#me as a pint glass
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
This Life | 2x16
#WRAP YOUR ARMS AROUND ME BABY BOY#Andrew Lincoln#Egg Cooke#This Life#*#ec#excuse me but the nose™#baby boy baby#*shoving him in my purse*#gotta run#me as a pint glass#it's true#the last time i actually watched this was my hotel in london when the bbc was reairing it#.....in feb 2020.......#he is as precious as this show is a pain to gif tho so
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
to one thing i have made up my mind; if we find out that mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone. i suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks.
winona ryder as mina murray & keanu reeves as jonathan harker in francis ford coppola's bram stoker's dracula (1992.)
#jonmina#jonathan harker#mina murray#mina harker#dracula#gifs by me#by god i can and will make a jonmina gifset from a film that wants me so badly to be interested in dracmina#but i simply pretend i do not see it#anyway shoutout to keanu's powdered hair#and curse the pint glass that gets in the way of their hands in the 5th gif smh
196 notes
·
View notes
Text
got told sharing my drinking water with my plant is weird and i reject such a notion, share your water with your plants the'll love you forever and ever
#telly static#i use pint glasses n my cat gets to drink out of em when i go to sleep cause i know im gonna be getting a fresh glass in the morning#and he always has a preference for whatever me n mum have been drinking#and then whatever he doesnt have my bogplant gets :3#but she also gets some of the fresher stuff poured into her dish if that's not enough
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dying to get some DP&W merch but allergic to looking like a shill for marvel. the conundrum
#hmu if anyone has any recs for any individual creators selling cool things#I love the pint glass I got at the Alamo drafthouse it hit all the right notes for me
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
11/8/24
Pictured: Jules playing Star Trek pinball // me + the pinball tables at the brewery // me + Jules & our drinks
Today I:
-woke up later than normal and had a chill morning, including an entirely uneventful Lulu walk
-split a sandwich with Jules on the final day of Wawa hoagie fest 🎉
-went to the pinball brewery to celebrate our wedding anniversary and put down some solid games, both solo and joint played
-made veggie potstickers for dinner that absolutely fucking slapped
#personal#good things#food#alcohol#pinball#I am getting decently good at Star Trek pinball and it makes me wanna do some deep dives into The Premise#to really enhance the experience and marry these two parts of my life lol#also I’m a fan of these pint glass profiles tho they aren’t quiteee as sexy as the ones from L1 in Cincy#for when you’re down
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
this is the fuckoff giant stein of water, when you see it remember to hydrate or dydrate binches!
#entity.M.A.A.L#shitpost#i guess?#this is solid glass and a pint of water so yall better appreciate me holding it with one hand for this picture. lmao
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Look how sick the trophy is for the 50 miler I want to run
(photo by Nick Atkins)
#makes me wish I could podium lol#the rest of us just get pint glasses#I don't like the convention of pint glasses for sub-100M ultras#just give me a medal like a normal race. medals are more fun
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#so I stayed late after work and completely reorganised the back room#my boss was like ‘you can just go through one box at a time and write down everything in it on a piece of paper!’#but like. the boxes were full of a whole bunch of different sweaters in a whole bunch of different colours#and nothing was folded. and we didn’t know what sizes we had#and we DON’T HAVE A FUCKING INVENTORY and it is driving me absolutely positively CRACKERS#so I put on some loud music and organised all the sweaters in the back room by brand style and colour#i basically went autism beast all over that damn back room#and I even got the down jackets out because they’re not on the stupid floor yet#because the back room was so full of shit before I got my little autistic paws all over it that we couldn’t even fucken MOVE in there#so now we can. and I hope my manager is happy with my work.#our boss could probably care less but she doesn’t realise how much she doesn’t deserve me#my coworker deserves me tho. she deserves the world. she should get everything she wants#anyways I had to rant about it.#I’ve been overwhelmed by the amount of shit in the back room for three days straight and I said FUCK that#and this was after a fucken weird day where there was this lady complaining about our pint glasses costing $25#and I think she was trying to make me give her a deal on something because#she kept going back to the $$$$ shit and getting outraged at the prices#and after a few rounds of that she said jokingly ‘i might start spitting at you in a moment’#and like. I know she was joking. but that pissed me the fuck off. do not joke that you’re gonna spit at me#if you do that you don’t get to buy anything you fucking asshole you get security called on you#anyways today was fucken bonkers how was your day?
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Sisyphian torments (refilling my water glass in the bathroom sink)
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
i had a v fun night last night (i had. maybe somewhat too much to drink) but im on my meds again today which kinda prevent me from sleeping in so i only slept for like. maybe 4 hrs? and when i woke up i was Not yet sober. and tbh i still can't fully think straight but idk if its leftover wine in my system or just the sleep deprivation
#im having fun though#i drank more than a full bottle of wine + a half liter of blonde beer + a few glasses of tia maria (doesnt taste great but it was available)#havent drunk that much in a pretty long time#well. i say this. last weekend i went to a festival where i p much only drank beer and water for 4 days. also by the pint#but thats different. thats across an entire day#but yeah im pretty sure my body absolutely hates me rn but im having A Blast
1 note
·
View note
Text
Tired of the slander towards kraft singles. Like maybe I'm just full of microplastics but it feels so pretentious when people jump to saying "fake cheese" "plastic" "tasteless" like yeah if you're eating it cold it's not great but you cannot tell me it's not the most delicious thing to make a grilled cheese with??? Maybe it's tasteless if you have like no depth of your palate or whatever. Come on.
