#Manchester Outrages

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1867 – The Escape that Sparked the Manchester Martyrs | Thomas Kelly and Timothy Deasy are rescued in a Fenian attack on a police van in Manchester during which a police sergeant is shot dead.

The Manchester Martyrs – William Philip Allen, Michael Larkin, and Michael O’Brien – were members of the Irish Republican Brotherhood, an organisation dedicated to ending British rule in Ireland. They were executed for the murder of a police officer in Manchester, England, in 1867, during an incident that became known as the Manchester Outrages. The trio were members of a group of 30–40 Fenians…

[moonstruckme]

the sleepy remus drabble was everything but what about sleepy james x reader just cuddling on the couch with remus and sirius teasing them omfgg

Thanks for requesting lovely! I realized halfway through writing this that I wasn't sure if you meant rem and sirius were there platonically or not, but I hope this is alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

Even when you hear the voices, you pretend you don’t, too comfortable on the plush cushion of James’ hoodie. Opening your eyes isn’t worth the effort. 

“Is this what they do when we’re not home?” Sirius’ voice is low and ripe with faux outrage.

James hushes him, so he’s awake apparently. His thumb moves over your tummy, big hand tucked into the warmth between your sweatshirt and your bare skin. “You’ll wake her,” he says, voice still sticky with sleep.

“She ought to be awake, it’s five in the afternoon!” 

Remus’ voice is softer, skeptical. “I don’t see how either of you expect to sleep through the night if you nap like this during the day.”

“We manage,” James yawns. 

You hear Sirius huff. If the muscles in your face were more active you think you’d smile. “I thought we were going to Marlene’s thing tonight,” he complains. 

“Still planning on it.” James’ palm splays over your middle, warm and safe. “We’re resting up.” 

“This is how you prepare for Friday nights now? Fuck, we must be getting old.” 

You whine at his volume, nuzzling your face into James’ chest. 

“Oh, so she is awake. What, sweet thing, you don’t feel like saying hi?” 

This time James coos at your protesting sound. His hand slips from beneath your sweatshirt to wrap around your shoulders, shielding you from your pestering boyfriend. 

“Oh, let’s have a bit of sympathy,” Remus says, sounding amused, “she’s had a long, hard day of napping. She deserves a bit of rest.” 

You want to remind him it’s your day off, but speaking feels like giving into wakefulness, and that is something you are not inclined to do. Instead, you try to wriggle beneath the blanket halfway up James’ torso, curling in on yourself like a roly poly. He helps you out, pulling it up to cover your head and draping an arm over your balled-up form. 

“It’s her day off,” he says, your hero. “Why shouldn’t she get to rest?” 

“That’s fair enough,” Remus allows, “but why were you sleeping?”

James hesitates. “Well, I didn’t have anything to do after training and she…she lured me in.” 

It’s true. James after rugby training is like Remus after he spends all day reading; he’s all worn out and pliable, and you’d practically only had to open your arms for him to fall right into them and then a cuddle on the couch had turned into a two-hour nap. Terribly unfortunate. Certainly not your plan all along. 

You decide it’s your turn to protect James from the others, wriggling up on his chest and covering his head with the blanket. You see his smile through half-lidded eyes, and outside of your little cave, Remus chuckles. 

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” 

“I think we should get in bed and have a cuddle they’re not invited to,” says Sirius. “See how they like it.” 

“I’m not sure we can leave them in good conscience.” The sound of Remus' smile makes you smile, your cheek smushing into James’ chest. “She’s just taken Jamie. If we let her go on like this, she’ll have them both sleeping ‘til tomorrow.” 

That actually sounds rather appealing. 

“They’re jealous of us,” James whispers. You hum your agreement, and he kisses the crown of your head. 

“We could go to all their favorite things,” Sirius proposes. “Make them remember the benefits of leaving the couch.” 

“Like what? Watch sports?” 

“And eat pastries. She loves a sweet.” 

“Mm, yeah. I could fancy a sweet.” 

“From the shop on sixth? They should still be open, yeah?” 

“Stay strong, angel,” James whispers. “Don’t let them break you.” 

“They ought to be. Oh, and the pub down that way will be showing the Manchester match tonight. We could stop and see that.” 

“Sick and twisted!” James throws the blanket off, uncovering you in the process. “You never watch football with me.” 

“I have,” Remus hedges, “that one time.” 

“Last year! And you were reading your book on the other side of the pillow!” 

He turns sheepish. “Didn’t realize you’d noticed that.” 

“But now you’re going to watch it just to spite me?” 

“No,” Sirius admits. “We were never going to watch football, Jamie, sorry.” James deflates, and you squeeze him tight around the middle in a show of solidarity. 

“But we can go by the bakery on our way to Marlene’s thing,” Remus says, adding when you perk up, “if we leave soon enough. They make those danishes you like on Fridays, don’t they?” 

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice croaky and hopeful. 

“That���s me, babe,” Sirius teases, “and I’m down to stop by, but only if I get what I’m owed.” At your blank look, he raises a dark brow. “My welcome home kiss?” 

Oh. “You’re gonna have to come down here,” you mumble. He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but obliges you, bending at the waist to take your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours firmly. He does the same to James once you’re done, straightening with a satisfied look on his face. 

“Appeased?” Remus asks placidly. 

“Yes,” Sirius answers, “the evening may now continue. Up, you two. We’ve got places to be.” 

[barcaatthemoon]

flustered || ona batlle x reader ||

patri decides that she's over you trying to avoid ona when you come back to barcelona.

you hated the circumstances of your return to barcelona. you had spent so much time in london that you had almost forgotten that it was just a loan. your contract was nearly up, and you'd spend the last season of it back in barcelona, where you no longer felt like there was anything for you. it seemed like the team had completely replaced you, including ona.

your attempts at staying in london were futile. they didn't have the budget the keep you there for another season, not when barcelona had made an outrageous demand for money. jona wouldn't play you, so you didn't understand why they were so insistent on you coming back. still, you returned to spain and tried to get back into your old routine.

training was fairly easy for you. the exercises were different, but you went the same amount of days as you had in london. in your spare time, you went to the gym every single day. it was rare for you to stay in your apartment by yourself. occasionally, you let loose with the team on a bonding night, but never for too long.

it was silly, but you had a hard time being around ona and lucy. not a lot of the girls knew how you felt, but the ones who did left you alone. you had followed ona to england, but ended up staying for nearly two years longer than she did. something had happened up there, and it killed some of the girls not to know what it was.

truthfully, it hadn't been anything nearly as serious as you were making it out to be. you and ona had been friends, best friends at that. there had been seedlings of unfriendly feelings between the two of you, ones that didn't get better with the bit of distance between manchester and london. if anything, they only seemed to get worse for you. you couldn't be around ona without becoming a flustered mess.

it didn't help that when your eyes had met, she'd blush and look away as well. some might have taken that as a sign that she liked you back, but all it did was make you nervous. ona could have been a sure thing for you, but you were terrified of the idea that she liked you back. for some reason, you had convinced yourself that it was easier to pine over ona than to actually be happy with her.

"okay, enough of this!" patri shouted as she clapped her hands together. everybody looked over at her, and subsequently you as well. the two of you had been working out together. for the longest time, ona had been your gym partner at barcelona, and while patri was happy to do it, she couldn't stand watching you look longingly at ona from across the gym.

"patri, what are you doing?" you hissed as she dragged you over to where ona and lucy were running.

"both of you, start talking, now!" patri wasn't usually so forceful with you, and you weren't sure what to do except for obey. you hated that she knew how easily you'd submit with a little force, something you would never forgive leila for telling her. "come on now, i don't have all day."

"patri, please," you pleaded with her. unfortunately for you, the woman didn't relent. she only pushed you even closer to ona, who just barely managed to catch you. up close, you could see how flushed she was, and it didn't look like it was just coming from the workout. "ona, are you okay? you look a little…"

"i'm fine!" ona was quick to shout out at you. both of you winced at the sudden increase of volume.

"god, i can't watch this anymore," lucy muttered. she walked away, patri joining her as the two of them complained about you and ona. the look on your face was nothing short of confused. you could have sworn that lucy was dating ona, and the woman wouldn't have just left the two of you like that if it really was the case.

"a-aren't you going to go with lucy? it's not very nice of her to just leave you here. i'd never do that to my girlfriend," you said. ona's mouth opened and closed as the pieces clicked into place.

she had been so confused about why you were being distant. at first, she had chalked it down to you missing your arsenal teammates. however, as the season went on, she noticed how things were almost back to normal. the exception of you being distant with her had ona's mind absolutely spinning. she couldn't remember there being any tension whenever the two of you had last seen each other. if anything, you'd been a bit more affectionate at the last national camp.

"lucy is not my girlfriend. she thought you were at first," ona admitted. "then she thought it was either jana or patri. neither one of them are yours, right?"

"ona, i haven't had a girlfriend in nearly two years. not because i'm like a freak or anything, it's just hard for me sometimes. there was someone i did like at arsenal, but it didn't seem fair…" you trailed off, glad that you had stopped yourself before you said anything too embarrassing.

"fair?" ona asked you.

"it's not fair to be with someone if you love someone else," you said quietly. ona gently cradled your face in her hands as the two of you stood in the corner of the gym. "i went all the way to england to stay close to you."

"i didn't want to assume at first. and then, well, you never said anything. you just kind of got quiet, so i thought you were mad at me." both of you felt like idiots as the pieces fell into place around you.

"you were making me nervous. i couldn't say anything without mixing up my words. i didn't want to embarrass myself or say the wrong thing," you told her.

"you could never," ona reassured you. "can i kiss you?"

"take me on a date first," you laughed. ona sighed and nodded. she began to turn away from you, but you grabbed her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "patri was my ride, so maybe coffee after practice?"

"you can come see my new coffee machine. the girls are all very impressed by it, even alexia," ona said proudly. you liked the sound of that, unsurprised that ona planned to take you back to her place. she knew that you were a homebody, and a familiar place would make you feel most comfortable.

[pitchsidestories]

Loving her is red (Referee's Version) II Lauren Hemp x Reader

mancity women masterlist I word count: 1718

After the draw against Chelsea most of the Manchester City teammates decided to go to their favourite bar and get a little drunk. Especially the two English players who got a red card in the game were on their best way to be a bit more than slightly drunk. The last one who joined them was Leila Ouahabi who got two yellow cards in their first WSL game this season in London, playing against Westham. Slightly worried she looked at the younger forward:” Hempito, how many shots did you already have?” Afterwards she waved at her other teammates with a bright smile on her face: Hola chicas!”

