#lizzie grace novel

[blues824]

i saw the first years reacting to ciel!mc. so could you do jack,epel,rook, and kalim reaction to fem lizzy!mc. she is basically the epitome of a girly girl with a ditzy personality. however that facade changes when in chapter six, when they get surrounded by the S.T.Y.X robots she precedes to slice them down left to right showing that she is a skilled swordswoman and she told them the reason why she hides her amazing skill is because she thought they will leave her for being 'unladylike'.

Jack Howl

The first time you met him, you called him cute and started petting his tail. Had it not been for you holding it, his tail would have started wagging. His face was glowing red as he asked you to get away from him and stop petting his tail. You were definitely very bold for doing that, but now you have his attention.

You always dressed up in a very girly fashion, now that he thought about it. Once the two of you were in a committed relationship, you actually asked him to help you pick an outfit. It would be this whole ordeal, be it in Ramshackle or a date to the mall. Having him wait outside of the fitting rooms so that you could show him the clothes that you liked did make him a bit embarrassed and flustered, but he thought that it was better that he do it rather than someone else.

Now, this girly personality dropped when you grabbed your two swords and slashed at the STYX robots. You moved with such grace, and after the whole ordeal he asked why you hid your talent. You looked down as you said that it was unladylike, but he responded that you were acting very much like a lady for defending both him and yourself.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s also very bold, so you were affectionate from the very start. He doesn’t mind you dressing him up and helping him choose an outfit that would match yours. He instead loves it, and it makes you look like a couple. You even help him choose one of his fancy bows to wear for the day, and he wears it with pride.

This man just loves spoiling you by bringing you to the mall and even his homeland of the Scalding Sands when you are on break and purchasing gifts for you. As grand as you are, you have been very overwhelmed by the amount of gifts he gets for you. It was on one of these trips where you saw a blacksmith forging a sword that looked familiar, and you quickly walked by it to try and get the memory of your life back in London out of your mind.

But, the events of Chapter Six really did not want you to forget. You slashed apart the robots with the swords that you had brought with you. Kalim was shocked that you were such a talented swordswoman, as he had not pieced it together yet. After, he asked why you never told him, and you told him that you were afraid he would leave you for not being ladylike. A few days later, you received two new swords with a gold pommel as well as a golden quillon, with a note addressed from your boyfriend that he loved you and hoped these swords would do well.

Rook Hunt

As much as he liked to stalk you, he still didn’t know too much about you. To be fair, once he had expressed interest in you, you already confided in him a few times. The way he made your heart swoon reminded you of how the young maidens within the old romance novels you poured over were swooning over their knights. 

Yes, the hunter knew about the effect he had on you, because you had the same effect on him. His heart called out for you, and when he couldn’t see you he would sit down and write a small couplet about his feelings. He’s found that it’s the best way to express his feelings and retell them to you later. He did not hold back either, and it sounded like you were dead once you read them.

That aside, he had somehow not known you were a talented swordswoman until you came slashing in at the STYX robots. He was using his bow and arrow right alongside you, and you both made quite the team. Afterwards, he asked how you came to have such a skill, and you told him that you always had it back in your world, but you hid it because it was unladylike to fight. He immediately pulled you into his arms while shaking his head, saying that he found you absolutely beautiful with a sword (or two) in your hands.

Epel Felmier

You both were complete opposites, and he at first found you to be very annoying. However, you showed him a level of kindness that he had not experienced before, and he soon found himself completely in love. You would actually distract Vil by asking him to dress you up rather than Epel because you were obsessed with the Victorian style of dresses (which wasn’t far off, considering you had teleported to Twisted Wonderland in a dress similar to the patterns that Vil was looking at). 

It was through said Housewarden where a gown and a matching suit for the two of you. Because of the slight bit of inspiration, Vil had thrown a ball within Pomefiore. You were absolutely beautiful in Epel’s eyes. He said so himself, and his rural accent accidentally slipped out. You giggled as you led him in a waltz (this man probably only knows how to line dance). At least he didn’t step on your foot.

What really threw him in for a loop was when the events of Chapter Six took place and you came in, swords swinging. The country boy let out a gasp as he saw his girlfriend absolutely destroy the STYX robots, along with his Vice Housewarden. Afterwards, he asked how on Earth you were so skilled with a blade, and you were a bit flustered and embarrassed. You said that you had learned since you were young, but you hid it because it was unladylike. He didn’t mind it though, and thought it was so cool.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Okay you got me. Tell me about PP 1980

Okay, so XD

Imagine you had a BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice that was 5 hours long, faithful to the book, and yet having a different perspective/understanding/interpretation of the characters and the story? That's P&P 1980 in a nutshell, and I think it is worth watching just for that. But here are some other concrete things it has going for it, specially in relation to other adaptations:

The casting is closer in age than 95, and on one specific important case, closer than 05 too: Lady Catherine de Bourgh is played by an actress in her mid 40s, and she nails the absolute Opinionated Facebook AuntTM thing that the character has going in the novel.

It's not the only case of closer accuracy to the book in characters: Mr Collins is a young, tall, big guy, whose main issue is being very small minded, petty, and obsequent, instead of recurring to "he's greasy or slimy" as other adaptations do.

If you agree/like the "Darcy has autism" headcanon, this is the adaptation that leans the most heavily into it (it does overdo it, in my opinion, but there's a very interesting contrast between the flat affect of his facial expression, and the richness of inflexion in his voice)

Elizabeth Garvie's Lizzy is just... extraordinary. This adaptation circumvents the Jane-as-prettier-than-Lizzy issue by casting as Lizzy an actress with big, dark, very expressive eyes, small features and a very lively, sharp countenance and manners, whereas Jane's actress is tall and graceful and has a general air of kindness and sweetness, but in a very youthful way.

Speaking of Jane, this adaptation focuses much more on the sisters as sisters, and gives special emphasis to Lizzy's love for Jane, which I appreciate a lot.

Also speaking of Jane, Jane and Bingley are the cutest in this. They are given time, and he's kind and sociable and sweet without being an idiot. This adaptation includes that great line of his about how he wouldn't mind Darcy so much if he wasn't so tall, and the following comment about how Darcy can be fastidious of a Sunday evening.

That way, this adaptation includes several fan favorite scenes/lines that don't usually make it to adaptation, such as Darcy asking Lizzy to dance a reel, Lizzy playing and singing at a party in Meryton, Caroline teasing Darcy about putting uncle and aunt Phillips on the Pemberley portrait gallery, and the "I cannot fix the hour or the spot..." line. EDIT: also, the coffee pot scene!! and the rivalry between Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas!

I also think it balances well how awful, in different ways, both Mr and Mrs Bennet (EDIT: and she's not insufferably shrill!!!!) are as parents (unlike how 95 and 05 "pick sides"); it emphasizes how self centered her efforts are, and how lazy and callous he can be in his mockery and indolence.

The opening sequence of each episode is a roll of a hand-drawn summary of the events of the episode and that's such a lovely detail.

Mind you, the adaptation is not without its faults. The production values are not what we are accustomed to nowadays. Some acting and lines are stilted and/or awkward. It has the odd choice here and there that is involuntarily funny. But I don't think people need discouragement from seeing it. I don't even think most of the general Austen fandom is aware of its existence. For my part, it has become my favorite adaptation of P&P (that I have watched so far; I haven't gotten yet to either 1967 or the Italian one).

[deadendtracks]

look there's a lot of interpretations of tommy/lizzie from tommy/lizzie shippers that i disagree with -- i don't think he was ever obsessed with her, i have a different take on the 'my property' scene, her being told not to date angel changretta was not in any way personal and was entirely about his paranoia about the russian business, john was the one acting like an obsessed stalker that season, etc. Theirs is not a romance novel kind of relationship.

at the same time, interpretations of tommy/lizzie from the grace fans are always so... blatantly divorced from the reality of canon but in a bad faith way they insist is just them being realistic or objective or worse, looking out for lizzie or feeling 'bad' for her.

like we can all see what you're doing, you know, because had any given scene you're commenting on been Grace instead of Lizzie, you'd have a completely different take.

that's an oversimplification because of course contexts differ but like. why isn't the scene where grace chides tommy and hugs him after he finds the threat to charlie interpreted as her acting like his mother?

stuff like that. it's just very transparent.

Tommy and Lizzie are messy adults, who aren't in a romance novel, whose relationship doesn't fit romance novel tropes (not even the 'rich boss marries his poor/golddigging secretary' ones). He very obviously does not look at her as a servant, nanny, sex worker, or mother in their canonical relationship, and just about every instance grace stans bring up about this stuff has to do with Tommy's reactions to ongoing trauma, not his utter dislike, disregard, and disrespect for Lizzie. Which is not to say he treats her entirely well, because he doesn't.

But there's some real weird shit going on in those interpretations of what that relationship means to both characters and it would really be nice if you folks kept it to yourselves.

[evita-shelby]

A different sort of man

Chapter 5

Cw: cheating (technically?) Racism

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife @cillmequick @look-at-the-soul @midnightswithdearkatytspb

Gif by @jeonfknjungkook

“I will not leave until I have seen him.” Grace demands with her arms crossed.

“The Lady is not to be disturbed, please come back later.” Lady Smallbrook's housekeeper stands her ground and tried to get her to leave.

But Grace heard it all the same, god, he was never this enthusiastic in bed with her.

Angry tears welled up in her eyes.

Wasn’t it enough that she’d given him the boy? Wasn’t it enough that she had killed for him?

Grace takes her gun and aims it at the servants.

“Tell me to leave one more time, and I will shoot.” The Irish woman warned and went to confront her dirty gypsy husband.

He's got dirty blood, no amount of money’s going to wash it off, her aunts and uncles had said and she hadn’t paid attention to their cruel words even when she discovered he still had his way with Lizzie Stark during their long engagement.

“I love you, Evie,” her husband said to the woman who she had believed to have gotten rid off for good in 1919. “God, I missed you.”

Campbell had promised to send her back where she came from for interfering in her mission.

And yet here she was in bed with Grace’s husband.

She could kill them both. She’s got the bullets for it.

But she doesn’t.

Not when the whore takes Thomas’ gun and aims it at her.

“Fire that gun, Miss. Burgess, and I’ll make sure you it’s you who meets us in hell.” The woman threatened and Grace does the best not to cry, but her angry and heartbroken tears flow freely as she stands there like the pathetic wife in a novel.

“How could you?” she shouts at them, at her husband. “How could you?”

“Fuck, fuck,” Eva paces as she tried to make sense of what went wrong.

This Eva has a baby, a complex business and hopefully a diary of sorts.