#rambling#like oooh look at me I'm too good for cheese product#it's not real cheese it's yucky blah blah blah#skill issue#like people who scoff at apple juice for kids because ~sugar~ like no one is telling you to give them a whole pint of juice whenever#a glass (reasonable and child sized!!!) won't kill them damn#inspired by my office of older women who are afraid of anything they think is a ~chemical~ or contains sugar#including fruit
0 notes
Text
I can't stop thinking about Ghost being such a gentleman when your boyfriend is an ass....
warning: domestic abuse, adult language
💀
You were mortified that it happened at work this time...
Your boyfriend was a brute of a man, made worse over the months by drinking alone at night while you bartended to help pay down your student debts from several years ago. He got a little rough with you, but only when he was plastered. And you forgave him, because he was decent the rest of the time.
But suddenly you had to start coming to the pub to pull pints with a little extra makeup on your face. The random patrons out for a casual drink wouldn't have noticed, but your regular boys did. You only knew them by Ghost and Soap. They were military and mean looking, but they laughed together like teenage schoolmates. It was always a good night when they sat at the bar, but you could often feel their eyes on you.
"Y' alright, love?" Ghost asked the first night you wore extra eye makeup and a bright red lipstick.
"Yes," you told him, not meeting his eyes. Your face hurt. Your boyfriend had slapped you two days ago. Your skin was puffy and bruised, and you were embarrassed and afraid to move out, so you stayed. "You boys need another round?"
They left you a sizable tip. They always did.
The next time you saw them, your lip was split open, and you were desperate for a way out of the mess your life had turned into. Trying to hide your face while you mixed drinks was a chore, and as soon as Ghost and Soap arrived, you knew it was useless.
When Soap disappeared toward the washrooms, Ghost leaned across the bar, his hulking shoulders taking up more than their fair of space, making you smile slightly. His voice was deep and soft, but his words made you shiver and freeze with your hand on a pint glass. "Y' know, a pretty little thing like you belongs on a pedestal. A man should touch you with reverence."
You stared at him silently as his eyes tracked the mark on your lip. When Soap returned, you didn't charge them a cent for their drink, but they tipped you well anyway.
When a confrontation happened at the bar, tears stung your eyes, and you wanted to hide. Your boyfriend was drunk and angry, and tonight he beckoned you from behind the bar to a dark corner near the hallway where he could have some privacy while he berated you and roughed you up.
"Please," you begged, running your hands nervously on your shirt. "Just go home. I'll be off work in an hour."
"How many of them have you fucked?"
"What?" you gasped, thinking he'd finally lost it. "What are you talking about? I need to get back to work."
He pushed you up against the wall with his other hand on your jaw. "How many of the men here tonight have you fucked?" His thumb brushed the spot on your lip that was nearly healed, and you flinched. "You have the guiltiest expression. So, tell me how much of a slut you've been. As your boyfriend, I need to keep you in line."
Then he was being hauled away from you as your legs shook. With wide eyes, you watched Ghost's massive bicep wrap around his neck like it was nothing. "Y' alright, love?" he asked you softly, and you nodded without saying a word. Then his face darkened, and his voice was an angry snarl as he told your boyfriend, "Ya' been relieved of your duties."
"The fuck?" he responded from his headlock, gasping for air.
Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' prick don't even know military protocol." Then he raised his voice a little louder. "I said, ya' been relieved of your duties. I'll take over from here."
Somehow, you found your voice. "Take over?"
Ghost's face softened again when he looked at you there against the narrow hallway wall. "With the boyfriend duties," he told you while Soap dragged your ex-boyfriend toward the exit. "Sound good, love?"
He was holding out his big paw of a hand, palm facing up, and you knew he'd be incapable of using it to hurt you. The softness in his gaze right now and every time he looked at you was proof enough of that. You didn't respond, but you smiled as you slid your hand into his grasp.
"That'll do for now," he grunted.
That was the night you came to know him as Simon.
💀
Part two
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley cod#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x you#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#ghost imagine#call of duty#ghost riley#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghostsprincess
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
i reached too many tags so im writing the rest of my thoughts here hope you dont mind!
i loved the confrontation between heaven and tommy - like i said its born out of worry and comes from a good place initially but also because she's too unpredictable tommy can't control her the way he can everything else and that's one reason he doesn't like her
but also tommy believes himself cursed and maybe she represents that part of himself tommy is afraid of and her mentioning his son i know she's trying to help him but tommy is so untrusting it won't come across as anything other than a threat
and i know i keep saying this but i do like the little bits and pieces of her backstory she's such an intriguing character im looking forward to reading more about her
"you're here" / "told you id come back" 🥺😭😭 and "please tell me you're not scared of your arthur" this beauty and the beast situation but where they both think they're the beast "you look pretty with blood all on your face" so real girl i hear you
love that they both are same level of crazy for eahcother they want to eat eachother so bad love it
Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC
Summary: This is when things seem to get better with the Shelby family —at least with Polly— that a drunk client crosses the line with you at the Garrison. Haunted by his past insecurities and his burning jealousy, Arthur snaps. And he snaps very bad. For the first time since you've met, he reveals the beast he hides inside... And Tommy obviously uses the incident to blame you.
