ellemaru - Tumblr blog

[ellemaru]

Whistle while you work

Synopsis - sometimes all a little lass needs is to just holler the lyrics of an angry female-empowering country music, but a certain beloved Scot just can’t help but be worried he screwed up

cw: swearing, medical and military workplace inaccuracies, playful language, suggestive content, heavy flirting, slight miscommunication trope(this hurts me more than this hurts you believe me), nicknames, use of Scottish and southern(Georgia/texas) accent that some readers may find corny or displeasurable

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x southern!medic!reader

Author’s note: I know I said I was busy but I heard “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood come on the radio and it’s been an ear worm that sticking to my brain like flies on a horse. But once again I’m here to remind you that I’m taking southern notes from Georgia and Texas because I was raised in one and I visit family quite often in the other. I am completely open to constructive criticism but if you have nothing nice to say then you just scroll past it costs you absolutely nothing to mind your business. Italicized is singing btw.

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Soap had begun to have a routine with you. He could often come visit you after shift hours or you would come along on missions and be his first pit stop at base. It was a beautiful little arrangement that the F1F begun to adore. You were the warm fire to warm their cold hearts or the blazing hearth to whip them into shape if they got rowdy. So it was a little jarring to him when he strolled into your clinic and heard an angry drawl.

“Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp. And she’s probably gettin’ frisky.”

Your voice had him weak at the knees but there was something off in your pitch. A grit, an anger, a frustration. He suddenly began retracing his steps, trying to find a failure placed upon his behalf.

“Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'Cause she can't shoot whiskey.”

“Bonnie?” the man called out to you, his reaction was controlled but his heart thumped against his chest trying to break out. When you didn’t respond he decided to stay by the doors out of your vision to figure out what was the issue, studying you.

“Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick. Showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know”

Your hips began to sway against the rising tune and even in your scrubs, there was a clear muscle memory when it came to the rhythm of the song. Soap quickly exited and left to go to the common room to find the rest of the F1F playing poker

“There’s loverboy, we were wondering how long it would take for you and-“

“Firstly, she’s my friend Capt’n you know that. Secondly, Somethin’s a mattah with Bonnie.” Soap cut Price off quickly not caring for niceties.

“why because she’s running a little late?” Gaz spoke while checking his turn. It was comical how they knew you by your nicknames from Soap rather than your god given name.

“Aye ‘nd she’s singin’ this song of ‘ers and it’s got me all worried. I mean I know that I’ve been a wee bit busy lately but I’ve made sure to make me rounds and when I came to her place she was swinging hips and I ken to know when somethin’s a mattah with me Bonnie-“ Simon’s head turned to his friend with interest as Gaz cut the rambling man short.

“Calm down mate. We cannot understand you when you go back to the ancestral plane with that tongue of yours” Gaz spoke. Price waved him off to let the Scott breathe.

“She’s up tae high doh.” Soap rushed out, his brows knit together trying to piece together what could’ve happened.

“In English, lad” Price spoke up. However somebody came to his rescue.

“The phrase is meant to be used to describe when somebody is pent up, flustered. It’s a Scottish saying.” Ghost answered with a deep baritone. Everyone was surprised but secretly noted the phrase for whenever they had to go solo with the Mohawk man.

“So go talk to her” Price responded to Soap with a look that said he was ordering, then he offered a small gift of liquid courage

Soap refused the drink and made his way back over to the infirmary. His brain scrambling to find an answer.

“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats”

Your belted notes rung through the doors and hit his ears. He vowed he would find out the issue and fix it just so he wouldn’t have to hear the pain in your voice. He came around the corner as you stood in front of a table, organizing your different surgery and procedural tools. He spotted the AirPod beneath your trucker hat (since wearing a traditional cowboy hat was too distracting in the work place even during the quiet shifts. )

“I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires-“

Soap swallowed all his worry as he grabbed an AirPod out and spoke but you beat him to the punch.

“Who in all of god givens creation just ordered a free fuckin’- Oh sweetheart Johnny it’s you.” Your fire calmed just as quick as it kindled.

“hey lassie I was getting worried about you” Soap said. His heart and maybe something else throbbed at your honey tone. One day he’d finally act upon those feelings but today he needed to worry about something else. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“Are you saying I’m throwin’ a hissy fit?”