The only diary, Eva has kept was that one with visions she had in the desert and of no use.

Or could it?

“Call Polly, she might be helpful.” Thomas, not the Tommy who lives here, suggested as he dressed for today.

She should do the same, but in her panic when the three-year-old boy cried for her, she forgot.

There are photographs, a list the other Eva made for Thomas and hopefully a Polly Gray willing to help.

They still spoke to each other, not as warm as it used to be. Polly thought she had been using them when she was told to choose between certain death or boring Lord Smallbrook.

“I know, Shelby. I’m not stupid.” She told her apparent husband.

What had she done wrong? She said the words exactly as it said, what went wrong?

“Should we stop her?” Eva asked and Tommy shrugged as Grace ran out in tears and saying all the horrible things she had been holding back.

Gypsy bastard, bean-eating tramp, son of a whore, brown-skinned foreign whore, fucking tinker.

Tommy wondered if this Thomas knew how racist his wife could be when pushed over the precipice.

Eva never stooped that low, the most hurtful thing she said to him was that he had big fucking head for such a short man and immediately apologized after.

“She’s not my wife, I don’t know.” He said wanting to return to much better things.

“No, but she thinks you are her husband.” Eva pointed out.

“Fuck.” How do you explain, I am not your husband, at least not in my universe?

How do you explain that the Thomas who loves her is stuck in a universe where he got over her less than a few days after she left?

Fuck.

It was one thing pretending to be this Thomas for a day, it will be hell to be Thomas Shelby for any longer than that.

Hell, he already had ruined his marriage in the span of twenty-four hours.

Oh, well, there was nothing he could do about it.

“Do you know what you fucked up in your spell last night?” he asked turning to his real wife.

“I have some theories. One involves the house.”

Up until this year, Eva was relatively weak.

Somewhere, an Eva had begun using her magic to its full potential and opened the tap for every Eva in every fucking universe.

Every attempt at scrying used to end with a headache, once she lost her shadow at a party and her husband may have died because she separated his soul from his body when she played the wicked witch and tied him to a cursed chair.

This Eva had chosen at random following a dumb question by her husband.

What would my life be without you, chovvikanon?

And as luck would have it, the spell had worked and sent him to Grace Burgess’ bed.

At least that universe had her, some universes Eva has been dead for years, is married to someone else, or flat out doesn’t exist.

The obsidian mirror Eva inherited from her late aunt manages to become clear as a window and reveals, not Tommy and his wife. No, it reveals and absolutely livid Grace who just trashed Arrow House in all its gaudiness, packed her things and has her muttering the letter she has written to her cheating husband.

“I lied; the boy isn’t yours.” She says and ordered for Mary to give this to her husband.

“I’m sorry, Thomas.” The witch apologized to the man who is more heartbroken about the boy not being his than his wife leaving.

“I had my suspicions about the boy, but it wasn’t your fault.” He dismissed her apology as he watched Grace take the crying boy and leave his life forever. It hurt him, not that the man would admit it.

“Still, I’m sorry this happened to you.” The witch said softly, and he nodded accepting her sympathies.

When they arrive at Arrow House, a grim-faced Polly and an apologetic Johnny Dogs greet Tommy.

“She took the boy and left a letter, Tom.” The Romani man said, taking his hat off and giving him his sympathies.

“A problem for the other Thomas, Johnny.” Polly said as she took them inside where every painting has been torn apart, everything breakable broken and a letter in a vase missing roses and filled with thorns. “This one is just relieved Grace won’t be an inconvenience.”

“Unfortunately.” Tommy said with a shrug.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🗞️ Bookish News: August 2024 Edition

🦇 Extra, extra. Read all about it! Good evening, bookish bats! A lot happened in the publishing industry this month, but here are a few highlights you may have missed! ⤵

📺 Adaptations 💜 The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires: limited series on HBO 💜 His & Hers - Alice Feeney: limited series for Netflix 💜 The God of the Woods and The Unseen World - Liz Moore: series for Sony 💜 My Lady Jane cancelled by Prime after one season 💜 Mark Hamill has joined the highly anticipated adaptation of Stephen King’s The Long Walk 💜 Court of Thorns and Roses series faces another setback - showrunner exits the production 💜 Trailer for Season 2 of Pachinko 💜 Britney Spears’ memoir is being made into a biopic 💜 Tom Blyth and Emily Bader starring in Netflix’s People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry 💜 The Games of Thrones prequel promos are out 💜 Burn Book: A Tech Love Story - Kara Swisher optioned as a series 💜 Every Summer After - Carley Fortune - Amazon series 💜 Regretting You - Colleen Hoover - McKenna Grace to star ppposite Allison Williams 💜 Verity - Colleen Hoover - no casting yet 💜 Percy Jackson season 2 is currently filming, and Sandra Bernhard, Kristen Schaal, and Margaret Cho have joined the cast of the Disney+ series 💜 Remarkably Bright Creatures - Shelby Van Pelt - Sally Field to star 💜 Bridgerton cast Yerin Ha as Sophie Beckett, Benedict’s love interest 💜 The Picture of Dorian Gray is getting a contemporary TV series adaptation 💜 Kazuo Ishiguro’s debut novel A Pale View of Hills is getting an adaptation

📕 Cover Reveals 💜 When We Were Real - Daryl Gregory 💜 Blood on Her Tongue - Johanna van Veen 💜 Frenemies with Benefits - Synithia Williams 💜 The ABCs of Democracy - Hakeem Jeffries 💜 Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke 💜 Cleavage: Men, Women, and the Space Between Us - Jennifer Finney Boylan 💜 The Silent Emperor - Snorri Krsitjansson 💜 Nothing Bad Happens Here - Rachel Ekstrom Courage 💜 Open, Heaven - Seán Hewitt 💜 And, Too, the Fox - Ada Limón & Gaby D’Alessandro 💜 On Again, Awkward Again - Erin Entrada Kelly and Kwame Mbalia 💜 Stop Me if You’ve Heard This One - Kristen Arnett 💜 Stage Dance - Torrey Peters 💜 The Hymn to Dionysus - Natasha Pulley 💜 Time After Time - Mikki Daughtry 💜 Pizza Witch - Sarah Graley & Stef Purenins 💜 A Drop of Corruption - Robert Jackson Bennett

⏰ Upcoming Releases 💜 Young Sheldon actress Raegan Revord is publishing her debut young adult novel, Rules for Fake Girlfriends 💜 Liza Minnelli has announced a new tell-all memoir 💜 Brooke Shields is Not Allowed to Get Old - Brooke Shields 💜 Maureen Johnson has announced a new book which she describes as “a case file in book form,” with a sealed solution in the back of the book: You Are the Detective: The Creeping Hand Murder 💜 Olympic track star Allyson Felix has sold North American rights to a memoir, Fast and Slow, to the Dial Press 💜 Meghan Markle is allegedly planning on releasing a tell-all memoir 💜 House of Blight - Maxym M. Martineau 💜 Tor acquired Talia Hibbert’s romantasy debut The Last Thorn

🗞️ News 💜 Francine Pascal, author of the Sweet Valley High books, died at 92 💜 This year’s longlist for the Booker Prize has been announced 💜 Flatiron is debuting a new imprint, Pine and Cedar Books 💜 New GMA Book Club pick: The Seventh Veil of Salome - Silvia Moreno-Garcia 💜 Algerian boxer and gold medalist Imane Khelif has filed a cyber harassment lawsuit against Elon Musk and JK Rowling for their disparaging comments about the boxer’s gender during the Olympics 💜 Kristen Bell will be reuniting with her Frozen costar, Josh Gad, to narrate his upcoming children’s book PictureFace Lizzy

[bethanydelleman]

Hello! How are you ?

I was wondering, do you think Darcy and Lizzie's firstborn son would be called Bennet just like Darcy was named after him mother's maiden name or are the Bennets not fancy enough and the boy would just be called Fitzwilliam after his dad?

I am very well, thank you. Also, this answer went long, sorry!

Among the gentry families, Jane Austen either names a firstborn son after his father or grandfather.

Eg. Charles Sr., Jr. and Jrr., Sir Thomas and Tom.

Henry Knightley is named after Mr. Woodhouse, not his father John (the second son is named John).

Harry Dashwood would named after Mr. Henry Dashwood, not his father John.

It has occurred to me, though I have no evidence, that when naming is done for a grandfather, it's in the hope of future inheritance. John might well be named after Uncle Dashwood because Henry Dashwood (Elinor's father) wanted to keep in his good graces and Harry might be named for the same reason. After all, Norland was not entailed and could have gone to anyone. (Uncle Dashwood leaves it to Harry, with a life interest for Henry and John). Same with Henry Knightley, it might be a bid for Hartfield. Anyway...

Now the Darcy family touches the aristocracy and they do not follow the general trend in Austen's novels. Darcy has his mother's last name and Lady Catherine has named her only daughter after her sister. I assume this was part of the planned to marry from their cradles scheme. Georgiana is generally assumed to be named after her father, as we know his godson is George Wickham too. Anyway...

Darcy probably has his mother's last name as a sort of resume, you know he's related to an earl just from his name. Now 'Bennet' has none of that importance, 'Bennet' is probably a pretty common name and it wouldn't be an instant connection tag.

HOWEVER, Mr. Bennet has no sons so his name is going to die. Elizabeth loves her father, I could see her wanting to name a son after her father in that way, so maybe yes? In Wives & Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell, the first son is named his mother's maiden name and the Squire outright tells us that her family was not significant. The second son has his father's name. But I'm not focusing on general trends here, just Austen.

I could see Darcy wanting to give his first name to his son. He is proud of his heritage after all.

HOWEVER Darcy also seems to have really loved his father and maybe he would want to name his firstborn after Mr. Darcy Sr. whose name we presume was George.

So I mean I don't know. I think Bennet, Fitzwilliam, and Darcy Sr.'s name would all be in the running. However, as much as Elizabeth loves her father, I think Darcy's family significance would probably win out, so my vote is either Fitzwilliam or Darcy's Sr.'s name, with a younger son being Bennet (if they want to go that way.)

I could also totally see their firstborn daughter being named Anne instead of Elizabeth.

Additional note: I know that Wickham would give them bad name associations with "George" but considering how commonly used these names were back then and Georgiana being the beloved sister, I don't think the name would be ruined for them.

[ofliterarynature]

MAY 2023 WRAP UP

loved liked okay no thanks dnf book club*

The Sugared Game | Think of England | Slippery Creatures | We Free the Stars | The Song of Achilles* | Clary Sage | Busman’s Honeymoon | We Hunt the Flame | Salt Fat Acid Heat | House of Many Ways | Mansfield Park | The Mimicking of Known Successes | The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet | Scorched Grace | Mostly Dead Things

I hope anyone else who had a long weekend for Memorial Day had some good reading! I fully intended to start Bordertown and next months book club but did not, oops. Instead I had an excellent time hiking at one of our state parks, so I guess the trade off is fair!