Words: 5k
TW: Angst, Obsessive behavior, extreme jealousy, graphic depiction of violence, murder, lot of blood, canonical violence, witch trial, allusions to smut, allusions to blood!kink, Arthur being an emotional and slightly psychotic mess
Notes:
✞ I don't condone Arthur's behavior. Also, keep in mind that Heaven is certainly a bit twisted too.
✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).
PREVIOUS CHAPTER || Masterlist || NEXT
The sound of your heels hammering the cold pavement of Small Heath echoed in the nocturnal streets as you walked to the Garrison. Even though the expansion of the Shelby Company led the family’s interests away from the pub, they still hold the place dear to their hearts and sometimes they liked gathering there for old times' sake. Especially Arthur. Hence, rather than staying at home, reading in front of the fireplace, and dwelling on Polly’s odd behavior at the last family gathering, you decided to occupy your buzzing mind by surprising Arthur at the pub. A raven flew above your head and cawed, its presence stirring interest in you for he had followed you from the moment you had left your house. As you walked to the Garrison, you took a quick glance at the black bird’s silhouette, which was perched on a roof a few houses away.
"Silly boy, want to tell me something?" You told to it, amused. The animal, dressed with dark feathers, replied with another caw. You chuckled and kept walking.
The white dress and fur coat you were wearing contrasted so well with the dull night that the few people you passed were not sure what they had just seen. Indeed, the moon's glow reflected its light on your porcelain skin, adorning your frail body with an almost supernatural aura. That was why some of them thought they had caught sight of an angel, just like Arthur did the first time you and he met.
When the dark wooden door of the Garrison opened, its noise overcoming the laughter, chatting, and sounds of glasses clinking against each other, a soft wave of warmth caressed your cold face. You had barely stepped inside when people almost all turned around, many pairs of eyes weighing on you. Curious and dumbstruck gazes looked at you, wondering what such a holy-looking creature was doing here — but you did not really care. Your petrifying aquamarine iris swept the room to become familiar with the place before you headed to the counter behind which you saw Arthur’s tall frame. The man was back to you, talking with his little boss-brother Thomas. Awesome, you thought, little King Shelby is here. Sarcasm filled your head at the mere sight of him. To be true, you were well aware that Thomas was always doing his best to avoid you, but it did not annoy you. Quite the contrary, you were more than satisfied with never seeing him — you still did not come to terms with him trying to strangle you after all. Nevertheless, you leaned over the counter, arms resting on its varnished wooden surface, and parted your juicy lips to speak.
“Good evening, Mister Shelby. Care to serve me a drink?”
Arthur’s whole being shivered with delight as soon as he recognized the enchanting and oh-so-peculiar tone of your voice — the same voice that had led him to you one bleak and sleepless night. Shaken to the core by your presence, he forgot about Tommy the moment you had started to speak and turned around to face you, the corner of his lips stretching in a genuine and blissed smile. Each time his steel blue eyes fell on you, it was as if God's grace struck him — even though you were living together. The thrills you gave him never left.
“Good evening, love. What is such a delicious little Angel like you doing here? It’s a bad town for such a pretty face ye know.” He almost cooed with his hoarse voice, his hands on the bar and his eyes sparkling with a teasing gleam.
“Fell from the sky and got lost in these streets, so I just followed the light.” Your fingers grazed the back of his hand and went up its skin, leaving pleasant tingles in their trail, until they reached one of the many rings he was wearing. The simple gesture, barely touching him, lit up a blazing fire in his soul. Thomas looked at Arthur and quickly understood that no matter what he would say or do, he held no power over his older brother anymore, “Evening, Tommy.” You said, finally acknowledging him.
“Thomas. It’s Thomas.” He retorted with a voice as cold as an arctic blizzard that could freeze Hell’s inferno itself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and left without any single word, his shadow disappearing in the streets as he left the Garrison, for your sole presence seemed to bother him. Well, at least his opinion about you did not change. However, the lack of peculiar reaction from him reassured you: Polly had not told him what happened to the tea party yet.
“Don’t mind him eh,”
You did not.
“I should probably give you one hell of a strong drink if you fell from Eden… Miss?”
“Heaven Lavey.” You winked, enjoying his silly way of hitting on you as if it was the first time you met, “A glass of red wine would do the trick… And the barman’s heart.” Your teasing grin widened, unveiling perfect white teeth. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils, enraptured by your whole being. From your smile to your bratty pout, you got him on his knees. Each time he would dive his eyes into yours, his heart would quicken in his chest and dopamine would rush through his veins — who would want to keep taking drugs after tasting you? Not even himself. He was already high enough by your presence in his life and God knew he never wanted to sober up from you.