“Noo jist haud on there Lassie. I jist was-“

“Heavens to Betsy! You do think I’m havin’ a hissy fit, why you oughta know that I was the best little-“

As you two went on back and forth, the distance between your bodies got smaller and smaller. Two wide eyed grins plastered across your face. He cut you off with a smirk

“Oh I’m sure you were the.. how do you say it again? Oh right” Johnny leaned in closer and his voice dropped, “the best little girl this side of the Mississippi. Ain’t that right, hen?”

“I know damn well you did not just call me a hen from a damn barn house-“ you went to speak again but got cut off as your throat hitched, soap’s mouth just by your ear and his tone got unrealistically deeper and more dominant. A careful hand grazing your hip.

“Shut yer pus for a moment, hen. Tell me what’s a matter. What’s got you so up tae high doh.” The male spoke.

You were silent for once. All the cogs in your brain just stopped. Everything was quiet, if you had perfect hearing you could hear Johnny’s poor heart banging to get out of his chest in anxiety from him boldly caressing your waist.

“Aww come on lassie, need me to buy a wrench for that brain of yours”

“I misplaced my sewing needle. Well I did or one of the stupid nurses did but I can’t find it and I won’t find it till the cows come home” you huffed.

“The one from your nana?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“No need for the ‘tude. May I look?”

“Sure. It’s no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond” you said softly as he gently moved you aside to look at the table below. His trained eye spotting a glint on the ground. He reached over to pick it up and show it to you.

“Bless your heart! Good god Johnny, oh my sweet I could kiss you!” You cried out with the biggest grin. You leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek. His stubble gently scratching your soft, plump lips. His cheeks barely flushed as his smirk transformed into a smile and a small chuckle left his throat. He took a moment to memorize the feeling of your lips for later.

If that’s all it took to make his little Bonnie proud. He’d search every haystack for your needle in a heartbeat. You were his everything, he’d wait until the right moment to tell you. Especially when he was pretty sure the rest of the team was right around the corner listening to them. He’ll confront them later, for now he wants to stay in this moment with you. Watching his sweet hen, praising him. Grinning as she danced around with the needle he found, and even maybe hid.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Slang translations

Noo jist haud on - Now just hold on there

Heavens to Betsy - southern expression of surprise

Hen- a woman (Scottish term of endearment)

Bonnie - a beautiful woman, Scottish term of endearment typically paired with Bonnie lass

Lass/Lassie- beautiful woman, term of endearment

Shut yer pus - Scottish way of saying hush up, not literally referring to genitalia

Does a bear shit in the woods - kinda like a sarcastic response of “duh.” Whenever you’re asked a question. Hard concept to explain but I hope it’s not just me who got this from their southern mama

no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond - comparison of size

Author’s note: AAAAAAAA I DID IT. I wrote my first fic. Oh my god. I’m so tired but I hope everyone loves this as much as I did. Please go listen to the song as well. It’s “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood

General Taglist (comment to be added) : @glossythor @banana-beans-police

also thank you for the support for the series: @fruitsa1ad

Banner credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more 

[ellemaru]

Don't forget about the Palestinians.

Don't forget about them now.

Don't forget about them tomorrow.

Don't forget about them in a week from now.

Don't forget about them in a month.

Don't forget them next year.

Don't forget them in 5 years.

When the history books start to update, don't let them put lies in there.

When documentaries come out, boycott the ones who call this a victory for Israel.

When books release talking about soldier's personal experiences with Palestine, remember the victims. Remember the truth.

Don't forget about what we've seen.

Don't forget about what we've heard.

Don't let them tell lies about Palestine.

Don't forget about the Palestinians when the world tries to make this go away.

[ellemaru]

Don't forget about the Palestinians.

Don't forget about them now.

Don't forget about them tomorrow.

Don't forget about them in a week from now.

Don't forget about them in a month.

Don't forget them next year.

Don't forget them in 5 years.

When the history books start to update, don't let them put lies in there.

When documentaries come out, boycott the ones who call this a victory for Israel.

When books release talking about soldier's personal experiences with Palestine, remember the victims. Remember the truth.

Don't forget about what we've seen.

Don't forget about what we've heard.

Don't let them tell lies about Palestine.

Don't forget about the Palestinians when the world tries to make this go away.

[ellemaru]

The thing is... Israel admitted to this from the very beginning.

They said the confessions were obtained through 'interrogation' in the Shin Bet aka torture (Shin Bet is where they like to torture Palestinian prisoners for intel) so every country that cut funding to the UNRWA knew from the beginning that Israel was using false forced statements.

The famine in Gaza is partly due to this. Never forget that.