I’d also love recommendations for a classic mystery series or my next DWJ if you have any thoughts.

* * *

The highlight of this month was the final Peter Wimsey novel Busman’s Honeymoon, which was so good, everyone was right about the Harriet Vane books being the best, and I’m devastated there’s not more (I still have to hunt down the short stories, but it’s not the same).

As for the good, Mansfield Park was my last, much belated Austen and while slow, I love Fanny so much! House of Many Ways was also fun, and I think I can conclusively say I didn’t like HMC much not because tumblr had spoiled me, but because I enjoy Howl more in small doses and not as the entree. Clary Sage was an unexpected but welcome little addition to the Greenwing & Dart series (Hal!!!) and I’m mad at my brain that I haven’t been able to wrangle myself into reading Victoria’s previous release yet. Which is to say, I’ve thrown myself at KJ Charles because I know they’ll be enjoyable, easy reads and I’m trying desperately to get my reading brain back on track. (So far I’d rate Will Darling better than The Magpie Lord, if we want to talk her mystery series)

Salt Fat Acid Heat probably would have gotten bumped up to ‘liked” if I’d had a physical copy to look at (would not rec just the audiobook) so I might do that in the future. We Hunt the Flame was ok - definitely readable, I liked the second book more but maybe just from familiarity - but it’s on that YA/adult line I’m not super into right now. The Mimicking of Known Successes had interesting world building, but the mystery was meh. I also don’t think you should be able to call your mc sherlockian if they’re an actual member of a police force?

(The less said about Achilles the better, if I’d been reading it for myself I’d have quit before 50%)

Several DNFs this month, alas. Lizzie Bennet was the third and last of the P&P spin-offs I own and the only one I quit. I probably could have finished it, but it wasn’t amazing writing and the characters were very immature. Maybe it’d work better if you read it while watching the show? (And not 8 years later lol). I was super disappointed to quit Scorched Grace, queer nun + mystery is a fascinating combo, but it was trying so hard for gritty modern noir that it was off putting. I also tried and quit Mostly Dead Things the same day - I was drawn in by the weirdness of the blurb, but it was pretty quickly obvious it was going more sad than quirky and we weren’t going to get along.

[marvelous-mushroom-lady]

Post Breakup Rant Incoming

I went through a break up late march and suddenly all of TS's songs make a terrible sense to me. I feel like this is my first true heart break, like he's the one that got away. I listen to Lizzy McAlpine music and it's not for fanfic inspo anymore.

I miss very simple things, like recognizing a show he might like and talk to him about it. I miss spending the weekend together in bed with his or my cats. I miss his two chubby cats. I miss his friends, they were all super nice to me and I felt like if we had more time we could become friends as well.

I miss seeing small things and trinkets that he would love. I miss telling him about my D&D sessions, planning games with him. I miss telling him about video games I liked and finding new ones we might play together.

This feels like friendship breakup on top of the regular breakup.

I'm currently changing my summer wardrobe and thinking how we were supposed to be moving in together around this time. I had to wait to see if we break up because my matress got too old and lumpy to sleep on. I told myself that if we move in I won't have to buy a new one.

Now I'm going to IKEA with my mom to look for a cheap option.

I'm buying my cat a new cat tree knowing she won't be sharing it with two older sisters. That she'll probably stay my only fur baby for a while.

I met him at a mutual friend hangout yesterday. I saw him but decided I'm too hurt to say Hi. I ignored him and felt good talking to different people. And then he came up to me and said hi himself. I don't know why he did that, why he thought it would be okay. He broke my facking adult lady heart and I made sure he knew it. I coldly replied and moved along. I texted him after I left that if he ever sees me at a geek event he shouldn't approach me. I was dying to see if he replies and what he'd say. A small part of me hoped he'd be angry or sad. But nope. Just texted me back a thumbs up emoji. I hate that I feel this way about so many small things. I feel like a teenager with a crush on a boy at school that didn't work out.

He broke up with me two times before, so this is just... I feel like I'm actively dealing with the clearest end of a relationship. This is a person that I could never go back to. We can never become friends. He's just going to turn into a stranger I never acknowledge, this person who at one time knew almost every small thing about me, and I knew about him.

All the jerky poetry and Jane Austen novels make sense, but this one is not getting back into my good graces with a well written letter. We already did that before. And I let him back in for almost a year. And the worst of it is, I feel like I don't know what would be worse - If he tries to get back despite promising me he wouldn't, or if he never wants to again. If he truly moves on from me and I won't really move on, just along.

I was so angry yesterday, partly because seeing him reminded me how broad and soft his shoulders are. How the last time we were at the park with his friends I'd constantly lean on him. How kind his eyes are. How great it was to kiss him casually, lightly. How at home that feeling was.

I really hope you get more than one 'soulmate' type love in your life. Because honestly, that feeling of comforting, homely love was the best while it lasted. Nothing less than that will be enough.

[bookclub4m]

Episode 176 - Fantasy

This episode we’re talking about the genre of Fantasy! We discuss whether fantasy needs magic, clam powers, forklore, Tears of the Kingdom, worksonas, It’s Always My First Day at Wizard School, and more!

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Google Podcasts, or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | Jam Edwards

Things We Read (or tried to…)

The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain by Nghi Vo

Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse

Storm of Locusts by Rebecca Roanhorse

Sing, Nightingale by Marie Hélène Poitras, translated by Rhonda Mullins

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark

The Haunting of Tram Car 015 by P. Djèlí Clark

Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune, narrated by Kirt Graves

The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw

Lakelore by Anna-Marie McLemore

Babel: An Arcane History by R.F. Kuang

The Chill by Scott Carson

Nothing but Blackened Teeth by Cassandra Khaw

Big Machine by Victor LaValle

Other Media We Mentioned

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey (Wikipedia)

Elfquest by Wendy and Richard Pini (Wikipedia)

Read it online free!

Steven Universe (Wikipedia)

Sailor Moon (Wikipedia)

Squire by Sara Alfageeh and Nadia Shammas

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

The Golden Compass / Northern Lights by Philip Pullman

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

Redwall (Wikipedia) Brian Jacques

The Discworld Mapp: Being the Onlie True and Mostlie Accurate Mappe of the Fantastyk and Magical Dyscworlde by Terry Pratchett and Stephen Briggs

Discworld (Wikipedia)

The Chronicles of Narnia (Wikipedia) by C.S. Lewis

The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce

Wise Child by Monica Furlong

Juniper by Monica Furlong

The Sandman (comic book) (Wikipedia)

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Wikipedia)

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom (Wikipedia)

Yakuza 0 (Wikipedia)

A Song of Ice and Fire (Wikipedia) by George R. R. Martin

The series of novels on which the television series Game of Thrones is based

The Wheel of Time (Wikipedia) by Robert Jordan

The Black God's Drums by P. Djèlí Clark

Leaving Mundania: Inside the Transformative World of Live Action Role-Playing Games by Lizzie Stark

Links, Articles, and Things

X-Men (Wikipedia)

Scarlet Witch

Magik (Illyana Rasputina) (though her magic powers are separate from her mutation)

Magical girl (Wikipedia)

Alebrije (Wikipedia)

Dungeons & Dragons (Wikipedia)

Independence Day (1996 film) (Wikipedia)

30 Fantasy fiction by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

Road of the Lost by Nafiza Azad

A Broken Blade by Melissa Blair

A Thousand Steps into Night by Traci Chee

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride by Roshani Chokshi

The Unbroken by C.L. Clark

The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

VenCo by Cherie Dimaline

The Daughters of Izdihar by Hadeer Elsbai 

We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal

Blood Scion by Deborah Falaye

The Gilda Stories by Jewelle Gomez

The Lost Dreamer by Lizz Huerta

Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin

The Björkan Sagas by Harold R. Johnson

Untethered Sky by Fonda Lee

Six Crimson Cranes by Elizabeth Lim

A Magic Steeped in Poison by Judy I. Lin

The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu

The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna

The Return of the Sorceress by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Famished Road by Ben Okri

Beasts Made of Night by Tochi Onyebuchi

The Monsters We Defy by Leslye Penelope

Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse

The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

The Rage of Dragons by Evan Winter

Give us feedback!

Fill out the form to ask for a recommendation or suggest a genre or title for us to read!

Check out our Tumblr, follow us on Twitter or Instagram, join our Facebook Group, or send us an email!

Join us again on Tuesday, June 20th we’re talking about celebrity book clubs and one book reading campaigns!

Then on Tuesday, July 4th we’ll be discussing non-fiction books about UFOs and Aliens!

[handmadenostalgia]

Lana Del Rey’s First Summer

Elisa Carini & Vincenzo Grasso

As in a Orthodox Christian service, Lana Del Rey turns her back to the audience. Having consumed the first half of the concert, she pauses for a few minutes in the feverish atmosphere at the Bussoladomani Park, in Lido di Camaiore. It’s July 2nd, 2023, and we are on the last day of “La Prima Estate” Festival. The monologue that accompanies the music video of one of her best-known singles, Ride, starts on the screen, projected at the back of the stage. Her recorded voice recites:

I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer…

One after the other, in snapshots, Lana’s thousand summers come to life: the Lana-before-fame, when she was Lizzy Grant and had platinum blonde hair; Lana in Video Games, the 2011 YouTube phenomenon that changed everything with a homemade video clip and a chorus backed by her smoky timbre impossible to replicate. As she told the Daily Mail in 2011: ‹‹If I’d known so many people were going to watch it, I would have made very different choices››. And yet, it may have been precisely these choices – the low-resolution webcam pointed at her face; the lips stretched out like a canthus – that marked the trajectory of an artist destined to become a cult figure in the contemporary music scene. And then again, in a coast-to-coast journey through her catalogue of records, she shows all of her transformations. While we’re at it, we wonder why such an artist would choose Lido di Camaiore as the venue for her only Italian date, announced just six days before.

Perhaps, this exemplifies an aesthetic of subtraction, one that Lana has pursued throughout her career. Her stage-fright, the terror of the spotlight, perhaps even an awareness of the inability to live up to the expectations placed on female artists in pop music. So, she also deletes her social media. The music can “speak for itself”, no promotional strategy other than the vicarious marketing of her own fanbase.

The location is certainly not easy to get to, but today we’re 17,000.

When the monologue ends and Lana returns to our gaze, we wonder what her next move will be. When will the Lana we see now become part of this celebratory carousel?

