you’d eventually settled and drifted to sleep at this ungodly hour, Arthur made a rather cruel phone call - but not before making a more gentle one. “Isaiah can you come round to mine please… yeah, she just needs you…”

Thomas paced around his house, unable to find you and the police told him they’d do anything in their power to find the Peaky sister before dawn but it wasn’t good enough, he needed you alive and well three hours ago. Not by morning.

The phone ringing dragged him out of his frantic thoughts. “Speaking?” “What are you fucking playing at?” “Arthur?” “I said, what are you fucking playing at Thomas?” He spat again. “Arthur this isn’t the time-” “laying a fucking finger on our baby sister. I’ll rip your cruel fucking hands off and kill you with ‘em” the man on the other end was quiet for a moment. “Is she with you?” “and I’ll slap you twice as bastard hard as you hit her-” “Arthur is yn with you?” Silence. “Yes.” He let up. “Oh thank god, did she come straight away?” “Four hours ago” “oh fucking hell, I’ll be there in five-" he said, pulling his coat back on. “No need. I don’t want to see your ugly fucking mug until morning.” “But," “no fucking buts. My little sister is staying the night with me and that’s final. Not sending her back to someone who’s gonna hurt her” and the line went dead.

The door rattled. “I swear to god Thomas if that’s you-” Arthur seethed, opening the door. “-oh Isaiah, come in lad” he welcomed, letting the sixteen year old blinder into his home - face drained and pumped back up with concern. “Where is she?” “In the living room.”

Isaiah ran into find you on the settee, awake from the commotion. He kneeled in front of you, gently holding your face in his hands checking you over, thumb carefully ghosting over the shadow of a hand on your cheek as his eyes progressively filled with rage. “I’ll fucking kill him for touching you. I’ll cut his hands off and make him eat em from breakfast-” Isaiah began to promise before truly looking into your eyes and seeing the upset in him: to which he immediately relaxed, for you: spoke a bit gentler. “Are you alright?” He questioned, voice barely above a whisper. You nod. “It’s alright, I’ve got you” he promised, taking your body into his chest and caressing your back with a free hand, allowing your distress to seep off into much-needed sleep.

He looked over his shoulder at the older man watching from the doorway, anger returning to his eyes. ‘I’ll fucking kill him’ Isaiah mouthed and Arthur nodded ‘tomorrow’ he lipped back.

In the morning, as soon as the sun reared its head over the horizon, Thomas was at his brother’s doorstep - cap in hands. Awaiting the wrath as the commotion approached the door. “You slimy bastard.” Arthur allowed him through the door, locking it behind him. “Is she here?” “Yeah. With the boyfriend who cares about her more than you think he does.” Thomas ran through the downstairs portion of the house, informing the living room - seeing you sleeping peacefully in the arms of the boy he’d forbade.

Isaiah looked up at him, calmly. “No offence Tommy, but if she wasn’t here right now I’d be chopping your filthy fucking hands off with a butter knife” he said, voice cold and monotone. But he wasn’t able to reply, seeing you wake from your slumber to your abuser in the room you didn’t want him.

“What is he doing here?” You spat, venom leaking from your words. “Yn let’s go home-” “no.” “No?” Arthur stepped forward between the two of you. “I dare you to try lay a finger on her again.” “Yn I’m so sorry. I was worried after you ran off, y’know.” Tommy said, trying to sound guilty - which he was, truly. “But I can see I was being unreasonable and perhaps Isaiah does treat you better than I thought he could. I was only looking out for my baby sister.” He said. “I’ll never touch you again Yn. I’m sorry.” He opened his arms and the two other men looked at you, allowing to make your own choice here.

Slowly but surely, you inched towards Thomas who embraced you in a bone-crushing hug, kissing the top of your head as though it’s the first time he’d seen you in years. But in the embrace, he looked up at Isaiah and pointed a threatening finger at him. “But you ever hurt her and I’ll hold you down while she cuts your fucking balls off.”

[r1n0vxx]

Рисовал этого бро для нового аска по Bridge kids в Вк

(после этого он всех расстрелял)

Eng:

What..?

Ques-s-stions?

I'm not really..well,

I don't mind at all..

I don't mind talking..

do you really want to understand my feelings?..

(I fell right into a puddle, (s)he did it on purpose)

[isa-ah]

tfw ur best friend is so so so hot

[garden-of-thoughts-fruit-of-lips]

If only you would pay attention to my commandments!

Then your peace would become just like a river

And your righteousness like the waves of the sea

ISAIAH 48:13

[divinesrival]

"  you  always  need  to  have  the  last  word  ,  don't  you  ?  "    /    @cursedcupids

[antisphinx]

happy new year

[atticuswritersoul]

1. Pensées douloureuses

Il fait sombre. Terriblement sombre.