[ellemaru]

Oakland, California

[ellemaru]

🍉Data sources under the cut🍉

[ellemaru]

One of the things that pisses me off most about this genocide and overall occupation is how many people say it's so complicated and there's so much nuance and there isn't one easy solution. This is one of the simplest things I have ever seen. Zionists invaded palestine in 1947-48. They have occupied it for 76 years while taking more and more land. They kidnap and torture and massacre Palestinians day in day out for those 76 years. They control every aspect of Palestinian life, including their water and medical care. And now they are committing another genocide against them. Where is the complication? What is hard to understand? "Well, Jewish people need a place where they won't be discriminated against" I absolutely agree. So make every country in the world safe for Jewish people. Fight against anti Semitism across the world. Don't commit a genocide and set up an ethnostate.

[ellemaru]

I need Simon Riley who realizes just how much he loves you when he has a night terror.

He shoots out of bed with a shout, quickly looking to your side just to see it empty. His heart quickens even faster, images of your dead body, blood pouring out of your mouth and ears, eyes frantic before they still and glaze over. Remembering the scream he lets out as he shakes you, begging you.

"Please, please don't fuckin leave, love. God, not you. Please, you promised!"

He's having a panic attack and before he even processes it, he's running to the bathroom. Throwing him head into the toilet bowl, puking everything up as if his entire body is rejecting the very possibility of you no longer being there. He can't stop the tears ripping out of him and his fast, suffocating breaths stinging his throat as if the vomit isn't even there.

He doesn't even register your hand on his back, your panicked calling out to him.

"Baby? Baby what's wrong? Please talk to me" You beg, brushing his hair back, trying to hold onto him.

His wide, tear filled eyes meet yours and he throws himself into your arms, holding onto you like a lifeline. His crying doesn't stop, the intense emotions still overwhelming his senses.

"God please never leave me. I swear to god I'll be the best for you. I'll keep you safe, nothin's gonna happen to you" He swear as if he'd be your own guardian angel.

"Baby what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You pet his hair, beginning to realize what's happening.

"I can't lose you, I can't. Not you. Please, I can't." He cries into your shirt, trying to calm down but he feels genuine fear that he doesn't feel outside the battlefield. You hold him as his breathing slows down, exhaustion overtaking him. You settle against the wall, fingers combing through his hair as you both fall asleep. Safe to say he doesn't have anymore nightmares that night.

(Friendly reminder that traumatized men aren't always fully numb and military men can have feelings !!)

[ellemaru]

a man self immolated in front of the israeli embassy in washington dc yesterday. not just any man. an active member of the us air force. he live streamed his death, and said that he refused to be complicit in a genocide any longer. he said that compared to what palestinians were facing every day, setting himself alight was nothing.

let me reiterate. an active duty air force member burned himself alive because he was so disgusted by what the us government was openly supporting. he live-streamed his own suicide, so the whole world could bear witness as a man in his military uniform set himself on fire to protest his government’s complicity in the horrors that we have all been forced to watch happen in real time. he became a new horror. footage of the immolation blurs him out the moment the fire catches, but you can hear him. it is over in seconds, really, but you can hear him screaming. he shouts “free palestine” until his body physically cannot make any sounds other than guttural screams of agony. and then he falls silent. a police officer arrives and points a gun at his still burning body, shouting at him to get down on the ground. and it is over.

his name was Aaron Bushnell. he was twenty five years old. and he isn’t here anymore because the political ruling class has decided that genocide is perfectly fine as long as it preserves imperialism. in the coming days, people will try to discredit him. to say that he was mentally unstable. they will try to bury his actions to save face and defend israel’s propaganda. do not let them. aaron knew what he was doing. he knew what he was doing when he put on his military uniform, set up his twitch stream, and made his final walk up to the embassy. he knew what would happen to him when he flicked that lighter. do not let them forget. aaron’s blood is on the hands of the political ruling class.

[ellemaru]

Portrait practice💕

[ellemaru]

"I Like Your Bike"

Biker!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: On your way back to the hotel with friends, a shiny black motorcycle that belongs to a mysterious serviceman catches your attention.

Word Count: 1,289 Cw | Mentions of alcohol and intoxication

A/N: The character is implied to be black, but you can imagine them however you like !