Handmade nostalgia

Red heart-shaped sunglasses, white flowers in dark hair, mullets and mustaches, cherry coke and peyote T-shirts, cowboy boots, denim shorts, ethereal dresses. Cameras capture an excited, eager crowd. After a sunny afternoon it starts to wind up. Reflected on the large screens, a boy holds up a sign that says "MOMMY?", he smiles.

Through a vast repertoire curated over the course of a decade, Lana has created a complex, distinctive and, for the early 2000s, innovative narrative universe. Her references include some of the cornerstones of American literature and music: Walt Whitman, Allen Ginsberg, Tennessee Williams, Sylvia Plath, T.S. Eliot, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Presley, Joni Mitchell, not to mention covers of songs such as Blue Velvet, Summer Wine, Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood and Chelsea Hotel No°2. Lana has taken a bygone aesthetic - that of 1950s’ USA - and made it her own, enacting it with the grace of poetry.

Think of Lolita – Nabokov’s novel – which, like herself, has often been misunderstood, accused of romanticizing abusive relationships. It is almost impossible to think of Lana Del Rey without certain literary references coming to mind, or other iconic images such as Marilyn singing Happy Birthday to JFK, Jackie O’ and her pink Chanel suit. And these images live together with the California of the early 1970s, with “jazz singers” and “cult leaders” (Charles Manson and the family), with life “on the road”, being on a Harley Davidsons with your cheeks resting on the leather vest of much older man, with half-empty motels in the middle of the desert and abandoned gasoline stations.

It’s impossible not to think of her religious references too: Tropico, the 2016 short movie, the blue veil over her long dark hair and her hands clasped in prayer. Lana’s world is made up of her passions, of aesthetics that speak to her, of "handmade nostalgia". Quotes and references are never an end in themselves, but serve to create atmospheres, to evoke feelings. Lana tells stories, sometimes even her own, with extreme sincerity and vulnerability, a perhaps unconscious courage that we could call authentic: she cannot and does not want to do otherwise.

Lana has created a world for herself and has nurtured the worlds of others. Think of a novel like The Girls, by Emma Cline, and a song like Freak; think of the many artists inspired by her, who are already collecting her legacy. Laila Al Habash and Maria Antoinetta themselves - who opened the concert and were wonderful, telling stories and building worlds - reaffirmed the importance of an artist like her for the contemporary scene. It’s also impossible to think of Lana without thinking about the era of Tumblr, when it was still popular among the younger generation and full of photos of her: Lana in front of the American flag with honey-brown hair winking at the camera, Lana in her red Ferrari jacket. It’s impossible not to think of the hours spent sharing her photos and videos, trying to recreate her aesthetic. It is impossible not to think back to the time when you first discovered her, Lana.

There’s still light, but not for long. We look at the big screens. A sign reads: “YOU DID MORE FOR ME THAN MY THERAPIST”. The girl we befriended smiles. We ask her if she remembers the first time she heard Lana. She recounts that it was the summer of 2012, that she was on holiday at her grandmother’s country house. ‹‹There was nothing to do,›› she says, ‹‹Me and my cousin used to spend the days sitting on the lawn talking, drawing, and listening to Born To Die. He made me discover it.›› She smiles: ‹‹We were sixteen. I listened to Summertime Sadness crying every night because my boyfriend had moved out. We were living on Tumblr››. She takes a sip of her beer: ‹‹It's been ten years and we still write to each other sometimes heaven is a place on earth with you.››

A Motel Room of One’s Own

Throughout the concert, Lana is accompanied by the band, a corps of dancers, and her three backup singers. As she performs her most famous songs - Young and Beautiful, Ride, Born to Die, Blue Jeans, Summertime Sadness and Video Games - the crowd overwhelms her voice.

On the songs that are less well known to the general public, such as the newer ones from her latest Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard, the crowd calms down and Lana’s vocal performance comes out strong and mature. Long gone are the days when she was harshly criticized for her musical inaccuracies resulting from a seemingly uncontrollable anxiety.

In Lana’s early days, the American and European media portrayed her as the result of a Frankensteinian operation between the stereotype of a movie diva and a 1940s torch singer. In a 2014 interview with The Guardian, the singer, often accused of a kind of ingratitude towards life because of the recognisable sadness that still characterizes her music, confessed: ‹‹I was hoping I was already dead››. That same year, upon the publication of her most controversial work, Ultraviolence, she was torn to shreds by critics for “glorifying” domestic violence.

Reality or fiction? In this case, the search for an answer is less interesting than the question itself. In fact, Lana has often hovered on the liminal specter of autofiction, and it is only recently that she has begun to indulge to the practice of ruthless autobiography.

In the first half of the concert, Lana sings The Grants, a single from her latest album in which talks about the fear of losing family members. It is a eulogy to emotional memory: she mentions the birth of her niece, her grandmother’s last words - in short, what she intends to take away with her when her time comes.

When she sings an intimate version of the title track from Ocean Blvd, the question is reversed and becomes an invitation to her audience: ‹‹Don’t forget me.›› Thousands of arms raise their mobile phones, their flashes on. But the truth is, it is hard to forget an artist who has irrevocably changed the course of pop music by narcotising it; before her arrival, pop music was dominated by the obsessive and sweetened rhythms of the early 2000s.To paraphrase a passage from her own song, even today, here on stage in front of thousands of people, there is a girl locked in a motel room, humming. If you have found the entrance to this hidden world, don’t leave it.

[wahlpaper]

Love at First Set

CW: Heavy Drinking, Alcoholism, Addiction, Gaslighting and Gaslighting Attempts, Manipulative Parents, Child Abuse, Mentioned Physical Abuse, Mentioned Toxic Relationship and Love Bombing, Money Problems, Classism, Queerphobia, Cheating, Breach of Trust, Sexual Content, Swearing

4.5/5

I don't think I read the description for Jennifer Dugan's Love at First Set until it was my turn with it on Libby. I saw the author and the cover and decided to check it out. What was written for the blurb wasn't wrong, exactly, but the tone was misleading, making it seem toxic. I wouldn't describe the romance as toxic, even if the characters and scenes get messy. I'm glad I read the book in spite of my worries. It was entertaining, handled some heavy topics with grace, and made me care a lot for the three main characters. 

Lizzie has been dreaming of running her own gym since she was a little girl. In the meantime, she's been working as a front desk manager at the gym her best friend's, James, parents own. When James' sister, Cara, is getting married, he convinces Lizzie to come along. He sees it as a chance for her to schmooze and get a promotion. Unfortunately, Lizzie ends up drunkenly pepping up a hot girl in the bathroom, telling her to leave her unhappy relationship. She didn't know this was Cara. Familial chaos ensues. Over the next few months, Lizzie and Cara get to know each other. They may even be catching feelings. 

Love at First Set was a surprisingly easy book to get through. Both Cara and Lizzie have awful parents, which is an important part of the story. They also had a really hard time opening up to each other, not just assuming the worst about one another, but themselves too. There were also a number of described sex scenes, which are almost never my thing. However, I was captivated the whole way through. Lizzie is incredibly self-aware and has an active inner voice. Anything that could have been taken too far was balanced out by Lizzie's reactions. There were times I would get fed up with any of the main trio, but I could trust that they'd work it out in a healthy way.

As with any Dugan novel, Love at First Set has plenty of queer rep in it. James is gay and Lizzie and Cara are bi. There are a few queer supporting characters and even more background ones. I can tell the characters aren't genre-aware, or else the classic Sapphic movie, Imagine Me & You, would absolutely have been brought up. However, the characters, especially Cara, are cliche-aware. At one point she mentions Uhal Lesbians. The main trio is also aware that it's weird that their abusive parents aren't queerphobic. Overall, this book could easily be just another queer book, and it may not be a contender for my favorite book this year, but it found ways to stand out.

If you're into books about queer sports, I recommend broadening your horizons out of the competitive ones. A majority of this book takes place in a gym, something I've never seen in a queer sports story. If you're into the best-friend's-sibling trope, Love at First Set by Jennifer Dugan is absolutely for you. If you're done lifting weights, lift this book. Don't worry, Lizzie will spot you!

[wildhecrt]

don't blame it on me- independent & private multimuse loved by k. pst. 21+ only. mutuals only. iconless. i'm here in and out, reserve the right to block whomever i want, and oftentimes get brainrot for one muse over another. i'm just here to have fun. at the end of the day, really. <3 blame it on my wild heart.

muses under the cut; all are mostly headcanon based. nancy wheeler from stranger things star from the lost boys

spooky szn muses:

marnie cromwell - halloweentown series sally - nightmare before christmas barbara maitland - beetlejuice lydia deetz - beetlejuice (note: not seeing the new film until tba) allison watts - hocus pocus sarah sanderson - hocus pocus morticia addams - the addams family (films, series, and "wednesday" based) emily - corpse bride

MUSES (* = test muse ** = request only)

television:

glee - quinn fabray gossip girl - blair waldorf gilmore girls - lorelai "rory" gilmore (starts at S4) gilmore girls - lorelai gilmore* sons of anarchy - tara knowles (note: i ignore past S5) riverdale - elizabeth "betty" cooper (mostly headcanon based) stranger things - maxine "max" mayfield daisy jones and the six - margaret "daisy" jones (mixed media) boy meets world - topanga lawrence* lizzie mcguire revival - elizabeth "lizzie" mcguire** this is us - rebecca pearson so weird - fiona "fi" phillips**

film:

clueless - cher horowitz the breakfast club - claire standish ready or not? - grace le domas the labyrinth - sarah williams beauty and the beast - belle dirty dancing - francis "baby" houseman twilight - rosalie hale fear street 1994 - samantha "sam" fraser repo! the genetic opera - shilo wallace scream - sidney prescott harry potter series (film and novel) - hermione granger star wars - leia organa**

misc: harry potter series - narcissa black harry potter series - lily evans seven husbands of evelyn hugo - celia st. james* wicked - elphaba thropp

[hollymbryan]

Blog Tour: Top 5 Reasons to Read HATCHET GIRLS by Diana Rodriguez Wallach!

Welcome to Book_Keeping and my stop on the TBR and Beyond Tours blog tour for Hatchet Girls by Diana Rodriguez Wallach, which released this past Tuesday, 10 October! I've got all the details on this deliciously creepy nod to the story of Lizzie Borden, along with my top 5 reasons to read, below!

