#hopefully one that's more funny and more bloody

[lewkwoodnco]

Falling For You - Lockwood x Reader

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

a/n: tfw you almost die in the arms of your future employer :) rip lockwood and co, never an agents first choice be it in canon or fanon ok ill stop now also just to be clear we’re all ignoring how much the title sucks ass okay god only gave out a limited number of brain cells and we can’t ALL be as creative as @bella-rose29 (will make a separate post on this a little later, not enough space here) (but also she was SICKKK for coming up w the title deck the halls (and not your partner) ok didn’t mean to turn this into a belle appreciation post but 👍)

warnings/tropes: fluff fluff FLUFF, this is about as fluffy as it gets from me ashdkd, cringy pick up lines overload, also I declare plagiarism (?) of some rlly popular incorrect quotes, you'll know it when you read them

word count: 2.6k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She and Lucy were in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and waiting for the boys to reach home. The four of them had split up to get some errands done that morning before breakfast - she and Lucy went to collect the payment for a few jobs, while Lockwood and George dropped off some paperwork at DEPRAC headquarters. Lucy put the kettle on while she refilled their teabag jar, and a minute later the boys walked in.

George was telling Lockwood off for something, who wasn't looking too sorry for whatever it was that he had done, though he clearly cared enough to try to suppress his giggles.

"Those forms took me hours, Lockwood. I wasn't about to let you drop them into some slush."

"I keep telling you, I wasn't going to drop them."

"How would you know when you were too busy making an ass of yourself?"

"I haven't seen a good pickup line in a while, George. You found it funny too."

"Yes, and the threat of you chucking our forms was downright hilarious."

She handed out the mugs of tea.

"What pickup line?"

"It was just a DEPRAC ad. Something like 'Are you a wraith? Because you have me love-locked.' Just a reminder of some quick signs of a visitor presence for Valentine's Day." 

She meandered over to where Lockwood was standing at the kitchen counter, a little too casual. He immediately snapped up whatever he was scribbling. She looked mildly (read: exaggeratedly) injured, but he just gave her one of his winning smiles. Really, she was well within her rights to be suspicious.

"S'that?"

"A bill."

"What bill?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

"Show me the bill."

"You're adorable."

It was a poor excuse of an attempt at a distraction, as she immediately started trying to snatch it away. Lockwood just held the folded paper above his head, trying to pry his jacket out of her yanking hands. After a minute or so of vehement struggling, the scuffle ended the way all of their scuffles ended - her playing at sour grapes.

"Oh! Go boil-yer-head. I don't even want to see that bill anyway."

He slotted the letter into an envelope smoothly as George cut in.

"Speaking of bills, hopefully, we'll be able to pay more of them off soon. Couples like to go away for Valentine's, so it's the perfect time to get any lingering visitors taken care of. We should put an ad in the paper, like DEPRAC."

That set Lockwood off again, and George groaned. As he got up to get another biscuit, she conspiratorially turned to Lockwood.

"Y'know, for someone who's so tickled by pickup lines, I bet you'd be terrible at them."

"Not more terrible than you."

"I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

Their bet had taken a back burner in her mind while she was preparing for their case that night, but she was still immediately suspicious when she walked into the kitchen to see Lockwood innocently snacking on a bowl of raisins.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing! Can't a guy eat his raisins?" He silently proferred the bowl to her. She narrowed her eyes. 

"No thanks."

"How about a date?"

"When did we get - oh. Ha ha." There was a mischievous crinkle in Lockwood's eye. "Sneaky. I was busy preparing for our case, like a proper agent."

"Hmm, excuses, excuses."

"Fine. If George finds out you haven't read tonight's case file, you're on your own."

"NO no no no please please please -"

She prepped a few pickup lines before they left, just enough to stop Lockwood from becoming completely unbearable.

"Are you a visitor? Because you've been haunting my dreams."

She scrunched up her nose. "Boo. That's terrible."

"You try coming up with a visitor-themed one. They're all so horrible."

She paused for a minute.

"Are you a Lurker? 'Cause you're making my heart race."

"...no one likes a show-off," he grumbled, and she smiled to herself as they continued rooting through boxes, looking for a potential Source.

"Your hand looks heavy. Could I hold it for you?"

"What's it like to be the most gorgeous person in this room?" That one got a good laugh out of him.

"Might be more flattering if my competition wasn't a Raw Bones. You’re pretty and I’m cute. Wanna be pretty cute together?"

"If you and I were socks, we'd make a great pair."

She revelled in the huge smile that lit up his face. She knew he'd get a kick out of that one.

She hadn't expected to have as much fun with their game as she did. They recounted their highlights to Lucy and George on the way home, which made for an entertaining end to the case. As Lucy and George put away their coats, Lockwood lingered behind, looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite find the words. She became even more alarmed when he placed a hand on her shoulder, because of how serious he looked.

"Is everything okay?" 

He took a shaky breath and tightened his grip on her shoulder ever so slightly.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I'll give it right back."

The line itself wasn't particularly outrageous, but in the darkness by the door, with their faces in the shadows and him holding her close, she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"Good one," she whispered.

He gave her a sloping smile and retreated into the kitchen. She stood there for a moment, thinking about the warmth on her shoulder, as if his hand was still there.

"Did it hurt?"

"When I fell from heaven?"

"When you fell down the stairs. Right in front of us. It's been ten minutes and you haven't even gotten up yet."

With a strangled wheeze, he righted himself, looking more than a little stupid with his affronted expression and hair sticking up in all directions. They were on a case, and Lockwood had been a bit too close to the stairs whilst investigating the death glow on the landing. It had been quite a painful-looking rollercoaster of a fall with many bumps as he flailed for the railings, ending with a muffled scream.

"I was checking for broken bones."

"For ten minutes? Do you even have that many bones?"

He had an oily smirk on his face, though it was mostly nullified by his slightly crossed eyes.

"I've got...so many bones, I could give you a...wait. No. Hey lady, do you want a...bone? If you were a bone, you'd be in my...body...my body has all the bones...hang on. Okay, got it. Bones....fuck."

"...concussion?"

"Nuh-uh."

That was the moment his knees chose to buckle under him, and the three of them hurried to hold him upright. Even though he kept insisting he was fine, he was looking far too pale and woozy, so they flagged down a cab and pushed Lockwood into it. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, she joined him in the cab while George and Lucy got to stay to finish the job.

It had been a bit of a challenge to fumble for the key to the front door with the dead weight that was Lockwood compressing her spine, but she somehow managed. She tried her best to keep track of all of his long limbs after he knocked his head on the side of the door frame, groaning again. She dumped him onto their living room sofa, going down with him in the process, and with some difficulty peeled herself out of his grip. The bump had clearly taken quite a bit out of him, for by the time she returned with a blanket, he had completely passed out.

With some difficulty, she wrestled his rapier off of him and draped the blanket over him. She put away her own gear and rapier and curled up with a book on the armchair opposite the sofa. It was odd to see Lockwood sleeping. And even more odd to see him doing it so peacefully, like all thoughts and worries had been knocked clean out of his head. Much like her thoughts, the first time they met.

It hadn’t even been her goddamn fault. She had been lugging around her uncle’s rapiers since hers had been sent for cleaning and it was starting to make her arm ache. She deserved a little lean, no doubt. Only, what she thought was the door frame had been the door itself, so when her then-future employer had opened the door, she stumbled right into his arms.

And then promptly fell out of them when he let her go by surprise. To his credit, he was superfluously apologetic and sympathetic, and kept asking if her head was alright throughout the interview. It was a little annoying, if she were entirely honest, but she was grateful when that sympathy translated into a job, because all coherent thoughts in her head were lying somewhere on their front door runner.

As much as she tried not to think about the incident since Lockwood showed no sign of doing so himself, it kept her up at night more than she'd like to admit. But it had also been rather liberating, as there was little else she could do that would be any worse.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lockwood began to stir after an hour or so, opening his eyes blearily. She instinctively put her book down and crouched next to the sofa, where she immediately felt awkward. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand on his forehead, and they blinked at each other in confusion.

"How're you feeling?"

"Great." He cleared his throat, which barely helped his hoarse voice. "Chipper."

"Are you sure? Feeling chilly?"

"No, I'm fine. Are you a construction worker?"

"...huh?"

"Because you are building."

"What."

"I win."

He turned to his side and buried his face into his cushion with a satisfied look on his face. 

"Oh, Lockwood. I don't think..."

He pulled his head out of the cushion alarmingly fast. That couldn't have been good for his neck. "Ohhh, too good for my pickup lines now, eh?"

"I...what?"

"I get a bump on my head and you don't like my pickup lines no more?"

"Why do you have a Brooklyn accent?"

"You's got a Brooklyn accent."

"Okay, now you're just throwing a tantrum."

He fussed for a few more minutes, muttering out of the corner of his mouth or into the cushion, but eventually calmed down. As his eyes fluttered close, his breathing becoming long and even, she quietly got up to leave.

"Just so you know...I do think you're building."

The Brooklyn accent was gone, and though his low murmur was comfortably familiar, something in it sent a spark running through her brain.

"I think you're building too."

She could have sworn he had a small smile before his mouth relaxed as he drifted off again.

She didn't see much of him after that, given how much rest he needed, and the reprieve from their game was a welcome relief. The pickup lines didn't slide off her tongue as easily when she meant them as much as she did now. Still, she couldn't hide from him forever, and ran into him in the kitchen a few nights later.

"Oh. Hey."

He held up the biscuit tin. "Hello. Catching up on my biscuit rations."

She smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Definitely. A little sick of lying about, but I think I've finally got my head on straight."

He smiled, and the tension between them melted. She smiled back.

"Must have been scary, having your brain go wonky like that." 

"It was...wild. I don't even know how I had the presence of mind to put my rapier away."

Her cheeks burned as she pointedly rummaged through their pantry for a snack while Lockwood brewed tea for the both of them. They sat at the kitchen table in silence, slowly sipping their tea as they ignored the elephant in the room. That is, until Lockwood broached the subject.

“Did it hurt?”

She put her mug down. “Lockwood.”

“Did it hurt?” He pressed, firmly.

“I’ve already heard this one.”

“Just - humour me for a minute, won’t you?”

She looked at the little she could see of his face, given how close they were sitting, and gave a small sigh.

“So. Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

“When you fell into my life.” 

He lightly squeezed her hand, it was only then that she realised that they were holding hands. She choked on her breath in a mildly undignified manner, but with the proximity and the unexpected answer, she was well and truly taken aback. She waited for the embarrassment to kick in. There were a lot of things to be embarrassed about at that moment - how he could probably see every imperfection on her face, how he could probably tell how nervous she was getting from how clammy her palm must be, and of course that he remembered their dreadfully embarrassing first encounter.

But the shame never came. If anything, she felt oddly…touched. There wasn’t anything embarrassing about the memory anymore. It was…as much as it pained her to admit it…slightly romantic. She looked away from his face, shaking her head slightly, staring at their gripping hands. So easy it was to hold onto each other in the shadows, but terrifying in the daylight. Scratch that, it was terrifying to see herself holding his hand just as tightly as he held hers. Maybe he did compel…something in her.

His hand disappeared into his pocket, and a moment later he was pulling out a familiar, weathered envelope. 

"I've never...I've never asked anyone to be my Valentine. Never knew how it worked. Still don't really know how it works. So I tried writing it all down, and..." Lockwood frowned at the loopy yet measured scrawls in front of him. He sighed in defeat, crumpling the letter. "...and I still don't know how it works."

She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "Me neither. But..." she tore her eyes away from the table, looking at his face with his emotions stacked plain as day. "I think we know enough."

She curled her fingers into his. Years ago, she hadn't thought knowing if she was in love would ever be an issue, but for so many years she struggled to find the love they wrote books, songs and poetry about. But sitting here now, in the dim light of the kitchen, with a person whose face she could trace in her sleep, she realised Little Her had had it right all along.

“I always thought you were very nice to me in that interview. A little too nice.”

“You didn’t hear the way you screamed. I thought you were going down with a heart attack.”

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #fanfiction #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #valentines day #fluff

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Underneath It All

Paring: JJ Maybank x KookFem!reader

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Oral (w receiving) PIV, Fluff, Romance, JJ’s got a dirty mouth. (Slight Angst, Slight Dub Con - if you squint) Not Proof-Read.

Summary:  JJ wants more than a casual hook up.

Word Count: 2000 words

Your media consumption is your own responsibility.  

Fine Print: Steal my writing or copy bits and karma will get ya.

“You know, you weren’t my type,” JJ whispered.

"Wh-what?" you stammered. Scrunching your nose at the sudden change in topic, you wondered what drove him to switch from talking about Rafe to well- you.

"You just- weren't."

"Oh—" And then it clicked. He wanted you to respond with ‘and what about now?', opening the door to a conversation you were not willing to have.

It was not that you did not want to. But there was too much animosity between your friends and his; too much of a painful history for any sort of healthy relationship to form between you and JJ. Each time you spoke, it always came back to something one of your friends had done or said. Toxic messes with no end or resolution in sight. Wasn't this the very reason JJ climbed the tall trellis against the side of your home and into your bedroom window in the first place?  To tell you about some shit Rafe had done and why Rafe had more coming to him than a bloody nose and a cut lip?

But there was another reason. Your mind chided, and you baulk under the weight of the truth.  It is for this unspoken reason that JJ showed up at your house in the dead of night while your parents slept soundly down the hall. Why even as he spoke, his gaze unapologetically swept across every inch of your body, only for your core to clench with anticipation. But you didn’t want to dwell on that. You couldn’t dwell on that. Nothing good could ever come from that.  So you narrowed your eyes at him in a futile attempt to get the conversation about Rafe back on track and hopefully send him back the way he came.

"It's fine.  You’re not mine," you shrugged though your heart clenched.  You watched JJ’s eyebrow hitch in response, his fingers twitch at his side.  Folding your arms across your chest you forced yourself to continue. "I’m not into blondes," you said with haughty resignation.

“Is that right?” JJ chuckled, dimpled cheeks on full display. It gave him a boyish charm if it weren't for his teeth, which appeared white and wolf-like in the moonlight. His blue eyes flickered down at your lips as he licked his own.  It made his intentions painfully obvious.

"That’s right…" you swallowed as he inched closer, "..and I don’t. Fuck. Pogues.”

JJ lunged forward, lips crashing onto yours in a brutal kiss.  His ringed fingers grabbed your neck and pulled you close, enslaving you to his sensual assault of teeth and lips. Your knees buckled when his tongue entered your mouth, despite your efforts to resist. While his fingers slipped down your body to your ass, kneading the soft supple flesh covered in silk.   Growling into your mouth, JJ pulled you closer, grinding your core against his stiffening cock. The action makes you instantly wet much to your chagrin.  

Pulling away from the kiss, JJ scraped his teeth along the shell of your ear, his voice on edge as he spoke. “Don’t fuck pogues, huh? Funny since you didn’t mind bouncin' on my dick when that asshole dumped you. Ain’t that right cupcake?” His vulgar words made your stomach churn in disdain and you tried to push him off, but his hands wound their way around your waist. JJ pulled you towards him until your lower halves bumped, then backed you towards your bed and pushed you down onto it.

“That was a mistake. A moment of weakness JJ and you know it.” You said, scrambling backwards on your elbows to put distance between the two of you.  JJ grabbed your right ankle and yanked you towards him.

“It was a mistake JJ…a moment of weakness JJ…” he mimicked, high-pitched and shrilly. “That's cute, princess. Real cute.” he drawled, as he climbed on top of you. With those piercing blue eyes staring down at you from a halo of wispy blonde hair, he looked like an angel but something about his expression reminded you of Lucifer too.

In the seconds that followed, a silent conversation ensued filled with emotions you could not articulate: uncertainty, lust, fear. It seemed JJ understood because his eyes softened immediately and an unspoken understanding passed between the two of you. He suddenly seemed different; unusually calm compared to the chaotic energy he usually exuded. 

JJ had switched tactics.

“That night in your dad's office while everyone watched fireworks outside..." he said softly, his fingers slowly undoing each button of your silk pyjama shirt. Normally, he would have eagerly ripped them open with fervor and passion but, tonight, his actions were languid and gentle. You felt you could stop him if you truly wanted to. 

You remembered the night in question. It was your dad's 60th birthday party which had been a grand occasion; many of the Outer Banks' elite gathered under the stars to celebrate. Your parents had hired a catering company and JJ was one of its servers. 

You gasped as he exposed your naked chest to the cool night air, bringing you back to reality. He slowly leaned down tongue trailing along the side of your rib cage. 

“Was that night a mistake too?" His eyes flashing up at you as he latched onto your nipple with fervor. 

You were immediately swept away as JJ sucked, pulled, and tugged hungrily at your tender flesh. Your other bud was deliciously teased by his nimble fingers while images of that night and JJ holding you down against your father's desk as he pounded you senseless came rushing back. Just thinking about it made you giddy, your fingertips gently gliding into his blonde strands.   

Slowly, he kissed down your chest to your silk-covered core, your body humming with need as he buried his face and breathed you in.

"Where were your kook morals when I fucked you at midsummer, huh?" he asked while hooking his fingers into the band of your silk shorts and panties. Clearly, you didn’t have any because you were now lifting your hips for JJ while he dragged them down your legs and off.  He flung them aimlessly behind him, before his lips pressed soft kisses on your stomach and hips.

“Or that night under the stars while your friends partied by the bonfire?”  He looked up at you, pupils blown “Don’t think I've ever told you this, but that night is one of my favorites. You just kept riding me,  an’ riding me, an’ riding me...” he whispered eyes rolling at the sinful thought  “You made me cum so fuckin' hard I nearly passed out. Do you remember?" 

That night was one of your favorites too. Your friends were down by the beach and you had snuck off to be with JJ on higher ground. The sand dunes provided the perfect spot to pull him down on the white sand and climb on top of him. It was also the first time you had decided to not use condoms since starting the pill a week prior.

You remembered JJ lying beneath you while you fucked yourself on his dick. His hands slid up and down your body touching every part he could reach until they landed on your hips where they stayed.

You rode him for what felt like forever. Slow desperate circles that had you moaning and gasping. The lack of a condom taking both of your pleasure to dizzying heights since you could feel everything. Your eyes never left his handsome face as you watched his expression shift from horny to on the edge of exploding.

When JJ finally came, you had never seen him cum like that before. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his teeth bared as he whimpered your name like a hedonistic prayer. Watching him become vulnerable and losing control like that had you careening into an orgasm of your own.  Your could barely hold on but you kept riding him as you wrung out every last ounce of pleasure. It was only when he brokenly confessed “God, I love fucking you. I love... I love being with you” did you finally climb off him Bambi-legged, with his cum dripping down your thighs.