“As you wish.” He leaned over the counter to lay a tender kiss on your forehead. The way his mustache gently tickled your skin made you chuckle. How sweet he was, not afraid to lavish you with sweetness even in front of other people. Then, he gathered all his strength to pull away from you and take care of your order — which was nearly impossible to do, for you were both attracted to each other like two powerful magnets. But still, he did and then poured the finest red wine the Garrison had in a glass before putting it in front of you. Then, he leaned a second time over the counter to bring his face close to yours again, “as for my heart,” he paused, his eyes abandoning yours to drop on your full lips he watched with utmost desire, “You already snatched it, angel.”
“You’re incorrigible, Arthur Shelby.” You could not help but laugh when you noticed that, as you spoke, his focus was still fiercely anchored to your lips. The urge he had to devour them was almost palpable, electrifying the air around him. Yet, you resisted the need to kiss him, rather bringing your small hands to his neck to fix his bow tie with indescribable tenderness. The pair of eyes that were watching you since your arrival could not believe that you had managed to tame the brutal Arthur Shelby — how he behaved with you was so different from the way he was with the others it almost scared them, “I hope you like this little surprise.”
“You can’t imagine how much I do.” He purred, grabbing your hands and putting them on his cheeks. How he loved feeling your cold skin against his. You cupped his face, looking right into his fair eyes with a never-ending love, and he instantly melted. His eyelids half-closed, for you had brought peace to his scorching soul again, “Lemme clean a few things and we’ll go back home eh.”
“Take your time. Je t’attends mon amour — I’ll wait for you my love —“
“Yer comfy here?”
“Arthur,” Your eyes rolled, amused.
“Want a cushion to sit on? Want to wait in a quieter room?”
“That’s okay.”
“Mmm’kay”
You freed his face from your sweet grip, leaving him lingering for more. When he reopened his eyes he could not hold the little growl that escaped his lips for you had not kissed him. He blinked several times, trying to chase away the charm you had cast on him with your sole presence, and reluctantly left you. Stars still danced in front of his eyes because of your intoxicating beauty — so hypnotizing he struggled to come back to what he was doing before.
Waiting did not bother you. In fact, you preferred to wait for hours here, in the comforting warmth of the pub and its hullabaloo, rather than being left alone with your thoughts in the quietness of your house. Sipping on your red wine, you were minding your own business when a man sat next to you, his body collapsing on the stool as if walking had been quite a struggle for him. Which was probably the case considering he was drunk. Only a few people were still at the Garrison, the others went home stumbling or dragged away by a fellow friend. The suffocating smell of whiskey and sweat that was emanating from the newcomer made you wrinkled your nose.
“Hey doll, all alone by yourself? ” The man said, bringing the whiskey glass to his chapped lips to gulp what was left in it. You glanced at him and simply nodded, not really wanting to do any kind of conversation, “Your glass is almost empty. Lemme buy you another one.”
“I really appreciate it but that’s fine.” You answered with a polite smile — but even when doing the bare minimum your angelic traits never failed to captivate your audience. The man noticed your strong accent and saw the opportunity to carry on with the conversation.
“You come from France eh? I fought in France! Bloody hell, still got the mud of this country under my nails!”
Maybe he talked a little bit too loud, or maybe Arthur’s senses were as sharp as a wolf’s, but the fact remains he immediately raised his eyes from what he was doing to watch over you. His steel blue iris shifted their attention from you only to cast their furious fire on the drunk man that was talking to you. His woman.
“You know, I always thought it was kind of sad that all the people here only link France with the war. This is a beautiful country.” You answered, taking another sip of red wine. Somehow, you allowed yourself to talk with the man. At least time would probably fly faster that way.
“If France’s as beautiful as ya, I’ll rush back to it by tomorrow, doll. The name’s Jim.”
You silently replied to him with a light smile, gently shaking your head at the fella’s attempt to compliment you.
You smiled at Jim — And Arthur broke the glass he was holding in his hand. It had been crushed by the pressure with which he had tightened his grip around it until it shattered into bits. Sharp pieces of glass had pierced Arthur’s flesh, blood dripping from his palm, but the tormenting anger that was building within him was so overwhelming he did not even feel the pain. As seconds passed, his face contorted with rage and his eyes darkened with jealousy. You. Smiled. At. Him.
That was definitely not okay — the man did not deserve your blissful smile.
Deafened by the sound of his own heart pounding in his tight chest, Arthur swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat in a vain attempt to keep control. To not let his anger issue show. The rational part of his mind was telling him to keep calm, for he knew you loved him and only him. You had told him plenty of times, after all. And he trusted you, really. But the other part, led by his insecurities and his mental instability, whispered foul insinuations to his ear.
Why would she stay with such a criminal like you? You’re sick. You’re old. You’re broken — and no one loves broken men.
You’re stupid, far less clever and charming than Tommy. HE is a real man.
You either scare or repel women. Linda told you. You don’t deserve Heaven.
Useless. So useless… Broken. Crazy, you’re fucking crazy. She’ll see what you are. A monster. Monster. Monster.