About the Book

title: Hatchet Girls author: Diana Rodriguez Wallach publisher: Delacorte Press release date: 10 October 2023

For fans of Kara Thomas and Courtney Summers comes a supernatural horror that reminds us family can be our saving grace–or our biggest curse. Set one-hundred years after the Borden murders, this propulsive thriller imagines what a similar trial might look like today. When the parents of the richest family in Fall River are found murdered by axe, the town is quick to blame newcomer Vik. It doesn’t help that he was caught standing over the bodies with blood on his hands and can’t remember anything about the night in question. But Vik’s sister, Tessa, knows that Vik would never be capable of such a gruesome crime. Haunted by the mistakes she made that led her family to Fall River in the first place, she sets out to prove her brother’s innocence. Her search for answers will lead her into a sprawling, supposedly cursed forest, as well as the childhood home of Lizzie Borden—the original axe murderess of Fall River. Content Warning: Violence, mentions of murder, blood, grief, abuse

Add to Goodreads: Hatchet Girls Purchase the Book: Amazon | B&N | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Diana Rodriguez Wallach is a multi-published author of young adult novels. Her most recent, Small Town Monsters, is a YA Latinx horror novel that published in September 2021 through Random House’s Underlined imprint. Her next YA horror, Hatchet Girls, will publish in hardback in Fall 2023 through Random House’s Delacorte imprint. Additionally, Diana is the author of the Anastasia Phoenix Series (Entangled Publishing), a trilogy of young adult spy thrillers. The first book in the series, Proof of Lies, has been optioned for film and was chosen as a finalist for the 2018 International Thriller Awards for Best Young Adult Novel. Additionally, Bustle listed her as one of the “Top Nine Latinx Authors to Read for Women’s History Month 2017,” and Paste named Proof of Lies one of the “Top 10 Best Young Adult Books for March 2017.” Diana is also the author of three YA contemporary Latina novels: Amor and Summer Secrets, Amigas and School Scandals, and Adios to All The Drama (Kensington Books). Amor and Summer Secrets placed second at the 2009 International Latino Book Awards for Best Young Adult Novel. She also penned a YA short-story collection entitled Mirror, Mirror (Buzz Books, 2013).

Connect with Diana: Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Facebook

Top 5 Reasons to Read

I have been a fan of Diana Rodriguez Wallach since I read the first of her Anastasia Phoenix trilogy, Proof of Lies, back when it was released in 2017. I was on a tour for it and then did the next two books as well. (If you like YA thrillers, you should absolutely check it out, it's so good!) So I was excited to hear about Hatchet Girls coming out and had high hopes for it -- which were more than met! Here are my top reasons to read this deliciously creepy novel!

I love a good YA horror, and Hatchet Girls more than fits the bill! It is creepy and gory and horrific without being *too* over the top, great for folks who might not like more extreme/adult horror.

I love how the story takes inspiration from and pays homage to the Lizzie Borden story, updating it for the modern day and including supernatural elements.

Diana honors the bloody history of the area in which the book takes place, the Bridgewater Triangle, by including actual facts about that history and incorporating it into the supernatural forces at work in the story.

The book asks the question, which I am still pondering, of whether a place's bloody history can infect and curse the land itself, and/or whether land can be infected and cursed and thus lead to continual acts of violence perpetrated there.

This might seem weird, but the author's note about her own experience while researching the novel just sealed the deal for how much I loved it! You'll see when you read it -- I actually got chills!

I love doing these top reasons to read posts, but once again find myself wanting to rate the book even though this isn't a traditional review, because you have to know this is a five star read for me! I hope every fan of YA (and adult!) horror will pick this one up. Make sure you read the historical facts section and author's note at the end to enrich the reading experience.

Thank you to Delacorte Press for the finished copy, and to TBR and Beyond Tours for having me on the tour today!

Make sure to check out the Bookstagram tour as well! You can find my post here, and the full schedule is here.

[deadendtracks]

I don't see this asked yet so brutal honest opinion about Tommy/Lizzie

ohhhhh okay i actually haven't written as much about Tommy/Lizzie as the other major ships!

I feel like fandom in general is much more clear-eyed about Tommy/Lizzie than the other ships, even when I disagree with some of the takes on it. There isn't much of the sort of starry-eyed determinedly ignoring their problems in favor of some kind of romance novel trope, because the show doesn't let you. Though there still are a lot of tropes. But those tropes are forced to acknowledge some of the reality at least.

I also think this is the one relationship where Tommy is rightly pinned with most of the responsibility for the difficulties. So again, I don't have anything to argue with there except for some of the specific interpretations of that general point.

It's hard to be more brutally honest about this ship than the show is!

But to make some points beyond those that fandom tends to make about them:

Lizzie isn't a helpless wallflower in this relationship, waiting to be rescued from it. And Tommy isn't a villain who just needs to realize his real love for her and therefore become a man worthy of her.

I think when it started (beyond the time he was explicitly paying her), it was mostly about sex. But from things Lizzie has said, I think this became more than just the idea of Tommy using her physically as an outlet.

I think they had genuine sexual compatibility on both sides, and the sex was really good for both of them. Lizzie makes that point in both s5 and s6, and that's a point I think it's important not to overlook for someone who tells Linda that at one point she was fucking seven men a day for money and survival. Tommy gets her off, makes her feel good physically, and that's important! So to reduce this as just 'oh she's just Tommy's fucktoy/physical outlet' is to disparage something that was important to Lizzie herself.

By the time Lizzie is making an active decision about whether to stay with Tommy or divorce him, she's not just weighing her heart against her head -- factoring in the financial stability being married to him gives her -- but it's also about the fact they have great sex, even when they're in a terrible place in their marriage. This isn't a remotely shallow thing!

Um, I have way too much to say and this has already gotten long so I'll stop here with this one point I feel is overlooked, and when I have time I will make sure to post more about them because I've neglected them compared to Grace/Tommy.

[call-sign-shark]

Alright Brummie babe, now that I have more time to answer this wonderful comment/analysis properly, be ready for a novel-length reply teehee. Because your comment made me squeal and kick my feet. Literally. Got a cigarette, now I'm ready.

If there's one thing we cannot deny is that Tommy loves his brothers despite being harsh with them and using them as soldiers. That small scene between him and John was significant, 'cause I've always felt like the show gave far too little room to his relationship with John.

In truth, reconciliation would have been possible if Tommy hadn't had the idea to kiss her. The moment between the two of them was genuine, and Heaven was ready to forgive him for everything. I am surprised his attraction for Heaven didn't come out as a surprise, but it's true that many of you had spotted it earlier. In truth, he didn't even think about Arthur, as awful as it sounds. It's a bit the case with Lizzie though. Even if he tested her loyalty to John he still didn't mind using her for his own pleasure and marrying her later. In his selfish way of behaving, he does think he deserves a loyal and stunning wife more than Arthur. I don't think he wanted to take advantage of Heaven's vulnerability tho, but saw it as the best opportunity to break the barrier between them and try something. In fact, he thought => She comes to me for comfort => She'll see Arthur's true face when he will relapse => She'll want a strong man => I am the best match for her. We can keep each other out of misery. Since Grace's death, he craves the love Heaven and Arthur have, and sees himself as more worthy of it. That's indeed very narcissistic but I think it fits him??I am so relieved you think Tommy's reaction was canon! I tried my best to translate it, even his body language, and yes! Definitely like he did with May in the distillery.

AHHH I was so excited to post about Heaven's powers 'cause that's quite unexpected for a witch. She is indeed terrifying but Tommy had not been clever. He pushed her too far. For sure having the air sucked out of him and his lungs crushed might lead him to reflect about his conduct! 🤭 I'm convinced he's not going to underestimate her anymore. Witch girl casually trying to murder his brother-in-law LMAO. An absolute normal day in her life!

I am also glad you've picked up how she tries her best to focus on Arthur's well-being 'cause that's a significant aspect of her character. I think that's what renders Arthur's behavior even more unacceptable, on top of having broken his promise of not taking drugs again except on very rare occasions. While it wasn't a healthy reaction, she self-harmed in a desperate attempt to make him brutally understand the consequences of his actions. An image worths a thousand words, right? Even if his pleadings were heartbreaking -- and God it hurt Heaven -- she just couldn't forgive him. Not now. You are the only one who pointed this out: they need space. Finger crossed for Arthur to behave properly and not aggravate his situation, because he's not the smartest one.

Thank you again for your sweet words about this chapter. I couldn't wait to post it because it contains a lot of plot twists and events. Also, knowing it feels more like you're watching than reading is one of the best things ever for a writer. Thank you again Brummie, I love you sooo much. 🖤🖤

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

Summary:  John is dead. Your whole world crumbles. Arthur and you are facing your first real argument, and everything grows out of control -- featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.8k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, domestic violence, mention of drug use, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, self-harm, guilt trip, co-dependent relationship.

Notes:

✞ Read the notes at the end.

Previous || Masterlist || NEXT

The creaking which resounded in the whole morgue when the door opened sent shivers down Tommy’s spine. The infamous Peaky Blinders’ boss was standing next to the mortuary table, staring at the ashen face of his little brother, frozen in a peaceful expression. Although Tommy tried his best to remain neutral, the way his enchanting turquoise eyes gleamed belied his profound sorrow. A sorrow so distressing that he was not even able to express it – instead, his negative thoughts piled up inside of his already decaying heart. First Grace, then John… Tommy let out a long exhale from his nostrils while going on with his morbid contemplation. How many more deaths would he have to endure before his hunger for power was sated? “Fuck, I’m sorry John.” He whispered, softly pressing his large hand on his brother’s muscular shoulder. The sensation of John was cold and hard, even above the fabric of his blood-stained shirt, “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” His hand then reached for the funeral shroud and pulled it over his brother’s chest, which had been riddled with bullets. He did not want John to look weak, even in death. He wished for people to recall his joy and strength, not his troubled last moments. “I’m sorry.” He reiterated, offering a last apologetic look at his little brother before turning around at the sound of someone’s heels beating the cold tiled floor. Tommy’s forehead creased as he furrowed his brows: he had not been expecting anyone now that Arthur and Esme had left.

“Tommy.”

The hypnotizing and melodious voice that called him led him to briefly open his eyes wide in surprise — especially when he recognized its owner. And when he did, his face immediately hardened. It was only seconds later that he saw you walking towards him with hastened steps, rivers of tears still streaming down your angelic face. He didn’t know what surprised him the most though, to see you here in this morgue, to hear you calling him “Tommy” and not “Thomas” for the very first time, or maybe the unexpected way you threw yourself into his arms. In fact, it was certainly a bit of the three at once. As soon as your body collapsed with his, the gangster’s muscles tensed, and his placid expression shifted into a stunned one: your affection had taken him aback.