You nodded at the sinful memory, biting your bottom lip, and JJ chuckled. "Yeah, I knew you'd remember" Pushing your legs apart, he wrapped his arms around your legs, his face close to your weeping core.

"Don't fuck pogues, but your legs are always open for me, hm?" he breathed, his tongue darting out to taste the nectar pooling at your slit. A satisfied hum bubbled from his throat. “Always eager... wet... an’ sweet”. JJ purred before burying his tongue deep in your cunt.

"Oh, Fuck! J-" you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you bucked underneath him, seeking more friction. JJ’s tongue danced along your clit.  Using two fingers he spread your petals apart, your pearl on display for him. You let out a sharp cry when he suckled it,  toes curling, your head spun from the excessive stimulation.  JJ sucked greedily, lapping at your sweet nectar until your clit throbbed from being so thoroughly mouthed.

"Nah uh, can’t come yet, princess" he murmured, as he flicked your clit with his tongue, "Can’t come til I tell you to." His voice was guttural; his words dripping with lust that left you shaking with need.  You moaned again, tilting your hips up against JJ's prodding tongue until you forgot who and where you were.   Your whole body quaking with the insatiable need to cum.

You ran your fingers through JJ’s silky hair and grabbed the back of his neck with both hands.  With your head tilted back on the pillows, desperately you had spread your legs as wide as you possibly can, your toes pointed towards the ceiling. It had him right where you needed him most. Your stomach clenched, not able to get enough air or leverage to do much other than gulp and gasp for breath. You felt like you were a dying star about to be reborn.

JJ sank his fingers deep into your soaked pussy and you lost it. The sound of your cry reverberated throughout your bedroom. Unbridled and loud. Holding down your bucking hips JJ continued to suck your swollen bud as he finger-fucked every last ounce of ecstasy from your pulsing core.

“Can’t even follow simple instructions, hm? You bad girl...” JJ laughed breathlessly, as he crawled up your body leaving a trail of wet kisses along his path.  Reeling from your orgasm, you didn't even notice JJ had taken off his t-shirt or that he was now on top of you.  You sighed as he kissed you passionately, and you moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. His fingers worked his belt and unzipped his fly.  He pulled his cock out, the mushroom tip flared and sticky with precum.

“But ’s okay… ” JJ breathed, and he wasted no time pushing his thick cock past your soaked petals, his lips brushing your neck with a sigh.  “You needed it, huh baby? I get it. It’s the same way I’ve been needin’ to fuck you all week.  It’s all I could think about... I’ve missed you. Did you miss me too?” He pushed deeper and you cried out, perhaps in response to his question. JJ’s hand flew over your mouth to stop the sound from escaping.

“Ah ah, shh--” he smiled, dimples pronounced, lips ghosting your ear.  “What would your parents say, hm? What’d they say if they caught their princess takin’ my pogue dick?” But even as he said those words JJ pushed harder into you until his entire length filled you to the hilt.  A long sigh escaped you as he began to rock his hips gently.

"Gotta keep quiet for me, baby...” JJ moaned, kissing you along your collarbone.  “Gotta keep quiet while I fuck you... Can you do that for me?” 

You shook your head ‘no’ and JJ breathed out a laugh.  “I know baby, I know its hard but you gotta try, you gotta try...” It was easier said than done with the feel of JJ grinding his hips, his thick cock impossibly deep in you.  A low keening sound escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close to your chest. His skin felt hot yet smooth like marble beneath your hands and it sent a shiver up your spine when he tightened his hold and nipped at your neck with his teeth.

His pace quickened after those few gentle thrusts.  He took in deep gulps of air, his breath brushed across your cheek. "You feel soo good.. fuckin’ tight... always chokin’ me--” he whispered, his voice trailing off into incoherent words and moans while his hips picked up their rhythm making you sob into the palm of his hand.  This is what you wanted, what you needed, so desperately. The pleasure, the pain, everything only JJ could give you.

"Fuck, ’m close, baby. So close. Gonna cum-” JJ groaned against your ear, “Can I- in you?" he whispered between shallow pants. You knew what he was asking for, what he needed and you shook your head ‘yes’. Your fingertips embedded into the flesh of his back as you clung to him for dear life.

Leaning into his hand at your mouth, JJ drove himself forcefully into you as if trying to hammer home how good it felt filling you. So fucking gone you didn't care about the noise, you didn't care about your bed frame hitting the wall.  Because with every pound of your heart, every rush of blood to your core, every sharp burst of light behind your closed eyelids, and the stroke of his cock hitting that spot deep within, your orgasm approached quicker and harder than ever before. The buildup was almost too much to bear and you clawed at JJ’s back for purchase.

"God- Ah! J-" you sobbed, biting down on JJ's palm as your whole body convulsed from the force of your orgasm. JJ pulled out slowly until just his tip remained, then slammed back into you violently. He did it once, twice, three times -  a primal groan left his lips as his body stiffened above you, cock twitching as he painted your womb with his cum. He shuddered, gasping harshly against your ear, whispering brokenly the words ‘yes, fuck--’ and ‘mine’ 

After several minutes of panting, JJ gently removed his hand from your mouth and his lips came to meet yours. His face was full of love as he lazily stroked your cheeks and lips. 

"You weren't my type because I didn't think a girl like you would ever want someone like me," JJ admitted softly. "But, I know the truth and  I’m done pretending what we have isn’t real. You can’t keep runnin' away from this Y/N..." he whispered, eyes burning into your own. "You can't keep runnin' from me." 

#thanks for reading #thank you for commenting reblogging and liking #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank one shot #obx jj maybank #obx jj x reader #jj maybank smut #obx #obx romance #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction

[heliocharis]

Left My Friend’s Body Outside the Mithraeum: One New Zealander’s account of the New Zealand stuff in Nona the Ninth

A few points before we begin:

I’ve quoted everything out of context, but probably don’t read this if you don’t want to be spoiled for the book.

I’m just one person (a Pākehā North Islander millennial, for context), but hopefully I caught most of it. Please tell me if you see anything I missed!

If you see something and think, ‘Tumblr user junozeta, why have you included this piece of information when it is very easily Google-able,’ it’s for the sake of completeness.

Kia ora!

Dramatis personae

Stop It, name assumed, lies under counter at dairy, red colour, big sized, four legs

Dairy: A corner store.

John 20:8

Dilworth. Otago. Auckland. Overseas to Corpus. (She likes the word corpus; it sounds nice and fat.) Then another year abroad, where he got the grant and met the men who would make things happen. Special pleading with the New Zealand government and Asia-Pacific Environmental, at his suggestion, then back to the facility outside Greytown.

Here John is reciting his credentials. Dilworth is a private boys’ boarding school in Auckland. (ETA: Please see this reblog by sixth-light for better context.) Auckland and Otago will be referring to the universities, which are notably the only two in NZ with medical schools. I will add that having studied more in NZ than overseas does not afford you a lot of prestige.

Greytown is a small town (population 2,720 as of 2021) in the lower North Island, near Wellington. (I note here that Trentham, the presumptive namesake of the Second House’s Trentham, is also near Wellington, as is Maymorn, which Tamsyn Muir has said Mercymorn was originally named after.)

Chapter 1

“Is that pikelet mix?” she said.

Pikelet: Like a pancake, but smaller and denser.

Palamedes stood like he was playing a game of Hot Chocolate and the tagger was looking right at him. Hot Chocolate was in fashion with her friends at the moment and Nona wanted to get really good at it.

Putting this here to state for the record that I’m not familiar with Hot Chocolate as a name for a game of that kind. (ETA: An anon was, though, as a different name for Red Light, Green Light. See, not all of NZ is the same.)

I’ve met leaders like Unjust Hope before.

“Unjust Hope” could be from “The Ikons” by James K. Baxter, a famous New Zealand poet.

John 5:20

He said, It was the last one that was getting to me. I knew all those bodies by name. Funny to say, but they were my mates, you know? I’d worked on them for such a long time, and they’d given us so much, and now they were going to get dumped in some concrete skip because after what we’d done to them they couldn’t be cremated or buried safely. I hated that.

Mates: Friends. Classic Kiwi.

Skip: A dumpster.

I didn’t have to worry about the public or the media—we had a pet cop, P—. She’d made detective by that point; was going on to big things in the MoD.

MoD: Probably self-explanatory, but Ministry of Defence.

We only had the demo cans; the mass-produced ones were made in a Five Eyes factory in Shenzhen.

Five Eyes: A surveillance alliance between NZ, Australia, the UK, the US, and Canada. As of 2022, not actively military, nor ostensibly involved with China. Much to think about.

I went around to everyone, talking to my favourites—I know it was weird having favourites, but let’s bloody face it, I’d gone weird—not even saying goodbye, just saying it’ll be fine, hang on for me, kia kaha, kia māia.

Kia kaha, kia māia: Well-known Māori phrase meaning “be strong, be brave”.

John 15:23

You wouldn’t believe how stupid guys get over compliments on our looks, I was vain as.

Vain as: “[adjective] as” is a classic Kiwi way to say that something is extremely [adjective].

P— said I looked like a Māori TV Pink Panther.

Māori TV: Worth noting here that this is a TV channel, and not a generic reference.

Someone’s Honda. Someone’s Mazda. Someone’s four-wheel drive. Someone’s shed. A Macca’s sign.

Shed: A garage.

Macca’s: McDonald’s.

A— and M— moved in with me, and G— set up outside; he was sleeping in his ute. C— was staying with N—, long days. She left us early in the morning and came back the next day with sausage rolls for breakfast.

Ute: A pickup truck. (Short for “utility vehicle”.)

Sausage rolls: A classic NZ food.

You hear all the cicadas in the grass, you hear the dogs in the next town over barking. You hear the moreporks in the trees and the possums skittering over shed roofs.

Morepork: A native owl (Ninox novaeseelandiae).

Possums: Worth noting that NZ has the Australian kind (Trichosurus vulpecula).

He was the bravest dog I’d ever met. Half Chihuahua, half pug. Nan called him Ulysses S. Grunt.

Maybe worth noting here that “Grant” and “Grunt” are pronounced much more alike in an NZ accent than they would be in a North American one.

Chapter 9

Cam ducked into a bakery and came out with a warm and probably radioactive paper bag of pastries that had been under the bakery light the whole time.

Almost certainly a reference to this iconic cultural moment.

She had already got her towel and the old shirt she used to swim in—much easier to go naked, but the others had all objected to this, and Cam had said it would make her a sniper target—and her jandals, and then after masks were tied and hats put on they walked to the beach in the low dusk.

Jandals: Flip-flops. Classic Kiwi.

“I’d give Palamedes the hiding of his fucking life if he wasn’t renting an ass with you.”

Hiding: A beating.

John 5:18

They were lying head-to-head, their eyes aimed at the right part of the sky to see, or in this case not see, the Southern Cross.

Southern Cross: The constellation on the NZ flag. Known formally as, of course, Crux.

There was so much to figure out. But I’d got a dream team on tap, eh? People who could think. C—’s N—, she was on board. C— was still pretending they weren’t dating—she was an artist, so that was cool. If you have two scientists and an engineer and a detective and a lawyer and an artist you’re pretty much sweet as.

Eh: We tend to end sentences with this quite a lot (though of course it’s not just us).

Sweet as: “all good”. Classic Kiwi.

Back then we thought maybe there was something about the ground, something about our particular patch in the Wairarapas, but if we loaded up the ute with a bunch of bodies and looked out for the cops we could do the same thing anywhere else.

The Wairarapas: The region of NZ where Greytown is located. This is an informal way to refer to it, its proper name being the Wairarapa.

“Is that pikelets, Pyrrha? You’re a legend.”

Calling someone a legend to express approval, while not new, has become deeply entrenched in the local consciousness over the last decade or so, thanks to a recognisable anti-drink driving campaign. (If you’ve heard of the “ghost chips” ad, it’s one of those.)

Chapter 12

Crown Him with Many Crowns Thy Full Gallant Legions He Found It in Him to Forgive

He Found It in Him to Forgive: Lyrics from a classic NZ song, “Dominion Road” by The Mutton Birds.

“Why does Pash hate us so much?”

Worth noting here that “pash” (both a noun and a verb) is slang for making out.

John 8:1

You’ve got a wizard out in the wop-wops who’s now got blanket bans from nearly every video upload site and a whole bunch of people have entered the country because of his YouTube channel, the government isn’t all, Love that small-business entrepreneur spirit.

The wop-wops: The middle of nowhere. Often just “the wops”.

Didn’t mention that I’d only gone to Parachute ’cause of the underage drinking.

Parachute: A Christian music festival that existed from 1992 to 2014.

She’d won medals for competition shooting back north in Hamilton, but we’re not talking Jesse James. We’re talking Hamilton.

Hamilton: A city in the North Island (it’s the next city south of Auckland) which it is nationally popular to disparage, especially if you’re from Auckland (this is mutual).

Chapter 16

Crown Prince Kiriona Gaia

Kiriona: Transliteration of “Gideon” into te reo Māori.

“It can’t be my blood. It must be someone else’s. Maybe it’s tomato sauce.”

Pretty throwaway, this one, but when she says tomato sauce this is the kind I think of.

Chapter 18

“Whew!” said Nona. “Is the classroom munted?”

Munted: Busted, fucked up.

John 5:1

There was a lot of it, but we had a lot of people who needed a feed. We sat there with the window cracked so G— could hear us while he manned the barbie, which in the dark gets unwholesome as hell, and we ate off paper plates, and I told them …

A feed: A meal.

Barbie: I think this one should be easy.

He said, Which just goes to show that only getting to NCEA Level 2 isn’t going to stop you making waves in life, right. You can still eat steak, talk to wizards, and take down the government.

NCEA Level 2: This is the qualification you get in your second-to-last year of high school (typically at age 16, which is the age at which you can leave school), and has historically been the minimum you need for university entrance.

This is fairly easy to infer anyway, but John et al. being young enough to have done NCEA (it was introduced in the early 2000s) and old enough to have gone to Parachute to underage drink tells you pretty soundly that they’re millennials.

John 3:20

He said, So I went to the governments that were still sympathetic, sort of, like ours, and all the Trans-Pacifics, and we threw down our evidence.

Probably referring to the TPP.

Not only that, they looked at us and were like, We were going to put you fellas in jail, weren’t we?

Pronounce this as “fullas”, with the U as in “up”.

John 9:22

A bunch of the guys were her old coworkers—guys she’d gone through training with in Porirua, beer buddies.

Porirua: A small city near Wellington.

John 1:20

He said, So here’s us, planning to meet these agents in neutral territory, across the ditch, over in the huddle where the Territory refugees were.

The ditch: The Tasman Sea.

But they weren’t only aggro about G—, they were aggro that a nuke might go off and kill a couple million people. I was like, Guys, it’s fine, they’re Australian.

There’s a rivalry.

John 5:4

Like those old power-washing ads. Spray and walk away, right?

A very recognisable series of ads.

(End of post! If you have learned anything, I’ll be stoked.)

#this is what i was put on earth for #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #locked tomb originals

[maximoffcarter]

Messy.

Pairings: Peggy Carter x Natasha Romanoff, Peggy Carter x Steve Rogers.

Summary: Peggy lost so much when she decided to sacrifice herself to save the people she cared about, years later and living a new life, she finds what she has lost; but she was not sure if she truly wanted it back or if she wanted a certain redhead that always stood by her side.

A/n: Well, well, well…here we are again, after a whole year of not posting anything, I’ve made my comeback. Will I continue posting? We don’t know, but this is a first step🫡 Happy new year everyone!✨I decided to write what the writers didn’t give us in the episode. I was really hoping for them to give us peggynat but they were too cowards to give us that, hopefully in the third season🥲 So this is a ‘What if…Peggy’s episode turned out a bit better?’ but…written by me🤪 Haven’t written anything in so long so give me a chance. Hope you guys enjoy and…request will be open🫡✍🏻 Also, I added some scenes from the episode but it’s also sort of changed, enjoy!

Natasha moaned the moment her back hit the coldness of the wall, feeling a rush of excitement as she looked at Peggy taking off her shirt and showing part of her stunning figure. Peggy lost no time in going back to her lips, her hands gripping her sides to pull the redhead closer once again, not wanting to be any inch away from her. Both women moaned as the kiss became more heated, both trying to undress one another to get rid of the heat they both have been feeling all day. But just as they worked on each other's clothes, both phones went off. They both pulled away and groaned loudly.

“Is this gonna keep happening every time we try to have some alone time?” Natasha asked with a very annoyed tone and throwing her head back against the wall.

Peggy looked at her and chuckled. “Desperate much, my darling?”

“Eh. Just a bit. Not like I’ve been waiting all day for this.” Natasha smirked as she looked at Peggy, shocking her head and reaching to the floor to grab her shirt. “We better get going before Fury sends someone to find us.”

Peggy nodded. “Right.” She went on to find her shirt but stopped her movements when she heard Natasha chuckling. “What’s so funny?” She turned to look at her with a confused look.

“You might wanna get some makeup on that neck of yours. Wouldn’t want the team to ask what happened.” Natasha smirked as she grabbed her bag and kissed Peggy’s cheek before she left the room.

Peggy moved to the nearest mirror she could find and sighed. “Bloody hell, Nat…”

____________________

“You know she’ll be pissed, right?” Natasha asked as she looked again through the small window the new discovery.

“We don’t have any other option. She’ll find out one way or another, either way, she’ll get mad at us.” Fury said on the other line, hearing silence before a big sigh from Natasha. “We can’t hide it, not when we now know this is not a myth anymore.”

“I know.” Natasha shook her head as she thought about it for a second. “Okay, I’ll go find her.”

“Good luck.”

Natasha hung up the phone and went to find Peggy. She knew the moment Peggy saw what was inside, it’ll be the end of whatever they had. After all this time of knowing each other, Nat and Peggy became closer than anyone else, not that they didn’t get along with the rest of the team of course, even Hope was a good friend to them, but what Natasha and Peggy had was different, unlike any other thing. The moment they met each other, they had their backs no matter what, Natasha was not one to get close to just anyone, she had her story and had her doubts, but Peggy was so easy to get along with, they understood each other in a way that made them be closer.

That closeness of course became something more, but not enough for both women to conclude what they had going on. No one knew about their encounters at night, about the sleepless nights on their apartments, the secret going outs or anything about their relationship outside work. They didn’t know what they were doing either, but Natasha knew a thing for sure; whatever was going on between them, she couldn’t get enough of Peggy. 