With a teasing smile on her lips Alex explained to the Spanish defender:“ Lauren’s trying to get to 81 because that’s the minute she got her red card.” “Don’t remind me of that, Al!”, the younger blonde whined. The Manchester City captain kept joking:“ I only have to get to 38 shots at least.” “You’re not serious, chicas! That’s loco!” “No shit, Leila. They’re obviously not.”, Chloe Kelly interjected giggling. Red faced Leila apologized: “Sorry, I don’t always get your British sense of humour.” “You’ll get used to it.”, Laura Coombs reassured her with a soft smile. Confidently Ellie Roebuck nodded, while hugging the brunette from behind: “Definitely.”

Meanwhile Alex handed her a couple of full glasses: “Here, those drinks are for you. For getting a red last week.” “Gracias.”, the dark-haired woman mumbled. A bright grin appeared on the blonde’s face: “De nada.”

“Drink!”, Lauren shouted into the Spanish defender’s ear.  A loud laugh escaped her mouth before starting to taste her first drink of the night:“Okay, alright.” “Good!”, the younger forward replied, clearly satisfied.  Her reaction made Leila laugh even harder:” She gets bossy when she drinks.”  “Drink your drink.”

“Hempo. Leave her alone.”, Alex rolled her eyes as she cut through that conversation. “Fine.”, Lauren sighed. To the brunette their skipper said:” Don’t worry, it’s just the red card.” “Is it? Where’s Hempitos girlfriend?”, Leila asked empathetically, instinctively feeling that Lauren could need her love right now after such an awful match with a terrible result for her.

With a sympathetic smile Chloe answered: “Working.” “Still?”, Leila glanced surprised at her teammates. “She called after the game to talk to Hempo and we said we’d go out for a few drinks first.”, Laura added. “Oh okay.” Smiling the older woman tried to put her at ease: “She’ll pick her up later.”

Alex addressed the round of football players excitedly; “More drinks anyone?“ “Yes!“, Lauren nodded violently. “And apart from Hempo?“, the blonde defender laughed. “Me too.“, Filippa Angeldal joined in, while Ellie yelled; “Esme and me too!“ Esme Morgan sat next to their goalkeeper with reddened cheeks; “Exactly.“

While Alex ordered them more drinks, Chloes face darkened; “Guys?“ Khiara Keating, the youngest the group, looked up from her phone; “Huh?“ “Where’s Hempo? Her seat’s empty. Did anyone see her leave?“, the striker asked with her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Esme turned around in her seat, looking for her team mate; “Lauren? Where are you?“ Leila did the same on the other side of their table, even getting up from her chair; “Hempito?“

As a slight nervousness spread among the football players, Lauren jumped out from under the table with a loud; “Boo!“ The mischievous smile on her face let everyone know that she was incredibly proud of herself. “Don’t scare us like that!“, Alanna Kennedy scolded her, but still shook her head in amusement. Lauren could barely contain her laughter; “You should have seen your faces!“ Annoyed, Chloe rolled her eyes; “That was not funny!“ “Yes, it was.“, Lauren kept giggling.

Several drinks later, Ellie took one look at Lauren slumped down in her chair and announced; “I think it’s time for Hempo to leave.“ Outraged she immediately sat up; “What do you mean?!“ “I’m calling her girlfriend.“, Alex decided. With glassy eyes, Lauren pleaded; “Oh come on. Don’t be boring.“ But she was slurring her words enough to make even Alex who had her fair share of drinks shake her head.

You were only mildly surprise when your girlfriends teammate called. You knew you were supposed to pick Lauren up but you were expecting her to call you herself. “Alex?“ “Hey. I think your girlfriend had enough. Will you come pick her up?“, she explained more loudly than necessary. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there soon.“, you nodded and ended the call. You just came home from work, so you were still in your shoes and jacket. All that was left to do was grab the keys and walk over to the bar.

Luckily the way was not that far, and it did not take you too long to find the celebrating football players in the room. “Hi girls. Come on time to leave Lauren.”, you chirmed. Happy about the fact that the women did not seem to be that sad about the loss anymore. Determined your girlfriend shook her head:”Nooo.” “Do you need help with her?”, Ellie offered in a friendly tone. Politely you replied: “No, I think we’ll be fine.” “Wait.”, Laura interjected, a warm smile on her lips. “What?”, you looked confused at her. Slightly out of breath Chloe explained: “Here. Coombsy made me run across the street to the chip shop to bring you some food you can eat at home.” “Oh, thank you, Chloe. This is really thoughtful of you.”, you told them moved by their gesture.

Smirking Leila observed: “She will need it.” “I think so too.”, you admitted while making sure that Lauren was ready to go and did not left any of her belongings at the bar. Quickly Laura hugged you and her younger teammate who got red carded earlier: “Good night, you two.” “Night, everyone.”, you waved at them.

Amused Chloe shouted: “Good luck getting her home.” “Thanks, I’ll need it.”, you answered laughing before turning to your girlfriend, let’s go love.” “Ugh fine.”, Lauren groaned, obviously not too excited about being one of the earliest to leave the team party.

After some fresh air on the way to your appartement you mumbled relieved:” We’re home.” “Finally. Can’t wait for my bed.”, the blonde yawned. Suddenly she felt the tension which the forward felt all day escaping her body as she was taking the first step into your appartement.

Her physical reaction did not go unnoticed by you:” That game has been a lot, right? Sorry, I couldn’t be there because of work.” “I know that. Actually.. I’m glad you didn’t come. The game was just overall shit.”, Lauren confessed. Still, you felt a little guilty for not coming to the football match: “I could’ve been there for you.”

As you two had been childhood sweethearts long before you had a name for what you two felt for eachother you tried to come to every home game your girlfriend had, and it did not matter the weather. But as you two became young adults sometimes work forbid the tradition you held dearly.

“No, you couldn’t. I was on the pitch.”, the forward reminded you softly.  A sad smile appeared on your face as you kissed her forehead: “You’re right but I can be here for you now.” “It’s cool. Really. Proud of the girls for taking the point home. We could’ve lost 0:5.”, the blond muttered.

“Your team is really incredible.“, you nodded, thinking not only of the game but also of the familiar atmosphere at the bar a few minutes ago. Lauren let herself fall back onto your bed while kicking her shoes off; “They are. I love them.“ “I can tell.“, you replied slightly moved and changed into your Pyjamas.

Your girlfriend watched you from the bed; “Do you know what else I like?“ “Our bed?“, you laughed. Lauren smiled back at you; “That too!“ “And you?“, you prompted her to go on. „Bananas!“, she finally revealed happily. Surprised you paused and raised an eyebrow; “Are you hungry? I could get you one.“ “No, we still have the food the others gave us.“, she reminded you and then seemed to remember what she actually wanted to say; “Did you know that there are over 1.000 types of bananas?“ “Uhm, no. But that’s really interesting.“, you answered politely as you slipped into bed with her.

Excitedly, Lauren nodded; “I know, right?“ “What made you think of bananas?“ Your girlfriend snorted; “They’re yellow. Like the cards I’ve gotten. Doesn’t make sense that yellow plus yellow makes red.“ “No, it does not.“, you agreed, feeling sad for her because that topic was still so present in her mind. “I mean why red? That’s so aggressive.“, she kept going. Carefully, you put a hand in her hair; “You can’t stop thinking about it, huh?“ “No.“, she admitted. Her eyes were wet again and her lower lip trembled.

“Come here.“ You pulled her towards you, gently stroking her face. Laurens tears never came. She just swallowed hard; “It’s stupid, I know. We all know the ref made a lot of bad decisions today. But it still feels like I did something bad.“ “You did nothing wrong, love.“, you assured her. “I still won’t get to play the next few games.“ “I know…“ Sighing, Lauren sat up again; “I want some chips. You too?“ “Yes.“ She got out of bed to go into the kitchen where you put down the food. With the paper bag in hand, your girlfriend wanted to know: “Can we eat in bed?“ “Sure.“ Lauren cozied back up in bed with you and you two ate in silence.

The greasy food seemed to help with the alcohol. “Do you feel better?“, you wanted to know from your girlfriend. Shoving more chips into her mouth, she nodded; “Yes. They’re so good.“ “Agreed.“ “I guess I just needed some food.“, Lauren shrugged, grinning. You quietly laughed; “Seems like it.“ “So good.“, your girlfriend mumbled before laying down and closing your eyes.

You gently cleared the bed from the trash, pulled the blanket over Laurens body and kissed her forehead; “Sleep well, Lauren.“ It was quiet for a while when the football player suddenly said; “Hey?“ “Hm?“, you answered, now sleepy yourself. “Love you.“ A smile appeared on your face because your girlfriend finally sounded content; “I love you too.“

Sorry this is not our best work but we hope you still enjoy this one. 🩵

[counterpunches]

source

[transcript: [slide 1]

we are treated differently and we are so tired

[slide 2] From day one, we were treated differently: the celebrations

Hamas is an internationally-recognized terrorist organization that is explicit in its aim to annihilate Israel and the Jewish people in its very foundational charter. On October 7, 2023, thousands of Hamas terrorists invaded internationally-recognized sovereign Israeli territory and slaughtered 1,200 people in a matter of hours, the majority of them civilians. They went door to door, pulling people from their beds, maiming, mutilating, beheading, raping, and burning entire families alive. About 80 of the corpses showed signs of torture. They also took over 200 people hostage, including Holocaust survivors and a 9-month-old. It was the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust. Israel is a small country; had October 7 happened in the US, it would be the equivalent of individually slaughtering 50,000 Americans in a matter of hours.

Instead of expressing outrage, there were worldwide celebrations. In the West Bank, Gaza, and elsewhere in the Arab world, candy was handed out on the streets in celebration. In Gaza, thousands gathered to cheer as terrorists paraded mutilated corpses. A group of 3000 United Nations teachers expressed their joy at the murder and mutilation of Israelis, including young children. All over left-wing social media, people celebrated.

On October 8, before any Israeli retaliation whatsoever, crowds of thousands gathered in Times Square to express their support for the murderers, holding signs that declared "decolonization is not a metaphor" and "by any means necessary".

Fringe extremists exist, but this was hardly the fringe. And we know this is not a normal reaction. We did not see entire protests in Times Square in support of the Russian slaughter of Ukranians, 9/11, the ISIS genocide of Yazidis, the slaughter of Yemenis, the slaughter of Syrians, or any other atrocity.

[slide 3] From Day one, we were treated differently: the contextualization and qualification

Secretary General of the United Nations Anthony Guterres' initial response to the October 7 massacre was the following: "It is important to also recognize the attacks by Hamas did not happen in a vacuum."

First, let me make one thing clear: there is no context, in international law or anywhere else, that justifies or minimizes the slaughter, torture, and rape of civilians, including women, children, those with disabilities, and the elderly.