Drunken laughter mingled with the sounds of other chatter on the bustling street as you walked with your 2 girlfriends and talked with each other, recapping your first day in Manchester, England, and the first out of many stops on the two-month-long trip in Europe. Your heels had become uncomfortable long ago, making you ever so grateful that you had been smart enough to think to bring a pair of flats along as you indulged in Manchester’s nightlife. The group had barhopped and chatted with strangers all night, getting the full Manchester experience as everyone explored the city and took in the views.

As the group neared their hotel, something shiny appeared in the corner of your eye, causing you to slow down your walking speed, the swinging heels in your hand slowing down as your strides did. Your brown eyes narrowed slightly as you tried to make out what the thing was, struggling due to the fact that it was night and you were nearsighted. As you tapped your friend’s shoulder and began to walk toward the unknown object, your eyes adjusted slightly, realizing it was a motorcycle, one of the nice, slick, black ones.

You mindlessly began to run your hand along the smooth and shiny exterior of the motorcycle until a voice popped you out of the trance.

“Mate, you can’t just touch random people's bikes,” 

When you looked up, you were met with a brick wall in the form of a man. He stood around 6’3 and was obviously jacked based on the way his compression shirt hugged his pectoral muscles and biceps. His bright hazel eyes practically had you hooked already, was it the alcohol, or were they that pretty? No one knows, but you did know that this guy was HOT.

“Uhhh, I um,” you giggled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before remembering that 

You are NOT Debby Ryan and you are NOT on Radio Rebel

You forgot to lay the lace down again by your ear when you installed your wig earlier

The man cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at you, the action slightly concealed by the black balaclava he wore that had a skull print on it, an interesting choice considering the heat.

“Are you not hot in that mask?”

“Did you not notice your friends aren’t here anymore?” he replied with a teasing tone. 

When you turn around, you see that your friends have indeed left you with the mysterious man and continued on to their hotel.

“Lass, I think you need some better friends,” he let out a quick chuckle, like…the personification of haha.

“Your laugh is funny,” you giggle as you lean in closer to him, looking at the metal tags that hang around his neck. 

“Simon Riley,” you read his name slowly as you looked up, tilting your head to the side slightly, wondering if it was actually his name or if he was wearing a deceased relative's dog tags. He nodded as he looked back down at the smaller woman. They sat in silence for several awkward moments before you decided to break the silence.

“I like your bike,”

“Thanks,” annnnd it was back to silence again

“You don’t talk much,”

“Not much to talk about with a random drunk lass I’ve met,”

“Fair point…What kind of bike is that?” that question was all you needed to get Simon’s attention.

That one question led to a whole conversation as he explained the ins and outs of his bike which was apparently a Yamaha R1 but other than that, he was fluent in yapping. The only thing you were focused on was his deep voice, thick British accent, and the way his compression shirt hugged all the right places on his torso. It seemed he didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes, mainly due to the fact that you had drunk way too much earlier. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked you as he leaned against his bike.

The first thing that ran through your mind was “What kind of ride”.

“Huh?”

“I asked do you want to ride my motorcycle with me, like, do you want to be my backpack?” he asked again, giving his signature, stereotypical haha laugh.

“Oh uhh sure! I mean um that sounds like fun or whatever,” when you caught yourself seeming too eager, you changed up the way you phrased your sentence quickly.

When he turned around to give you a jacket and a helmet, he patted his pockets like he always does when he’s missing something before groaning from annoyance and pinching the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand.

“Well, I unfortunately don’t have an extra jacket or helmet on me right now so it seems we won’t be doing any riding today, but we could always do it another time I guess, dunno,” he mumbled the last part, “How long will you be here in Manchester?” he inquired, wondering how much time he would have before you would leave the city and the country

“I think we’re going to be here for at least another week,” you shrug as you see him frantically pull out his phone, almost dropping it once before he hands it to you, the contact screen open. Once you two exchange numbers, silence falls upon the two of you again.

“I could walk you back to your hotel if you would like, I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at night, especially as a tourist. Plus my mom would kill me if she found out I didn’t offer,” he laughs as he holds out his arm towards you.

“That would be nice,” you smile as you hook your arm in his, your brown skin contrasting with his pale one. He quickly unhooks his arm to place his leather jacket over your shoulders before linking arms again and heading on your way to the hotel. During the walk back, the two of you got to know each other, learning about interests and current status in life along with cracking jokes and just breaking the ice. It was about a 15-minute walk back to the hotel and once the two of you got back, you sighed, a little sad that your time together was already over for the day.

“We’re here. Thank you for walking me back to my hotel again, it was really sweet of you to do this because you really didn’t have to,”

“Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t offer?” he snapped a flower from a nearby plant and handed it to you, “a pretty flower for the pretty lass,” he winked as you took it.