____________________

Peggy felt a rush of anger and confusion as they went back to the quarters. How could he still be alive? How come she never found out about this? Did they know about this the whole time and that’s why they sent them to this mission? Everything was confusing, so many thoughts were running through her head, her legs bouncing with anxiety and nervousness and her hands gripping into each other. Natasha noticed the state Peggy was in, still wet from the ocean and the towel laying just beside her. Natasha went on and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around Peggy, making her come back to the reality she was avoiding to be in.

“You alright, Peg?” 

“What do you think?” Peggy looked at her and sighed. “Sorry, Widow. I know it’s not your fault.”

Natasha’s heart sank as she heard those words. Of course, it was partly her fault. She knew about this, but how could she make her go through that again? 

“I need to speak to Fury as soon as we get there.” 

“Peggy, you need some rest, we’ll go to him in the morning.” 

“This can’t wait. All this time I’ve been here and he’s…he’s been here too. For way longer. For me it was just a second, for him…I’m not sure what happened.” Peggy shook her head. “I should’ve known.”

“How could you, Peg? It’s 2014, you came from the 40’s. How would you know?” Natasha placed her hand on top of Peggy’s, knowing everyone else were either distracted or asleep. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

Peggy nodded as she looked down at their hands, feeling a sudden warmth. “You’re right. I’m just exhausted. So much happened today.” 

“I mean, other than Fury interrupting us and then your fight with that mustache guy, not sure what else happened unless you got something to tell me.” Natasha smirked as she saw a little smile coming from Peggy. 

“Right. I’m just tired.”

“You’ll get some sleep, you can go straight to your apartment.” Natasha paused for a moment as she looked down at their hands. “Or you could come to mine.”

Peggy looked up at Natasha, questioning what was better for her to do at the moment. She wanted to go so badly but she knew what would come down if she did, but going back to her place would be torture, she knew her mind wouldn’t be able to rest one second. 

“You know I don’t mean that, right? Just saying you can come back to my place, so we sleep. I know you.” Natasha grinned.

Peggy smiled and nodded. “That sounds good.”

Natasha smiled. “Good.” 

____________________

“Peg, think about this. We’re not sure what we’re gonna fight with, this is not the Steve you knew.” Natasha said as she followed Peggy through the hallway. 

“You didn’t tell me anything about this. You hid it from me, knowing perfectly how I felt.” Peggy felt upset, confused, the one person she trusted the most had hidden this information from her.

“I told you; I didn’t want you to overthink this and blame yourself for not doing something.”

Peggy stopped and turned to look at Nat, making Nat suddenly stop right in front of her. “And how do you think I feel? Happy? I could’ve done something; I could’ve found him sooner.”

“I don’t want to keep arguing with you, you perfectly know why we did what we did.” Natasha said with a serious look on her face. 

Peggy sighed. “You can either follow me or stay here, your choice.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw Peggy walking away. She would literally do anything for her, but she had her doubts about this. Of course she wanted to see Peggy happy, but not exactly with Steve. She knew why Peggy was doing this, she could finally have what she lost, which was still doubtful as to how he had survived for so long, but Peggy wouldn’t give up on this, she’d do anything to get him back.

As in with Peggy, she was still very confused about the whole situation, she was not sure what she was supposed to do or how she’d react when she came face to face with Steve. She didn’t mean to be upset at Nat, she didn’t want that, but how else was she supposed to feel? Everything happened so suddenly, the fight with that Ultron robot, meeting another Nat and new people from different universes, to coming to find that Steve Rogers was still alive and inside the Hydra Stomper. How else was she supposed to feel? 

It even felt wrong, unreal, like this was not supposed to happen, but slowly learning now about new universes made her realize that things happened for a reason. If she was destined to meet with Steve again, there was a reason. She was just confused as if she felt happy or scared or sad, so many feelings mixed that she could not comprehend, she couldn’t figure out she felt, but one thing she knew, is that she felt guilty for not looking for him sooner. Both Bucky and Peggy thought he was definitely gone, she was making her new life, even if that new life was having mission after mission, no social life other than hanging out with Natasha, which…if she was honest…she truly didn’t mind at all. 

____________________

“Are you with me or not, Widow?” Peggy asked as she walked to her.

Nat drank from her cup and looked back at Peggy. “Before I joined SHIELD, I spent five days in a Hungarian sewer tracking down and killing the head of the Red Room.”

Peggy raised her brow. “Are you certain that you killed him?”

“I mean…” Natasha shrugged. “I stabbed him in the carotid artery with a corkscrew. So, yeah, I think I did.” She grinned. 

“You should write a memoir.” Peggy grinned.

Natasha grinned. “At the end of the day…it meant nothing. The Red Room is still there, somewhere. No one could find the location.” 

Peggy sighed. “We have to try, Nat. We need to figure out what to do with Steve.”

“How are you so sure that it’s really him and not someone who is controlled by the Red Room? I don’t wanna tear you down with this, but Peg, you need to be conscious that this might not be right to do.”

“I know. I’m aware of the consequences, but you know me, I need to find a solution to all this.” 

Natasha looked down at the floor. “This is blinding you, Carter. But you know I’ll do anything to help.”

Peggy smiled. “I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t.”

“And leave you here alone? You kidding? You need me.” Natasha winked as Peggy laughed softly. “So, what’s the plan? Where should we start?”

“I can take you there.”

Both Peggy and Natasha turned to look at Steve. He looked so tired, his face looked different, they were right…Steve looked so different, but Peggy still felt some kind of comfort to hear his voice. Peggy walked to him as she smiled. 

“Peggy.” Steve smiled as he looked down at her. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“Likewise.” Peggy smiled. 

Natasha only looked at the scene in front of her, feeling her heart sank as she wished she had Peggy’s heart and not him…

____________________

“So, this place…”

“It was built to look like an American town straight out of a John Mellencamp song.” Natasha grinned at Peggy. “He’s a rock ‘n’ roll musician.”

“Oh, I know. Barton introduced me to dad rock.” Peggy chucked. 

As the three of them walked into the small town, Peggy looked in horror as it seemed out of a horror movie. It was completely silent and empty, aside from having the company of robots and American look alike houses. Nat decided to check the place for a moment, make sure that no one was there, leaving Steve and Peggy alone for a moment. 

“So…it’s a whole new and modern world. Howard really did see the future.” Steve smiled.

“I suppose so.” Peggy smiled as she looked at the town. “Technology took over and music is a bit better. It’s not so bad.”

“Good music to dance?”

Peggy looked at Steve and felt a bit sad about the thought of them losing the chance to dance. “Perhaps.” She smiled. “Why didn’t you continue your life? Like Bucky and Howard.”

Steve shrugged as he looked at the beautiful sunset. “It wasn’t for me. I was looking for a purpose.”

“Did you find it?”

“Not yet.” Steve smiled as he turned to look at her again. “But at least I found you again.”

Peggy smiled. “You did.”

“What about you?” Steve noticed Natasha going back from checking the place. “New partner?”

“What?” Peggy looked at Natasha and smiled. “Oh, uh…yes. She’s a good friend.”

“I can tell.” Steve smiled. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“I should be sorry. I didn’t know you were out there.” Peggy looked down at her hands as her fingers played with each other. 

“It wasn’t your fault. It just happened. I did some terrible things.”

“Haven’t we all?” Peggy shrugged. “This world is full of evil and as much as we fight, there’ll always be another.” 

“And you’ll never stop fighting.”

Peggy shook her head. “Not really.” She chuckled. “That’s my specialty.” 

“You could have a new life. Another chance.” Steve looked at her and smiled. “Doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Peggy smiled and as she was about to say something, they heard Natasha calling for them. Suddenly the robots started gathering around them and started shooting at them, the three of them tried to destroy all of them but at some point, it became too many to fight. Peggy fell to the floor and looked at Steve who was still fighting and then she turned to Nat, who was also on the floor and trying to protect herself. She was about to move to Natasha when she suddenly felt a strong wind, and looking up the sky, there it was; the Red Room.

“Home sweet home.” Natasha walked to Peggy as she looked up the sky. And then her heart stopped for a moment as she heard a familiar voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Natasha.” Melina smirked and then turned to Steve. “Mission report, soldier.” 

“What?” Peggy turned to Steve, who was already pointing at both Natasha and Peggy, ready to fire. 

From there it all came down when Melina started talking, it had all been a trap, one where they had easily fallen into, all thanks to Peggy. She felt guilty knowing this was not easy for Natasha either, coming face to face with a past that she had avoided before and had never talked about, but here they were now. No going back even if she tried to. Peggy stared at Natasha for so long that she didn’t notice Melina walking to her, almost running, prepared to hit Peggy since she was concentrated on making sure Natasha was okay. But before that could happen, Natasha stopped Melina’s hand, making Peggy come back to reality and turning to look at Melina.

“Ah, so your job is to protect Captain Carter. You’ve become someone else’s dog, I see…again.” Melina laughed.

“I can defend myself and Natasha is very capable of doing anything she’s willing to.” Peggy said as she looked at her with anger. 

“Right, right. Cause she’s a…what is it called? Guardian? Security? Slave?”

“She’s an avenger.” Peggy felt her blood boiling the more Melina talked.

Melina laughed. “Right! So…Natalia. My sweet girl.” She turned to look at Natasha with a defiant smile. “I thought you would be the greatest assassin. You were one of the best. No…” Melina shook her head. “YOU were the best…but you left the moment you had a chance…how pathetic that was. A big mistake.”

“That was not what I was meant to do.” Natasha tried to keep a straight face, but she never imagined she would have to face the women she grew up with for so long. 

“You were not meant to have a life!” Melina screamed. “What? You wanted to fucking run around the streets? To be a stupid simple girl who fell in love and had a happily ever after? We owned you the moment we saved you on the street. No one wants you, Natalia. You were nothing and we gave you a purpose. “

“That was not a life.” Natasha shook her head, taking a step back as Melina continued talking. 

“A life? We gave you one. I gave you one! I raised you! I trained you! You were meant to be the best and we worked day and night for you to become the best. To serve Dreykov. But now…” Melina smirked. “Your purpose is to serve me. You could lead by my side, Natalia.” 

“To what? Take more innocent people? Take away the chance of a life that those little girls could have? Yeah. No, thanks. I’m good where I am.” Natasha grinned a bit.

Melina’s blood boiled as she heard Natasha, at this point she knew nothing would make her come back to her. “Turning against your family for what? Protecting our enemies as a fucking mutt.” Melina took a deep breath. “You betrayed us. To go be a slave of someone else. That…is a shame, Natalia. You know how disappointing that is? You’re nothing but a waste of time. A waste of space in this world. I raised you better than this. I cuddled you too much, and now you’ve become a softie.” 

Peggy knew that those words could mean nothing to Natasha, or they could mean everything…but to her ears, they were nothing but pure lies and manipulation to weaken Natasha. She was done with it. The more she talked, the more she felt anger taking over her body, looking at Natasha trying to stand still but noticing how she kept taking a step back, she couldn’t hear more of this nonsense. She put her shield back and threw herself against Melina, punching her face hard enough for her to fall to the ground and whine in pain. Peggy kept hitting her but before she knew it, Steve grabbed her and the fight began, both Steve and Peggy fought each other while Natasha was faced with the Widows and Melina stood up, cleaning the blood from her face. Peggy tried to go back to Natasha but Steve never let her, she knew she had to go over Steve to get back to her. The sudden denial rushed over her again, what was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to end this? She didn’t know what was best for her, lose Steve again or lose Natasha, she knew she couldn’t have both. 

“Steve, listen to me. This is not you. You can’t do this.” Peggy pleaded. “You know better than do this.” She breathed heavily as she kept fighting. “Steve, I know you’re in there. The sweet guy I met, the guy that wanted to find a purpose, this is not it. And you know better.”

Steve stopped for a moment as he looked at her. “No.”

“Steve. Please, do it for me. I need you.” 

Steve opened his mask and looked at Peggy, guilt washing over his face. “Peggy.” 

Peggy looked at Natasha through the dust, Melina was now fighting with her. She then looked up at the Red Room and sighed as she was coming with a plan. 

“I need something to destroy the Red Room.” 

“Peggy, you can’t do that.” 

Peggy let her shield fall to the ground.”I’m done fighting. I need to do this.”

“No. This is not your end; this is not where it ends.” 

“Steve…” Peggy sighed. “I have to fight for this. I have to get this over. I can’t let them keep going.”

“But this doesn’t have to be your fight. I can do this for you. For her.”

“What you mean?” Peggy looked at Steve confused. 

Steve sighed. “Peggy…you know I have to do this.”

Peggy shook her head in denial, this couldn’t be happening again. “I can’t. Not again.”

“This happened for a reason. You belong here, you made a new life, you need to continue doing that, you were given a second chance and you cannot waste it.” 

Peggy felt tears in her eyes as she looked down at the floor. “I don’t know what I want.”

Steve shrugged and smiled. “I do.” 

Peggy looked up at him with a confused look. “What you mean?”

“Peggy, we had our moment that sadly didn’t last long. I never stopped looking for you, and you always had that place in my heart. But I can tell you have someone else in that place.” 

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m-“

“Peg.” Steve chuckled. “You’re too stubborn to accept it. But even with the little time we had together, I know you.” Steve smiled. “I’m happy I got to see you again, but we both know this is not what you want.”

Peggy finally let the tears roll down her cheeks, feeling heavy pressure on her chest. “For so long…I’ve been grieving for what I lost. I didn’t know what to do with myself when I appeared here, so many years later. I thought I wouldn’t get back my life, that I’d suffer in here.” She smiled sadly. “But I found my people. They made me feel like home.”

“She made you feel like home.” Steve whispered.

Peggy smiled. “Yes.” She sighed. “And for so long I’ve been denying it because I thought my purpose was to fight to get over my past, but I didn’t notice that I was already finding a new purpose to live.” 

“Oh Peg.” Steve smiled.

“Steve…I love you…”

“But not the way you love her.” 

Peggy nodded. “Perhaps…in another universe…we got to be together.” 

“But in this one you belong to her.” Steve nodded. “I get it.” 

“But you don’t have to do this.” Peggy tilted her head. “I can’t bear the thought of you sacrificing yourself.”

“You did it once, I don’t want to live like this. So let me accomplish my purpose.” 

Peggy heard an agonizing scream and her heart stopped when she recognized it. “Natasha…”

“Go. She needs you.”

Peggy looked back at Steve. “Steve…”

“Enjoy your life, Peg. Don’t waste another second.” Steve smiled. “I’m glad I got to see you one last time.”

Peggy smiled as more tears rolled down her face. “Likewise.” 

Steve nodded and flew away directly to the red room. Peggy grabbed her shield and ran to find Natasha, scared that it was too late already, but just when she saw Natasha, she saw how Melina flew away, screaming Natasha’s name before disappearing into the sky along with Steve. She looked back at Natasha who laid in the floor in pain, running to her and dropping to her knees. She then heard a loud explosion and pieces started to fall on them, Peggy rapidly helped Natasha and covered both of them with her shield, running to a safe place. Once she found a safe spot, she helped Natasha sit on the floor and checked on her. 

“Nat…are you alright?” 

“Pegs.” Natasha smiled. “Where’s-“

“He’s gone.” 

“Oh…right. I’m sorry.” Natasha groaned as she laid her head back.

Peggy wrapped her arms around her carefully, helping her to lean on her so she wouldn’t lay on the cold floor again. “I think you have a concussion.”

“Maybe so. Cause I see some tears in that pretty face.” Natasha chuckled softly.

Peggy rolled her eyes as she tried to hide her smile. “Let’s get out of here.” Peggy picked her up carefully and walked away.

____________________

“Captain, I’m very sorry about this.” Fury walked to her as she walked out of her checkup. 

Peggy nodded. “I know. It’s alright. Things happen for a reason.”

Fury nodded. “Natasha is out of her checkup too; she was asking for you.” He grinned. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

Peggy smiled as she looked at him and shook her head. “No, I’m taking tomorrow off.”

Fury chuckled. “Very well. Natasha also took the day off.” He said with a playful grin before he left.

Peggy blushed slightly but turned rapidly so he wouldn’t notice the redness on her face. She proceeded to walk to Nat’s room, hoping she was still there and to her surprise, she was. She smiled softly when Natasha looked at her, a small smile on her face. 

“Are you alright?” Peggy asked as she walked inside. 

“Yeah, just some bruises and a hurt knee. Melina told them about me hurting it when I was a kid so.” Natasha shrugged. “But I’m okay.” She looked up at Peggy. “Are you okay?”

Peggy nodded. “Yes.”

“You sure, Pegs? I-“

“I know what happened…” Peggy sighed as she tried to find the right words to say. “I know that- that was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t think I could live with losing Steve again, I was glad I got to see him again but truth is…you were right. It’s not him anymore. For a slight moment, he was back, but he didn’t want to live like that.” 

Natasha nodded. “I’m sorry you had to go through that again.”

“Well…he did say something that made me realize that all this time I was stopping myself from.” 

Natasha got up from the bed and raised her brows as she looked at Peggy. “Which is?”

“I was given a second chance. I could’ve died back then, but I didn’t. I was presented this chance to live, and all this time I’ve been trying to avoid it and try to make up for the time I lost. What I didn’t know was that…I was given a second chance, and I wanted to to live that second chance…with you.”

Natasha’s heart stopped for a moment as she stared at Peggy. That beautiful and sweet smile of hers, always wearing that beautiful red lipstick that captivated Natasha every single day. “What?” 

Peggy laughed. “You…really didn’t get what I just said?”

Natasha shook her head. “No, I just- I mean I did. I just…didn’t expect that.”

“I know it took me a while. It’s always been there, but I was too scared and a coward to accept that I want you. I can’t bring back what I lost, but I can move on and live my future.” 

“Well…gotta say I need to thank Steve for that. You wouldn’t have come to that conclusion yourself.” Natasha smirked.

“Oh for God sakes. Is that all you have to say?”

Natasha chuckled. “No. I have a lot to say.” She walked over to Peggy and wrapped her arms around Peggy’s neck, bringing their lips closer. “But I’d rather show it than talk.” 

Peggy smiled as she let Natasha pull her closer for a passionate kiss. They both knew all the times they have kissed before meant more than what they thought, but this time they were sure that kiss sealed whatever doubts they both had. Of course, they still had to talk about what they were, if they’d keep it private or not, though she knew one or two people already knew what was going on with them, but at this point, they really didn’t mind. Peggy pulled Natasha closer by wrapping her arms around her waist, Natasha smiled against her lips and caused the kiss to break, but it didn’t matter, because there would be more of those kisses from now on.