Arthur’s jaw clenched as his mind spiraled into a never-ending maze of whipping thoughts and insufferable feelings. Self-loathing was becoming too much to bear — so messy it had started to drown him. He felt his sanity slowly slipping through the cracks of his skull and the only thing he could to do make it stop was to break things. And by things he meant Jim.
“Listen, Jim. I think you should go back home and rest. This is the whiskey talking.” You stated.
“Only if you come home with me, doll.” He ought to say, his grin widening.
Breathless with rage, Arthur felt the heat pooling in his face. A few drops of sweat beaded on his forehead as he shook his wounded hand to clear his flesh from the shards of glass.
“You really should —“
“Come home with me and I’ll make you beg.” He cut off before you had time to turn his invitation down , bringing his hand on one of your thighs to strengthen his point.
Destructive anger flowed through his veins like lava, exploding at the moment the man laid a finger upon you. Agile like a wild cat, Arthur jumped over the counter and rushed toward you, his shoulders tensed and his arms swinging as he walked. Earth shook under his feet, opening the gates of Hell more and more at each of his steps.
“AL-FUCKING-RIGHT THEN,” He blurted out, standing fiercely behind Jim. Arthur’s thundering voice almost made him jump — and it was enough for him to take his hand off your thigh and turned around to meet the Devil’s eyes. You froze on your stool, astounded by your man’s anger.
His face distorted with both fear and confusion at the sight of Arthur Shelby, green with jealousy and maddened with fury, “What the fookin hell did ya say, pal? WHAT THE FOOK DID YOU SAY TO ME WOMAN?” He roared, blue eyes shining with a threatening glow. At this point, Arthur was almost choking with rage.
“Oh my God Arthur, I did not know she was your woman. I’m sorry! I really did not —“ Jim could not finish his sentence for Arthur had grabbed him by the neck and dragged him away from you in front of the few last clients' terrified looks.
“You TOUCHED her! You bloody touched her, ME ANGEL. ME HEAVEN. I can’t fucking believe it,” He spat, his words coated with bitter venom. Swirling in the chaotic vortex of his own fury, he did not hear the man’s bargains. And somehow, he did not care. There was nothing he could say to stop him anymore. Jim tried to utter another apology.
He had barely opened his mouth when Arthur’s fist crushed his nose with such a violent blow the sound of broken bones echoed through the Garrison. The man, almost knocked out by the uppercut, crashed on the wooden floor, a jet of blood gushing from his face, “Oi! Thought you fought in France. Come on, bastard! Fight me!” He snarled, teeth bared like a wild animal.
He’s going to kill him. That was what crossed your mind when you came back to your senses, overcoming the shock of seeing Arthur in such a frenzy state. You got up from your stool, “Arthur… Stop it please.” You called him, trying to be as soft as possible not to fan the flames of his anger.
“I AM NOT GONNA STOP!” He barked, looking at you.
He looked at you
and you saw the Hell in his eyes.
“Heard how he dared to talk to ye? Ah, you wanted to make me angel beg eh?” Arthur kneeled over the whimpering man, almost straddling his quivering body, to grab him by the collar of his coat, “Yeah that’s what you said right. But trust me, you sonofabitch, I’m the one who’ll make you beg!” He yelled, sending another powerful blast to the man’s face with his fists as sole weapons, adorned with thick silver rings. “BEG, YOU BASTARD!”
“P-please—“
Another disgusting sound of torn flesh and cracking skull filled the room. “By order —“ A third punch. Breaking teeth. Jim spat three of them at your feet. “Of the —“ Fourth. Fifth. His knuckles bruised and split under the strength of his blows but Arthur could not care less. All he wanted was to reduce Jim’s face to an unidentifiable slop of flesh. “Peaky —“ Dislocated jaw hanging loosely. The horrible sight was accompanied by the cacophony of bloody gurgles. “Fookin — “ Jim had lost count of the punches that rained down on him. All he knew was that his body was giving up. At one point Arthur Shelby had stopped beating him, only to unstrapped the combat knife he kept in his holster, “BLINDERS!”
“ARTHUR NO!!!” Running to the scene and falling on your knees, you managed to grab his hands and keep him from stabbing the drunk man, “Don’t do that, please I need you. Please, please stop it.”
Please.
Your voice, like a light piercing the thick veil of his darkness, snatched him from his murderous craze. Waking up by the smell of blood mixed with your sweet spring-like perfume, Arthur stopped in the midst of what he was doing and realized he was holding a knife above his head, ready to plunge it into a man’s chest. He took a look at you, noticing the shocked expression on your holy face, and all his anger disappeared into a void. His fingers loosened around the knife, which fell on the wooden floor with a metallic noise, “please Arthur, calm down… Call down, Mon amour.” You whispered, begging him with your eyes. Silence fell on the Garrison, as well as in his mind. The maddening voices had stopped and the buzzing hatred had vanished. Arthur left the unconscious man and collapsed in your arms, panting and shaking. Adrenaline made you shiver too, but you gently hugged his frame, one hand stroking his hair, “That’s okay… I’m here …” You repeated just like a healing chant as a few men grabbed the severely injured victim and took him away from the pub.