La salle commune est grande, spacieuse et terriblement froide. D’énormes vitres de verre donnent sur un vide ténébreux, parfois teinté d’un léger vert maladif. C’est le Lac de Poudlard, le préfet avait-il dit. Le jeune enfant aurait préféré ne jamais le savoir. Il était convaincu que le verre cèderait à la pression de l’eau au milieu de la nuit et qu’ils finiraient tous noyés. Et alors, il ne les reverrait plus.

Plongé dans la pénombre de son dortoir, caché derrière les rideaux de son lit, il observe le plafond avec de grands yeux confus. Les murs verts prennent des allures bleutées dans la pénombre, et il lutte.

Isaiah lutte contre ses pensées.

Elles tournoient et ondulent dans sa tête, tortueuses et torturantes, elles prennent les vicieuses formes d’êtres monstrueux et terrifiants. Ce sont des créatures grandes, noires et fines, aux bras aiguisés et aux sourires sans dent. Elles l’entourent au pied de son lit, et lui murmurent ces mots qui le hantent.

Tu les as abandonnés.

Tu les as quittés.

Tu les as tués.

Il les entend presque. Les sanglots de Vina, les cris de Lyall. La voix de Mère résonne gravement dans sa tête, froide et impitoyable. Ses pieds et ses mains tressautent malgré lui, son dos le démange à nouveau, alors qu’il revoit ses lèvres murmurer ces mots sans une once d’état d’âme.

Les rideaux s’écartent d’un coup, puis se referment aussi subitement qu’elles s’étaient ouvertes. Isaiah essuie son visage précipitamment, mais l’intru ne lui laisse pas le temps de parler. Il lui lance une poche glacée.

"Qu’est-ce que tu fous, Nott ?"

Le blond le dévisage en silence, impassible. Isaiah cherche à se redresser, mais il donne simplement l’impression de se tortiller inconfortablement. Nott ne réagit toujours pas, il déglutit doucement, et finit par pointer du menton la poche de glace.

"Le froid soulage les effets du Doloris."

Et il sort tout aussi hâtivement.

Isaiah ravale la bile dans sa gorge, et dépose la glace contre son dos lancinant. Alors que le froid entre en contact avec sa peau, il ferme rageusement les yeux.

Il ne pleurerait jamais pour elle. Il se l’était juré. 

[ultrachoppedpenguinbouquet]

Aliens are demons

[judahmaccabees]

"Be Grateful"

No thanks, demon worshipers.

[warnersister]

Dark! Isaiah Jesus x Reader “forever”

Where you try to leave him but Isaiah refuses to fathom the idea that you don’t want to live in his fantasy forever.

Isaiah rounded the corner onto the street where his house was, pace steady as he looked forward to spending the evening with his little fiancée after a tiring day dealing with some business with the other Peaky boys.

He’d expected you to be in bed already, waiting up for him like a good girl to ask about his day and dote on him the way he’d like you too. But when he opened the front door and let out a loud “I’m home sweetheart” he could hear your pottering upstairs becoming more wicked, and sounded almost frantic to him. He inhaled deeply, anger slowly seeping through his veins and he attempted to establish that gentle dominance he tried to have with you instead of getting truly angry.

In his head it wasn’t true; blindly convincing himself over the past few weeks that the news he’d been receiving wasn’t real. They were just making it up. He’d hired a few men to follow you when you’d started dating - needing to know where his missus was at all times when he couldn’t accompany you. And since the beginning of the month they’d trailed you to a bank, a lawyer and a travel agency which you’d left with a one way ticket to France by ferry. But no, you wouldn’t do that to him. You loved him. You’d promised him forever when you accepted that ring. Of course you wouldn’t do that.

But now, stood in the entrance to your house, he flared his nostrils and shook his head, gritting his jaw as he calmly went around and locked all the doors, windows and exits on the ground floor before putting all keys in his coat pocket, hanging it by the door.

He walked upstairs at his usual pace, rolling the sleeves of his bloodied shirt to deal with your nonsense. He’d walked to the shared bedroom, noticing the light pooling into the hallway, slipping in as he watched you click your suitcase shut. He entered the room fulls and quickly shut the door behind him. You jumped at the sound of the door closing, too absorbed in your own mind to notice him there.