“Oh my God, Tommy…”  You were crying your eyes out, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He could even feel the warm wetness of your tears on his skin, the little salty drops running down his chest and dying under his shirt. Esme had told him everything. Tommy blinked a few times to chase away the surprise and, gradually, his body relaxed as he felt your frail being snuggling against him, the freezing sensation of your dainty frame meeting the warm temperature of his skin even separated by the clothes you were wearing. He gave you a quick glance from above your head to check if what was happening was true and, finally, he sighed. As his arms wrapped around you softly, you felt like you were falling apart and, ironically, the only thing that held you together at this very moment was Thomas Shelby. The man you hated since day one.

“I’m here.”  His quiet and deep voice simply stated, soon followed by his arms tightening around you and his fingers gently diving into your waist, not willing to let you go anymore. To hell with your mutual hatred, you thought, Tommy had just lost a brother and you wanted to be here for him too. Surely, all the ice of his heart couldn’t shield him from grieving a loved one.

What started as an awkward hug soon turned into a powerful embrace when Tommy indulged in your love. All the resent, all your past arguments, all the fear… The more you were pressing together, the more they were turned into dust, “I’m fuckin’ here.” One of his hands ran up your body only to rest on the back of your head, inviting you to nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck even more – which was what you did, desperately looking for comfort.

“I can’t… I can’t let him go. I don’t want to.” Your voice was merely a desperate whimper, for the uncontrollable sobbing and the ball of sorrow in your throat wouldn’t allow you to align more words. Another hiccup — The excruciating sadness almost suffocated you when you realized that John’s dry blood was still stuck under your nails.

“He’s gone, Heaven.” His words, stone cold, made you shake like a leaf, to the extent that Tommy was now certain you would shatter if he were not holding you. He started rubbing your back with his powserful free hand, the other clenching its fingers on the back of your head, “Listen to me.” He started, holding you firmly against his strong body: he was not going to let you all apart.

“They fucking shot him! Ces enculés lui ont tiré dessus!” You repeated in French, and of course he understood. He tried to hush your worries down but it didn’t work. Deaf to his attempt to comfort you, you gritted your teeth and let out a frustrated and painful cry. John was dead and your whole world felt like it was collapsing. Your little fists hit Tommy’s strong chest in a weak blow, anger taking over sadness as seconds passed. You were angry at him, at you, at Changretta, at the whole damn world. In truth, your mind didn’t know how to cope with grief anymore, and rather let you experience various emotions to test which one hurt the less. In response, the gangster restrained your movements by hugging you tighter and then, he brought his lips near your ear to keep you focused on him and only him.

“Hey, listen to me now.” He said with a firmer tone, catching your attention. You glanced at him and froze, realizing how dangerously close his face was, “I want you to calm down. You’re a fucking Shelby.” Despite his harsh words, Tommy’s tender caresses made amends for his toughness and managed to dry your tears up. His palms, then, wandered on your back and shoulders, stimulating every nerve of your quivering body to anchor you to reality, “There. Better.” He finally praised you, warming up your body with the sole power of his touch and rubs. Feeling calmer, you sniffed a little bit and tried to focus on the musky yet delicate fragrances of his cologne rather than on John’s corpse that was lying a bit further from you.

“Better.” You softly replied, surprisingly lulled by little King Shelby’s presence. A real miracle. Once comforted, you decided it was time for you to move your body from him and break the embrace though. After all, Tommy and you had never got along. Plus, you were pretty sure he wanted this to end as quickly as possible now that he had done his in-law duty. But, somehow, a little part of you still hope for this moment to improve your relationship from now. Maybe things wasn’t that hopeless? You were about to move but the gangster didn’t let you leave him. Quite the contrary, he pulled you closer until your breasts flattened against his chest and your cheek rested on his collarbone. Surprised, your lips parted but no sound came out.

“Stay.” Even though he did not mean it, his tone sounded like an order more than a request. Truth was, he couldn’t control it – the way his heart had quickened at the physical contact he was sharing with you unsettled him. As much as the thought that you came to him for comfort, not to your husband. Under the crushing weight of something he couldn’t name, Tommy delicately rubbed his perfectly shaven cheek against yours and buried his nose in your long white hair to get himself drunk with your spring-like perfume, “I’ll keep you out of sorrow, if you ask me,” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight and deepening his embrace again, until it became slightly painful. His thoughts swirled in his restless mind, and between plans for the Vendetta and the grief of John’s death, there was you. You and your intoxicating perfume. With his breath quickening and his lower lip trembling, Tommy allowed himself to sink into your softness, “And you’ll keep me out of it.” His husky voice was merely a murmur only you could hear. A soft whisper even the Grim Reaper, who was leaning over John and contemplating about where he was going to send him, did not catch.

“What do you mean?” You bated your doe lashes, confused at this sudden passionate demonstration of affection. But Tommy didn’t reply. In fact, he did not even hear a word you said for his mind was trying to cope with the overwhelming feelings and sensations that were drowning him. He felt like a sailor thrown into a raging see, desperately trying to keep his head above the water, and the only hope for him to survive was to cling onto you as hard as he could. The truth was it felt so good to have you in his arms, blessed with your holy and calming aura, that he had momentarily forgot what pain was like. For a split second, colors came back in his black and white life – something he hadn’t experience since Grace’s death. Letting out a relieved sigh, Tommy gently pulled his face away from you only for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes to dive into your celeste iris.

“It’s going to be alright, Tommy. It’s not your fault.” You stuttered, trying to comfort him too despite being slightly confused by his intense stare. Nevertheless, you could not help but commiserate with him, grief being one of the most universal human feelings to share. United in pain, you offered him a faint smile. The fearful gangster replied with utter silence – struck by the fact that he loved how his nickname sounded in your mouth. Only his brows frowned slightly as he watched you for the very first time: your big fair eyes, your long lashes, your plumped lips, the way your snow-white hair reflected the dull lights of the morgue… Last time he recalled having stared at you like this was during your first meeting, when his hand was wrapped around your throat. Worried by the unfamiliar ways he was looking at you, your little cold fingers grazed one of his hollow cheeks as softly as a feather’s caress to bring him back to his senses. A surge of electricity ran through his soul at the skin-to-skin contact. You touched him and, all of sudden, Tommy understood Arthur. He understood what he meant when he told him you were an angel. And after the epiphany came a moment of madness.

“No, it won’t.” He admitted with a sad tone you never suspected he was capable of. At his words, he finally gave in and broke the distance between your lips. Life flashed before your eyes, your brain momentarily ceasing to function at the soft press of his mouth. Tommy’s hand had wrapped itself around the back of your neck, keeping you from moving your face with one thick and strong palm. His kiss, eager but indescribably sensual, made your heart miss a small beat. It took you two solid seconds to realize what was happening, and one extra to push him away from you as he started to make it slow and deep with the wet stroke of his tongue. Forced to take a few steps back, his chest vibrated with a low groan of disappointment.

“No, Tommy.” You stuttered in a whisper, astounded by his bold and senseless move. Your fingertips grazed your swollen lips, still tingling with the sensation of his lips against yours, all the while your otherworldly pale eyes gawked at him wide open.

Tommy’s lashes fluttered, then he slightly shook his head to chase away the sweet torpor that had overtaken him for a short while. Regaining his composure, he clenched his jaws and tried to cope with your rejection. Admittedly, it had been a bit too much for him to handle. Why did he do that? What did happen in his goddamn mind? And how the hell could a woman say no to him? Unfortunately, Tommy couldn’t find any answer to these questions. All he found was frustration and anger, fueled by his unsufferable heartache of John’s death.

“No.” Tommy’s face closed up, going placid again while the blue of his iris turned two shades darker, “No” he repeated, trying his best to keep his emotions how he always did: hidden behind coolness, “So why did you come here and throw yourself in my arms?”

His question had taken you aback, for you didn’t expect him to wonder about such a trivial thing. Somehow, you wondered if he ever knew what the definition of platonic love was, or if all his interactions with women, except the ones from his family, always led him to their bed. “I just wanted someone to talk to...” Your eyes fled his, and you folded your arms to hug yourself, feeling suddenly freezing, “And I thought you’d maybe need someone too? I mean… I wanted to comfort you too. Just not—like this.” In truth, you were left agape by the whole misunderstanding. And by Tommy’s unfathomable mind.

Not minding that he was in a morgue, the King of Small Heath took of a cigarette from his pocket and rubbed it nervously on his lower lip before lighting it. Thoughts were now racing in his mind, along with your words. He could have dismissed the topic with a simple wave from his hand, but he couldn’t come to terms with how good you had made him felt for a few fleeting but intense minutes. Tommy’s chest rose and fell with rapid breath, for both shame and anger had crept into his bones. Why? He thought. Why did his brother had been allowed to meet you before he could? Why did Arthur, broken and fragile Arthur, had been allowed to have a loving woman by his side and not him? After all, he was the one who needed it the most. No, he was the one who deserved it the most. But now Grace was dead, all women he shared his bed with tended to leave an unpleasant after taste of ashes in his mouth, and the one he thought who could heal him didn’t want him. What kind of freaking curse was that? But in his inner turmoil and feeling of unfairness, Tommy forgot to take into account the real problem: you could do nothing for his heart. No one could.

“Alright then, you wanna talk? We gonna talk, ey. I wanna know something, Heaven. Why didn’t you save him ey?” A cloud of smoke escaped from his mouth, leaving you wondering if it was due to the cigarette or to his rage.

“Sorry?” You asked, feeling your shoulders tense.

He threw his cigarette further away before squinting his eyes as he talked to you “You resurrected a damn bird. Polly talked y’know. She told me you had the great power of healing, something that’s fucking rare. So why?”

“Why?! Why what?! What the hell are you implying?” You were starting to lose your patience, already fed up with his mean games. Moreover, your emotions was already all messed up with all the earliest events.

“Why the fuck didn’t you save John?! Why the fuck didn’t you bring him back to life?” His voice rose, resounding in the morgue so loudly that John probably heard it from where he was.

You blinked, astonished. “Because it doesn’t work like that, you fucking idiot!” You replied to his screams with louder ones, now troubling the dead’s final rest.

“Of course, it doesn’t. Isn’t it a bit ironic? I mean… For everyone, you’re a saint. For Arthur you’re a fucking angel, ey, even a divine being. But now that you have the occasion to use your wicked powers for something useful you can’t even do it!” His prose had turned into poison, seeping through your veins and contaminating soul.

“Thomas, stop it.” You begged, trying to remain calm. Surely, you didn’t want to argue right after John’s death. Especially not when he was there… You took a quick glance at his motionless body and your heart sank. Was it your fault?