Peggy smiled as she looked at Nat. “So…yours or mine?”

“How about yours for tonight?” Natasha grinned.

“Sounds about right.” Peggy smiled as she grabbed her bag and Natasha’s, not being able to contain herself as she held Natasha’s hand softly. 

“So…is this enough for a long day?” Natasha asked as they walked together. 

“Well, I actually gotta tell you something that you possibly won’t believe.” Peggy chuckled.

“I’m sure I will, let’s but some pizza and a bottle of tequila.” Natasha looked at her with a smile.

“Yes, my darling.” Peggy smiled as she looked at Natasha. Life started to make sense again.  

#peggy carter #natasha romanoff #captain carter #black widow #peggy carter x natasha romanoff #captain carter x black widow #peggynat #peggy x natasha #marvel #marvel fic #what if

[batsplat]

hi batsplat this is marquezian.. as our resident casey scholar i was wondering if you have casey race recs !!

boy do I ever have recs! here's a (hopefully) fairly comprehensive list, drawing from more or less all the stages of his grand prix career and featuring races notable for a bunch of different reasons

casey is quite defensive of the 'boring' racing of the alien era (in particular the 2010-12 years)... but it is a shame his time in motogp overlapped so heavily with the 800cc era, which did lead to some tough watches for fans of 'overtakes' and 'close racing' and 'unpredictability'. so a lot of these race picks aren't necessarily reflective of how casey racked up the majority of his wins, plus presumably don't always match up with what his own picks would be. but well, whatever! I threw in a few of the ones I know casey likes

warning: the race descriptions generally spoil the results of the races. since this list is pretty long, I've put an asterisk next to the races I'd particularly recommend, and double asterisk next to my personal faves

my tldr spoiler-free top five faves list is catalunya 2007, donington park 2007, laguna seca 2008, sachsenring 2010, and laguna seca 2011. my five next-off most notable/fun races are assen 2004, turkey 2006, qatar 2007, phillip island 2009 and silverstone 2011

and here's the actual list, in chronological order:

sachsenring 2003: first podium in grand prix racing! big disclaimer: the recordings of the 2003 125cc races you can find on the videopass are poor quality and don't feature any commentary, so not the easiest to watch. this race is also not great to follow on the colour front: the three main protagonists are *squints at notes* casey (yellow bike, number 27), perugini (mostly black and white but with a few greenish highlights, 7) and de angelis (mostly green, 15). but well it's a really tight fight that goes until the last corner, good fun... casey's talked about how nervous the track made him so he wasn't racing his opponents hard enough at the end. which is kinda sweet and revealing

brazil 2003: another tight battle, this time with jorge (green/red, 48) and de angelis, another time he doesn't QUITE make it. jorge's first ever victory! y'know the one where he overtakes everyone on the outside and starts the whole x-fuera thing

valencia 2003: first win! 125cc/moto3 racing being reliably good fun is a time-honoured tradition and it can even make that middling karting track exciting to watch. it's a good fight - quite helpfully, casey's nicely visible yellow bike contrasts well with the blue bike (hector barbera, number 80) and the red bike (sic, 58) (at some point steve jenker, 17, shows up on a black and white bike). that being said... the bloody video on the motogp website cuts off around two and a half laps to the end, which is a shame because those laps were (apparently) filled with drama. very close finish, not helped by the spark plug of casey's bike breaking RIGHT before the end, which is a very casey thing to happen to him. he thought he was screwed but ended up being saved by barbera running wide trying to overtake him in the last corner. here's a cute lil feature with casey discussing the race that you can probably just watch instead of the race. also ofc him saying how good it felt to beat the spanish at their home circuit (clip here), king of spite

^look at him in evil gross luminous yellow

**assen 2004: I'll admit, this race is one of my faves in large part because of the terrorism jorge does on casey on the last lap, which casey was NOT happy about. (in a funny coincidence, the same event features jorge's future teammate doing some last lap terrorism on gibernau that gibernau is also decidedly not thrilled about.) featured in the autobiography - he really wasn't a fan of jorge at the time - and when he's being sulky in the interview they have in the post-race broadcast. but another great fight and, with my apologies to casey, the last lap is fantastic. excitingly includes commentary!!

jerez 2006: casey's first motogp race! you don't reallyyyy see enough of him on the broadcast for it to be completely worth it, but it's still a proper good ride. he starts in fifteenth, makes a great start and then gets a lil lucky at the first corner when toni elias attempts to murder barrels into valentino and opens up a gap for casey. gets all the way up to fourth and finishes sixth!! also ofc a starring performance by dani at the front of the race

qatar 2006: second race of the season. after the first race, casey had been ill with a bad fever, plus there'd been a fuck up with the flights that meant he only got to the lusail circuit ten minutes before the first session. he topped the first practise session and qualified on pole, even though he was still recovering from illness and was massively sleep-deprived. his first battle with valentino, eventually drops a few places but still <3 also features some fun vale/nicky hayden battles

*turkey 2006: the third race of the season (look he front-loaded his good races that year) and my girl's first premier class podium!! but... bit of a heartbreaker as he did come VERY very very close to winning. also he said apparently he was pleased with his podium but when he got to parc fermé his team was acting disappointed he didn't win :( still a fantastic race, the highlight of casey's troubled rookie campaign. (casey was fast from the get-go in the premier class, but was dealing with major tyre issues that the team around him didn't do a good job at helping him with. by the end of the season, he ended up acquiring a somewhat unfair reputation for being a crasher, with the lovely nickname 'rolling stoner'. still, for young talent it's generally the peaks that matter most and you could really see his ability shine through here)

*qatar 2007: obviously of Great Narrative Significance, casey's first race with ducati and when he announced his arrival at the top of the sport by getting his first premier class win. good solid fun casey/vale fight, though it does feature the classic 'ducati blasts past everyone down that very long lusail straight' syndrome. people were kinda mean about that - which in turn made casey very irritable, arguing that if your bike is a nightmare to ride everywhere else then it's an accomplishment to be close enough to blast past down the straight. unfortunately I do agree a lil bit with the naysayers in terms of the actual racing, but still a pretty good fight

^the last year it was a day race

**catalunya 2007: probably my personal favourite? (of the ones casey won, anyway.) just something about a great battle at that track - obviously valentino had about a million, but this was really the only race-long one that he lost. important in the context of the 2007 title campaign - even though it was only a ten-point swing - because it showed casey wasn't just about horsepower dominance. fantastic riding from both of them

**donington park 2007: my fave of his wet weather performances because he actually has to work his way through the field. he started fifth but was outside of the top ten early on after an uncharacteristically poor start. fun race with plenty of good shake-ups of the order

(he sealed the title in motegi and won his home race for the first time that year, but since he finished sixth in the former and won the latter by a few lightyears, they don't make the cut)

*qatar 2008: more fun than qatar 2007!! imo!! obviously it's also jorge's first race and he's on pole and dani's a bit injured and those two have their whole thing™️ going on... and vale has just switched tyre suppliers and is trying to prove he's not washed and casey is starting his title defence... so a big significant race for all four of them, and unlike many races in that era has a fair few twists and turns and almost all of them actually get to fight each other a bit. okay eventually it settles down and gets dull but until then it's fun (and there's also some very late excitement involving dovi/vale)

**laguna seca 2008: I feel a wee bit bad for including this one and casey would throw something at me, but well it obviously belongs on here. ignoring casey's complaints for a minute about vale's aggression, it really is a fantastic battle - and vale only goes as far as he does because casey's so good! (also unsure whether casey would appreciate this line of reasoning.) probably the one everyone's most likely to have already watched, and for good reason since it slaps. sorry casey

estoril 2009: only for sentimental reasons, after the first few laps it gets boring fast. still, it's casey's first race back after the mystery illness-induced break, he immediately has a cute lil battle with vale (which he wins, slay) and... okay then it's basically a procession but it's also nice and sweet when it's over and he's on the podium and he's shown everyone he's still got it. maybe skip like. 20 laps

**phillip island 2009: casey's first win in only his second race back!!! warning that it's a little light on actual overtaking but it's still tense and close most of the way through and casey's so great to watch on this circuit. (he's literally too good at it for most of his races there to be all that interesting, this is probably the best one.) plus it's another one included partly for sentimental reasons. here's my pitch:

sepang 2009: so he's been slandered for months, he's been written off, ducati have been fucking him over, he comes back and immediately gets a podium finish and wins the next race... what does he do after that? win again obviously! another neat little wet performance (partly helped by vale having a bit of a shocker off the line lmao, though he seals the title that day with a p3 finish)

valencia 2009: if you want to see the pole sitter crash on the warm up lap and dani almost miss the start in confusion

**sachsenring 2010: vale's first race back after the broken leg. usually that's the time when everyone would pretend to be nice to each other... but all three of vale, jorge and casey had gone to efforts during vale's absence to make things worse <3 anyway cracking race including a good fun spite-fuelled battle between casey and vale for the last podium spot, one of their better scraps with a dramatic ending - after which both of them are charmingly bitchy about each other to the media (see below). shame it was basically their last notable battle in the dry (I didn't include either jerez 2011 or le mans 2012 on this list because I wouldn't really recommend them as good casey races, but they do more or less conclude casey and vale's on-track story. and the latter is also the last podium they share, plus it's the race right after casey announced his retirement. fave presser moment)

^😭😭😭😭😭 you guys are AWFUL oh my god. people always talk about laguna 2008 but the vibes got way more rancid post-2009 when their actual on-track rivalry was basically over

motegi 2010: this one's kinda marginal on whether it qualifies for this list. casey was really proud of this win and felt his 2010 wins were particularly impressive given how much he had to override a bike that was objectively shit by this point.... BUT in practise once he shakes off dovi, it's quite a dominant win and the real fun is watching valentino experiment with whether he can make jorge lorenzo the first person ever to die of rage alone while riding a motorcycle

*silverstone 2011: one of the truly great wet weather performances. this is a personal taste thing - I don't mind dominance as much in the wet because it's just cool sometimes seeing somebody drop a masterclass on the field in those conditions. but obviously not necessarily the most exciting victory fight once he hits the front after like. a lap. still, good battles going on behind him

^a fan of british tracks, not a fan of the british

*sachsenring 2011: great three-way battle with jorge and dani, with the lead exchanged several times - also plenty of other good battles down the order. not one casey emerges victorious from, but definitely one of the best races that season

**laguna seca 2011: okay look corkscrew this corkscrew that but there's an argument to be made that casey makes a pass in this that's better than anything marc and vale can DREAM of. well no I won't go that far - but it's still an incredible overtake, insane thing to do at a blind corner, and casey just looks fantastic riding on that circuit. in his autobiography he says something along the lines of 'oh it looked scary on tv but I knew I'd make it'. which. okay casey!! not gonna say more than that, one of those where you'll know it when you see it. one of the best races of his career and also a key race in that year's title fight

phillip island 2011: marginal inclusion, but it's sweet he sealed the title on his 26th birthday by winning his home race (even though he mainly sealed it there because jorge lost half a finger and couldn't start the race). conditions got treacherous when the rain showed up but well casey stayed on the bike, just about

*jerez 2012: casey's first and last win at jerez! this is the one that casey called his greatest career win at the time and... sure, fair enough, especially given he had a weirdly bad record at the track. he didn't enjoy the experience much because of his arm pump issues, which makes the performance all the more impressive. fun first few laps in particular, after that it's maybe a bit more tension than actual action. still a proper good race

estoril 2012: another win he's very proud of... another one that's maybe even more skewed towards tension than actual action, but still an unmistakably impressive performance given jorge's strong record there and casey's physical issues. that and jerez completed his set as they'd been the races he hadn't won yet, which made him feel more certain of his choice to retire

phillip island 2012: listen it's his last win and it sealed the title (for jorge), so was at least somewhat exciting. but also according to his autobiography, casey deliberately rode slower for a bit before expanding the gap again just to keep his focus up, which I think gives you a sense of how easy he found winning there

^his penultimate race and sixth consecutive victory at phillip island. he also finished on the podium in his last ever race at valencia

#marquezian #casey stoner #motogp #// #cs27 #'resident casey scholar' 🥺🥺 that's so nice #one day i'm gonna write my long email to dorna with increasingly insane complaints about my issues with the videopass #like 'yes the mugello 2004 race is on youtube but on the videopass you've only got the second part' or 'where's the sepang 2014 presser' #or indeed 'the valencia 125cc 2003 replay is incomplete and also since you clearly DID commentary why not upload it with that' #can't really bitch too much because it's a fantastic resource i'd kill to have in certain other sports but still

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

QSMP Zombie AU: Indoor Recess

(For as much work as I put in to make dialogue sound accurate to streamers, it’s gonna be hard for me to do that for everyone, especially some of the eggs. Chayanne here is technically ooc because he wouldn’t be as scared but more protective, but for the sake of this AU I’m gonna make the kids act more like kids in a real zombie apocalypse. So my apologies if some of them seem a little less irony poisoned or brave. Later on I’ll try to make the personalities shine.)

Phil scrolled mindlessly down the page of his unread emails. Bratty parents, board meetings, apologies for burning dinner from his husband, the occasional spam, none of it motivated him enough to actually get any work done.

His eyes drifted lazily to the digital clock mounted on the wall. 3:35 PM. Around 25 minutes more and he could pack up early, maybe go home to some nice warm hard-to-mess-up dinner and some sweet family time. Thank fuck it was Friday, he wasn’t sure if he could stare at one more random complaint without going batshit crazy.

The pounding of running feet in the hallway broke through the silence of the room. Phil groaned and stood up from his chair, getting ready to berate some trouble making kid.

He never got the chance as his door crashed open wide, a breathless Chayanne on the other side.

“Dad. There’s. There’s someone.” Chayanne gasped out in between puffs for air.

Phil walked forward, squatting down to the boy’s height. “Easy mate, take some breaths for fucks sake, you’re gonna fuckin’ pass out in here if you don’t breathe!” Phil laughed at the situation, secretly relieved at the break from his monotonous work.

Chayanne didn’t seem to find it funny, and actually seemed to be…

…genuinely scared?

His laugh petered out as his expression grew more worried. “Chayanne. Is everything okay?”

“Dad there’s a sick man stuck on the playground on the climbing bars and he looks hurt but also really scary and dangerous and I don’t know what to do can you please help please there’s blood and and-“

Firm hands settled on Chayanne’s shoulders, and steely blue eyes filled with seriousness met the teary gaze of the terrified child.

“Show me.”

A shaking hand pointed out the window, and Philza followed it, grabbing the rod that controlled the blinds as well.

Phil scanned the playground, searching for the man that Chayanne had described. The colorful structures were completely absent of movement, and even the climbing bars that Chayanne had mentioned were completely vacant.

No, not completely.

A single, muddied shoe lay sideways on the ground. It was large, too large to have belonged to one of the students, and was covered in mud and….hopefully not blood.

His heart began to beat faster, and he could feel his pulse hammer in his ears. Looking closer at the climbing bars, it was clear that something had happened there. The woodchips were scattered around and upturned, even dirt was shown in some places where the scuff marks got too deep. That also could not have been one of the students, because it was a school rule that kids were not allowed to drag their feet through the woodchips for whatever reason.

Other than that however, the coast seemed to be rather clear-

A bloodied hand slapped against the window.

Phil reared back, clutching his mouth to silence the scream that threatened to tear through his chest. Chayanne wasn’t as cautious though, and a startled yelp came from the child.

The hand twisted around on the smooth glass, dirty fingernails scrabbling on the smooth surface, clambering for purchase on the glass, slowly the ready of the body raised up, the…man must have fallen near the window just out of sight.

Phil lunged for the window, snapping the plastic lock into place and twisting the blinds, immediately darkening the room. He could hear Chayanne whimpering from behind him as he stumbled back.

“Fuck. Shit. What the fuck. Okay. Chayanne run back to Fit and tell him to get you guys into the gymnasium right the fuck now. I’ll get the rest of the teachers here and call the police. It’s gonna be okay, it’s just some…drunk, okay? Okay go go go.”

Chayanne bolted out the door, and Phil reached for the intercom.

//ATTENTION EVERYONE IN THE BUILDING, PLEASE HEAD TO THE GYMNASIUM RIGHT NOW, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. MR. HALO PLEASE COME TO MY OFFICE, AND BRING YOUR FIREARM, I KNOW YOU FUCKING HAVE ONE. THANK YOU.\\

The scrabbling at the window stopped.

Phil cursed under his breath, lifting the intercom one more time.

//MS. MOUSE AND MR. UNDERSCORE PLEASE LOCK UP THE BUILDING AS FAST AS YOU CAN AND PUT THE BOOTS IN.\\

Phil clicked off the intercom, and reached for the landline, eyes glued to the blinded window. There was a dark silhouette blocking out the little light from the cloud obscured sun, but it was moving away from the window, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

The landline rang in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times. Five-

“Heyyy you’ve reached the Quesadilla Island Police Department, this is Sheriff Foolish speakin’, guess we’re busy so too bad for you I guess. Better luck next time bucko!”

Phil cursed again, running a hand through his hair, sweat starting to form under his striped hat. This didn’t leave them with much options but to wait it out and hope the man sobered up….if that was really all there was to it. He had no idea what drugs or substances that man was on, but it was best to be safe than sorry, and something…didn’t feel right here.

He could hear the heavy footsteps of Mr. Halo approaching as he snuck a look at the blinds again, the dim light now unmarred by any mysterious figure behind them.

Call it intuition, instinct, or just a hunch, but Philza Minecraft had a sneaking suspicion that this strange man wouldn’t be the end of his troubles today…

#qsmp #qsmp zombie au #qsmp philza #qsmp chayanne #qsmp pissa #qsmp missa #mentioned #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp tubbo #qsmp ironmouse #qsmp foolish #Idk why I always write these at 5 am

[ingravinoveritas]

David Tennant stroking another man’s hair, flirting with Alex Brooker, singing about a vibrator, wearing that wig and dancing and swinging his hips like that and finally, MICHAEL SHEEN MENTION. Bragging about being above Michael in the Dilf list like a little brat like WOW he’s about to get his ass spanked tonight

I am honestly so living for David bringing out his bratty bottom side, which I feel like is a side we don't get to see nearly often enough...

(Also, for those who haven't seen the full video of David's appearance on TLL, you can watch it on Youtube here.)