But beyond that, there is a glaring double standard when Israel is the victim of a massacre. Let's take a look at another example of terrorism as a guideline. When ISIS bombed an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, England on May 22, 2017, killing 22, Secretary General Guterres immediately "strongly condemned" the attack, and the Security Council released a statement, condemning "in the strongest terms the barbaric and cowardly terrorist attack" and extending its solidarity to the United Kingdom. No one said the attack had to be understood "in the context" of the UKs invasion of Iraq, the war against ISIS, or the UKs long history of colonialism in the region, and no one said that it did not happen in a vacuum.

Similarly, on October 7, millions of people rushed to social media to provide "context" for the cold-blooded, purposeful, and indiscriminate murder of civilians. Others, before their "condemnation" felt the need to clarify that they were not supporters of the Israeli government (okay, and?), when they've otherwise strongly condemned atrocities perpetrated on others, without feeling the need to qualify support (or lack thereof) for any other country's government.

[slide 4] From day one, we were treated differently: the victim blaming

On October 7, as the massacre was still unfolding, 31 Harvard University organizations released a statement holding Israel "entirely responsible" for the slaughter of its own citizens. I reiterate: as Israelis were still being slaughtered by the hundreds simply for being Jewish - or for being associated with Jews - we were told that our own slaughter was our fault.

They were not the only ones to do so. Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Syria, Iran, and Iraq blamed Israel for the October 7 slaughter. Black Lives Matter Chicago blamed Israel for the October 7 slaughter. Labor unions across the US blamed Israel for the October 7 slaughter. The list goes on.

After the Israeli newspaper Haaretz published an article in which one anonymous police officer said that the police is looking into the possibility that some of the victims of the Nova music festival were killed by fire from an IDF military chopper, antisemites took the statement out of context, distorted it, and disseminated it all over the media and internet.

In response to the Haaretz article, the Israeli police put out a statement that the investigation was only in regard to police activities on October 7, not military activities, and that as such, they do not have any indication about the harm to any civilians due to any aerial activity there."

Regardless, the conspiracy has taken a life of its own, so much so that Palestinian Authority president Mahmoud Abbas accused Israel of carrying out the massacre. Abbas later retracted his statement. A few other unverified reports have also similarly taken out of context to "prove" that Israel was actually behind its own massacre.

To this day, we are told, in response to released hostage testimony that Israeli women are being raped in the Hamas tunnels, that it's justified because "they were soldiers." For what it's worth, no one's rape is justified - even when they're soldiers.

[slide 5] A few days later came the denial

The 10/7 massacre was live-streamed by the perpetrators on their own social media platforms.

Initially, antisemites celebrated. After more and more heinous, indefensible details started to come out, antisemites started denying it happened at all.

To reiterate: the massacre was live-streamed to social media - by the perpetrators. We all saw it in the early hours of October 7. The perpetrators have gone on to boast about it since. For example, on January 10, the leader of the Hamas political bureau, Ismail Haniyeh, said, "We should hold on to the victory that took place on October 7 and build upon it."

The level of denial - just a few days after October 7 - is so pervasive that Israel had to compile a 47-minute film of footage with the most graphic, dehumanizing video evidence to screen for international reporters, government officials, and more.

But no amount of evidence seems to be enough. No independent investigators are enough. No video footage is enough. No survivor or eyewitness testimony is enough. Why are people denying what's before their very eyes? Why?

[slide 6] Then the one-sided demands.

From October 7, there were already demands on Israel - on Israel, as its civilians were massacred - to ceasefire. These demands came from important voices, including American Congresspeople, groups such as UNICEF, and more. These calls made little, if any, mention of Hamas, the perpetrator of the October 7 massacre.

No other country would be asked, as a slaughter of their people was still unfolding, to lay down their arms.

Since then, the calls for Israel - and only Israel - to ceasefire have been incessant. They have continued even as Hamas vowed, on October 24, that "there will be a second, a third, a fourth" October 7. When asked to clarify, in the same interview, whether they meant the complete annihilation of Israel, the senior Hamas official responded, "Yes, of course."

The calls for Israel to ceasefire continued as Yaha Sinwar, the architect of the October 7 massacre, promised on November 30 that "October 7 was just a rehearsal."

The calls for Israel to ceasefire continued as Hamas violated the terms of the temporary ceasefire every single day between November 24 and December 1.

The calls for Israel to ceasefire as Hamas has fired over 13,000 missiles at Israeli civilians. Even more infuriating, the calls for a ceasefire are often made hand in hand with calls to "globalize the Intifada." An intifada is an armed uprising; it's incompatible with a ceasefire.

The calls for Israel to ceasefire have continued as Hamas has rejected several ceasefires in the past several weeks. At this point, those calling for a ceasefire should be honest: what they care is that Israel ceases, but they are not particularly bothered (or even support) when Hamas fires.

[slide 7] The genocide accusations

There are 153 countries that have signed the Convention of 1948. Before this January, only two had ever been brought to trial before the International Court of Justice. Of the signatories, a number of them have been accused of genocidal acts after signing the Convention, including Azerbaijan, China, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ethiopia, Palestine, Sudan, Syria, and more.

Only Israel, however, is put on trial, which is all the more egregious when we consider that the events post-October 7 are in response to a massacre of Israelis that Genocide Watch classified as "an act of genocide."

What's even more egregious is that South Africa, which has brought this case before the ICJ, maintains close relationships with genocidal dictators, including Russia's Vladimir Putin and Sudan's Omar al-Bashir. It is a close ally of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Hamas' patron, which has been brutally oppressing the people of Iran since 1979. South Africa even hosted Hamas officials for a "solidarity" event in December 2023 - two months after the October 7 massacre.

Per the Hamas Ministry of Health, 23,000 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza; Israel claims at least 9,000 of them are Hamas combatants. While any civilian death is tragic, there are far deadlier wars and atrocities happening around the globe right at this very second. In Yemen, nearly 400,000 have been killed and a million have died in a famine. In Syria, over 600,000 have been killed. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, 6 million have been killed. In Ukraine, at least 100,000 have been killed. The list goes on and on. In many of these cases, the perpetrators of the atrocities - some of them South Africa's closest allies - have explicitly expressed genocidal intent. Yet South Africa hasn't found it necessary to bring them before the International Court of Justice. Only the Jewish state.

[slide 8] Feminist advocates are suddenly silent - or worse, accuse us of lying

Perhaps among the most infuriating responses to the October 7 massacre has been the response of so-called feminists and feminist organizations.

On October 7, and every day since, Hamas weaponized rape as a tool of war, which is not only a war crime, but a crime against humanity. There is a preponderance of evidence, including extensive forensic evidence, eyewitness testimony, perpetrator confessions, and survivor testimony.

Yet the Women's March has not condemned Hamas' weaponization of rape as a tool of war; instead, it has only called for a ceasefire. Me Too has not condemned Hamas' weaponization as a tool of war. UN Women did not condemn Hamas' massacre until December 2, nearly two months after October 7, after intense public pressure from Israelis and the Jewish community.

Angelina Jolie, perhaps the most vocal global activist against the weaponization of rape as a tool of war, has said absolutely nothing about Hamas' war crimes; instead, she has asked Israel to ceasefire.

[slide 9] Double standard: legitimacy

Israel is condemned more than any other nation in the world, but the double standard doesn't end there. Israel's real or perceived crimes are blown out of proportion in comparison to other countries' real or perceived crimes, but the double standard doesn't end there. Israel's suffering is minimized, contextualized, denied, or qualified in comparison to the suffering of other countries, but the double standard doesn't end there. Instead, there is another double standard: everything coming out of Hamas' mouth is immediately taken as fact, while everything that comes out of Israel is questioned.

This is not merely a matter of "feeling" like there is a double standard.

On October 17, an explosion went off at the Al Ahli Hospital parking lot. Within minutes, Hamas claimed that an Israeli airstrike had targeted the hospital, killing 471 people. Israel claimed that a Palestinian Islamic Jihad missile misfired and hit the hospital. But the BBC ran with Hamas' story. This triggered worldwide outrage, inciting anti-Jewish riots in the Arab world and in Russia. Eventually, most international independent investigations corroborated Israel's version of events. But by the time the media retracted its original claim - that is, what Hamas said - it was too late. Two Jews had already been killed in Tunisia in retaliation for a massacre that Israel never actually committed.

Then there is the issue of the hostage videos. Hostage videos are hostage videos because they are made under duress. The hostage is told what to say; otherwise, their life is in danger. Hamas, of course, has coerced the Israeli hostages into saying that they are being treated well. These statements, made with a gun to the head, have been taken as fact, so much so that prominent figures such as Shaun King have gushed over Hamas' so-called "humane" treatment of the hostages (that they brutally abducted after murdering their entire families and friends before their eyes).

Yet, now that over a hundred hostages have been released, and they are no longer under threat from Hamas, they are coming out with stories of abuse and torture. Suddenly, no one believes these accounts, claiming that Israel must have told them what to say. It's absolutely absurd and defies all logic.

[slide 10] support my work

venmo: @rootsmetals cash app: $rootsmetals paypal: @debbie@rootsmetals.com

complete bibliography for this post: patreon.com/rootsmetals

disclaimer: the intent of this post is to educate, raise awareness, and challenge hate speech]