“I told you what it is. You’ve bewitched all of them. You’ve bewitched me,” His eyes darkened, “All your so-called gifts come from the Devil... So come on! Bring John back to life, you fucking witch!”  He was now pointing John with his index finger, “Bring him back now!”

“HIS HEART HAD STOPPED BEATING!” You howled, self-control breaking down.

“It doesn’t matter, you had let him die!”

“I didn’t!” You shook your head, rage taking over you, “It’s the blood. My witchcraft doesn’t come from the Devil, it comes from the fucking blood. From the human body. That’s what I manipulate. I could have done something if his heart had been still beating the slightest, or if it had just stopped. But it wasn’t the fucking case!” Tears of wrath left a moist trail on your skin as you wiped them away quickly with the palm of your hand, “He was dead for too long when I found him!” A short silence fell in the morgue after your attempt to justify yourself – Tommy didn’t buy it.

“It’s your fault.” He concluded in a quiet and low tone, desperately trying to both find someone to blame for his brother’s death, and wanting to make you pay for rejecting him.

“W-What?” His words had stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’s your fault if John is now lying in a fucking morgue, dead and cold. You have let him die.”

“I didn’t!” Your voice broke.

“You fucking did! Look at him now, look at his fucking corpse riddled with bullet! Look at the fuck you did, ey!” Tommy had stepped aside and pulled the shroud from John’s body. Doing so, he gave you full sight on his bloody chest, whose round bullet wounds were already darkening. Such a macabre spectacle momentarily broke the last bit of sanity you had left.

John, Oh John, your soul lamented.

“ENOUGH!” You yelled. The way your usually sweet voice screeched was so powerful, so inhumane that all the lights of the morgue flickered, rendering the place even more ominous than it already was. On top of the dancing lights, whose glow had been undermined by your own darkness, the atmosphere around Tommy thickened. The gangster swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly overtaken by an unpleasant and eerie feeling of unease. In other circumstances your brother-in-law’s change in behavior would have appease you. Especially when considering that shutting up was not in Tommy’s habits. Nevertheless, far too hurtful words and years of restrained spite got the best of you: from the moment you met to this one, Tommy had been nothing but bane. Anger rippled through you, hardening your maimed heart and blurring every notion of decorum you’d usually try to respect of Arthur’s sake, “You wanna make me your villain?” You had stopped screaming. Quite the contrary, your tone had turned from a bawling banshee to the quiet and sinister sigh of Death. With that last question posed, you extended one of your arms, palm facing Tommy, and spread your fingers, “I’ll give you a reason to fear me!”

At first, Tommy raised a brow wondering what the goal behind your move was. Then, the fact you dared to scream at him and insult him – certainly combined with your rejection – made rage coiled in his stomach. He opened his mouth, about to reply to your arrogance when words choked in his throat. Hit by a sudden and obliterating pain in the chest,  Tommy pressed his hand were his heart was and looked up in terror as a thin trickle of blood started to run down one of his nostrils, dying his thin lips with a crimson color, “What—What are you doing to me?!” He stuttered, barely hearing his voice because of the sound of his own heart beating faster and faster echoed in his skull far too loudly. However, you didn’t answer him, far too consumed by the flames of your rage, licking though your delicate bones and dainty frame. With your hand still facing him, you started to close your fingers very slowly. Tommy coughed for each inch your fingers moved, his lungs were crushed harder in his tight chest. He wanted to scream – scream to let out the pain, scream to stop you, but the only noise he could make was muffled squeals, similar to an agonizing prey.

“Here is what I can do, Tommy! This is the pain I am capable to cause with my delicate and fragile little being! See? If I can heal, I can also make one sick and destroy them.”

“S—St—Stop...” He tried to beg, bloody mouth gaping, desperate for air. But this time he was not only met by your silence, but by the worsening of his pain to the extent that his legs were about to collapse. No, you didn’t want to stop. In fact, you wanted him to pay for everything. You wanted him to kneel.

“Beg.” Your voice echoed in the morgue and your eyes were staring coldly at Tommy Shelby who, crushed by the extreme pain you were exerting on his body, had no other choice than to rest one of his knees on the ground, right in front of you. The metallic taste of blood that kept running down his throat, thick and hot, enhanced his suffocating and labored attempt to breath. At this point Tommy had one certitude; you were going to kill him. Whether by a heart attack or by smashing his lungs to a pulp, it did not matter. What mattered was that, for the very first time since you met, he was at your mercy. Far too well he understood that all you had to do was to close your fist, and then he would end up lying down on the table next to John’s.

The shovels, the dirt in his mouth, everything came back to his mind as he fought to breath.

“Heaven!”

“Listen closely to what I’m about to say,” You spoke calmly, “I think I’ve had enough of your hypocritic ways and your unjustified battle against me, whose only goal is to tear me down. I am not going to kill you, Thomas Shelby. But if I spare you, it’s only because, first I don’t want to murder you in front of John, and then, because Arthur loves you. I don’t fucking know how he still does after every mean thing you’ve said and done to him, but the facts remain that he does.” You paused, finally reopening your hand, and lowering your arm. It didn’t take more for Tommy’s lungs to finally be able to stock air again and for his heart to return to a normal pace. The gangster immediately inhaled, still under the shock of what had just happened. Hands on the cold tiled floor, eyes wide open, he was shaking like a leaf in a raging storm, “So for Arthur’s sake and John’s memory, I want you to wear your most beautiful smile next time you’ll see me. Just like you told me the first time we met ey?”

By the time you’ve stopped stabbing him with your murderous and poisoned words, Tommy had managed to stand up on his quivering legs. Yet, he was still catching his breath and pressing one hand on his chest to alleviate the soreness of his lungs. He licked his lips to clean the blood off them, the taste of his own crimson essence reminding him of what he was: not a God. Much less the Devil. Just one simple mortal man. At this very moment, Tommy Shelby had lost his splendor. Still shaken and utterly terrified by your wicked abilities, little King Shelby looked at you, his face contorted in pure horror and disgust. “You…”  His enchanting turquoise eyes, whose color made women’s head spin, were now glazed with an almost primal fear, “You’re a fucking monster.”

“At least we have something in common.” You retorted, before turning your heels and leaving the morgue. John’s spirit wasn’t there anyway.

Following your quarrel with your brother-in-law, all you wanted was to go back home and hide from this cruel world in Arthur’s arms; the only place in which you could find a bit of inner peace. Moreover, you knew he would certainly need you after his visit at the morgue.  Your holy tears had flown from your eyes all the way home, only chased away by your delicate hands. The only thing that kept you from collapsing in the midst of the streets, weeping on the ground like a fallen angel, was the thought of finding your husband. It has always been you against the rest of the world anyway. So, what was your disappointment when hours flew and Arthur was nowhere to be seen. 

A little sigh escaped from your lips as you poured the rest of the red wine bottle you had opened earlier in your glass. Once your glass was refilled with alcohol, you simply dragged your exhausted body to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, looking blankly at the dancing flames in the hearth. Before panic settled in, you thought that Arthur needed time for himself after being informed of his little brother’s death — which was perfectly fine and understandable. He had every right to stay with his family, grieving the loss of his own blood. But the more time passed, the more his absence was weighing on you. Feeling your sorrow, Kaiser woke up from his nap, stretched his muscular body, and came closer to rest his large head on your thighs. The dog’s cropped ears were flattened, and his large hazel eyes were looking at you with sincere worry.

“That’s okay big boy, that’s okay.” You gently stroke his head, but despite loving your caresses the Cane Corso let out a sad whining sound, “I know…” You simply replied, knowing that Kaiser missed Arthur too, on top of hating the sight of you being that mournful. Suddenly, the mutt’s ears raised again, and he turned his head towards the door, sensing someone was coming. Trusting his shape senses, your eyes looked up at the entrance too. When your instincts weren’t working, you knew you could always count on Kaiser and tonight was no exception: only seconds later the door opened, revealing Arthur’s lanky silhouette. You got up from the sofa, putting your glass of red wine on the coffee table, and watched him carefully. 

“Cheri?”

“Hm.” The only reply you got was a grunt, followed by his staggering frame walking past you without stopping for a hug nor a kiss. In fact, you wondered if he even saw you. The strong scents of alcohol and tobacco floated in the air at his passage, leaving no doubt on his intoxicated state. You sighed, watching him walking towards the furniture and pouring himself another whiskey. Not the first of the evening for sure.

“Arthur, maybe you shouldn’t do that.” You said quietly, with care and sincere worry. Losing John had broken him, obviously, so you knew you had to be delicate with him. A lecture was definitely not what he needed at this aching moment, which was why you used suggestions rather than orders.  Nevertheless, your husband remained deaf to your gentle advice and gulped down the alcohol in one mouthful, right before pouring himself another glass. You shook your head and walked to him, for you could not let Arthur drink his pain until he passed out – because that was what he was trying to do. Somehow, he only acknowledged your existence when he felt your hand gently touching his arm, right above the thin texture of his shirt, “I’m going to run you a bath and we’ll go to bed, alright?” You finally said, knowing that no words would ease the tormenting grief he was experiencing. Why? Because you did too. John Shelby was your best friend. No. He was more than that, he was like another part of you. But as you weren’t blood-related, you’d rather leave your own pain on the back burner and take care of your husband, who hadn’t lost a friend but a baby brother. A loss whose ache you knew far too well. Taking this into account, you didn’t want to ask him if he was okay nor if he wanted to talk because you knew that no he wasn’t and no he didn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Arthur drank the second glass of whiskey and put it on the furniture a bit bluntly, his reflexes numbed by alcohol, “Yeah…” He sniffed, tears flooding his vision for the umpteenth time today – he had lost count. He didn’t think he had some left but here he was, crying again, unlike Tommy who could hold it well. “Heaven…” He moaned in pain, his suffering coming from the deepest part of his soul. You opened your lips to reassure him but you stopped: there was something unusual in his voice, “I need ye to save me …” He begged, turning around to face you even if his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“I’m here.” One of your hands reached his waist with an indescribable tenderness, “Look at me Arthur.” The other slipped under his chin and gently forced him to look at you — which he ultimately did. Yet, the moment your eyes dived into his iris your heart stopped beating for a micro-while. His pupils were so dilated that the blue of his eyes was barely visible, reduced to small rings around two soul-sucking black holes. From then, you were quick to react: you slipped your hand in the pocket of his trouser and, when you did, your fingertips were met with the cold surface of a little vial. “No…” You whispered, pulling the object from his pocket and observing it with genuine disgust and disappointment. In truth, you could recognize it from miles away for those blue and small vials usually contained cocaine, “What the fuck, Arthur!” you exclaimed, stepping back from him and showing him the small bottle you were holding between your index finger and your thumb.