“I’m … I’m sorry— Heaven, oh my god —“ Arthur stuttered, slowly realizing what he just did. He buried his face in your breasts, for comfort as well as to hide the blood that had splattered on him. He barely dared to hug your frail body for fear of breaking you. Sometimes, he swore he had hell in his hands and he did not want to bring you down in the flames with him.
“Shhhh… Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do it.” You said with a soothing tone. With divine softness, you ran your fingers through his hair, not minding the blood he smeared on your clothes and bosom, “that’s okay, you’re a good boy..” But as you were trying to chase away your man’s demons, a far too familiar voice echoed in the room.
“What the fuck is this mess?!” Thomas Shelby exclaimed for he had just entered the Garrison, John by his side. His freezing blue eyes looked at you from above. The king was here and he hated what he saw.
“John, bring Arthur home. Everyone OUT.”
This was all it took to empty the Garrison from its remaining clients. When John gently put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, Arthur’s embrace tightened around your tiny silhouette for he did not want to leave you. “No,” he managed to beg between two heartbreaking sobs. His face still hidden, not daring to look at you for fear of seeing disgust and anger in your eyes, Arthur refused to let you go. Somehow, he was convinced you would not go back home — why would you after what you had just witnessed? “Don’t take me away from her!” He said, a bit more fiercely, which resulted in John taking a few steps back and looking at you, silently begging you to help him. In the midst of the chaos, only you could bring him back to his senses. A brief sigh escaped from your lips before you gently forced Arthur to look at you.
“Listen, chéri. I need you to go back home and calm down. I’ll be very quick.”
“No, no, you won’t come back.”
“ I’ll do,” You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, accidentally smearing more blood on his face doing so, “and when I do, I’ll take care of you alright? I’ll keep you warm and loved.” Punctuating your sentence with affection, you slicked his hair back with a frail but oh-so-loving grin on your face. He finally accepted.
When he left alongside John, your smile vanished and you got up from the floor, legs still slightly shaking. Thomas was still standing in the middle of the pub, towering you with all his height, and looking at you with his cold eyes. His chilling stare followed your movements as you walked to the bar and poured yourself another glass of wine.
“I told you to keep a low profile,” He began. Thomas Shelby’s voice was dressed in an apparent quiet, but something in his tone was threatening — and even though he did not display any sign of emotion, you knew his blood was boiling.
“Oh come on Thomas, all I wanted was to make a surprise to Arthur.” You took a mouthful of wine — the much-needed alcohol calming your anxiety.
Thomas closed his eyes for a few seconds and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop his dawning headache, “ A surprise… I hope you like the result then,” He retorted, before shifting his eyes back to you,
“Listen, I know you don’t like me but — ”
“He nearly killed someone for you. What the fuck are you doing to my brother, eh?” Tommy slightly tilted his head to the side, a spark of resentment lightening up his icy iris. You remained silent, still not believing Thomas was really blaming you for Arthur’s outburst. Of course, you had not reacted immediately, but the shock had petrified you for a few long minutes — but was it your fault if he had beaten the man? Certainly not. At this point, Tommy was just lashing out at you for all the issues his family was facing. It was far easier than admitting his own flaws and responsibility. Visibly infuriated by your silence, Tommy walked to you and stopped only a few inches from you, trapping your body between the counter and his own strong frame. He was close — so close your breasts were almost pressed against his chest, “Look me in the eyes when I fucking talk to you, Heaven.” He spat your name with disgust, as if he had just bitten into an apple filled with maggots.
“Get my pretty name out of your mouth,” You looked dagger at him, anger rushing through your veins at such an unwanted proximity. Yet you did not flicker.
“You fucking white Devil,” He hissed through his teeth, his low voice still calm in spite of his blooming hatred, “Are you happy to spread chaos in our life? What do you want from us ey?” He leaned over you, bringing his face closer to yours. With his brows slightly furrowed, Tommy’s sky blue eyes were probing yours, trying to understand the mystery they hid behind their aquamarine wonders, ”What do you want from me?! After Arthur is this me you want to control??” He growled. Your heart raced in your chest — shivers ran down your spine, and goosebumps appeared on your porcelain skin, for his unpredictable behavior was starting to worry you.
“I don’t want anything from you Thomas Shelby. Whether you like it or not I’m being honest with your brother. You know Arthur’s emotional, you can’t blame me for that. You take away his meds, turn him into a killer, and now you’re surprised he snaps?? How. Fucking. Unbelievable! Do you know what I think? Well, I think you need me to be your scapegoat . You need to blame me for your sins. For everyone’s sins.”
“Fucking burn in hell,” He spat again but could not find something to retort properly. It seemed like the skies gave you the gift of shutting Thomas Shelby's mouth. Instead, one of his hands grabbed you by the neck and forced your face to get closer to his. His breath fanned over your skin, as burning as a dragon’s fire.