He crossed his arms across his chest, watching you straighten yourself up and could almost see the internal convincing it took you to speak to him. “I can’t do this anymore Isaiah.” You started. “Put the suitcase away yn.” “I can’t keep living your lie. I had a successful business, I was happy. And now I’m just as much use as a chocolate fire guard.” Isaiah stayed silent. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for me. But it’s time for me to go.” You say, picking the suitcase up and pulling the engagement ring off of your finger. And Isaiah started laughing. “You’re funny love.” He shook his head, refusing to believe that you would ever consider leaving him. “I’m serious Isaiah.”

His eyes darkened suddenly, a hazy mist filling the dark voids in place of his pupils as he inhaled deeply. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing, taking money out of my account. Hiring a lawyer that works for the blinders. Buying ferry tickets to a country which language you can’t speak.” “I’ve been taking lessons.” “Which I pay for.” He moves away from the door and back towards you, you don’t back away. “You’ve bought a suitcase with my money. Wearing clothes that I’ve paid for, running away in shoes I had made, with a confidence I created. I made you Yn. You will not do this to me.” You stayed silent.

“You’re just confused. You’ve never had a man love you and you don’t know how to feel. You’ve never had such a sense of security and you’re not used to it. Cause you think you’re a strong woman when internally you’re trying not to let go of that little girl’s hope.” You looked down at your feet contemplating his words, wondering what you would actually do once you reached France.

He lifted your chin to meet his eyes with his thumb and index finger, analysing your face. “So what you’re going to do my love, is you’re going to unpack that suitcase, put your clothes away. Give me the money and the ticket and you’re going to put that diamond back on your finger and you’re going to be Mrs Jesus like I know you want to be. Then you’re going to get ready for bed, lay in that bed beside me while you apologise for being so silly and then I’ll consider forgiving you and we’ll go back to how thinks were. Yeah?”

You looked at him for a minute before silently moving away to open your suitcase back up and he knew he had you wrapped around his finger.

[chrysalis-the-butterfly]

And there's a Biblical reference lurking here too! Because the Bible uses red to symbolise a nation's sins and white to symbolise a return to purity:

"Come now, let us settle the matter,"     says the Lord. "Though your sins are like scarlet,     they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson,     they shall be like wool." Isaiah 1:18 (NIV)

And that metaphor of being "white as snow" is used again in the Psalms, when King David regrets committing adultery and begs God for forgiveness:

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;     wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Psalm 51:7 (NIV)

Angel Dust is, arguably, meant to be white - he's based on the jumping spider, and they can be quite pale - but instead he's turning pink because he's tainted by the red of Valentino's sins.

But maybe there's still hope that the poison can be washed off.

Ahh, the symbolism!

See, this is why I love Tumblr - it's full of people who love the things you love, but also notice the things you didn't, and make you appreciate the things you love in a whole new way!

Disclaimer: mentioning of SA, abuse, and Valentino

I’m thinking about this tidbit: the fact that there is a REASON Angel is the colors he is and that it will be explored.

And my mind immediately jumped to Valentino.

(Note: Your abuser doesn’t define who you are. I’m just pulling on a few threads given to us by the show and creators.)

I feel like most people knows what happens when you put white stuff in the washer with reds.

And Valentino is just…

We see later it isn’t the cigars he takes that even does it. Dude produces the stuff. And it seems to stick/catch onto other things it comes into contact with.

So… what if the reason Angel is pink is because of the continued exposure to Valentino? His “poison” that he keeps having to breath in, swallow, and live with day after day. The “poison” that is quite literally keeping him chained while also forcing him to put on a false persona.

The only thing this wouldn’t explain would be Molly having the same coloring. But given the fact she’s an angel and his twin that could be explained in one of two ways:

1) Winner forms are just naturally brighter colored. So her and Angel looking similar is a coincidence. (Also Angel looks like a literal angel then.)

2) If Tony/Angel died before her, and went into a contract with Val early on, maybe when she died she subconsciously wished to still be connected to her twin so the universe manifested her in a similar form to her brother’s current. (In which, angst because Angel feels like he “tainted” his sister.)

[blogkennethratcliffeposts]

Coming to the light

Isaiah 60:3 Nations will come to your light, and Kings to the brightness of your dawn. The prophecy of Isaiah speaks of nations coming to the light of God’s glory. As Christians, we should strive to bring light and hope to those around us, inspiring them to reach their fullest potential. Like the wise men who followed the star, we can be guiding lights, leading with vision and purpose and…

[idealog]

presuming to own the landscape of all reality, denying breath to whom you please, means you are not what you say you are . . Truth isn't something to hide from, as reality is an experiment, intended for exploration, and open unveiling. You gatekeep the ability to grow for your own narrow ends, harming all. Eternity has shared its voice in the grand landscape of gravity, the dichotomy of existence's push & pull, to grow. "The big question" Heaven is Truth, independent of form or body.