[updownlately]

make me yours my love (cause you’re nobody to me, yet somebody to me)

| alessia russo x reader | fluff (tooth-rotting fluff) | 4.5k | a/n: heard a song from another language, got obsessed with it, translated it to english, and wrote a fic. ended up losing the plot half way through and bs-ed the rest over the course of a week. anyways, i hate it, here you go.

~~~

You had never thought you’d leave North America. It was where you grew up. Where you’d had your best and worst times. It was home.

And when you had moved to Seattle from Vancouver to join the OL Reign, you thought that playing in the NWSL would be your greatest achievement, never expecting anything outrageous to occur, never daring to entertain the idea that you would ever venture any farther away from home. Thus, you clearly didn’t account for your hard work to actually pay off and for you to attract the attention of European clubs with the likes of Manchester City, Aston Villa, or Manchester United.

Even with your hesitance on leaving the continent, you had accepted United's offer almost as soon as it had come through, only waiting to double check with Sue and Megan on what their thoughts were. Of course the two women you saw as parental figures had freaked out on your behalf. They didn’t need to say it verbally but with the way they supported you as you virtually signed the contract and got ready to move showed you how incredibly proud they were of you for not only continuing to rise to a higher level in your career, but for pushing yourself out of your comfort zone.

But when the offer to extend your single year contract into a three year came, however, it wasn’t Sue, Megan, or anyone else back home who played a role in your decision. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly as some of the training staff would say, it was your United teammates that unknowingly convinced you to stay.

In the single year you had spent with them, they had welcomed you with open arms, taking you in as one of their own. 

Zelem and Mary had become your unofficial team moms, making sure you never got into too much trouble whilst Tooney, Millie, Leah, and the other girls had practically become your sisters. And of course, you had Alessia. Sweet, clumsy, back heel queen Alessia had become one of your closest friends in the new city, her being one of the only few people your introverted self had felt fully comfortable around.

You never understood why or how you were able to so quickly feel so relaxed around the tall girl, you typically being quite shy and reserved with new people, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

Moving countries, much less continents, was never easy, but with Alessia beside you since day one, it had never been too difficult.

Since the day that you had awkwardly waved hi to the United girls and attended your first official WSL practice, Alessia hadn’t left your side once. In fact, within the first few weeks of you being in England, the rest of the girls had established that wherever Alessia was, you were and vice versa, one rarely being found without the other.

Through the homesickness, loneliness, anxiety, and at one point, even depression, she had been there next to you. Be it picking you up and dropping you off from practice, bringing over home cooked meals, or tours around the city, she’d been your rock as you struggled but finally adjusted to being alone again. 

And when city tours turned into trying new restaurants together and her dropping off home cooked meals led to bi-weekly movie nights with Alessia’s heavenly dinners or take out, you both never acknowledged how much you cared for each other. Really though, you didn’t have to. A blind person could feel the love that you both radiated for each other.

It was spoken through the way Alessia had become less clumsy over the months, with you now there to catch her. To pull her aside before she could crash into a defensive training dummy. To ensure that her laces were tied and she was aware every time the ground was raised or there was a kerb to watch out for.

Alessia told you she cared when she’d hold you tightly against her chest, after every hard game, practice, or just day. The height difference between your 5’3'' and her 5’9'' was near comical but neither of you minded. If anything, in your opinion, it just made the hugs better since you could bury your face in her neck and block out the world for a few minutes. If Alessia minded, she surely didn’t say a word to you. You didn’t know it but if Alessia was completely honest to herself, she truly loved when you’d hug her. She absolutely adored the way you’d hide your face as you’d hug her, you standing on your tiptoes to comfortably rest your head in the crook of her neck, letting only her see you break, trusting her so easily, warming her heart each time.

You’d whisper the depths of your care when you’d let her lean on you during your movie nights, carding your fingers through her hair when you knew she was on the brink of sleep. In the way you’d slowly manoeuvre both yourself and her into a more comfortable position, her often ending up curled up on top of you, not that you minded at all, welcoming her warmth. How you’d ignore the inevitable stiff neck you would always wake up with since you’d always watch movies in the living room. In your eyes, the pain was always going to be worth seeing the blonde hugging you tightly whilst she slept on your chest.

The star striker would whisper her care ever so softly, staying on call with you during the nights where you missed Seattle a bit too much. When she’d bring you your favourite coffee the next morning, knowing that you’d be tired from your mind running the night before. When she’d drive you to practise, putting on your favourite playlists for the fatigue ridden ride, without you so much as having to ask, her knowing you almost as well as she knew herself.

You both had eventually become so close that even Tooney joked that she should move out and retire from being Alessia's best friend now that you were here for the title. You had simply laughed in response, knowing that at the end of the day, at the end of the month, at the end of the season, even though she was just your teammate at United, she was also simply your favourite person in Manchester (and possibly England, and maybe, just maybe, even in the whole world).

You weren’t someone to really believe in love, having had to witness almost every romantic relationship around you crash and burn, save for Binoe (bless them). So when Alessia clumsily toppled into your life, you didn’t expect that she’d make a home in the cracks of your broken heart. You didn’t expect for her to line the streets of your heart with cosy buildings of every delightful colour known to mankind. You didn’t expect for your heart to flutter like a butterfly each time she was near, the euphoria of having her close nearly causing your feet to grow wings, placing you on cloud nine.

She had your heart and you had no idea when she had taken or how she had taken it, but she had. The way her eyes would crinkle as she laughed had wrapped its threads around your soul. The way she’d have to lean down to hug most of her teammates, you included, and she’d never complain, doing so without being asked, restored your faith in the world. The way her smile would rival the warmth and brightness of the morning sun on your worst days had you smiling softly by yourself as you couldn’t help but stare at her, the only star that you would gladly let damage your eyesight.

While to everyone else she was just your teammate and friend, to you she was so much more. She wasn’t yours but she was something to you, somebody to you, and you hoped to god that you’d never lose her.

It’s funny looking back at when you first realised you were in love with the blonde. It had taken you almost half a year to register that you wanted more than a friendly relationship with her. You remember the exact moment so vividly, having replayed it over and over again in your mind as you lay on your bed, gently begging whatever higher deity existed to make your dreams a reality.

You both, as well as the rest of the team, had just finished a gruelling late training session and Alessia had somehow managed to convince you to let her come around so both of you could make pasta from scratch. You were unbearably tired, not having slept well the night before and the request to postpone the plan was on the tip of your tongue. However, you had made the mistake of looking up from your training bag and right into the bright blue eyes of the taller girl just as you were about to say no, and instead, you (embarrassingly easily, might you add) were persuaded to do nothing but hum in agreement to Alessia’s request.

So once she had picked up the necessary ingredients whilst you waited, trying and failing to nap in the car, and you both had made it to your flat, she had begun flitting around your kitchen, already at home in your house.

You were sitting on the counter, banned from helping due to your tiredness, contentedly watching the partially-Italian woman as she stirred the pasta sauce she had made, that the thought of this scene being ever-present for the rest of your life had briefly crossed your mind. However, you had waved it off at that time, blaming the exhaustion in your bones for your delusional feelings. It had worked and you had forgotten about your yearning for a few seconds, until Alessia had switched the stove off, turned to you, and had taken in your drowsy appearance.

Wordlessly, she had bridged the gap of a few feet between you and gently pulled you towards the edge of the island, pushing apart your legs and bringing her arms to gently wrap around your midsection. It was as she slotted herself perfectly in the space she had created, nudging your head to rest comfortably in the crook of her neck, that you inhaled a deep sigh and let yourself relax, sinking into the hug. As your mind finally began to slow down, the circles Alessia was rubbing on your back calming you quickly, the whole situation hit you.

Here you were, in the arms of your best friend, after she had just finished cooking you dinner, and was holding you so gently, reading you like a book, providing you with the comfort you needed to finally rest. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that Alessia was currently peak girlfriend material - hell even possibly wifey material. Tired and relaxed, this time when the thought of being the only one who Alessia would treat so perfectly like this for the rest of her life came across your heart, you let it warm you, indulging in the loveliness of being cared for.

You had known then, that the blonde irrevocably had your heart, and you were helpless to do anything about it. You were nothing but putty in her hands, your fate lying in hers.

From that point on, you had made it your goal to love Alessia the best you could, regardless of whether she loved you back or not.

As days and months went on, you two got even closer, if that was even possible. If you had thought that both of you were close before, the present put the past to incredulous shame. Your morning routine now definitively consisted of picking up Alessia before morning training and other team events and driving the proud ‘passenger princess’, as you liked to call her, to grab breakfast and head to practice, Tooney joining you two once in a blue moon. Bi-weekly movie nights had become weekly occurrences, and her dropping off home cooked meals turned into you both cooking together in your tiny kitchen most nights.

Telling Alessia you had extended your contract had been one of your favourite moments of the postseason. With her due to play for United another two years too (totally not a deciding factor in your renewal at all), the idea of her getting to spend the remainder of her contract playing not only with Tooney, Mary, and many of the other close friends she’d made, but with you as well excited her unfathomably. The blonde hadn’t stopped smiling for a week straight, and you had a feeling that if she had gone even a single day longer than she had, her face would’ve frozen with her blinding smile stuck permanently.

You knew then, you were a goner for her, for that smile, for the comfort she gave you, her hugs that healed you. You knew you’d give her all of you without taking anything in return, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either. You’d give her the world if she asked, all it would take for you to do so is her saying the words, no qualms on your end. You knew that be it as a friend or a lover, you wanted to be the cause of her smiles, her laughs at everything stupid, and the reason her eyes would sparkle with joy. You knew that you wanted her, you just didn’t know she wanted you too.

So caught up in your own head, in your own yearning for the taller girl, you never noticed the longing stares or the blush that would coat her cheeks each time you were near. You never questioned why she’d hug you significantly longer than anyone else, even Tooney or her own mother. You completely, almost idiotically obliviously missed the way she’d go out of her way to make you comfortable, how she had made it her priority as much as you had made it to ensure that her smile would stay.

The two of you danced around each other for months without knowing, two threads dangling from the sky, tangling so effortlessly, yet making no move to separate. You two were bound together unknowingly, without a title, without it being something, without a label. You both were each other's nobody’s, the “no-one special”, yet both of you were silently craving to be each other’s somebody. All you needed really was for the other to make you theirs, the pair of you too scared to accidentally overstep and risk losing the other completely.