“Ugh, you Brits are such charmers, I’m quite sad to say that it worked too,” you both laughed for a few moments as he unlinked your arms.

“You free tomorrow at 19:00?”

“I’m so glad I understand military time, and yes I am,”

“Alright lass, I’ll be here in the lobby then, make sure you’re on time,” he gently takes your hand in his gloved one and kisses it through his balaclava. He gives one more wink before he turns on the heels of his combat boots and strides confidently out of the hotel. You stood there, absolutely shocked at what occurred before you realized you still had on his leather jacket. You ran outside to find him and tell him he had forgotten his jacket, but by that time, he had already disappeared into the cool Summer night. At least that meant you were guaranteed to see him tomorrow because there was no way he would just forget the nice leather jacket.

[ellemaru]

Simon "Ghost" Riley General Headcanons

A/N: This is just headcanons that have popped up in my head or whatever but I'm trying my best to keep it lore accurate/based off of lore. There will be some mentions of abuse, mental health, substance abuse (alcohol and drugs) and body dysmorphia due to how his character is.

General Appearance:

Starting with appearances, I think he's 6'2-6'4 and weighs 200-230 lbs (189-195 cm and 90-104 kgs).

He has prominent muscles, but they aren't Arnold Schwarzenegger huge but still large enough to the point that most people are impressed.

He has short, blondish hair where in the winter, it darkens to a light sandy brown if he doesn't go outside.

He had more of a fair and cool undertone but after spending time in the Middle East he darkened up slightly.

Everyone he knows always debates whether his eyes are green, grey or hazel but he personally thinks they are hazel with a light blue on the edges.

His nose is slightly hooked but is also kind of crooked from the front due to it being broken a gazillion times.

General Personality:

As proven previously with the "Alone" mission, Simon is a pretty funny guy.

I feel like there's a common misconception about him that he's super serious and cold and has no emotion but that's FAAAAAALSE.

When he's not on duty I'm a firm believer he acts sassy with the others to be funny.

He obviously knows that there's a time and place for everything but he also knows when a joke or sarcastic comment is needed to lighten the mood up.

I feel like his enhanced ability to read the room kind of stems from him having to always observe and walk on eggshells with his dad in the past.

Like if he misread his mood he could've potentially gotten hurt, leading to Mama Riley defending him causing her to get hurt too but that's for another post.

Back to the humor I feel like a lot of times he's just unintentionally funny like he'll say something, and because of his delivery people laugh and he just sits there confused like "???? I didn't make a joke"

100% a workaholic with no work-life balance because who needs that when your job is your life!

Once the guy starts working, he ain't gonna stop until he says so.

Super observant, he notices the fine details so if you think you can cut corners around him? You're mistaken.

Simon is moody af but that's definitely heightened by his kinda crappy mental health.

General Family:

He hates his dad.

Did I mention he hates his father?

For sure a mama's boy but not in an "I was my son's first girlfriend" kind of way.

He looks up to his mom like crazy and still has an emotional attachment to her from when he was young due to his father being emotionally, physically, and mentally abusive to him.

Anytime he comes back from a mission, has a rough day, or just needs advice on a decision or life he ALWAYS calls Mama Riley.

She's literally his rock because he sees her as someone who is steadfast and strong who goes based on the facts and how she takes things for face value, similar to Simon. I think this also gave Simon an admiration of single mothers and women in general since he grew up with more of a perspective from his mother than his father.

He loves Tommy to bits and pieces, and they were hands down partners in crime back in their teenage years before Simon enlisted.

If you go around Manchester, you can still see some of their graffiti tags on different things.

When Tommy became a drug addict, Simon was there for him from day 1 till he finally got clean.

A/N: This isn't much but if y'all want more I can work on another that's more detailed! Requests are always open so leave some suggestions on things you want to see!

[ellemaru]

//mw3 spoilers

He’s fine, what do you mean? He’s just in recovery

(And I’m still in denial)

[ellemaru]

When a character’s death is so traumatic you just sit there like

[ellemaru]

The impact Spiderverse has on art and artists is INSANE. Everyone is drawing, everyone is CREATING. From colour studies, to the art style studies, to making sona influenced by the movies' character designs. AI generated images are nowhere to be seen, and I hope they're going to stay buried in the uncreative pits they belong in... the world is in balance.

Seeing all the works are... WOW

[ellemaru]

[ellemaru]