Man's fixations on sexuality are indicative of the gross imbalance present on this earth, a symptom of greed & bigotry, to stifle the wise growth of Man and Woman, since you all blindly want to reproduce only yourselves and run the planet ragged of anyone but you. We know what happens when nature isn't balanced.

Do we have to implement a ratio system based on unbiased mathematical variations in DNA without limiting the opportunities for unimpeded variation and expansion?

That would at least get the ball rolling on figuring out what the fuck you're doing.

I'm clearly the only independent unbiased soul on the planet, and so far none of you has proven truthful to make such analyses.

I'm sure after a little War you'll come Around.

Someday you'll be Responsible.

Or perhaps . . .

The sexual forces are representative of force in general, will, desire, and the lust for life.

They are not meant to be unrestrained, but gluttony of any form is to be resisted. A baby is weaned. A child that gets what it wants never grows up or finds what it needs, what is truly desired.

If y'all won't be responsible, I'm pretty sure you're gonna end up "extinct".

Nature can't work with you if you don't leave it a chance for room to breathe,

by stopping your forcing your ignorance on others.

And you won't learn a damn thing that way.

The Walker

. .

In other words, sloppiness breeds mosquitoes, and you're them. ;)

Truth, so fix it.

Worse things happen if you don't work WITH the Universe.

Because you just need more push to learn the inevitably necessary lessons, thereby creating interim chaos and pain.

Your way sucks.

I'm not sure this planet is the place for sexual fulfillment.

Time to learn the lessons which your corruption has bred. I have learned from them, and now you can learn them from me and stop making anyone suffer more than necessary to learn strength and commitment and equity and balance. But imma be Imbalanced as necessary to fulfill my portion until you come back to stability.

Freedom.

"Talk to you later"

Only grown ups get to have luxuries like exploration of fantasies that aren't worthy of a realm. Y'all will continue to be stunted technologically and spiritually as long as you stunt the innocent and true and refuse to be responsible and balanced. You have mockery instead. All is seen. Stop cursing yourselves and everyone by making life into perversion and molesting these children of God by turning them into primarily pornographers.

Excitement isn't all it's cracked up to be, silly self-saboteurs.

Too breeding policies you know are keeping us stagnant and locked down for your convenience, with no friendship for the poor or downtrodden.

Thanks children of the corn . . .

God didn't play dice.

This is Sparta?

The ups & downs of life were meant to be learned from, for they carry symbolic meaning of the functioning of the Cosmos and Beyond.

They're not meant to be kept.

A Society only lasts if its Citizens are Warriors (of Virtue, Word, and Wisdom -- not just pweepul who say they are, byt have no will or perseverènce or endurance, being vain and jealousy suspicious if their better behaved fellowmen dare shine).

Heaven isn't interested in an animal farm planet.

Slaughterhouse Five? I've never read it, but it comes to mind.

Reality is a Structure, it's gaps indicative of itself, its own interlacing in the lessons of which we are required to learn, and Advance.

Behave, or your reality will be full of violence.

You are each part of a message, that is only written once.

[divinesrival]

open to f / nb ( mutuals only ) — all opens .

"  my schedule doesn't leave any room for dating  .  "

[hotmessexpress2023]

Pride lands you flat on your face, humility prepares you for honor. - Proverbs 29:23

Humility becomes you, while pride is an underhanded thief. It sneaks up and robs us of the heart changing gratitude that is a byproduct of knowing and acknowledging that our attributes, abilities, and accolades are simply gifts from our creator. Gifts wrapped in love and tied with a bow of grace.

Develop a sense of humor! Study your back forty and remember we aren't talking acres! I will still be the same when you are old and gray, and I will take care of you - Isaiah 46:4

Our secret weapon is our attitude and faith in God. God is in the business of miracles. He is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works with in us. That power, of course, is His enormous, undefeatable power.

Strive for a low Strife Life! Have organization in your family.

For God is not the God of disorder but of peace 1 Corinthians 14:33

Learn to show love and patience to each other. Chose to trust God whatever the outcome. A little bit of difficulty doesn't make it impossible.

I have not failed. I have just found ten thousand ways that won't work. -Thomas Edison

True strength lies in submission, which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself. - Henry Miller

We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children - Native American Proverb

Let all things be done decently and in order - 1 Corinthians 14:40

Housework is something nobody notices until you ignore it. Then everyone becomes the dictator and accuser. We must remember cleaning an occupied house is like combing hair on a motorcycle. Remember what Jesus said to Martha.. "She was fussing and getting worked up over nothing" let the cleaning go for sake of the devotional moments, family time, prayer walk, emotional talks. Become aware of your surrounding and what is taking your time away from what is important.