“What?” He straight off hissed, eyes half closed and his body slightly reeling left to right due to his state of inebriation.

“Did you take it?!” The answer was obvious, but you still wanted to hear it from him. You wanted him to admit it and assume the consequences of his relapse.

“Yes I did eh!” He finally exclaimed after one long second of staring at your eyes, searching for any kind of excuses he could find. But the disappointment in your frozen iris kept him from lying – He definitely could not do this to you, even drunk and high. You closed your eyelids a brief moment, for his words felt like a stab in the chest despite you already knew the undeniable truth.

“No Arthur that’s not going to be possible. You made a promise,” You tried to remain calm but red wine, your fight with Tommy, and the mess in your emotions had destroyed your diplomacy, “You’ve promised me! That’s… Thats not going to help you cope with John’s death!” One of your bare feet was nervously tapping the wooden floor.

“AND HOW AM I GOING TO COPE WITH IT EH? FOOKIN’ HOW?” He burst in anger, your words fueling the raging fire that was burning inside of him. Carried away by his emotional turmoil and the drug, Arthur swept the furniture with one violent movement of his arms, knocking the bottle and the glass over. The cacophony of broken glass made you jump a little as they crashed on the floor, exploding in dozens of shards.

You looked at him, shocked to the core, for he had never really yelled at you before. Each time his voice would rise in your presence it was always because of external factors, never because of you. In truth, Arthur had never got mad at you. The more he could do in your presence was being grumpy. However, tonight you were the source of his sudden anger, and such a revelation hurt like hell. For a fraction of a second, your angry expression flickered into an aching one. Still, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and answered him with a cool, almost placid tone.

“Don’t yell at me. Understand?” You warned him, jaw clenched and every muscle of your tiny body tense,  “I don’t want you to take drug except on very, very rare occasions and I must be here– It was part of the deal.” You punctuated you sentence by throwing the vial into the fire, which burnt brighter for a short while. Arthur scoffed, his lips stretching in a sarcastic and irked grin.

“Isn’t it a fookin’ rare occasion? My brother’s dead. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event that needs to be celebrated properly eh.” His bitter smirk disappeared as he winced with pain, bringing his trembling hands in his hair to pull it. “I need to numb the pain. To numb everything. Oh God, John is dead. Dead. He’s fookin’ dead!”  Each time he repeated the last word, Arthur hit his head with his fists. The dancing flames reflected in his teary eyes, and lit his face with an orange hue. It was getting hard to tell if such an effect came from the fire in the hearth, or if he was burning from inside.

“Stop it Arthur!” You grabbed his wrists with your little hands, trying your best to keep him from hurting himself, “I know alright? I know you’re suffering and I’m deeply sorry for it. I swear I’d love to take your pain away, but I can’t. I can’t,” You forced him to look at you by squeezing his wrists, “Thing is, I don’t want to watch you destroying yourself with cocaine or God knows what other kind of drugs! That’s out of fucking question!” Despite your attempt to remain calm, your emotions got the best of you. The betrayal of him breaking his promise was more painful than a bullet shot through your chest. Maybe more painful than losing John itself. Tears began to stream down your face as you let go of Arthur and observed his enraged and dilated pupils.

“What the hell do ye know, eh.” Arthur stumbled, closing the distance between you a second time and leaning over until his face and yours were only a few inches away. His whiskey breath fanned over your skin. “What the hell do ye knew about pain, little angel? You have no idea what I’m going through. If ye did you’d be the first to snort snow ey.”  

“Listen,” You sniffed, swallowing back a sob. Okay, maybe yelling at him wasn’t the best way to react so, in a desperate attempt of not aggravating the situation, you forced yourself to regain your calm  “I’ve lost my family, I know what it—”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY!” He cut you, yelling so loud your ears buzzed, “THEY’VE BEEN SIX FEET UNDER FOR A FOOKIN’ WHILE! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT JOHN! MY LITTLE BROTHER!” Arthur’s eyes darkened and then, he hated his teeth like a wounded wolf trying his best to scare someone away, “They’ve riddled him with bullets, those mops. Those bastards! We’re in a fookin’ war and here you are scolding me like a kid because I took drugs! That’s fookin’ ridicu—”

The sound of flesh snapping echoed in the living room when your hand slapped him, followed by a heavy silence only the fire’s cracks broke. Arthur backed up at the blow, eyes wide open. Slowly, his shaking fingers brushed his reddened cheek, right where his skin was tingling. At this well-deserved reality check, the tall gangster blinked several times and finally noticed the heart-wrenching pain in your glistening eyes. You, who had tried to hold back your tears and be strong for Arthur, could not keep your sadness for yourself anymore. They flowed from your holy eyes, salty waterfall of sorrows. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Not a single sound. It was not really the fact you had hit him that petrified his whole soul, but rather the realization that he had hurt you, his beloved angel. The woman of his life.

Your face contorted with a caustic combination of pain, sorrow and anger. In truth, you didn’t want to hit him. You really didn’t. But he had been barking at you like a rabid dog, almost spitting at your face as he screamed. And then, he had the stupid idea of talking about your family while knowing what had happened to them. All brutally murdered in a matter of hours. Guided with rage, your blood had boiled, and your hand slapped him even before you truly realized it. “Don’t talk about my family like this anymore.” You hissed through gritted teeth, your cold voice seeping through him and turning his blood into liquid nitrogen.

“Heaven…” Arthur said, feeling himself breaking down at your hateful gaze. He quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, thinking carefully about the next words that were about to come from his mouth but you didn’t let him the time to speak. You had heard enough.

“Shut up. Seriously Arthur, just… Shut up.” Your eyes, who always looked at him with indescribable love and tenderness, were now filled with Hell’s fury and it tore his soul. All of sudden, he felt very small despite towering you with his height.

“You think I’m not suffering from John’s death? You have no idea how much he meant to me. Of course, he wasn’t my brother! Of course, his blood doesn’t run through my veins. But still, he mattered like no one else did, except you.” Each sentence had a bitter taste. Then, you turned away from him and walked to the smashed bottle to take one huge shard between your fragile fingers, “You wanna know how it makes me feel when you’re high? We’ll that’s easy.” Now you were determined to make him understand, no matter what it took. First thing, you showed him the pale flesh of your forearm, “I’m not Linda, right? I didn’t put a leash around your neck because I trusted you. Now, I want you to look at me carefully. When you take drug, it’s as if I was doing this to myself.” Turning your words into deeds, you suddenly slashed your skin with the glass fragment in one quick motion. The sharp surface cut your skin just like butter, and crimson blood quickly filled the gash, overflowing from it and dripping down your arm to your elbow under Arthur’s astounded eyes.

“No, angel!” Suddenly sobering up at the sight of blood on your porcelain skin, he almost pounced on you and took the shard from your hand to threw it away, “The fook ye did eh?! Bloody hell…” Arthur tried to take your arm to examine the depth of your wound but you pushed him away with a stern “Don’t touch me”.

Don’t touch me. Surely, you didn’t mean it right?

You didn’t – Arthur’s heart ached.

“Now just imagine that all you can do is watch me cutting myself until, one day, I bleed to death. How fucking bad it would make you feel? How powerless?!”

“Gosh Heaven, you’re hurt. Oh God!” Arthur started to panic, tears filling his eyes and shoulder jolting with dawning sobs. His whole being ached at the sight of you wounded. It was stronger than him: he couldn’t bear the idea of your being hurt, even less when it was because of him — whether he was the direct cause or not. “I’m sorry love. Fuck, I’m so sorry…” He begged, trying to approach you again but each step he made caused you to step back. Arthur’s hand slowly squeezed his own arm, for he could almost feel the pain of your cut on his own unwounded flesh. Everything began to spin around him as he realized how stupid he had been, “Please, love…”

“Keep your apologies for yourself, Arthur. Let’s make things clear:  I’d rather burn at the stake than watch you slowly killing yourself with this shit.” You retorted, turning your heels and heading to the door not minding the fact you were not wearing shoes and that your arm was abundantly bleeding. It didn’t matter, you needed so fresh air and, more than anything, you needed to be away from Arthur for a little while. Meeting his eyes had become far too painful for you to bear anymore. You had almost reached the door when the gangster’s long and calloused fingers grabbed your hands to hold you back.

“No! Don’t leave me! Please, please I fookin’ beg ye but don’t… Just don’t leave me, Heaven.” He kept repeating over and over again, the gravel in his voice rising from one octave under the weight of despair and utter fear. The way his menacing traits had turned into the facial expression of a panicking child was truly heart wrenching – Arthur could not live without you, and it wasn’t a euphemism. Yet, you snatched your hand from his and, as you did, his very soul crumbled. As painful as it was to see him like this, you just couldn’t let this pass – he had to understand how serious you were about the whole drug issue, and how deep he had maimed your heart. You took one last look at him, shaking your head in disapproval, and stormed out of the house, letting the darkness of Watery Lane swallowing you whole.

At first, he had wanted to pin you against the wall and force you to stay. His desperate mind, seeking for any way to keep you by his side, had even thought about threatening to kill himself with his gun right in front of you if you left, but he had been frozen by the disappointed look on your face. Petrified by your gaze, as a poor unfortunate traveler meeting Medusa’s deadly eyes. Following your departure, Arthur had screamed until his throat hurt and his voice broke. The drowning misery he was experiencing, far worst than suffocating in French tunnels, had led him to destroy everything he could in the living room. Maddened by the thought of losing you, the flip in his brain switched and nothing made sense anymore. You had left him alone here, and he felt his mental health getting worse and worse as minutes passed, until he was completely out of his mind. He had done all he could to alleviate his guilt and sadness: from throwing in the fire all the cocaine he kept to hiting a furniture until his knuckles’ skin cracked open. God, he even threw his lanky frame at the wall several times in a frenzied attempt to knock himself up and get a break from the pain of your absence, but nothing worked. He was now sitting on the rug, rocking himself back and forth in front of the dying fire. If you didn’t want him anymore, all was left for him was to blow his damn brains out with his gun for if you’d rather burn than witness his fall, he'd rather die than existing one sole second without your heavenly presence by his side. He could afford to lose Linda, John, hell even Tommy, but he couldn’t do it without you.

Arthur looked at his wedding ring, jaw clenched and heart in bits.

He had fucked up. And he had fucked up really bad.

As he always did.

✞ Readers are left to interpret/choose what the characters feel for the reader. By no means it wants to make Reader/Heaven a Mary Sue everyone loves. Nevertheless, fanfiction should remain fun for readers so that's why I leave most of the things open to interpretation.

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

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @shelbydelrey @peakyswritings @helen06dreamer

[partlybookish]