“Be careful with the Rule of Three, Thomas. For each spell you cast always returns to you three times stronger.” You whispered. Then you gathered all your remaining strength to push him away from you, his musky and peculiar perfume almost making your head spin. Not wanting to stay here any longer — and also longing for a hot shower to wash away the blood from your skin —, you headed to the Garrison’s door. Obviously, Tommy’s eyes followed you but he did not say anything, muted by his resentment. Admittedly, he was torn between the urge to bounce on you and the desire to see you leave. You were about to disappear, the cold breeze of the night jumping at your face and rushing into the pub as you opened the wooden door. But your instincts kicked in. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally decided to warn little king Shelby.
“By the way..." You looked at Thomas from above your shoulder.
"You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.”
He froze. Confused and infuriated.
You left. Hurt and bitter.
When you came back home, you crossed your reflection in the corridor’s mirror. Your body refused to work anymore and forced you to stop in front of it. Facing your own person was something you hated. With trembling fingers, you brushed the blood stain Arthur had left on one of your cheeks.
Mom! Mom, no!!
I’ll fucking kill you all!!
You clenched your jaw at the memory it triggered, but still, you kept looking at your tainted ivory skin as if you were slowly learning to come to terms with what you did and what you were. Your fingers trailed down your throat until they grazed the top of your bosom, where the blood had accumulated the most. Another painful memory assaulted your mind, replaying the aching, almost inhuman screams of your little sister when her flesh had been eaten alive by the hungry tongues of the pyre’s flames.
Only God knew how you managed to keep your mind from spiraling into the darkest pits of your trauma, but you did — maybe that was because Arthur needed you. That protective instinct was stronger than your own pain. That was why you tricked your body into moving away from the mirror and went upstairs to take a hot shower before joining your man in bed. John had probably managed to convince him to sleep. Or his body had collapsed on the mattress, exhausted by the energy poured in his latest outburst.
As the running water of the shower was filling the bathroom with its regular and soothing noise, you slowly let your white dress slip along your body until it fell on the floor, as well as your lace panties. You stepped over the pile of clothes and, without waiting any longer, you hopped under the shower and welcomed its warm water with utter joy. A sigh of relief escaped from your lips as you tilted your head back, water hugging your body and raining down on your long white mane that cascaded down your lower back. You almost managed to empty your mind when, suddenly, one gentle calloused hand brushed your hip. Jumping in surprise, you turn around and saw that Arthur had joined you under the shower. His hands, arms, and face were still splattered with half-dried blood he had not cleaned. To be true, he had been too busy curling up on the bedroom floor, panicking about at the idea of you leaving him after what you had witnessed.
“You’re here…” His gravel voice said, water falling on his naked body whose millions of freckles drew magnificent constellations on his skin.
“Told you I’d come back.”
He smiled, softly. His steel blue had stopped avoiding you and was now firmly anchored in yours.
He took a step toward you.
You stepped back in response until your bare body met the cold shower wall.
Your pulse quickened, fascinated by the way Arthur looked. He had something in his eyes — a mix of limerence and pure madness who, combined with the crimson stains on his face, made your legs weak. His breath was slow but yours soon became erratic, even though he had barely touched you yet.
“You ain’t scared, love? Please, tell me you ain’t scared of your Arthur…” He said, his lower lip trembling as his body perfectly interlocked with yours. A small growl escaped from his throat at the intoxicating sensation of yours curves pressed against his skin. But despite his inextinguible desire, he still looked at you with hesitation and genuine guilt — his puppy eyes would surely break anyone’s heart.
“No, I’m not scared,” You replied, not shifting your gaze from him. The corner of your juicy and honey lips stretched in a small grin, “You…” You paused, bringing one hand to his stained cheek, “you look pretty with blood all over your face.”
Arthur’s eyes lightened with both surprise and ravaging desire, for you had witnessed the beast’s violence but still thought he was attractive. A twisted wave of arousal shook you to the core when he bared his teeth in a vaguely dangerous but oh-so-seductive smirk.
“Oh bloody hell, angel…” Not finishing his sentence, his lips captured yours in a fury kiss for he could not wait any longer. The need to possess you, to feel you, was too devastatingly strong to resist. At first, his lustful kiss surprised you, and even though you burnt for him l, a part of you felt it was wrong to feel this kind of twisted attraction. Last thing Arthur needed was someone encouraging his violence — but your brain soon shut down at the thought he did it for you. Only you. Your arms locked up around his neck to deepen the waltz of your tongues, sending fireworks in your loins. It was far than enough to turn Arthur on who, all of sudden, lifted you from the ground as if you weighted nothing.
You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, already suffocating with the hungry way he devoured your mouth and the shower’s steam accumulating around you.
As water rained down on your two intertwined bodies, it washed away the blood from your skins. The tainted liquid disappeared down the drain, leaving pale red stains on the bathtub's immaculate marble.
You kissed him harder. Rougher. Until his flesh dived into yours in an explosion of pleasure and shooting stars.
For you had seen the Hell in his eyes, and loved it anyway.
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.
Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.
Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08
#first off sorry i love that gif sorry if its weird#what is it about a man covered in blood#im with heaven on this crows are friends not bad omens leave them alone theyre just silly little guys#heaven is braver than me if i walked into a pub full of men and they all turned and stared as i walked in i would turn tf around#or just combust there on the spot eeewwwww dont look at me#little king shelby is such a cute name its like if tommy was one of the scrappy little dogs#i can only imagine them flirting like this and everyone else at the bar just starts staring off in other directions#two are looking down at the same pint ones counting the cracks in the wall one is just straight turned around#“ thomas its thomas ” bitch😒#you let billy kimber call you a tart and alfie called you a silly little boy but she cant call you tommy bitch#their back and forth banter is so cute and silly and soppy#it suits arthur is a funny way#“ want a cushion to sit on ” hes so cute like i can imagine him walking around trying to find the best!! pillow#as soon as that man sat down i just KNEW what was coming omg its like these people dont live here#“ i fought in france ” if arthur wasnt so angry hed walk over in a sarcastic voice like “ wE aLl FoUgHT iN fRaNCe ”#still got the mud under me nails is not a flex bro wash or something#arthur smashing the glass (me reading) here we go...#heaven: youre the most jealous man i know arthur: you know other men?!#the fact hes trying to keep himself calm is progress! b4 arthur would have just fucked the guys head off the man#and then bottled him for good measure#arthur mate shes clearly soooooooo into you like *squidward voice* we fuck monsters here sir#love how you describe his anger and how it affects him! i do think a lot of arthurs anger is internalised insecurity#arthurs anger is explosive and all consuming#but comes as quick as it goes and hes left weighed down by everything that hurts him thats hiding under his anger#“ thats okay youre a good boy ” .........😳.......no comment on that *clears throat*...moving on#arthur begging not to be separated from her 😭😭😭#tommy thinks what hes doing is for the best because its born from worry and him wanting to protect them#especially with their upbringing#and arthur despite being the eldest is arguably the easiest influenced#and vulnerable
370 notes
·
View notes
Text
It was a weird day bc my usual companions are off having a romantic birthday weekend so I’m home alone and unsupervised for the first time in forever & my girlfriend (because apparently we’re saying this word now) is in Spain and all my friends are too far away to reach on foot and I’m just like. Eating and watching tv and doing the wordle. My default state is apparently just be horizontal and eat who knew
#also not me with 1. empty coffee cup 2. pint glass of water 3#3. glass of wine and 4. can of sparkling water (lime flavour) beside me#queen of hydration still dehydrated as fuck#is this why I’ve been so sick lately I’ve just been deprived of fucking liquids#this is my second day alone btw but my first full one technically#I can’t live alone ever I’ll just devolve into this state forever#I put the dishwasher on this afternoon that’s as productive as it’s gotten#I have so much laundry to do and I need to buy plane tickets!!!!!!!#multiple!!!!#bc I’ve got to see bee in Scotland#and if I don’t see my girlfriend (waheeeey) in Spain she’ll kill me#she’s made that very clear
1 note
·
View note
Note
Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??
Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:
I am in Cardiff
For a concert I am attending solo
Doors open at 5
4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'
Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy
Find McDonald's
McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce
Directly across the street
Is an Italian restaurant
It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit
Go over
Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)
"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)
Inside restaurant is Deserted
Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine
Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component
Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard
Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen
Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers
I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between
Am finally brought food
It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist
It is all delicious
Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing
Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish
She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up
I am 27 and only nominally female
I am not remotely lost
She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food
I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food
'do you want to pay for the food?'
'.... Not if I don't have to?'
'good'
I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel
I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)
I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends
The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food
'yeah it was great!'
Everyone laughs a bit
I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off
I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once
19K notes
·
View notes
Text
“Oops.”
Danny shrieked.
The bloodied vigilante leaning against his wall was concerning. But even worse…
“My window!! Oh my god! Why?!”
“Your- is that- that’s seriously your first concern? I’m actually offended.”
“Oh, is the dumbass bleeding out on my carpet giving me sass? Watch the attitude, you’re half a quarter pint from death right now.”
“You’re strangely calm… about this.”
Danny gestured to his window, shattered in front of him.
“Do I look calm to you? I literally just replaced that window last week!”
“My bad.” The vigilante slid down the wall, leaving a bloody smear.
“Oh my god,” Danny groaned as he got a first aid kit and began patching the guy up. “I’m never getting my deposit back.”
“You have weird priorities.”
“Listen, bird guy-”
“Red Robin.” Bird guy interjected. He winced as Danny dabbed the alcohol soaked cotton ball harder on his cut.
“But if I had a nickel for every time a vigilante crashed through my window, I’d have two. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.”
“Who was the first one?”
“Surprisingly? Signal. Dude got a migraine and crashed through like a pigeon versus a glass wall.”
“Damn, he didn’t mention that. You got pics?”
“Pay for my carpet and wall first, and then we talk blackmail negotiations after.”
“Deal- ow!”
“Stay still, dumbass!”
#danny phantom#batman#tim drake#dc x dp#dcxdp#dc x dp prompt#duke thomas#the signal#red Robin#Danny in Gotham#but the bats are the avatar and his friend#and Danny is the cabbage man#my fucking window!=my cabbages!
3K notes
·
View notes