At the end, it only took the two of you just over a year and a half before the two of you made any move towards dating. 

It was a chilly mid February day. You had gotten injured that morning, hurting your ankle quite severely and Alessia had so graciously offered to crash with you for a few nights to help you out. You had once again, familiarly, found yourself situated by your island, slumped on the counter, painkillers from the hospital coursing you through your veins, as Alessia cooked for you.

While the sight had become more common to you over the past handful of months, it never got old. The way she’d (for once) gracefully move around, opening your cabinets and rummaging through your pantry and fridge with familiarity and ease, in her element, swaying gently to yours and hers shared playlist you had playing on your speaker. The way her hair was tied back yet a few strands always seemed to spill through, framing her face perfectly. How the heat from the stoves had her cheeks tinted, ever so slightly strawberry red. How absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous she looked bathed in the soft golden lighting of your house, a house that turned into a home whenever she was there.

This time, instead of shying away from watching her as you usually would, you let yourself indulge, eyes tracing the way her arms would flex as she chopped the necessary ingredients, as she used the bench scraper to toss everything into the sizzling pan. You admired the way your old oversized hoodie fit her absolutely perfectly, your last name sitting prettily on her back, as if that sweatshirt was meant to be hers.

You’d been so caught up in your unabashed staring that you didn’t realise Alessia had turned to face you, ladle in hand, the other on her hip, a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” she teased.

“Definitely did. Something about dinner and it being ready?” You jested, hoping that your obvious guess was at least somewhat close.

“You’re lucky you’re attractive, and half a decent defender…otherwise I wouldn’t be cooking for you y’know.” The way Alessia smirked as your cheeks heated up told you that the striker knew exactly what she was doing, winking at you before laughing and turning around. “Anyways, like I was saying, the doc said you’re probably going to feel really drowsy once the meds wear off, though the pain should definitely be gone. I’m thinking once dinner’s done, we can just go crash in your room, put on a movie or something so I don’t have to carry you around when you knock out? I’m clumsy enough on my own, I don’t need to be holding another person to test it,” she continued.

“Good with me. Plus, at least you’re self-aware enough to know that you are a walking Bambi. It’s honestly a miracle that you aren’t constantly wrapped in bubble wrap at this point.”

“Okay just for that comment, I’m picking the movie and I’m not giving you my hoodie.”

“That’s not fair, I’m drugged up right now. If anything, that’s abuse. You’re torturing a helpless individual,” you mumble as you lay your head on the cool surface of the island.

“Definitely torturing you by cooking you supper and not giving you my hoodie… and as I let you rest since you’re injured and doped up, right?” You could only groan in response to her logic, pouting at not being able to come up with a response.

As Alessia continued to move around your kitchen, finishing up on dinner and plating the food, you went back to observing her. You studied the way she tried the stir fry, taking a bite before scrunching her face adorably and adding more ingredients to fix whatever she thought was lacking. You watched her as she finally decided everything was ready, as she sweetly plated food for you first, handing it to you, before doing so for herself. You smiled, fascinated with the way her body moved as grabbed waters for the both of you, entranced by the ease in her movement. 

You were distracted throughout the whole dinner, mumbling responses, missing questions. You blamed it on the medications and fatigue when the forward beside you asked if you were okay, but in actuality your mind couldn’t help but constantly wander to imagining what it would be like if this was your life. If dinners with Alessia could be your future. If movie nights in your bed, you in her hoodie could be a regular occurrence. You knew you’d thought it before, the ideas were nothing new to you, but you had never craved it this bad before, never wanted it more than right now. 

You’d been so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed Alessia grabbing your dishes or her own, nor her loading the dishwasher. It was only when she had stepped in front of you that you snapped out of your reverie. 

“You sure you’re okay? You seem really out of it…you know I’ve got you right?”

When you fail to meet her eyes immediately, she cradles your face in her hands, one on either side of your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet her eyes. Her worried eyes scan your face and then the rest of your body, trying to pinpoint something, anything that could have been the cause of your dip in mood.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You were fine just a little while ago. Is it your ankle? Is the pain back? The doctor said the medication would wear off around midnight but if it’s wearing off right now we can call the hospi-”

Shaking your head amusedly at her worried rambling, you cut her off before she forgot how to breathe. “Less I’m fine.”

“Bull. You haven’t said more than 5 words ever since I asked about watching a movie. Oh my gosh, is this about how I said I’m picking the movie? ‘Cause if so, you can totally pick, I swear. I was just teasing. And… and of course you can have my hoodie too. I promise I was just joking. I didn’t mean t-”

“Alessia,” you stated firmly, a slight frown returning to your face when it was her who now couldn’t look at you.

Sensing her anxiety, you reach out for the blonde, hands finding home on her hips, squeezing gently, just enough to get her to finally stop scanning your body for injuries and instead look at you.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just been thinking, that’s all.”

“About? What’s got you so distracted? If it’s the injury, we both know you’ll be back in no time. I don’t mind sticking around to help around while you’re recovering. I’d be happy to help you know? I don’t mind. Plus-”

“Less, it’s not the injury. I don’t care about the recovery. I’ve already accepted that I won’t be playing for a few weeks. Stop worrying, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, yeah right…” she scoffs, her hands moving to your shoulders. “Are you actually not going to tell me what’s going on? What’s bothering you? Was it something I did? Is that why you’re not telling me? If I messed up I’ll fix it okay? I'd rather fix it than lose you. Please. Please tell me what’s going on so I can fix it.”

It was in the next few moments that you contemplated whether it would be worth it. Whether potentially destroying your friendship with the blonde that you’ve been in love with since you met her over a year and half ago would be worth the risk of telling her and outing yourself. You considered pretending everything was fine, to make up some excuse using your newly acquired injury or something about the fans and the pressure, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t lie to her. You couldn’t be dishonest. Not when you looked up and saw the care and concern etched in her face, wrinkles scattered across, creases from distress that you had caused.

You figured that if anything, if, no when, when she told you she didn’t feel the same, you could take the next few weeks you had off for healing and rehab to get over her. It wouldn’t be so bad right? You could take those three weeks to heal your ankle and your heart, and then you could go back to being Alessia’s best friend again.

“Hey, I promise I won’t judge alright? Whatever it is, it’s safe with me, I swear on football,” came the gentle voice from the girl towering above you.

You waited a second before looking up, taking a deep sigh in, revelling in the peace before the chaos that you knew was going to come after. Looking in her eyes, you audibly swallowed, before closing your own.

“I’m in love with you. Have been for ages now, and it’s killing me. It’s killing me to see you in my kitchen, at my house, making it a home. It’s killing me to have you cuddle into me when I know I can’t pull you closer at every chance. It’s physically breaking me when I can’t walk up to you in my kitchen and kiss you to thank you for cooking for me, for taking care of me. It’s hurting me when I know that there’s probably going to come a day where you find someone else and I’m left here with your ghost. It terrifies me that I’m nobody to you but you’re somebody to me.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence and you pray to whatever God existed that she couldn’t hear your heart quietly cracking too.

When a minute passes in complete silence, and then another, you dare to open your eyes. Taking a shaky breath in, you don’t know what to make of the sight in front of you. There, Alessia stands, in all her glory, your hands still on her hips, her head tilted back, eyes glazed over, on the verge of tears.

Your heart’s breaking further with each second that passes and you mentally prepare yourself for the rejection that’s incoming.

“Please say something. Please…”

A beat passes. Then two, before Alessia finally looks back down at you, a lone tear falling from her eyes, one that she quickly wipes away, a smile on her face. “Took you long enough to catch up.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The possibility of your dreams becoming a reality never seemed plausible to you. “Less, don't play. Please,” you beg.

“You were never nobody to me idiot. You weren’t ever nothing to me. You’ve been somebody to me since I met you y’know? You’ve had my heart since you walked onto the training pitch, looking like a lost kid.” 

“Honest?” You asked, just to make sure you weren’t hearing things, that she actually liked you back, that you weren’t dreaming. When Alessia nodded in return, you couldn’t help but smile, your grin stretching from ear to ear.

Wiping the few tears that had made their way down your face, you moved your hands to wrap around the other girl, pulling her close to you, hugging her tightly. You tucked your head into the chest, her arms wrapping around your neck, your beaming smile hidden in the cloth of her sweatshirt. 

“Let me make you mine? Go on a date with me?” The blonde quietly asked, kissing the top of your head.

This time, it was your turn to nod. You did so energetically, practically vibrating with happiness, twin grins adorning both yours and Alessia’s face. 

You couldn’t ever fathom the idea of leaving Canada as a child, yet now, all grown up, on your own, you’d never been more glad you had left. That you had allowed yourself the opportunity to find a new home, one that you found here, in the arms of Alessia Russo.

You’d spent months thinking you weren’t anybody to her, and now? Now you knew you were somebody to her. That you weren’t alone this whole time. That she wanted to make you hers all along.

[milf-murdock]

Manchester Mixup

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon’s non-British partner that doesn’t realize there’s a Man City football team and a Man U football team and buys the wrong tshirt ☠️ Warnings: language, just some domestic fluff A/N: It’s also very much giving Domestic!Simon Riley and I love it, your honor. short little drabble because this seemed fun and I was proper confused when I found out there were, in fact, two Manchester teams

Earl Grey or an herbal blend? You silently debate between the two tea options before a click of the kettle tells you the water is ready. “Earl grey it is, then,” you mutter, preparing your mug for the boiling water and letting it steep as you set a timer for the recommended time.

The pre-game show plays from the tv in the living room and you lean against the open wall between the living room and kitchen to catch a bit of the show while your tea brews.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Simon asks incredulously as you come into his view. He’s sat on the couch, his pint halfway to his lips when he notices the offending item.

You glanced down at your shirt in confusion, tugging out the hem to get a better look at the logo displayed across your chest.

“It’s a Manchester shirt I picked up in preparation for the big game. I figured I’d represent your team seeing as we’re here now, so I guess they’re sort of my team now too,” you shrug as your timer goes off for your tea. Heading back to the kitchen, you gingerly remove the tea bag and toss it in the bin before adding what Simon always considers to be an offensive amount of milk and sugar. Regardless of the cheeky comments directed your way, though all in good fun, you still felt like you were adapting more and more to what you would consider “British Culture” as the days passed since you came back to settle down with Simon.

“Who knows, babe, maybe it’ll it be good luck,” you chirp pleasantly, walking back in the room carefully with your full teacup in hand before placing it on the coffee table.

“The fuck it will be,” Simon gives your shirt a dirty look. “Wrong fucking team, love.”

Your brows furrow and you look down at your shirt again. “No…it’s Manchester, Simon.” You adamantly point to the MCFC logo. “And it came in this super pretty blue color,” you carry on absentmindedly, completely impervious to Simon’s faux look of outrage at your compliment.