I know the moment in the gif above is supposed to be him as Gwyneth Paltrow, but all I was getting was campy, bisexual British Kurt Cobain, right down to the jumper (which oddly does look like something Kurt would've worn in the grunge era). And we can't remotely overlook the fact that David was wearing rainbow/pride gear from head to toe tonight, from the rainbow buttons on his shirt (you can see them under the jumper) to the Tardis trans pride flag pin all the way down to his rainbow socks...

And then, of course, there was the Michael mention. At this point, it honestly feels like whatever is happening between them is a big open secret (at the very least, I have a strong feeling the host Adam knows, and probably also Josh Widdicome), because it is impossible anymore to have one on as a guest without bringing up the other. In this case, it almost felt like the DILF of the Year competition was another excuse to mention Michael, and then to see David fully preening over outranking him was just...beyond glorious.

As to the aforementioned spanking, I fully concur with you. There's something in particular about this show, knowing that it was filmed live, and it's almost as if David behaved as bratty as he did because he knew a certain Welshman would be watching (giving very similar vibes to when David was on the Late Late Show in 2021). I can already so clearly picture the exchange between them after this (hopefully immediately after, since Michael is still in London and David could readily have gone to see him once the taping ended)...

"I'm more DILFy--DILFy, is that a word? Hmm--than you, Michael. According to the Internet people, that is." "Mmh. Yes, the all-wise, all-knowing Internet people." "You don't agree?" "Brat." "Ah, but you love me." "Don't think I could stop if I wanted to." "So you don't mind that the Internet thinks I'm more of a DILF than you?" "I think I'm the one who gets to fuck you, so the Internet can get bloody stuffed." "Funny, I was rather hoping I'd get stuffed right about now." "Cheeky slag. Turn around and take your trousers off." "You're so easy, Michael." "Shut up, Dai."

So yes, David's appearance on The Last Leg tonight was certainly quite something. I truly love seeing that part of him come alive, the part that he once spoke of in an interview where he talked about being a little boy and putting a towel on his head to entertain his classmates. I think deep inside, David has never stopped being that little boy, and there is something so special about seeing that part of him getting to be free.

Definitely hoping as well that we might get to see/hear Michael's reaction to all of this, but he still seems a bit quiet on Twitter these days (and if he's busy spending long nights with David, one can hardly blame him). I suppose we'll just have to see what happens...

#phantomstars24 #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #the last leg #david your bratty bottom is showing #some people hold up a rainbow flag. David Tennant turns himself into one. #i just love seeing him happy #this was seriously one of his queerest TV appearances to date i would say though #performing for an audience of one #why does this seem so plausible though #david is lowkey bi and michael is highkey bi #amazing #ineffable lovers #good omens rpf #discourse #gif by me

[thatdebaterguy]

Poorly Informed

So throughout the existence of my blog I have yet to find a Palestine supporter present factually correct figures and evidence in any debates with me, and here's an example.

First one, blatant wrongful assumption. I'd have to be a psychopath to think 15,000 child deaths is ok. Secondly

Don't inflate the figure so much. Although yes, it's sad, 11,500 dead children as of the latest figures I can find, it's innocent unnecessary deaths, but who's hands are actually bloody because of this? I'd say the Hamas soldiers who assaulted Israel with no justification, kidnapped hundreds of civilians, including children btw, and hide amongst their civilian population. I can also say those who harbour the terrorists in their homes and put their families at risk are to blame for the deaths of their children, especially since Israel has warned of strikes on active civilian areas and asked them to evacuate.

I also don't support genocide, I just believe it isn't happening based on figures, evidence, historical references and the definition of genocide. An accurate description is an abnormally high upsetting figure of civilian casualties. Also are you saying that all Israeli supporters go to Starbucks when saying we'd drink their stuff? I've never had Starbucks in my life but that's funny.

The death toll released by Gaza officials states as of a week ago around 28,000, however they don't distinguish between military and civilian. The most advanced intelligence agencies in the world estimate between 5-9 thousand of those are Hamas fighters. Being against civilian deaths also doesn't make you pro Hamas, I'm against the civilian casualties because that's just morals, but if anything that makes me even more anti-Hamas since I hold them accountable for the vast majority of deaths. Also you can't just throw around terms like 'genocidal maniacs' to people who have analysed the situation in a different way to you, I don't go round calling you a terrorist because you support Palestine, who's government is a terrorist organisation, because I hope in my heart that when you support Palestine you're just against the civilian deaths, but blame Israel rather than Hamas. Even if we blame different governments, my hope is to agree the deaths are upsetting, since the polarisation over this crisis is insane, and we need some middle ground to agree on to retain a belief of morality in humans. Either way, please get the right facts and figures, and don't throw around numbers and terms like these peoples lives are a game, I've had an Israeli friend who lost family in the holocaust called a genocidal Jewish freak just for being Jewish, not even saying anything about Israel. Anyway, hopefully I start seeing less brainwashed ill-informed arguments on this site.

#israel #palestine #politics #gaza #current events

[heliads]

LISA !! your requests being open again is a glorious occasion, i’m so happy !! 

now, could i pretty please request spot conlon with a gender-neutral reader who’s a brooklyn newsie ? the reader’s newsie nickname is sunshine because they’re known for being super cheerful and sweet and pretty much always having a smile on their face, but thing is that spot’s kind of closed-off and gruff with them, even more than he is normally, because he finds it kind of grating how relentlessly happy they are when as newsies they live the way they do. but the reader just keeps on being the way they are, being kind to spot and smiling whenever they see him no matter how he always responds with a scowl, until finally he snaps at them and tells them to quit being so weird and happy all the time, but then they actually do and it makes him realize that he’s relied on seeing their smile every day and that he actually likes seeing it, so he goes to find sunshine and apologize, telling them that he actually admires how strong they are to keep being kind and happy despite everything and how much he appreciates it. it doesn’t have to end with a confession or anything, but hopefully at least some romantic undertones ? now, as always, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but thanks in advance if you do, and i hope you’re doing well !! <3

'cloudy days' - spot conlon

masterlist

For once, it’s not a gray and blustery day in New York. Spot Conlon doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking, settling in a place like this, although he supposes he never really had a choice about it at all. It’s a cold and shady city, and that mood translates to its people. No one here would give him the time of day unless they absolutely had to, and he wouldn’t give them a damn thing either. That’s the tune of the city, and Spot drums it daily. Eat or be eaten. Kill or get killed.

That’s the way it’s always been, the way it always will be. Spot doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy. He’s grown past the point of needing it. Spot will do what Spot does best:  look out for himself, never take handouts, never be dependent on anything save his feet to carry him places and that weird thing beating between his ribs to keep him alive.

The other newsies respect that, and look up to it. Brooklyn may have a reputation for being the meanest borough around, but the newsies protect each other like no one else. Even when the sun don’t shine for months on end. Even on rare days, like today, when it does.

The bright streets have Spot thinking a little funny, just like always. When the sun is out and the skies are blue, he starts feeling a strange thing some might describe as happiness. For once, everything isn’t totally terrible. It’s like the high he gets after soaking his enemies, ‘cept his knuckles aren’t bloody and his eyes aren’t blackened.

Maybe it’s got him in a good mood. Maybe that’s why, when a new fella comes looking for a spot in Spot’s growing army of newsies, he’s inclined to say yes. This new ally of his is nothing like Spot has ever seen before. They’re smiling at him before they so much as tip their hat or say hello. At first, it makes him wonder if they’ve got some sort of problem, then he realizes that the newcomer isn’t grinning like that to be threatening, just because they’re legitimately, well, happy.

Strange. Confusing, even. Still, the abundance of sunshine is rattling Spot’s brain, so instead of laughing in their face, he actually offers them a place amongst the ranks. Were it any other day, he’s sure he would have made them go somewhere a little more sickly-sweet, where friendship is magic and everyone can stand around, fuckin’, square dancing or something, whatever it is they do over in ‘Hattan or the other less serious boroughs, but he doesn’t. He welcomes them into his home. He pretends he isn’t completely baffled by their happy-go-lucky act. 

And, since it’s clearly on the brain anyway, he gives them a nickname then and there, a real Spot Conlon first edition:  Sunshine. He reckoned it seemed pretty true at the moment. As it turns out, he had no idea. Sunshine gets on his damn nerves every moment of every day. They’re so sweet it makes him want to throw up. If he ever saw them without a smile on their face for longer than thirty seconds, he’d suspect an imposter. They toss out compliments like they mean it or something, and they actually pick flowers to give to their friends.

Spot would think it was an act, except it actually isn’t. No way a human being could keep up a pretense that long and not go totally crazy. Spot, for one, does feel like he’s going crazy, but that’s neither here nor there.

Every day is the same. He wakes up too early, drags himself out of bed and gets ready, then pokes his head out of his space just to find Sunshine already up and at it, beaming at him and wishing him a very good morning, Spot, before turning to the next half-asleep newsie and repeating them message, and man, he wants to throttle someone already. In the line for papes, they’re excitedly talking to him about how they hope for a good headline, and whenever Spot runs into them while selling, they’ve always got something funny to say. If Spot wanted to laugh, he’d go to the circus. Although even he has to admit that New York feels like that half the damn time anyway.

It’s actually starting to make him angry. Who is this newcomer to burst in and disrupt everyone like this? Spot’s no fool. Even though he’s proud of his newsies and glad to be among the best company there is, this isn’t the life any of them would choose if they had other options. The newsies are here because they have no money and no prospects. They are the terrible youth, set out on the streets because there is no one else to watch out for them but each other.

Yet here’s this stranger, bounding down the halls of their lodging house, beaming and laughing as if everything were sugar and sweet. It feels as if they’re making a mockery of the whole thing, and Spot doesn’t like being taken for a fool.

It twists his judgment. Spot isn’t exactly known for his warm and caring personality, but he cracks down even harder around Sunshine. Maybe then they’ll figure out that the whole super happy thing doesn’t fly around here. Dreams don’t get you anywhere, and pretending otherwise only costs a lot of effort that could instead be directed towards selling some papes.

He should be better, Spot knows that. Already, his closest friends have started to scold him (very carefully) about how he’s treating sunshine. “Y/N’s no problem,” they’ve said. “It’s just you, Spot.” But he doesn’t listen.

One day, he gets to the breaking point. After another restless night, Spot drags himself out of bed despite not getting nearly enough sleep. He’s hardly stepped out of his room before Sunshine’s smiling cheerily at him, asking, “How was your sleep, Spot?”

As if they can’t tell by the look on his face. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Spot positively growls at them, “Terrible, obviously. God, can you just quit it with that stupid attitude? It’s makin’ me crazy.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just pushes right past them and heads downstairs. He’s a grouch all morning, purposely making sure no one is near him while he’s selling and not talking to a soul all throughout the day. He manages to pull himself together enough to sell the papes he needs, but other than that, Spot is barely functioning at all.

Even the Brooklyn newsie home base seems quiet and uneasy when he gets back. Spot sits by himself in his office, temper growing worse with every passing hour. He can’t put his finger on the issue until nightfall, when he hears a chorus of cheerful voices out in the hall and realizes that Sunshine hasn’t spoken to him all day. Not since he snapped at them.

Cursing faintly, Spot drags a tired hand across his face. He’s fucked up, hasn’t he? Thinking back on it now, he remembers the startled look in Sunshine’s eyes when he told them to stop being so fake all the time. It’s fine, he tells himself. Everyone gets their feelings stepped on in Brooklyn. Things will be back to normal this time tomorrow.

Only, it isn’t. When Spot wakes up, Sunshine isn’t there to wish him a good morning. They avoid him in the line to pick up papes, and they steer clear of him throughout the entire day. Even when he makes a point of emerging from his office to sit with the rest of the newsies, Sunshine talks to every damn person there but him. It’s enough to make anyone feel a little guilty. Even Spot Conlon.

As the days go by without a single word from Sunshine, Spot feels worse and worse. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to see their smiles and hear their laughter until he didn’t get a drop of it. It’s like he’s trapped in permanent storm clouds. Only gray clouds and cold nights for him.

God, he’s getting poetic. This is horrific. Spot knows what he has to do, and even though he dreads the idea of having to admit he was wrong, he gathers his strength and goes to find Sunshine. At first, they try to duck out of the way when they see him coming, but Spot tracks them down, pulling them into an empty room so they can talk.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Spot says by way of introduction.

Sunshine doesn’t meet his eyes. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

A sharp prick of guilt stabs through his chest. “I thought that, too. Turns out I was wrong.”

Sunshine’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet his. “Really?”

“Really,” Spot confirms. “I– I like being around you, Y/N. I like hearing you talk. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about being you.”

A slow, careful smile spreads across Sunshine’s face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Spot says indignantly. “What, you’d think I’d go around saying things that ain’t true? What a waste of time.”

When Sunshine starts laughing, Spot feels his cheeks start to rush with warmth. “It’s not– you know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do,” they grin. “I’m just glad to hear you want me back.”

“I do want you,” Spot breathes. “Back, I mean. I want you back. Yes.”

When Sunshine smiles knowingly at him again, Spot gets the odd feeling that he’s revealed more of himself than he really ought to, like he’s been caught showing his cards halfway through a bet. He gets the feeling he can trust Sunshine to not call him out, though. For some reason, he believes in them more than anyone. Maybe even more than himself.

The threadbare curtains on a nearby window shift slightly, allowing a thin, tenuous ray of sunlight to slip through the cracks. It slices neatly through the room, illuminating Y/N’s face in thin tendrils of gold. The sun’s back again. They’re back again, and Spot might be okay after all.

requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#spot conlon #spot conlon imagines #spot conlon x reader #spot conlon oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies spot conlon #newsies spot conlon imagines #newsies spot conlon x reader #newsies spot conlon oneshot #newsies spot #newsies spot x reader #newsies broadway #newsies live

[ltwilliammowett]

Can you do a short term list for us in a funny way?

Welcome my dear newcomers aboard HMS Surprise. You have been exclusively selected ( or gently beaten up and dragged here) to join us on our South America tour. I promise you excitement, sleepless nights, beautiful scenery, storms, sunburn, no water and a bloody French…. oops I mean great adventure. To help you find your way around on board, here's a short list of important terms.

Landlubber - you, if you need this list - speak a non-sailor who simply has no idea about being a sailor.

Ship - your new workplace - this wooden lady is now your everything and treat her well, she is your life insurance to get you home safely. But be careful, she is very headstrong and if you want to tell me now that she is just an object, you thought wrong. She is very much a living individual and she will make you feel that.

The rigging - that sort of spider's nest above you - is there to operate the sails. Look forward to getting to know the ropes very well.

Sails - those cloth rags hanging from the thick wooden poles. They are used for locomotion and are not blankets.

Wheel - this strange wooden wheel with spikes on it - no, it is not an instrument of torture, but is used for steering.

Anchor - heavy, made of iron and keeps our lady in place.

Compass - this strange thing that lives in a box and is constantly moving back and forth. To cut a long story short: You know which way is north and you can keep your course. You'll soon know it by heart.

Captain - Boss

1st Lieutenant - Second boss and the one who can really fuck you up if he wants to. Get in good line and please don't suck up to him. But he is the one who puts you in everything, be it ward, mess, hammock, etc.

2.nd. Lieutenant - me and I too can make you uncomfortable.

Master - knows where the sails hang and what course to set. Takes just a little more work off the boss.

Purser - is responsible for your food rations, but will also try to get you to buy something from him to make life on board a little easier. Don't do this, he's quite expensive.

Sailor - Your new colleagues, and depending on their years of service, they will know how to handle that wooden lady, how to set the sails and so on. You'll learn it too.

Old Salt - an experienced old sailor, stick with him if you want to learn and he is willing to share his knowledge.

Surgeon - the name says it all. We have a good one on board, be lucky. And if you're lucky, you'll come home with all your body parts.

Midshipmen - mini officers who still need to learn. They can be quite demanding and annoying, especially when many of them are still very young. But don't be surprised if a 12-year-old gives you orders, he's allowed to.

Mess - the place where you eat

Cannon - heavy, iron, dirty, hot and with a loud bang. Used to stop the enemy or inflict serious damage. Keep your limbs to yourself and only follow the instructions of those who know what to do with them. Otherwise you will only injure yourself unnecessarily.

Cannonball - heavy, made of stone or iron. Come into the cannon and please do not trip over it.

Admiral - comes along sometimes. Is the boss of the boss

Hammock - your bed, but don't get too comfortable in it because you won't get much sleep anyway.

Rum - elixir of life, next to coffee

Powder monkeys - yes, they are children, but they know what to do and you can learn something from them too.

Boatswain - also called Bosun, he whistles the orders and drives you to work. He is also your wake-up call.

Marine - our sea soldiers, there aren't very many of them, but the few that there are are fine. They are there for the safety on board.

Cutlasses, muskets, grenades, axes, etc. - makes autsch, hopefully not with you. You will learn to handle them.

Cook - as the name suggests, and yes, having only one leg is normal.

Quarterdeck - not your dance area, that's the officers' area, you're only allowed there if your duty requires it.

Wardroom - also not your area. This is where we officers live and have some privacy.

Great Cabin - living and working area of the captain (you remember? - boss).

Gun deck - remember those big black things that bang loudly? they live here.

Berth deck - this is where you live, sleep and eat. Don't worry, it doesn't get cold there, you share the space with about 170 men.

Well, there is more, but I think that should be enough to start with. The rest will come naturally later. Don't stress about it and I think you will enjoy next year by the sea so much that you will want to come back.

#i hope this was ok #and it is somehow funny #ask

[hopepetal]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four pog | Part Five

I do not like this one as much but! I put too much effort into it to not post it so here ya go

Once again thank you to the lovely @applestruda and @stiffyck!

Alright, so maybe flying while injured was a bad idea. So what? A lot of things Grian did were bad ideas, but that never stopped him. Didn't mean he didn't regret it, though. 

Another flap of his wings made him wince, and he pressed a hand against his side. Judging by the slight dampness of the bandages, the wound had begun bleeding again, though it wasn't a concerning level just yet. Hopefully it would remain that way until he found Scar. 

Squinting, Grian searched the forest he was flying over. The canopy was thick, but not so much that he'd have to land to see. Not that it would've helped– he was completely lost, with no sign of Scar to help him out. Cub had pointed him in the direction Scar had gone, but as time dragged on Grian began to feel more and more hopeless. 

So with a sigh, he opened his other eyes to search the area. The surge of new information nearly overpowered him, and he fought to stay steady in the air. Using the other eyes was always a bit of a challenge, especially while flying, but he had to. For Scar.

A group of men, mercenaries judging by their getup, making their way through the forest.

A stream flowing through the woods, waters clear and cool.

Animals foraging for food, plucking nuts and berries off trees and bushes. 