“Sweetheart,” he says with a sigh, trying his best to fix you with his firmest stare, whilst also trying to withhold his own laugh at the situation. “There are two Manchester teams: Man City and Man U.”

“Two teams?” Your brows furrow even deeper. “How can one city have two teams? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Just the way it is—I didn’t make the teams up,” Now it’s Simon’s turn to give his shoulders a shrug.

“Hmph.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, a playful sort of irritation seeping through. “So two teams, huh?”

“Yup,” Simon gives a solemn nod.

“And this is the wrong one?” You gesture vaguely to the shirt.

“‘Fraid so, darling.”

The dramatic sigh that escapes your lips is worthy of its own Oscar. And then, inspiration strikes and a smile starts to tug at the edge of your lips.

You saunter the last few remaining steps toward Simon, standing between his open legs.

“Guess you’ll have to take it off of me then,” you suggest as you flash him a suggestive smirk.

“Oh it’s beyond just taking it off, love,” he sighs in exasperation. “We’ll need to go burn the bloody thing in the alley way.”

Simon huffs out a laugh before two strong hands grab your hips and pull you forward onto his lap, familiar lips finding your own.

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

[probablyasocialecologist]

As action and violence have flared across US campuses, a growing number of online commentators have criticised the UK student movement for a supposed lack of radicalism. “I think it’s an error to try and rank these movements in order of radicality. In part, because student actions across the US and UK are instances of one and the same struggle to end the genocide in Gaza, and Western government and university complicity,” says Kai Heron, lecturer in political ecology at Lancaster University. “That said, it’s certainly the case that the US and UK student movements are operating by different logics and using different strategies in response to different economic and political contexts.” In the UK, students have used a diverse range of tactics. There have been building occupations at universities such as Leeds, Manchester, UCL, Bristol, Goldsmiths, and others. But students have also organised teach-ins, teach-outs, local rallies, and national demonstrations in London. On Wednesday, students at five elite UK universities set up pro-Palestinian encampments. “These actions have been happening for years, and have won for years,” says an organiser with the Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), a transnational, grassroots movement of Palestinians. “But they have been underreported, as per the strategic intention of media, government and university managements to ensure student activism is not spotlighted in British news outlets, something that mirrors the media’s ridiculously poor coverage of the national demonstrations for Palestine, in which the huge number of protestors are purposefully understated and underreported.” Alongside these actions, students in the UK have also organised more confrontational strategies like Palestine Action’s direct targeting of Israeli weapons manufacturer Elbit Systems, or the blockading of BAE systems sites. The Samlesbury Aerodrome outside Preston, for example, has been disrupted on multiple occasions (the site manufactures the rear fuselage for F-35 stealth planes, which are currently being used to kill Palestinians in the Gaza Strip). “In the US the student movement has also taken a diversity of tactics, including the establishment of a US branch of Palestine Action, but it is fair to say that the occupation of Columbia University - or rather the university management’s disproportionate response to it - has escalated the struggle considerably,” says Heron. “Because of this draconian response, occupation has now become the preferred and most effective strategy in the US in ways that have, and perhaps cannot, be replicated in the UK.” Students in the US and UK are both hostile to police involvement in managing student protests. But it remains rare for the police to be called to student protests in the UK, though it does happen, says Heron. This is not to say that students in the UK have not seen an unacceptable amount of disproportionate and brutal responses to student organising from both the police and universities, such as widespread student suspensions, to name but one outrage.

[melanieph321]

heyy i love your writing and just wanted to say i appreciate your work💖

my request is something like you are best friends with fermin (or gavi) and he’s madly in love with you but you don’t know about it so when you start seeing someone (possibly another footballer) he gets jealous and does something outrageous like posts a story with a photo of yours which is odd considering he’s never done it before and the person you’re seeing gets mad and you also get mad because it’s obvious he’s doing it for another reason and have an argument with him when he confesses his true feelings in a moment of weakness which causes you to take a step back but you soon realize you’re actually more into him than you knew and go to him late at night and make out

i don’t know if this is something you’d be interested in but i’d love to read it

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUEST (DAY 2)

Ugh, I hate you for making such a good request. Took me all day to finish this. And I had to make it a four part series since I put my own spin on it. Hope that's okay.

Fermin Lopez x Reader - You or Me Part 1/4

Part 2 part 3 part 4

Enjoy!

It was just a silly youth camp for all the Barca Academy's boys and girls. How it turned out so ugly, you had no idea.

It was a Friday morning when all of the players were put on a bus to a Boot Camp four hours outside of Barcelona. You were thankful that the academy boys did not share the same bus as the girls, but trailed in their own vehicle not too far behind. However it was bound to get messy at the camp grounds since the girls and boys were sharing the same hotel.

"Who are you texting?" Camilla asked.

"No one." You muttered, but nudged your phone out of her view.

"Come on, don't be shy, tell me who you're texting."

You perked up, peering over your seat to make sure that none of the other players could hear you. "Okay but promise not to tell anyone." 

"I promise." She grinned, giddy with excitement.

"Alejandro Garnacho."

"What! You little…"

"Shhhhh!" You exclaimed, slapping your hand against Camilla's mouth. However, 

that did not stop her from running her mouth behind the palm of your hand.  

"Huh?" You frowned, her mumbles inaudible. You removed your hand.

"I said, doesn't he have a girlfriend now?"

"And a baby." You nodded.

Camila gasped. "You slut!" 

"Relax." You said, leaning back in your seat. "We're just friends and you know that. We've been friends forever."

"Yes, but before that you had the biggest crush on him, no?"

"Yes, but that's in the past. He's happy in England with his new family. I told you about last summer, didn't I? Garnacho and his girlfriend let me stay with them while I was over there trying out for Manchester United's U21 youth team. Garnacho and I have become really close since then. Close friends." You added, before Camilla could call you a slut again. 

The two of you sat back in silence. The road ahead was bumpy and almost made you car sick. Good thing you and Camilla were seated up front where you could see the road. You dreaded sitting in the back, since some of the girls thought it would be funny to make faces at the boys bus trailing behind you. They were having a laugh, however you found it very annoying.

"Did you hear that Fermin and Gavi are joining us on Saturday?" Camilla said.

"Hurray….." You mumbled and kept scrolling through your phone.

"I know." She snorted. "They've gotten pretty stuck up since they started playing for the first team, but I've heard that they're holding a seminar on mental health. It could be fun?"

"Mental health?" You put down your phone to glance at Camilla. Her lips twitched into a smile seeing your not-so-convinced expression. "I know Fermin Lopez of all people is not holding a seminar on mental health." you laughed. "That boy has caused me nothing but severe anxiety and depression and now he wants to talk about mental health? I guess pigs do fly."

"I dunno." Camilla shrugged. "Don't you think he has matured since he started playing for the first team? I know Gavi has."

"Please, don't get me started on Pablo Gavi." You sighed. "Fermin and Gavi were the worst of the worst when they were playing for the academy. Don't you remember Boot Camp 2019?"

Camilla chuckled. "Whatever you say. I for one am excited."

And she had the right to be. No one enjoyed drama more than Camilla. This year's Boot Camp had nothing but drama.

Part 2

Part 3

part 4

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1867 – The Escape that Sparked the Manchester Martyrs | Thomas Kelly and Timothy Deasy are rescued in a Fenian attack on a police van in Manchester during which a police sergeant is shot dead.

#OTD in 1867 – The Escape that Sparked the Manchester Martyrs | Thomas Kelly and Timothy Deasy are rescued in a Fenian attack on a police van in Manchester during which a police sergeant is shot dead.

The Manchester Martyrs – William Philip Allen, Michael Larkin, and Michael O’Brien – were members of the Irish Republican Brotherhood, an organisation dedicated to ending British rule in Ireland. They were executed for the murder of a police officer in Manchester, England, in 1867, during an incident that became known as the Manchester Outrages. The trio were members of a group of 30–40 Fenians…

[darth-mortem]

Here is the next text from my English lessons about Ghost, Soap and König.

Suddenly, a baby appears on the doorstep of König’s house. The note states that she’s his daughter, and now he has to take care of her. König doesn't know anything about children, so he calls Ghost and Soap for help. 1138 words.

Ghost and König’s relationship has a bro vibe in my headcanons. They’re brothers in arms, in love with guns, and in other sick shit.

The phone woke up Ghost half an hour before the wake-up call. He yawned, pulled out of Soap’s embrace tight even in a sleep, and picked up his cell phone. König’s photo flashed on the screen. So Simon sighed and answered the call.

“Hey, what’s up, bro?” He asked, looking at sleepy Johnny and stroking his disheveled mohawk.

“I have a problem,” the Austrian answered nervously. “A very big problem.”

König told that he was awakened by the doorbell. He was on leave now and spent his time in a small house on the outskirts of Manchester that he rented. König chose this city to meet Ghost and Soap, who were also on leave now. So, he got up from the bed, opened the door, and saw a baby carrier basket with a little child inside. There was also a note from which the Austrian learned that this baby was his. König immediately remembered a woman he had dated several times last year. One day she disappeared without warning, so the Austrian didn’t look for her. And now she found him herself and wanted him to take care of the child he had made, but about which he didn’t know until this moment. The note also said that the baby’s name was Margaret, had a short list of her allergies, and told König when her mother would be back to pick her up.

“So, you have a very small problem, not a big one," Ghost said cheerfully when König ended his story.

“It’s not funny!” The Austrian exclaimed tragically. “I have no idea what to do with it! With her!”

“Calm down, bro,” the lieutenant said, looking at Johnny, who had woken up and listened carefully to the conversation because Simon had turned on the speakerphone. “Hold on, we’re on our way.”

“Oh, Danke! Danke schön!” König shouted and hung up.

“Well,” Soap said, stretching sweetly and getting out from under the covers, “let’s go ‘n’ help yer brother, luv.”

Johnny had experience taking care of babies because he had two younger sisters, so he ordered Simon to drive to the store before going to König. He and Ghost bought baby formula, a bottle, diapers, and some toys. It didn’t take long, but when they finally got to König, he was in despair.

“She screams and cries non-stop!” The Austrian said, holding the baby. “Ich verstehe nicht what’s she wants!”

“How dae ye hold her?!” Soap was outraged, stretching out his hands. “Gimme th' baby, now!”

König fulfilled this order immediately, and then, together with Ghost, he looked at little Margaret, who stopped crying in Johnny’s gentle arms.

“She’s wet,” Soap said strictly, “and hungry. Si, go tae th’ kitchen and prepare baby formula ‘n’ a bottle. And ye, König, go wi’ me. I’ll show ye how tae change diapers.”

The Austrian looked at Ghost and saw that he nodded. So he sighed heavily and followed Johnny reluctantly. He absolutely didn’t want to mess around with diapers, but he knew he had to learn. So he promised himself to do whatever Sergeant MacTavish said.

Margaret calmed down as soon as she was washed and changed. Soap showed König how to hold a baby correctly, and she didn’t cry in her father’s arms anymore. The little girl clung to the Austrian’s finger with her tiny hands and carefully looked around with her blue eyes.

“Well, now you can give her a bottle,” Johnny said when they came to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he and Simon watched as König carefully held his little daughter and the bottle of baby formula. Lieutenant Riley hugged the sergeant, who rested his head on Ghost’s shoulder and smiled, looking at the huge Austrian. The child was only slightly larger than his palm, which he held her in.

“What do ye think, Lt.,” Johnny said quietly, “will we ever hae th’ same little one?”

“Why not?” Simon looked at him, and the sergeant saw that his eyes squinted through the opening of his skull balaclava, as always happened when he smiled.

“Hey, guys,” König whispered, giving Soap no chance to reply, “eine kleine Blume seems to have fallen asleep.”

The three of them put Margaret to sleep in her carrier basket, and Johnny sat down and started to write a list of everything the Austrian had to buy for his baby. Then he, as the most knowledgeable person in childcare, sent Ghost and König to the store and stayed in the house with the little sleepy girl.

"So, when’ll her mother come back?” The lieutenant asked when they got into the car and smoked before leaving.

“In two weeks,” König answered, looking at him. “How do you think, bro, is it normal that I want to… I don’t know; maybe spend more time with Margaret in the future? It seems that I love her, but it’s illogical, ‘cause I see her for the first time in my life.”

“Don’t be silly." Ghost started the car and drove out onto the road. “She’s your daughter; of course you love her. I think you should get joint custody of her.”

“I’ll try!” The Austrian nodded, but then his eyes were filled with sadness. “But I’m the sick bastard; who’ll entrust me with the baby?”

“You are,” confirmed the lieutenant, “but all TF 141 will vouch for you. And your commander has to write a good recommendation for you. And maybe Hong Jin? Where is he?”

“On a mission,” König sighed. “He’ll come back in four or five days. I haven’t told him about Margaret yet.”

The Austrian started a relationship with Horangi three months ago, and the Korean didn’t know much about his previous life. Despite this, Ghost thought that everything will be all right about what he said to his friend.

When they returned from the store, the baby was still asleep, and König offered his assistants to drink a glass of peach schnapps. They settled in the living room and sat for a while, drinking and talking about their service, missions, and novelties in the arms industry.

“Well, call us if you’ll need help,” Johnny said when he and Simon said goodbye to König. He nodded, shook their hands, and they went to the car. The Austrian looked at his friends and closed the door to his house. He was still worried, but now he was confident that he’ll cope with the challenge that fate threw at him.

[fallinforerling]

Hiiii

Massive fan of that smut series concept???

I have a request for if you feel like writing it. I just saw a video of Jack saying Erling is always the longest in the shower, so I was thinking almost getting caught with Erling?

Love you xx

in and out | erling haaland + some like it hot series

☆ warnings: +18 content, minors dni. p in v, unprotected sex, swearing.

ೃ⁀➷ some like it hot series

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

☆ prompt: almost getting caught

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

from all the ways your visit at the etihad stadium could’ve ended, this wasn’t on your list.

you didn’t know what was going on with him when he invited you—although it definitely felt like you had no option whatsoever— to visit him for a little personalized tour after training. it wasn’t like you hadn’t been there before; you’d visited the stadium a couple of times for matches but never been able to wander around the facilities due to the number of people present. today, you encountered what seemed like a totally different place; almost empty, the stadium was quiet except for the occasional scream or chat behind closed doors when you passed by them. erling walked next to you, chatting about the dressing room and how insanely large the showers were; he wasn’t fooling anyone, he was totally lurking you in the most private place on the stadium, where most of his teammates weren’t stepping a foot in. you noticed his wicked smile once he verified that the place was deserted. you could feel what he was trying to do, and that was because you wanted that as well. 

it’s been months of fooling around, flirting, and mostly giving each other heated stares when you thought no one else was paying attention. you were just waiting for something to happen—something that could destroy or transform your relationship with erling. while you entered the dressing room and admired the row of seats, the kits hanging above the lockers and pretended to pay attention to the decoration while erling’s fingers brushed against your exposed arm, you could also feel his eyes burning holes in your whole figure due to the light sundress you insisted on wearing due to the hot weather in manchester. what a good decision. 

the sexual tension wasn’t funny anymore. your skin was aching for his touch, and you didn’t know how much longer you could bear this stupid back-and-forth you two had going on. this wasn’t normal between friends. 

“that’s a cute dress, y’know?” you felt his hand caress your thigh once you took a seat in his booth, his touch sending goosebumps all over your body and an electric feeling that went straight to your core while his eyes were fixated on the way the material of your dress kept going upwards with every move you made. 

“i thought you might like it.” you bit your lip, following the movements of his hand as his thumb started to massage your skin, making it difficult to act like you weren’t affected by it. like you weren’t dying to open your legs and let him do whatever he wanted to you. this was the most outrageous behavior you’d ever allowed yourself to have around him. 

“i don’t like it.” the side of his mouth lifted, his eyes meeting yours. “i love it. covers just enough to make me wonder…”

“wonder what?” your eyes went to his hand, which hadn’t left your thigh. 

“you know what.” you felt his hand brushing against your chin, tilting your head slightly, so you looked up. “wanna see the showers?”

his eyes were telling you a completely different story. you knew that if you said “yes”, you weren’t agreeing to see the showers. it could end in a big, horrible, disaster for both of you… but did it matter at this point?

“sure…” he smirked once the word left your lips, taking your hand, guiding you to the rows of very fancy doors, each open to reveal a very wide space where four people could easily fit. he was right about them being insanely big. 

no words were exchanged as you both entered the last one in the row, the door slamming shut behind erling’s back. you turned, not knowing exactly what to expect; but as soon as your eyes met again, he grabbed you by the neck, making your body clash against his as his lips looked hungrily for yours. a gasp left your mouth, grabbing handfuls of his shirt as your back touched the cold tiles of the shower once he cornered you.

his kisses were fast, messy, and desperate. they felt like he’d waited way too long for it; as far as you were concerned, you did too. you met his pace, feeling as hungry for him as he seemed to be for you. not even your wildest fantasies could’ve met the reality of kissing erling. his hands roamed through your body, staying on your ass, massaging it so good that you moaned against his mouth. 

“there’s no way i’m letting you fuck me here, erling.” you whispered once the kiss finished, your voice tone not even close to being convincing. you didn’t feel very convinced about not wanting him to fuck you either . 

“why not? no one’s going to notice.” your own hands were exploring his shoulders and biceps, making your mind wander to the previous times you had seen him shirtless. “you saw how empty this place is. i promise we’ll be out of here before anyone comes… how does that sound?”

“i don’t know…” while you acted like you were thinking about it, his lips caressed your neck, leaving kisses that made you bite your lip as hard as you could endure to not spur out the word “yes” in such a desperate tone. 

“are you sure you don’t want to?” you could feel his hands on your legs, one of them getting dangerously close to your core. “i’ll make you feel so good…” the whisper sent shivers through your back, making your thoughts intertwine with each other until you were kissing again, unable to say no. 

because, god, you wanted him to fuck you; it didn’t matter if the fucking king walked in. 

his touches were soft as he raised your dress up your ass, leaving you exposed and blushing as he finally took it off your body. his eyes didn’t waste time, taking in the delicate white set you had on, his chest going up and down until he finally met your eyes. 

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” you didn’t know if you were this nervous from the way he was looking at you, or from the compliment that made you aware of your half-naked body. not like it mattered. 

your eyes followed him, having to restrain yourself from saying something stupid once he got rid of his shirt, leaving all that incredible body on display. your eyes were inviting him to just do something, so when he finally got near, you couldn’t help but touch every inch of skin available. he was so… god. 

his touched the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you until you were seated on a little tile bench that you didn’t know was there to begin with. your eyes never left his as you felt him caressing your thighs, his fingers massaging your skin so subtly that you didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness as they traveled upward. just as his fingers lingered just above your core, you let out a gasp. 

“can i?” hearing him ask sounded a bit ridiculous due to the situation, but you appreciated how he still cared to ask for consent even though you were two seconds from begging. 

“yes…” your voice came out weird to your ears, a slight blush covering your cheeks as he took your underwear off, the feeling of the fabric against your legs made what was about to happen ten times more real. you knew you were already wet as his touch became lighter on your inner thighs, your breath coming to a halt as his fingers touched your folds, your eyes shutting as soon as his thumb brushed your clit. 

“look at me…” he said suddenly, his fingers grabbing your chin to tilt your head. when you didn’t open them right away, you felt his thumb caressing the side of your jaw, squeezing just enough to make you pay attention. “look at me.” 

his harsh tone made you look up at his face, which showed an expression that you just couldn’t decipher. it made him ten times more attractive; you just couldn’t look away from the intensity of his eyes or the way his jaw was clenching. your mouth fell open when you felt his finger slowly circling your entrance before sliding in painfully slow, letting you feel— and adjust— to his large digit. you wanted to hide, ashamed of the moan that left your lips once he added a second one, curling them while they went in and out, making your legs shaky by the feeling of it, making you wonder how good his dick would feel inside of you.

“feels good, baby?” he asks, a playful undertone to his question that made you smile through the pleasure he was giving you. the feeling of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers curling deep down your core made you whimper, a quick nod being the only answer he got. “told you i was going to make it worth it.”

“you’re such a cocky—” a moan interrupted your words once he added a third finger, having you gasping for air for a moment. “bastard.” you finished, closing your eyes a second time while your body adjusted to the size of his slender fingers. 

it felt too good, and by the slow-burning feeling that was building up, you knew you were very close to cumming. you stared at him for a long moment before grabbing his neck, pulling him for a kiss that had both of your breathing shaky, your kisses messy as you tightened around him. 

“i’m so close, oh my—” you couldn’t even finish the phrase as you felt your orgasm hit you with force, having to grab onto him as you saw stars behind your eyelids, feeling a sudden fear of being too loud for someone to hear. you felt erling’s lips traveling from your neck to your shoulder, his fingers still moving for a few seconds before he retrieved them, leaving you feeling empty and needy for more. “fuck me…” you whispered against his chest, leaving a trail of kisses until your lips were next to his ear. “now.”

your hands looked blindly for the waistband of his shorts, palming through the fabric until you felt his clothed dick hard against your palm. erling let out a shaky breath while you played with the waistband, slowly lowering it until his shaft hit the bare skin of his stomach. it was such an erotic view that you felt your mouth water a bit. then, as your hand encircled his dick, reality hit you: you didn’t have a condom with you, and you doubted that erling did either. and why was the idea of him fucking you bare so hot? 

luckily you were on the pill. 

“fuck…” he whispered when you started to jerk him off, enjoying how his dick seemed to get bigger— which was impressive due to him being already big. “you’re such a tease.” he laughed, grabbing your shoulders so you couldn’t have a choice but to back off, looking at him with a playful smile. 

he manhandled you so well that it surprised you how much it turned you on. your back was totally glued to the wall as he grabbed your thighs, making your legs open at each side of his hips. it felt like an out of body experience, your eyes fixated on how he was adjusting himself, the tip of his cock glistening with your juices when he teased your entrance, making both of you moan lowly. as he entered you, you grabbed his arms, your nails digging into the skin, your head tilting back. 