A man with a cat, sadly poking the remains of a fire with a stick.

Grian shook his head before locking in on that last image. “There you are,” he muttered, veering slightly to change his direction. Carefully, he closed his other eyes, blinking away the beginnings of a headache that always came with using them. 

He flew for another few minutes before descending, ignoring the warning pain from his side. It made him wish he had brought extra bandages, or even a cloak, but in his haste to find Scar he had left without so much as a shirt. 

“At least I have pants,” he reasoned, “I'm not quite like Scar yet.”

Grian landed with a pained hiss, stumbling as pain shot up his side. His arms shot out and he braced himself against a tree, panting slightly. The startled shriek did not escape his notice, nor did the muffled thud as Scar fell off the log he had been sitting on. Heaving a sigh, Grian turned around as his friend scrambled up. “Hi, Scar.”

Scar brushed himself off, eyes wide. “G! Uh, hey there! What's up?”

Grian blinked. “What's up? What's up? Scar, what were you thinking, running off like that?”

Scar chuckled, scuffing the ground with his foot nervously. “Well, funny thing about that, y'see–”

Grian groaned, rubbing his forehead. “You weren't. Of course. Come on, we gotta get back before nightfall.” He took a step forward before stumbling, the pain in his side too much to ignore now. 

Scar lunged forward, grabbing Grian's arm to help steady him before slowly lowering them both to the ground. “Grian, you're hurt.” His voice filled with grief. “Because of me, might I add. What are you doing, G?”

Grian braced himself against Scar, face scrunched up in pain. “I was trying to find you! Do you know how worried I was? God, Scar, why?” He looked up at Scar, dark eyes full of concern. “Why did you run?”

Scar looked away, his face falling. “You know why, G. I lost control. I hurt you–”

“You didn't mean to–”

“But I did!” Scar snapped, anger in his tone now. “I hurt you, and I'm still hurting you! Look at you!” He gestured to Grian's bloodied bandages. “Look at what I did to you!”

“Scar!” Grian grabbed the other man's shoulders, looking right into his eyes. “Stop. Do you even hear yourself right now?” He sighed, looking away. “Scar, I don't blame you for what happened. It was an accident, okay? Stop beating yourself up over something that wasn't even your fault.” He smiled gently, looking back at Scar. “Does that sound good?”

Scar made a pained noise, shaking his head. “Grian, you don't understand. I messed up. I thought I was in control but I wasn't, and I just– I was so powerless, G. What if it happens again? What if I hurt someone else? What if–” And his hands were shaking now, his chest heaving as he gasped for air– “what if I kill someone?”

“I told you, I told you all that I had it under control. That I could protect you. That I could be strong. And I failed, I failed you all and I failed myself! Gods, Grian– the way they looked at me. They were scared. And I couldn't... I couldn't handle it. So I ran.”

Scar covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking as he began to sob. “I know I'm a coward. I know I'm not deserving of the knight title. I know that I never deserved–”

“Scar.”

Scar paused, looking up at Grian. His face was tear-stained, eyes red from crying. Grian smiled sadly, leaning forward and wiping Scar's tears away with his thumb. “Scar, take a deep breath with me, okay? In... and out. And again. In... out. I'm so proud of you. Can I hug you?”

Scar nodded, sniffling softly. He leaned forward into Grian's arms, resting his chin on the avian's shoulder. There was a soft rustling of feathers, and Grian's wings wrapped around him, enveloping them in a warm hug. 

They stayed like that for a while, the sound of nature the background ambience for their thoughts. Scar found that he was able to take deeper breaths, that his heart had stopped racing and his thoughts had begun to pull out of the spiral. With a soft sigh, he pulled back, gazing down at Grian. 

Grian smiled up at him. “Feeling better?” When Scar nodded, his smile grew. “Good. We'll have a proper chitchat when we get back home, but for now let's just focus on getting back. You wouldn't happen to have any healing pots on you?” he added after a moment, his smile becoming sheepish. 

Scar laughed softly, shaking his head. “Unfortunately not.” He glanced over at Jellie, who had been curled up in the sunlight asleep the entire time. Of course. Glancing back, he noticed with growing concern that Grian's bandages were becoming more stained with blood. “Maybe we should rest for a bit, put some pressure on that wound of yours and wait for it to stop bleeding.”

Grian waved him off. “Eh, it'll be fine, just as long as I don't strain it any more.” He pushed himself to his feet with a groan, Scar following and helping steady him. “Thank you, Scar.”

Scar shook his head. “No. Thank you. For going out of your way to find me, even when you were injured.”

Grian shrugged. “You'd do the same for me.”

“Dang right I would!” Scar grinned, whistling to wake Jellie. “C'mere, girl!” 

The blue cat stretched, yawning as she woke. Blinking wearily, she padded over to Scar and jumped onto his shoulders, curling around his neck before disappearing into mist. 

“Right then,” Scar began, “am I carrying you, or am I carrying you?”

Grian frowned. “I'm sorry?”

“Well, I can't just allow you to walk like that. You're injured! Wounded! You said it yourself, you can't strain yourself or your injury will get worse!”

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” Grian stepped back, laughing. “You are not carrying me, Scar! For heaven's sake–!” He suddenly cut off his lighthearted protests, feathered ears twitching slightly. “...shush, Scar. Did you hear that?”

Scar's smile fell as he concentrated. “...no, I don't think so–”

An arrow shot past the two and embedded itself with a thud in a tree. Immediately Scar moved in front of Grian, his hand going to his waist where–

His sheath lay empty, his sword discarded in the field when he had run, and Scar internally cursed himself for his stupidity. “You good, G?” he called back, not wanting to take his eyes off of where the arrow had come from. 

“Yeah, I'm alright.” Grian raised his voice. “Who's out there? Show yourself!”

No response. Scar turned to look at Grian fully. “Maybe they just shot an arrow and left,” he suggested, just as a second arrow was fired. 

“Scar! Look out!” Grian lunged forward, snapping his wings open around Scar just in time for the arrow to hit, letting out a loud yelp of pain as the bolt sank into his feathers. But that wasn't all- the patch of red on his bandages was spreading again, fast. Wincing, Grian stumbled back as he pressed both hands against his side. “Shoot.”

Scar placed his hands on Grian's shoulders, pushing him down and standing over him to better protect his injured friend. “Show yourself!” he challenged, his voice cold and sharp. “Come out now and I might spare you.”

Laughter rang out from all around them as Scar stood over Grian, glaring at the trees. Slowly, a group of five men stepped out from the cover of the trees, surrounding the two. Scar's eyes darted over each one, analyzing them all quickly to see just how screwed they were. Sword, sword, bow, ax, crossbow. Common mercenaries, he decided, and confident ones at that. 

But is their confidence false, or has it been earned?

Scar glared at the one with the bow, watching Grian examine the arrow in his wing out of the corner of his eye. He was a little more worried about the blood that continued to seep through the bandages that wrapped around Grian's torso, staining them a bright red. His gaze was drawn over to another mercenary who stepped forward with a proud sort of sneer on his face. 

“Scar, I presume? Former member of convex? Thief, swindler, criminal?” The man examined his blade, turning it so it would catch the light just right. “We've been on your trail for a while. What a lucky day this is for us, huh?”

The other mercenaries let out a cheer as Scar groaned and rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys, can't we just let it go? Jeez, don't you have anything better to do with your lives? Besides, I'm a changed man now. No more swindling for me!”

“That’s so not true,” Grian muttered, and Scar took a moment to glare at him and mutter ‘not helping’ before turning back to the mercenaries.

“Besides, I’m kinda busy right now? So like, could you come back later or something?” Scar gestured to Grian. “I gotta get my friend back home. He’s injured, y’see, because you kinda shot him.”

The mercenary with the sword laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, no. No, no, no, I don’t think so. We have spent far too long hunting you down to give you up now. You’re coming with us.” He waved his men forward. “And take that avian, too. I’m sure we’ll find a use for him.”

Scar’s smile instantly sharpened, his gaze becoming cold. “Oh no. Absolutely not. You do not get to threaten my friends.”

“And who’s going to stop me?” The sword-wielding mercenary stepped forward. “You’re all alone out here. No friends, no one to save you… just give up before you get hurt.”

Grian struggled to push himself to his feet, staggering as he stood, forcing himself to not lean on Scar. “Sounds like fun!” he chirped, forcing a smile. “Right, then. Shall we get on with it?”

Despite their injuries and lack of weapons, Scar and Grian fought well. They were a team, trained to fight against impossible odds and make it out alive. Well placed kicks and punches could do quite a bit of damage, especially when their opponents weren’t wearing armor. Still, Grian was injured and Scar was weaponless. Perhaps they could’ve held their own if they were less tired, or in better shape. 

Grian was the first to fall, the wound on his side struck by the hilt of an ax. Scar shouted, lunging for the one who had struck Grian down but was knocked to the ground by the swordsman, the wind knocked out of him as he hit the ground. Struggling for air, Scar tried to push himself up but was pinned when the mercenary put his foot on his chest. “Get off me!” Scar spat, grabbing the man’s leg and trying to push him off.

The mercenary leaned down, chuckling. “That’s it? You were so full of yourself earlier, I thought you would’ve put up a better fight. I’m disappointed, honestly. This was pitifully easy.” Straightening up, he snapped his fingers. “Alright boys, round ‘em up.”

Grian let out a pained yelp as he was yanked to his feet, fighting back tears as his arms were pinned behind his back. Scar struggled harder now, fighting against the mercenary while shouting Grian’s name. Alongside the rage, he could feel the magic rising up within him, turning his eyes an icy blue as the color from his hair faded.

And yet- and yet-

With a panicked gasp, Scar shoved the rising magic back down, forcing it into dormancy. He couldn’t. Not while the memory of his friend on the ground covered in blood was still fresh in his mind. Not while the image of his friends’ horrified faces was still fresh in his mind. Not while he still blamed himself for everything.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out as he was yanked up, arms roughly tugged behind his back and tied together. His frantic gaze met Grian’s eyes, clouded by pain and widened in fear. “Grian, I’m sorry, I-”

The hilt of an ax struck Scar’s head, and darkness descended on him.

#my writing #boatem knights au #angst #goodtimeswithscar #grian #hermitcraft fanfic #does a little dance #they're dumbasses your honors

[sednonamoris]

the feeling came late (i'm still glad i met you)

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: John finds that it's the little moments - frighteningly violent and achingly mundane - that define the life you've led together.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, banter, canon-typical violence, depictions of major wounds, strong language, alcohol use/cigar smoking (brief mention), vague allusion to sex, not quite a warning but John Price POV, non-chronological time jumps/storytelling

Word count: 2,015

A/N: Veeeeery loosely inspired by Hozier's Abstract (Psychopomp) but that's really just the general vibe to get things started. Hound and Price have such a rich life and storyline in my head - hopefully this does it even a little justice. Thanks a million to the people who follow this series <3

Masterlist • AO3

—

Rain lashes outside - an average springtime evening in Ireland. The sky is dark and thick with cloud cover. Leftover winter chill hangs in the air. Lit by the soft glow of a reading lamp, you sit in John’s favourite armchair in his favourite corner of your shared flat, messing with his reading glasses and giving a dramatic read-aloud of the admittedly dry history book he’s marked. He sits dutifully on the sofa across from you and pretends it’s not as funny as it is. Your impression of him is spot on.

He supposes he should be grateful that you’re doing it here on leave and not in the barracks with Gaz and Soap and even Simon cackling away. Bloody comedians, the lot of you. Still, he wouldn't trade a moment of your antics for anything. Having comrades - family - that bring light and laughter to the darkness means more than he can put to words. And coming home to you at the end of it all? He’s a lucky man.

A few years ago, if anyone had suggested he’d end up settling here across the channel - with you - he’d have called them mad.

So much time wasted. So much love lodged in his throat.

Now he’s hoping this is what forever looks like.

Eventually you cop onto his faraway stare, and that familiar knot of concern stitches between your brows. It eases only slightly after careful inspection of his face; he must look as hopelessly in love as the feeling that glows from his chest. 

“You’re staring,” you accuse.

“You’re beautiful,” he says honestly.

That stops short whatever snappy retort you had queued up, and he laughs when you hide half your face behind the book. “Shut up.”

There’s no heat to it. He can feel himself grinning.

“Whyever would I when you fluster so nicely for me, hm?”

Your eyes narrow, but you’re smiling already. “You’re such a prick.” 

“Your prick, remember?”

Your anything, so long as you keep looking at him like that. 

—

It’s well past midnight in Vienna. His head is light and miles away, and he can feel the warmth leaving his body with the blood that pools in these moonlit neighborhood streets. He lies prone. The only thing keeping his guts in is the burning force of your hands over his and the shreds of his tac gear. 

John is going to die here. 

It’s a cold whisper in his ear, a shiver down his neck. Terrifyingly foreign. Frighteningly familiar.

“Oh, fuck, lad,” you curse when you move everything aside to take a proper look at the wound.

He’s going to die here.

The irony that you of all people will be the one to shepherd him to the other side is hardly lost on him. He named you himself. A bloody Hellhound. It’s not funny, but he wants to laugh. Blood leaks out of the corner of his mouth.  

He can hear your frantic radio for help and the crackled reply that you’ll have to wait. You both know you can’t. There’s a snarl in your accent and a fire in your eye when you warn him to not bloody die. Your hands, poised with needle and thread, slippery with the blood of the man who did this to him, shake. The pain is white hot and blinding. He trusts them even so. 

—

John isn’t entirely certain how you talked him into this. Now that he’s here, though, it’s hard to complain; All dressed up for him in the low lights of this Chicago bar, you are stunning.

It’s enough to make him feel like he really is meeting you for the first time. The circumstances are hardly comparable - the difference between chasing terrorists and a civilian’s night out - but you’ve always had this way of throwing his Atlas-held world off its axis. Even then. Even now. You lean across the bartop and flash a flirty look over your shoulder as he approaches feeling like the luckiest, silliest man in the world. 

“Come here often?” 

The look of fiendish delight on your face makes the shit line worth it. “First time in, actually. I’m after finishing a top secret mission - international security and all that. If my C.O. knew I was out tonight he’d have my head for sure.” 

“Oh?” His face is deadly serious but for the twinkle in his eye. “Maybe I ought to report back to him about your infractions.”

“Go on, then,” you lift your chin in challenge. “I hear he’s sleeping with one of his lieutenants.”

“Is he, now?” 

Your grin is all teeth. “Ghost is a lucky boy.” 

He can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts from his chest.

The pair of you dissolve into fits of giggles right there along the bar, the bartender flashing an unimpressed look when you can barely manage to order two glasses of whiskey - neat - between wheezes. 

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind of normalcy. 

Corny jokes and carefree smiles. Low lights filtered through cigar smoke. Kisses snuck in corner booths. Too many drinks and taxi rides home. Even later, as he fucks you into a too-firm hotel mattress, the sound of your breathless laughter and heady moans makes him feel like the rowdy youth he never got to be. He’s burning - invincible. The low burn of an ember turned wildfire.

—

He paces the sterile halls of a hospital in Verdansk. It was all they could do to rush you here in time; your leg dangling uselessly, your voice hoarse from screaming, blood pouring from the wound. His hands are still caked in it. He’s scared that if he tries to wash them it won’t come out. He’s equally scared that it will.

Simon is propped up against the wall, head bowed, dark eyes watching. Knowing. He’s worried about you, of course, helped carry you the whole way here, barked at the medics when they jostled you too much, but John is—

He cares deeply for every soldier under his command, but you—

You shouldn’t be different.

You aren’t, he tries to tell himself. But deep down, he knows as much as Simon does that you are. 

You were only meant to keep tabs on the situation here. When the masked soldier had asked for backup in Verdansk he could trust, yours was the first name out of John’s mouth. Now, a couple months and one failed infiltration later, your knee has been shot clean through and you may never walk right again.

A sinister voice in the back of his mind reminds him that you might not even survive this.

John has just about worn a hole through the tile by the time they allow him in to see you. The surgery was a success, they assure him, but it was a close thing. A long, hard recovery awaits you now, pending your transfer to an approved hospital in England. 

“Not England,” he corrects even as he’s pushing past the staff at the door. “Ireland.”

“Of course, Captain. Ireland.”

His breath catches in his throat the moment his eyes land on your prone form. You lie tucked into starched hospital sheets, still out cold from the drugs. Your face is slack and bloodless, just like so many corpses he’s seen before. His only reassurance is the steady beep of the machinery you’re hooked up to accompanied by the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

He pulls a chair over to your bedside and sits. Metal screeches across tile. He clasps your cold hand in his. Dried blood flakes onto the sheets; he’d almost forgotten it was there. 

Watching you lie in that narrow hospital bed drives every denial, every weak excuse and half-believed lie from his heart: he knows that he loves you. He’s put up a hell of a fight, but now? There’s no sense denying that the vice-grip squeeze of his heart in sync with your every breath is anything but what it is. Love. Brilliant, brutal, bled-out-on-white-sheets love. He’ll never tell you - something miswired in his brain, a bone-deep aversion to that sort of liability and weakness and wonder and joy - but when he squeezes your hand he hopes that you feel it.

I love you.

I love you. 

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlove—

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, finally stirring. Your eyes open slowly. His heart constricts in his chest when the first thing you do is squint over at him. “Been a cunt of a day, Captain, I’ll tell you that.” 

His laugh is half sob, half relief. “More than bloody broken this time, Hound. Almost lost pieces of you on the way here.”

You mirror it with an exhausted huff of your own. “Sure look, the knee’s banjaxed, but you’re not mailing me home in a body bag. Could be worse.”

He gives you a stern look. “Could be better.”

“Yeah,” you squeeze his hand and close your eyes once more. “Could be better.”

He stays by your side until the hospital staff kick him out the next morning. Simon takes his place in the rotation, nodding his head in understanding as they pass one another in the hall. They fly you home the very next day. 

—

“D’you reckon there’s a policy for getting blood on nice rings like these?” Kyle wonders aloud. 

John cuts his eyes to him with a half-hearted glare. “Really, soldier?”

Kyle puts his hands up in surrender with a grin that’s anything but guilty. “Might need one is all I’m saying, sir.” 

He just might, at that. You’re not exactly afraid to get your hands dirty out there in the field. Maybe he’ll get lucky and you’ll string it ‘round your neck with your dog tags. Maybe. He sighs and looks over at the woman behind the counter with a mixture of resignation and defeat. Her smile is perfectly manufactured sympathy.

He and Kyle have been to what feels like every jewelry shop in London searching for the perfect engagement band. Something durable, but suitably delicate. Flashy, but not a bloody eyesore. The right type of metal. The appropriate hardness of gem. And damned expensive to boot, no matter how many clerks try to convince him he’s getting a bargain. Truly, though, he’ll pay any price to get this right. Can hardly afford to mess things up now, can he?

When John first brought up the subject of marriage, he’d hemmed and hawed and gone over the countless reasons you should say no. He smokes in the house. He drinks almost every night. He’s old. Scarred. English. Married to his work. Bull-headed. Hot-tempered— he could go on. He did, but all you said in reply was that you were his.  His. Just that. Simple, clear, direct. A little cheeky. You told him that weddings were nice, but you didn’t need one. That after all you’ve shared, all you’ve been through, having a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on at the end of the world was enough.

Just about brought him to tears, that.

Of course, you also made it clear that if anyone was to propose, it would have to be him.

Bad knee, you’d explained with that wicked humor of yours glinting bright. Might not be able to get back up in my advanced age.

He’d scoffed, rubbing a hand through the greying hair of his whiskers. Forgot I’ve been shagging a bloody geriatric.

You tilted your head back laughed so hard you cried. He started ring shopping the very next day. If he’s lucky, that search will end today.

Then on to forever.

Kyle waves him back to reality, gesturing at a nearby display. “What about this one?”

John can feel himself smiling before the question is all the way out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says, already imagining the twinge in his knee when he presents it to you. Your delighted grin. The way it will sparkle on your left hand. The tears that will surely cloud his eyes when he sees you at the end of a church-aisle, all dressed in white. “That’s the one.”

On to forever.

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #cod x reader #fran writes #hellhound

[bumbburger]

Shrink rays your Soap

GhostSoap crack, and fluff

Simon woke up to clattering in his kitchen.

He was a light sleeper through and through, even more so when he didn't have Soap huddled by his side.

The first thing he noticed, aside from the noise, was the lack of the smaller man's warmth cuddled into him. That simply wasn't right.

Soap would always huddle Simon well into the morning, until they both would have to begrudgingly arise. But there was no Soap, no running shower, no breakfast cooking. Something was not correct.

Simon grunted, using his palm to rub the sleep from his eyes. He moved his legs over the bed and heaved himself upright, on a mission to see what was causing the ruckus.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, senses on high alert.

On the floor laid a broken, ceramic mug.

Even more alarmingly, next to the mess sat a little, kitten sized Scotsman.

What.

"Quit yer gawking and help me up you big bastard!" His voice remained gruff as ever, never faltering.

Simon blinked his eyes again, mostly from disbelief.

"...Soap?"

"Get me off this bloody floor already!" He reached his proportionately tiny hands up for Simon, wishing to be picked up.

Simon scooped him up easily in both hands, deftly gentle with the now bite-sized Soap.

"But you're so… small… smaller than before, even-"

"Oh how funny. As if I haven't noticed I'm the size of your shoe!" He huffed, crossing his arms, thoroughly frustrated.

"Alright, alright calm down you little muppet." Simon cooed. "What exactly happened when I woke up?" He ran his thumb over the tiny man's Mohawk, his thumb enough to smother his head entirely.

Soap sighed a bit at the touch.

"Well I was jus' getting ready to make some coffee and breakfast, ya know. Had the mug in hand and everything and suddenly, it was… like a sneeze. I went from totally average sized man to this-" He stammered out, clearly frustrated.

"Maybe it'll wear off…?" Simon offered.

Soap grit his teeth.

"I'm still hungry too, didn't even get my coffee… how messed up is that?"

"I can make you something but… how would you eat it? I can only cut up toast so much- " He gave Soap a sarcastically grin. "I can get the bottle we used for the kitten I suppose."

Soap stiffened, blue eyes glared up at Simon's brown ones.

"Do not use a fuckin' bottle on me, Simon."

Simon chuckled a bit, putting up his free hand defensively.

"Alright, don't come complaining to me when you can't eat nothing because you're the size of my palm." He carefully set Soap down on the table, confident the small man wouldn't just throw himself off of it on a whim. Hopefully.

Simon started scanning their cupboards and fridge for something he could reasonably give to his tiny companion.

He dug through the fridge and discovered a carton of strawberries he didn't remember buying, they were still fresh. He took one out, the smallest and reddest one, and brought it to the table. He set it down beside him, nearly half his size.

"That's… kinda large, don'tcha think?" Soap chided.

"I can cut it up a little, or blend it up. I dunno, maybe you'll have to have baby food-"

"Just cut it up you big brute."

Simon let out an amused huff before grabbing the strawberry again, and unsheathing a paring knife from their knife block, he cut the berry as little and coherently as he could. The berry holds up well for being sliced so small, not reducing to mush under the blade. Simon cuts up the whole thing and places it on a small saucer, returning it back to the occupied table.

Soap stood up, looking approvingly at the pieces of berry.

Simon turned back around to make himself coffee. Normally, he'd like tea this early in the morning but for Soap, he'd bear through.

The coffee brewed slowly, filling the kitchen with the scent. Once finished, he took the mug in his hand and sat down at the table.

He found that Soap made pretty good progress on the strawberry, a few pieces still scattered on the plate. He was a bit amazed that he had gotten that far, really.

Simon took a little spoon, one he'd often use for his tea and dipped it into his mug, filling it with coffee before setting it down on the table by Soap. A peace offering, of sorts.

Soap looked up at him, still chewing with his cheeks full.

"I'm s'posed to lap it up like a dog, then?"

Simon took a sip from his mug.

"I could get the bottle if you'd like."

"You're a mean man, Simon."

"Maybe don't get shrunk next time" He shrugged.

He watched as Soap bent down to drink some of the coffee from the spoon. Simon found himself wondering how beneficial a strawberry and coffee are as a full breakfast. He'd try and make up for it with lunch.

Soap sat back now, arms splayed behind him, propping himself up. Simon swears he hears the littlest hiccup from him.

"Full? From a berry and some coffee-" Simon smiled from behind his mug.

"It was… a big strawberry. Shut your gob" He huffed indignantly.

Another chuckle from Simon.

"What am I to do with you?" He brought his index finger over the table to poke Soap's chest affectionately.

Another huff from Soap.

"I wanna go back to bed… wake up and be normal again…" He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Simon pursed his lips in silent contemplation. He gazed at the microwave clock, reading 9:27 AM. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to go back to bed for a while.

"Am I to put you in my pocket and crawl back into bed?" He looked down at Soap.

"Oh definitely-" There was no sarcasm in his voice. He really did want to fall asleep in Simon's pocket.

"I guess I can keep you in there while I get some work done, then. That way I can be sure you aren't getting into trouble." Simon glanced at him.

"Aye, kinda always wanted to get wrapped up in your hoodie and take a nap… usually it involved different circumstances, though." He yawned dramatically and stretched his arms above his head, bringing one hand down to scratch his tummy under his shirt. He was putting on a little display, and Simon took his cue.

Gently, he brought a large hand to wrap around Soap's chest under his arms, careful not to squeeze him. He lifted him up and opened the front of his jacket pocket to place him in it. He looked down, making sure he was secure and finally allowed himself to stand. He decided he'd lay on the couch and do some relaying with Price about a mission in the works. His pocket was quiet and warm, a little fuzzy Mohawk sticking out from time to time. There was a rise and fall independent of Simon's own breathing, it made him feel comfortable.

He opened his laptop and worked quietly for a few hours, his tiny Soap never returning to his normal size in that time. It was going to be a long day.

#ghostsoap #soap cod #soap mw2 #soapghost #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghoap #soapghost fanfic

[familyvideostevie]

hi baby i love your writing style so much :(( can i req a steve x fem!reader where steve is yelling at reader for jumping in after him at lovers lake. steves all angry at reader and doesnt realize he’s gripping her shoulders too hard and she tells him “you’re hurting me” (with a happy ending though)

thank you for the request my dear! i do love to try out some angst, though i hopefully wrapped it up happily enough. this has been written a million times but i never get tired of it. let me know what you think! | 0.7k, fem!reader, cw: steve grabs her and doesn't realize how tight

Skull Rock looks different in the Upside Down, much darker and nastier than the real thing. It makes your memories here with Steve seem fake, seem like they're from another life.

"Let me bandage you," you say to your boyfriend. He hasn't said anything to you since you fought off the demobats, and you know he's pissed but you can't figure out why. The entire situation is as shitty as it gets, but why does he seem to be mad at you?

Nancy hands you the fabric she tore up and you motion for him to step under the outcropping of the skull so he can lean back a little.

"So are you gonna tell me?" you ask as you wrap the cotton around him. The wounds ooze something that isn't blood and you wish you could clean them first.

"Tell you what?" His voice is stiff, dripping with a coldness you rarely hear out of him.

"Why you're pissed." Steve laughs but it's more of a cough, something harsh and hacking.

"Why would I be pissed?" He directs the words at his hands where he's holding them above his head. "Maybe because I told you to stay in the boat and you didn't."

"Well, we weren't going to let you drown, Steve," you say, frustrated. You try to keep your hands gentle as you tie off the bandage.

"I was fine! You shouldn't have come down here." He's not yelling but it's a close thing.

"Get over it, Steve." You don't know why you're fighting. Maybe it's the air, maybe it's how fucking terrified you all are.

"Now you've put yourself in the hands of the enemy and I can't do anything about it!" Now he's yelling. His hands come down to grasp your shoulders as if he could will you back to the surface with his touch. His eyes are wild and you think he might be on the verge of a panic attack.

"And now you're hurt --" he looks down at your bloody knuckles "-- and it's only going to get worse. Don't you get that? It'll only get worse down here." His hands are tight on you, like if he lets go you'll collapse in front of him. But they're too tight and you can feel his fingernails digging in through your shirt.

"Steve," you say softly, urgently.. "Steve, you're hurting me." He releases you like he's been burned, his hands shaking in the dark air. He backs up until he hits the rock behind him and groans, the wounds on his back still fresh.

"I--fuck," he whispers. "Christ, I'm so sorry." He looks like he wants to touch you but he wouldn't dare now, his chest heaving as he looks at his hands like they've betrayed him. You reach for him but he holds them out to keep you away.

"Steve, it's okay, I'm fine."

"No, I hurt you."

"You've given me bruises before, Harrington," you say, trying to get a laugh out of him. "Nice ones."

"This isn't funny," he says shaking his head. He runs a hand over his face and winces as it pulls at his side.

"No, I guess not," you sigh. "Please come here, Steve. You have to believe me when I tell you I'm okay. You're just freaking out. You didn't mean to." He tries to take big gulps of air, looking anywhere but you. You're dimly away of your friends watching all of this play out.

"I guess I am freaking out."

"We all are, Steve. This is insane."

"Should've stayed in the boat," he mutters, but he takes a step towards you and you lunge forward, hands framing his face. He only flinches a little bit.

"Fuck that, Steve. We look after each other. Even if it means ending up in literal hell." He nods, hands still shaking as they come up to cover yours.

"Yeah," he echoes. "Yeah." He might be filthy -- you both are -- but you lean in to kiss him anyway. A soft, quick thing, but it relaxes him. You can feel it.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry for grabbing you like that." Your fingertips dance over the mark around his throat and your throat is tight.

"Don't dwell on it," you tell him. "I'm fine." He closes his eyes and gathers himself, no idea what's ahead.

"Okay," he says. He grabs your hand and faces the others. "Let's go."

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea

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#emma's asks #anon ask #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Can you do a part two of Tommy and the girl he adopt from the orphanage I gotta see more of her relationship with Noah Solomon’s. And I beg an plead can you do a scene where the whole family goes to the fair and Noah’s there with Alfie. She’s riding on the Ferris wheel with like a friend or something she might be in a fight lol it’s Noah an please I beg you use the scene from the note book where Noah jumps up and hangs from the beg her to go forgive him. But she cheekily undoes his pants like Allie did and her whole family and alfie are watching it unfold !! Please

Dear Anon,

I wanted this so badly that I let this request jump the que. I've never seen the notebook and I had a different slightly more ridiculous scenario that popped into my head hopefully this is satisfactory!

Warnings: Angry dads, peaky typical violence, kissing, suggested sexual content, Aunt Polly loves you enough to stay up all night.

Part 1

There were a lot of things your parents did right and knowing how to motivate you to do well was one of them. 

The fair was in town that weekend and if you got top marks on your finals, they would take you, and if you got okay marks Esme and John said they would take you behind their back. But you wanted to see your dad at the fair.

Lizzie always looked out of place because of how beautiful she looked. While Tommy always looked out of place because he looked like he was coming from a funeral or causing one. The thought of him taking you to the fair brought you a whole mix of feelings. Part of you thought it was funny, the other remembered how badly you’d wanted your dad to take you when you were little. 

When Noah called to let you know that he and his family were also planning on going you refused to acknowledge the looming possibility that it could go horrifically wrong. He’d called to ask if it would be better that they go on a different day, but you assured him that was ridiculous. In your eyes, they were business friends. But still friends, no reason to give each other a hard time or cause a scene. 

“Don’t worry about it Noah, I’m sure they will manage” You fought to get the words out in a reasonable tone. “If any problems come up, I’ll have us leave right away.” 

“Don’t worry about it love, If things kick up on our end we can leave. I know how much you wanted to go.” His voice was like honey, and you just wanted to drown in it forever. God and he cared so much.

“That’s really sweet of you. I- I think it will be fine.” You said with a smile you hoped he could hear. 

“I’ll call you before bed” There was a loud commotion behind him and you assumed he must be calling you from his dad’s work. 

“And I’ll answer.” You responded back. Since you were going steady he’d call you every night before bed. Sometimes to chat, other times just to tell you he hoped you slept well. The line went dead and you let out a triumphant squeal. 

Your dad flung open the study door scanning the room. Looking around the room and finding nothing out of place or alarming, his face fell and he let out a sigh. 

“What's he done this time eh? Bloody boy -” He continued to grumble but you cut him off with a big hug. Normally you kept your screams of excitement and any loud noises to an absolute minimum because you hated how it set him off. War flashed in his eyes every time, you never knew what to do so you just hugged him and hope it helped. 

“Nothing, nothing. Just excited to go to the fair.” 

“Nothing to do with the Solomons also going to the fair then?” He responded easily holding you back. Your eyes went wide and you pulled away enough to look up at him. “That’s right us dad’s talk you know.” You froze up even more. Did Noah talk about you? Did Alfie? 

“What do you talk about?” He looked at you for a long second holding you in suspense. 

“Business and now thanks to you coordinated trips to the fair.” He sighed. 

“Wait. Wait. Wait. He coordinate it? Like he, you know, he tried to get us all there at the same time?” 

“According to Alfie, he won’t shut up about it. Wants us all to get along or something started talking about family trips out to the beach house, proposing after graduation, moving you off to London,” He watched your face twist up in horror before tickling you. 

“DAD!” You shouted pushing his hands off you. He moved past you to put his briefcase on his desk. 

“Caught your mother listening in on the phone with Esme in the kitchen.” He smiled at you and it was enough that you stopped bothering him even though you wanted to. “Not my fault, your mother knows no boundaries, trust me.” 

“I’ll have to sort that out later.” You said sternly. You already knew that they listened in that’s why you had come up with codded phrases and words. 

“Can we go still go then?” You asked him hesitantly.

“I’m not going to cause a gang fight at a family fair,” He said giving you a look that made you feel bad for implying such things. “ I know how to behave myself, it's Alfie we need to watch out for.” 

You made a mental note to ask John what the history was between the two men next time he was drunk. 

“So that’s a yes?” You asked hopefully. 

“It’s not a no.” He answered back and you did a happy dance. “Now go bother your mother for invading your privacy, I have a lot to do” 

You ran out of his study and went right into the kitchen, opening the door suddenly, startling the women on the other side. It wasn't even dinner yet and you could see that their faces were already quite rosy. You stared at them for a moment like you felt Tommy would, and they sat there looking suspicious. 

“Noah’s going to be at the fair, with his family.” They both nodded and hummed, you watched Esme look out the window and Lizzie focus her attention on the napkin in front of her. “But I’m sure you already knew that” 

You laughed as they both started blaming each other and rambling excuses. Normally it would irritate you but nothing could dampen your mood today. 

“So naturally I’ll need help figuring out what to wear,” You said letting them off the hook. You watch the relief and Esme playfully smacked you on the bottom. 

“Don’t do that your Aunty. I’m an old woman now!” She scolded 

“If you're an old woman what does that make me eh?” Lizzie shot back. They continued on bantering and you claimed your usual spot at the table. Polly eventually showed up and joined in. 

Where ever the women were, the men were usually not far behind. No better way to spend a Friday night than drinking with your family till the sun comes up. It was loud and your ribs always hurt afterward from laughing and singing. As things were starting to come to an end you sat on Tommy’s lap and got awarded your one alcoholic drink of the night. 

____

Getting to the fair was surprisingly easy. Everyone was going but they were taking their own cars, except you were picking up Polly. She slid into the back seat looking mighty hungover from the night before despite it being nearly 5 o’clock in the evening. 

She had her sunglasses on and before you said anything to her she held her hand up to silence you. She got settled and put her head on your shoulder tasking you with being a good pillow. 

After weeks of waiting and working hard, you were finally there. You followed your cousins leaving the parents to walk around at their own pace. 

You went along with whatever they wanted to do while you waited for Noah to get there. More than anything you wanted a kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel. Something your mind had cooked up in the many fantasies about how the day was going to go. Something that motivated you when you would start falling asleep on your textbook. 

You were determined to get that kiss at the top. 

Until you bumped into Roger. Why did gangsters think sending all their kids to the same school was a good idea? 

“Ah! There you are! Was hoping I’d bump into you.” He smile at you and your stomach turned into a knot. 

“Hi, Roger.” You said politely. “Was just about to go -” 

“Come with me on the Ferris wheel, Eh?” He cut you off making you even more annoyed. But the line was moving and he looped his arm into yours. The only way out of it would be to cause a big scene. His eyes narrowed and you got dragged towards the little, pink car. Once off this contraption you were going make this boy's life a living hell. Before all the way in you made one more scan of the crowd for your dad somehow thinking he’d be the answer to all of this. 

He started droning on about how you should go on some dates with him, get to know his family, leaving Noah behind. You felt your face get hot with anger, tears threatening to spill over on how such a terrible boy could cause such problems in your life. You should have started beating on him. Done something other than just go along with it. Your mind got worse and worse, as the thing started to move, you immediately regretted your decision of coming at all. 

You started to panic being in a space with this asshole, while also moving away from the ground. Your heart started to hammer and your hands got shaky. 

“You afraid, love?” He challenged, placing his hand on your knee suggestively. You pushed his hand away fighting the urge to start smacking him, it would only rock the car sending you into a fit. You tried desperately to focus on your breathing. After this was over you could run straight to your dad and leave. Go home to where it was safe. When suddenly the car made a horrid swinging motion. 

__________________________________________________

“What do you mean she’s on the Ferris wheel?” Shock washed over Noah as he looked up towards the contraption. All you had talked about was how badly you wished he could come so they could ride the bloody thing. 

“I thought she was up there with you,” Finn said coldly. Noah could tell Finn wasn't thrilled with the situation. He looked up and recognized Rodger’s navy blue cap. After his vile comments about her circulated to Noah he'd told her to stay as far away from him as possible. Realizing what he could be up to with her trapped in there all his sensibility disappeared.

Without thinking, or remembering his fear of heights, he was overcome with anger. 

“That fucking bastard!” The words were out of his mouth as he charged towards the ride. The thought of him putting his hands on you trapped in that stupid pink car was enough to send him over the fence and leaping up into the air. 

__________________________________________________

“Pulling my boy away from his faith. That’s what your little harlot of a daughter is doing.” Alfie said making Tommy’s fists clench. He could tell that Alfie regretted his choice of words without him saying anything so he let it go. 

“Your dodgy son is going to drag her right back to the sewers.” He answered smoothly. And that's exactly what the boy was going to do. Drag her right back into the life he fought to pull the family out of. 

“Should have raised her better.” He quipped back. Lizzie came and took his arm. 

“Lovely girl you got there Mrs. Shelby,” Alfie said politely. “I haven't had the pleasure yet but I’ve heard a lot about her.” 

“Likewise! Noah seems to have made quite the impression on her.” Lizzie smiled politely. Tommy looked around for any type of distraction when he noticed a boy hanging from the Ferris wheel. A commotion of yelling was going on when he noticed that it was his kid in the fucking car. 

“Fuck!” Tommy took off towards the ride not able to do anything other than get to her as soon as possible. Dumb fucking kids were going to send her to her death fucking around like that. 

Once he got close he could hear the shouting match. Of course, it was that stupid boy - 

“What’s your girl done, that’s got my boy dangling 20ft in the air?!” Alfie demanded and it took everything in Tommy to avoid pulling his gun. 

“WHY IS YOUR SON TRYING TO KILL HER EH?” He screamed back. He heard her let out a yelp and their attention refocused on the commotion in the sky. 

“NOAH DON’T ITS NOT WORTH IT.” he hated seeing her in so much distress. He was either going to shoot someone or puke. Or both.

“YES IT FUCKING IS. HE’S DEAD. FUCKING DEAD.” 

“WHO’S DEAD?” Lizzie screamed up causing him to jump. 

“ROGER” The two of them screamed down in unison. 

“YOU KILLED HIM THEN?” Alfie shouted and Tommy wondered how on earth his life decisions put him in such a ridiculous situation. 

“NOT YET” Noah called down. Tommy hated the boy, more than anything. But watching his daughter's hands hold on to the edge and the conviction in his eyes to keep her away from the Roger boy, he had to say it was something he thought only himself capable of at that age. 

The boy climbed into the car causing it to lurch. Tommy instinctively moved forward as if he could somehow catch her. Once the car steadied he didn't need to be there to know what was happening. 

The car moved to the top taking them out of view. 

__________________________________________________

Noah didn't waste any time. His fist mashed against Roger's face what felt like a hundred times. It was quick and the other boy didn't stand a chance. You looked at his hands, red knuckles split open, the way his arms looked with his sleeves rolled up. How he was out of breath, the fact that he did all of that for the worry that a boy might harm you. 

The violence was a part of life in the peaky blinders, and while it was still alarming to you, you knew that if anyone in your family had found out about it later, a story much the same as the one unfolding before you would have been written just the same. 

Same story, but this did something much different to you. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Not because you were at the top of a stupid Ferris Wheel, but because he was just so unbelievably hot. 

It was over in seconds and he looked at you causing your heart to stop.

“Fuck” he breathed pushing the hair from his face. “You alright?!” he moved to kneel in front of you, his hands running over you. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” 

You could only sort of hear him as your eyes focused in on his mouth. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close to you slotting your lips together.

You felt his hands grip onto you tightly, causing you to moan. You were happy to be out of view from the congregation of angry parents. Suddenly your mind was filled with all the sorts of things you needed from him, things you’d have to find a way to ask for. He broke the kiss as you realized the ride was coming back down. He sat down next to you, and quickly fixed your top and adjusted the pendant on your necklace. You were grateful that his mind was still functioning, you were in shock that people could make each other feel such things. 

Never in your life had you seen people kiss like that, you didn't know that’s what people felt when they looked at each other. Suddenly you wondered how anyone managed to get anything done. Why get out of bed when you could feel like this? 

________________________________________________________________________

“She’s going to be the death of him,” Alfie whispered. 

“If he - fuck - I swear -” Tommy was too upset to form words. 

“I know. He won’t” Alfie answered back and there was an honesty in his eyes that he trusted. 

“I’d destroy you.” Lizzie put her hand on his arm in warning.

“I know.” 

Tommy gave him a curt nod in response. Then they set in on getting the crowd to disperse. 

“RIDE CLOSED BY ORDER OF THE PEAKY BLINDERS” Arthur called out firing his gun in the air. It wasn't what Tommy would have done, drawing even more attention to the messy situation but once that pink car was down he was grateful everyone had fucked off. 

He assessed the situation carefully, his daughter looked fine, flushed, but okay. His arm was around her and that seemed to be where her focus was. The boy had an impressive red hand, hanging off of her shoulder. 

Once the door was open, he knew exactly who this Roger was, and his father was going to - 

“Drive by tomorrow morning at the paper shop?” Alfie said reading his mind. 

“Bit extreme isn't it? Surely we should go for something more personal?” Lizzie said casually. 

“I’ll call you later,” Tommy answered. He didn’t have to speak or move. She spoke to the boy with a look of affection and then ran to his side immediately. A look of apology was written on her face. 

“We’ll deal with this,” Alfie told him, before giving Noah a look of pride. He would thank him for it later. He put his arm around her and the family all moved out in a unit piling into black cars. 

__________________________________________________

Everyone had gone home, except Polly insisted on staying over. In some ways, you were grateful as your parents were in the study arguing. There was a knock at the door and Polly poked her head in. 

“Oh what’s that face for, got a boy who’s willing to fight for ya.” She gave you a soft smile.

“I feel terrible. I don’t know if he will forgive me.” Tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Noah? Hardly your fault -” 

“Dad.” You corrected her. He couldn't even look at you, the car ride home was spent in silence. He’d shut himself into the study as soon as he got home. After Lizzie knew you were alright she went in after him and they’d been shouting since. Polly snorted.

“Don’t ever worry about Thomas. He worries about himself.” Polly said with an edge to her voice you didn’t like. You watched her face as she thought about it for a moment. “He loves us all the best way he knows how. He’s done things - that none of us should have forgiven him for. But we do because we are family. The same kindness will be shown to you.” She lit a cigarette as if it would chase the unwanted feelings away. “Not that you fucked up at all. You chose to not cause a public scene thinking he would probably just try to chat you up. But that’s the problem with these boys. They think the whole world is being handed to them from their fathers, so they can take as they please.” 

You thought about what she was saying, hoping that it didn’t apply to Noah. 

“Can I bring him over for tea? I want someone to meet him.” You wanted some advice or approval. Bringing him to Polly would be the least stressful, but if Lizzie found out she’d be hurt, Esme would also be pissed. You sighed. 

“Think he’s got you beat love.” You followed where her eyes were focused and saw him climbing up over the balcony railing fighting with the flowing green vines. 

“I’ll leave you two alone then.” She winked at you with a smile. “I’ll try to keep an eye out for your dad” She got up and left you making you feel a whole wave of nerves. You went over to the glass door and opened it. 

“Shit did your aunt see me?” 

“Yeah, she knows. Said she’d give us a bit of space.” You hoped that he wasn’t going to hurt you, that conversation with Polly was definitely unfinished, but she wouldn’t have left you with him if she wasn’t sure that it was alright. 

“Will you be in trouble?” He brushed the foliage off of his clothes giving you a look of concern that erased all of your worries. 

“She said she’d keep an eye for dad.” You shrugged and smiled at him. 

You motioned for him to come in and watched as he looked over your room. Its structure was fit for a princess but it was covered in pictures and postcards from family members as they traveled. Scarves and charms hung from the ceiling, most of them made at Polly’s house. A large brown stuffed bear beside your pillow that Tommy had gotten you for your first Christmas together, a charm that may include one of his stolen cufflinks, and one of Lizzie’s earrings hug directly above your bed watching over you. Most people said it looked like a jungle, but Polly assured you it was a temple worth being proud of. 

“It’s a bit much but erm” 

“It’s great.” He smile at you, and all you could think about was throwing yourself at him. What would you do after kissing? What had he done before you? Your stomach twisted unsure of what his expectations were of you. 

“I called, before I could get a word in he told me to fuck off, then hung up the phone. Wanted to make sure you were alright after everything.” You blushed in embarrassment and also resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Sorry-” 

“It’s alright.” He stopped you before you could start apologizing. You pulled him down to sit on the bed and the two of you started talking about what happened, how his dad handled it, and what you were going to do about the parents. 

He was very considerate, trying to take on the bulk of the responsibility, always checking in for what you wanted from the situation. The more you talked the more you leaned into him. The more you settled against his shoulder the heavier your eyes got. 

__________________________________________________

Polly listened outside the door, for safety of course. Boys were unpredictable in the sense that they were very predictable. After watching the boys in this family cause unspeakable damage she was going to be sure that boy treated her right. 

Listening to his offer to come over tomorrow morning to talk to Tommy, and offering her every possibility under the sun to make things easier on her. He even suggested taking the whole family out for dinner. She responded kindly saying she’d ask her mother what was best. Then he started asking what she wanted out of a relationship with him. 

Polly’s heart gave a painful twitch, it was entirely too personal a conversation to be listening to, but curiosity kept her glued to the spot. There was an innocence that was only possible from young love, but they were handling it much better than she ever did. Talking about all sorts of things rather than running into trouble and heartbreak. After it got very quiet - she risked poking her head in to see them both passed out. She wished she could get a photo, just to keep stashed away. 

Shutting the door, she moved down the stairs to see if Thomas was done shouting his heart out. Putting her ear against the door she could just make out what they were saying.

“If anything happens to her it’s my fault. It’s always my fault.” His voice was thick with a heavy sadness she didn't think him capable of expressing. 

“Leaving her there would have been a life worse than death, I’ve walked both paths, this one is a million times better,” Lizze assured him quietly. 

“Promise me I haven't ruined her life?” He was just above begging, but not by much. Her heart went out to that little boy that wasn't too much younger than her. Sweeter than ever, determined to be better than his father. Realizations set in about him that took him in a different light. 

“Promise,” Lizzie said softly. Polly remembered the way they used to talk to each other and wondered how a mouthy teenager accomplished what saints couldn't. 

“And what if he knocks her up then?” An edge of panic in his voice confirmed that he was indeed thawed out to something close to the man he was before all the madness.

“He’d be no better than you,” Lizzie responded sharply, and Polly hoped they wouldn't start at it again.

“I’m sorry.” He choked on the words. “For all of it, for John, Grace, for Ruby. All of it was me, and I -” He was cut off and a whole commotion of passionate sounds erupted. 

They were going to seek peace in each other in the best way they knew how. Polly moved back upstairs and settled into her room, keeping the door open for any problems. Pouring herself a whiskey she wondered if ever there would be a man for her. Picking up her book she hoped it would keep her own loneliness at bay. 

She stayed up making sure to wake the two of them up to say goodbye before Tommy woke up. The boy awkwardly apologising and stumbling over his thank yous. After he was out the balcony her attention set in on the girl.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“Ah, what are Aunties for eh?” She smiled. “Tea or are we having a lie-in?” 

“Tea,” she said brightly. “We have lots to talk about.” 

Going down to the kitchens, Polly was not surprised to find the contents of Tommy’s office in shambles.

“What happened?!” 

Polly only gave her a look and laughed at the disgusted look her face twisted into. “I think it's best we let them sleep in.” 

______________________________________

More might be planned…. Any Ideas?  

Tags List: @kpopgirlbtssvt

#Peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy shelby #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby x lizzie shelby #Thomas Shelby x Lizze Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Lizzie Stark #Lizzie Stark #Lizzie Shelby #Polly gray #Alfie Solomons #Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons #Noah Solomons

[pettytiredandjewish]

Not once have I ever seen you disprove any meaningful claim someone has brought up against you 💀💀💀

Y’all you must be high or something. I like how every time I defend Israeli citizens (because they are not their f-ing government- they are also victims of this war. Not just Palestinians. They are also victims too, just not the only ones) or call out any antisemitism that I see via anonymous ask ( I get a lot- some I even delete) I get hate messages.

It’s kinda funny that anons love to troll through jewish blogs and send them hate. Especially ones that defend Israel/ or both Israel and Palestine/ or just antisemitism. Funny I was gonna make a post about this since it’s something that I’ve noticed while scrolling through tumblr. If someone defends Israel (or even just the citizens-cuz remember folks they aren’t their government), of defends both Palestine and Israel- pro Palestine people, some anti Zionist people and full raging nazies (aka the fools cuz that’s what y’all are. Fools.) really loves to send hateful comments and messages to those blogs.

It’s really messed up when these fools also comments and messages blogs who’s post have nothing to do with I/P conflict. A Jew could just be sharing something good that is happening in their life or something and they automatically get attacked by fools. And don’t get me started on the pro Palestine protests. Y’all think it’s really ok to swarm around synagogues, hospitals, campus buildings and spew hate to those who literally have nothing to do with the i/p conflict. Congratulations fools you have now reached a level of stupidity that i have never seen before- and I’ve seen a lot of stupidity before.

Y’all must be bored or have so much time on your hands. So let me explain this to you all (again) on your level so that you and others hopefully understand. Hope y’all have your listening ears on and ready. And remember boys/girls/and non binary folks think before you speak. If you have any questions or comments-write them down and make sure that it isn’t something stupid. And yes I’m treating all of y’all fools like little kids (only little kids are more behaved then y’all, which is sad and funny). Let’s begin!

-Israel is not an apartheid state (Israel and Palestine have their own forms of government and own set of rules. Palestine has been under hamas control since the early 2000s. Hamas is the reason why Palestine citizens are living and dealing with shity situations. Also during this war, Israel has been giving Palestine citizens a heads up/warning on when they go on the attack and that they need to either evacuate the area or get to a safe area. One of the many reasons why so many have sadly lost their lives is because Hamas. Hamas have been telling their citizens to ignore the warnings, or directs them to “safety areas” that are under attack. Hamas doesn’t care about Palestine or their citizens. Nor do they care for Israel or Jews. I’ll touch on this more in a bit.) nor are they colonizers (you can’t be a colonizer if you have ties/connections/history to the land. Which they did before getting forcibly kicked out.) Remember the British had control of that region after the Ottoman Empire. There was no Palestine official state. That whole area was considered a British mandated state until the state of Israel and Palestine was formed. Also take note that any formation of a state or country is gonna be really messy and controversial. It’s part of history.

-did you know that Israel is the only jewish nation. Out of all the bloody countries- only one is a Jewish nation. A lot of Jews left their home countries for Israel because they were not wanted by their home country. It was either stay and be killed or leave to start a new life in a country that will open their arms for their jewish siblings. Europe kicked out a lot of their jewish citizens. A lot of Middle Eastern countries did the same too. A lot of lives were lost during this horrible time period. Those who didn’t go to Israel went to the United States hoping that they would be accepted with open arms. That did not happen. A lot of jewish families had to hide their identity and change their last names (because getting a job/home/etc was very difficult if you didn’t have an American sounding name). My great grandparents left Germany a little before ww1 due to the rise of antisemitism. When they got to the states they had to hide the fact that they were Jewish for their own safety. It’s been kept hush ever since. Which is really messed up. No one should have to hide their Jewishness but yet here we are…

- like I’ve mentioned before Hamas doesn’t care about its own people. If they did care about Palestine then they wouldn’t be withholding food/water/other essentials that was delivered for the people during the war. Nor would they be using their people as human shields. It’s really messed up. If y’all really cared about Palestine and their citizens why aren’t you guys disgusted by what Hamas is doing to its own people??? Hamas are willing sending their citizens to places where they know will get targeted and killed but yet you all are blaming Israel who has been sending warnings to Palestine citizens. Hamas is a terrorist organization. Not a freedom fighter group. They care for no one but themselves. Like any extremist group- they want control and power over the people. They don’t care if lives are lost.

I (and others) are allowed to defend Israeli citizens. They have done nothing to deserve what’s been happening to them. It’s really f-ed up if you think that they deserve to be kidnapped, r****, tortured and killed. Hamas is still holding 100s of hostages and are torturing them like it’s a sick game. Why do y’all think Israel is still fighting Hamas? They are trying to bring home the hostages and to bring down Hamas. Are people not allowed to care about the hostages? Are they not allowed to mourn the loss of their loved ones that were killed on and after 10/7? Are we not allowed to raise awareness about people spreading misinformation and Hamas propaganda? Or talk about the rise of antisemitism? Like what the hell!? We get called heartless or monsters if we care for Israel too. Let me make this clear- I mourn the lives that were lost on both sides ( except for Hamas. Those bastards can burn for all I care.)

y’all think we all should only mourn and care for Palestine. But guess what? I care for both! But I’m a heartless bitch for showing more care for Israeli citizens and wanting to provide a safe place and lend an ear to those who lost loved ones during this horrible situation. I’m a monster for calling out antisemitism and calling out people who are spreading misinformation and Hamas propaganda. Well guess what? I don’t care. You can call me what you want but I know what I am. I have a heart and I care for those where we’re killed during this war (and other wars too) May all of their memories be a blessing (except for Hamas). I also care enough to tell people to stop spreading misinformation and Hamas propaganda because it’s causing more harm than good. But g-d forbid if I do that. Y’all fools start throwing a hissy fit.

If y’all don’t like what I said- so be it. I don’t care anymore. I’m not your “good Jew”. I will continue to call out this shit and provide a safe space for those who needs it. That doesn’t make me a heartless bitch or monster. If you think otherwise then you should check yourself.

Am Yisrael Chai! ✡️

#jumblr #antisemitism #am yisrael chai #i/p conflict #jewish and proud #i’m so tired #and done #I’m not your good jew #hamas is isis