“oh go—” 

“mate? are you here?” just when you were about to let out a moan— a very loud moan— you heard a voice a bit far away from where you were, but undoubtedly near enough to hear anything if you spoke up. “erling?” then you recognized the brum accent, your eyes going wide as you stared at erling. 

jack was here. 

“yeah?!” against whatever you believed erling would do, he fucking answered. and when you thought it couldn’t get worse, he started to bump into you as slowly as he could, making your mouth wide open, a silent moan being your only response. “what’s up?” 

your shook your head, wanting him to just shut up and get jack away from the booth; but something in his eyes told you that he was about to do the exact opposite. the kinky shit. 

“nothing, i just heard you had a friend over for a visit.” you couldn’t concentrate on jack’s presence, even though it was mortifying, while erling’s pace got a bit higher, his hand covering your mouth when it opened again. “heard she’s really nice.” 

“oh yeah, she’s extremely nice.” erling’s smile grew bigger, making you give him a dirty look. 

all of the sudden, you felt his thumb circling your clit, making you whimper despite his hand covering most of your moans, leaving the room in a weird silence while you were very sure jack was standing right behind the door. your nails kept leaving traces on erling’s skin, your mind wanting to find anything to distract you from the pleasure you were feeling. it was twisted, since there was a person about to catch you fucking with erling, but that only made the situation hotter. 

“man, you’re always taking the longest time in the shower. when you get out, introduce me to that friend of yours, yeah?” you heard jack’s sigh, making you wonder if he even noticed anything weird going on. “well, see ya when you finish, princess. make sure to put on conditioner.” 

“fuck you.” erling said, his eyes never leaving yours as his thrusts became faster, his fingers still stimulating you as you tightened around him. 

finally, you heard the main door shut. you waited a few seconds to slap his arm, his hand still lingering on your mouth while his pace increased, leaving you breathless. he never stopped, and when he finally removed his hand and you had the opportunity to say something, you didn’t. the thing was… you couldn’t say anything because you were too stimulated to make up something coherent. all you could do was stare at him, biting your lip as hard as you could to stop the moans just in case someone else walked in, feeling wetter by the second. you couldn’t believe he was going to make you cum a second time. 

“i think i was wrong about no one walking on us.” his smile let you know he wasn’t even sorry about it. 

“you think?” you say with a strangled voice, moaning quietly when you felt him hitting the right spot inside of you. “asshole.” 

“you sure love this asshole’s dick, don’t you?” he went back to leave kisses on your neck and collarbone, sucking on the skin so gently that you didn’t notice at first. “you feel so fucking amazing.” then he moaned right above your ear, and you absolutely lost it. you moaned too, holding on for dear life to him as your second orgasm hit you so suddenly you didn’t even become aware of it until you felt erling tensing under your touch. “fuck…” 

and then you felt how he came right after you, tightening his grip around you as he gave a final thrust, going deep inside you that you felt his cum filling you up. the two of you stayed like that for a while, your breathing loud and erratic while you recovered from what just happened. you were afraid of looking up from his chest, knowing that now, when the euphoria has worn off, you have to face the fact that you just fucked erling and got almost caught. just as it all started, no words were exchanged when he finally pulled out, a quick glance being all that was needed for him to grin and for you to giggle. 

“do you have something to clean your cum off me?” he laughed at that, going to the wall next to you, pulling out wet tissues and a tiny towel from a cabinet you hadn’t noticed. this place was full of surprises. you stretched out your hand, wanting to take them from him. 

“let me do it.” his answer shocked you a bit, so you just nodded. his touch felt way different— more intimate—as he cleaned you, making sure you were all set before helping you get off the bench, his hands never leaving you until you put the dress on, looking around with an arched eyebrow. “what?” he asked when you kept looking. 

“where’s my underwear?” 

“who knows…” his mischievous tone made you look at him just in time to catch him stuffing the white lace in the pocket of his shorts. 

“erling! give them to me!” you reached for his arm, only to get manhandled again, this time in a playful way that had you smiling. “that’s my underwear!” 

“finders keepers, darling.” he whispered in your ear before kissing you by surprise, taking your mind away from it all. 

maybe you made the right choice by following him into the showers.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST —

@questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval | @nikki01234 | @evarasworld | @kynykyny | @alleyahah | @444pantheress | @football4life9 | @f1lover55 | @frankcastleonlyfans | @ironmaiden1313 | @pizzapie349 | @may-machin | @squirreljoe | @lettersofgold

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Hi Daisie,

do you know if any of your followers has access to the full article?

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/music/news/harry-styles-album-year-grammys-speech-beyonce-white-privilege/

This doesn’t happen to people like me very often.” So said 29-year-old Harry Styles, accepting his Grammy Award for Album of the Year on Sunday night. Most normal people assumed that by “people”, Styles meant a boy born outside of Birmingham and brought up in between Crewe and Manchester, far from the bright lights of London and the Brit School. But the internet is not full of normal people, and outrage ensued, as critics claimed that Styles was ignoring his white privilege – and, worse, having a pop at Beyoncé.

Styles also drew ire by arguing that “there’s no such thing as ‘best’ in music”, and refusing to say that he thought Beyoncé would win, instead saying merely that “you never know with this stuff”. The critics didn’t hold back. “‘This doesn’t happen to people like me’,” wrote the American podcaster Sam Sanders, “is the most white privilege-iest thing to ever be uttered at an awards show ever for all time [sic].” “Beyoncé continues to be boycotted, without AOTY [Album of the Year] and used as a token to disguise the Academy’s racism,” complained the pop-culture website Pop Tingz. 

Styles may have had a wobbly night – not least because the turnstile on which his dance number was meant to be performed rotated in the wrong direction – but an attack on “Queen B” this was not. To most Britons, Styles’s accent is the clue that he’s different from many a young London silver-spoon star; yet this subtlety is almost entirely lost on Americans. True, that Cheshire accent has been muddied by his recent attempt at a transatlantic twang while filming Don’t Worry Darling. 

And having a finance director for a father hardly puts you in league with British pop’s history of working-class heroes, from The Beatles to Oasis. Yet these days the industry has changed, and Styles is quite clearly different to the likes of Florence Welch or Marcus Mumford, who seem to fit into the world of fame as if they were born to it.

We’ve been here before. In 2019, when Sam Fender, born in North Shields, dared to explain why “white privilege” sounded like a difficult concept to the white men with whom he grew up, he was labelled tone-deaf and racist. This is the success of the “white privilege” label: admit it and you’re damned, deny it and you’re deluded. But in importing a particularly American brand of racial politics, discussion about success within the British arts only becomes skewed. 

Unlike in the States, class is a greater defining factor of success in Britain than race or gender are – a fact that many commentators seem to want to forget. “The debate raging online about where Styles sits on the class spectrum is a fascinating insight into Britain’s class obsession,” wrote one writer in The Guardian. That sound you can hear is a nation of working-class music-lovers choking on their own scorn.

Styles, in truth, is both right and wrong. Poor boys and girls have often made it to the top, though often that has been on account of the sheer tenacity of their talent. Barry Keoghan is currently flavour of the month in Ireland for his performance in Martin McDonagh’s film The Banshees of Inisherin, despite his extremely tough and poverty-stricken upbringing, which involved going in and out of the care system. 

Bands have often capitalised on class difference, too – admitting whether you were an Oasis or a Blur fan was as much a class signifier as the tea-vs-supper debate, and it did neither band any commercial harm. Some fans have also pointed out, amusingly, that Adele, who was also up for Album of the Year at the Grammys, was born and raised in Tottenham.

A working-class hero Harry Styles may not entirely be, but he certainly isn’t a white-privilege villain either. And we would all do well to remember that awards ceremonies, and the speeches made at them, may be full of glitz and glamour, but they bear little relevance to the politics of the real world – or to the real people who live out there.

Full article. Link here. No paywall link.

[cloverdaisies]

SNAP OUT OF IT : ERIC SOHN

contains: slight mature themes e.g drug misuse, strong language, that’s about it

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

Radio announcer: “Let’s talk about alternative rock band the boyz, their lead singer Juyeon Lee announced their world tour over instagram this morning! How exciting! Their drummer Sunwoo Kim, actually commented on the post the singer wrote saying he wasn’t meant to announce the tour yet.”

Radio announcer 2: “That’s class actually, they’ve taken the UK by storm in recent months I actually saw a girl at a recent fan event for them in Manchester with ‘Eric Sohn sign my tits’ written on her forehead. I was gobsmacked.”

Radio announcer 1: “Honestly the ladies and men out there can’t get enough of them, here’s their newest track ‘Snap out of it’ here on Radio Z”

ERIC POV:

Blacking out, my hands clumsily falling against the strings of the guitar in my hands. The stage was a sickly blur, as it always was. Spinning at a head thrashing speed, the only thing I could decipher was Juyeon slurring into the mic.

"This ones for all those angels up there.. " He giggled the last part with a smirk, hanging on to the mic and leaning into it lowly. Whilst I slammed down onto the strings of my guitar, the intro faded out as the song started.

Chaotic screams and a huge ruckus erupted from the crowd, the tranquil verses bursting into the manic chorus. If I wasn't so high, I probably could of remembered the set we played that night. The destructive sea of fans bashing their heads into the air and throwing up their arms in uncontrolled moshing.

"I want to grab both your shoulders and shake baby-.." Juyeon paused as the music halted momentarily.

"Snap out of it..."  I finished his sentence with my own mic. Swinging along to riff, the ascending chords fitting together perfectly to the pitch Juyeon sang over it in. I smirked as we got to the last chorus, my fingers bleeding as they were split open from grazing the strings at an insane pace for the entire concert.

"It's been a good night, the lovely city of Los Angels. We've been The Boyz. Goodnight!" Juyeon announced from the mic, completely faded but sober enough to be understood. The lights faded into complete darkness, slinging my guitar over my head and handing it to the staff on the sidelines.

"Well done." Hyunjae, our bass player, limped over planting a kiss on my head unknowingly. I shrugged the intoxicated elder off of me, downing the open neck of beer on the side drawers.

"I'm gonna fucking pass out." Sunwoo threw his drumsticks on to the coffee table and plummeted on to the leather couch behind him with a lazy slap.

Lighting one up between my lips, no matter how much I drank, my mouth was completely dry - my tongue feeling trapped between the two walls of a paper-like texture. Exhaling the smoke into the closed room and tipping the excess off my ring finger tiredly. I leant back into the couch, Sunwoo's legs kicked up over my lap.

"Eric, the manager wants you." Juyeon walked into the backstage area last, sweat leaking from the strands of his hair as he collapsed on the couch beside Sunwoo.

"What for?" I huffed, crushing the cigarette into the ash tray and getting up to my feet lazily.

"I'd tell you if I knew." He snapped, rolling my eyes I slapped him with the back of my hand as I walked by.

Grasping the coolness of the silver plated handle with my bleeding finger tips. I swung open the door to the staff's room in the venue, coughing as I entered and announcing my presence.

"What?" I asked bluntly, falling on to the couch opposite the manger - sitting with his arms folded arrogantly, cocking brow at my snappy attitude.

"I wanted to speak to you about your image." He began, causing me to roll my eyes with snicker and flash a glint of my sharp teeth that grazed the chapped skin on my lips.

"What about it?" I chuckled, waiting for an outrageous proposal from the middle aged and balding man tutting his head across from me.

"You're in a rock band, not a bubblegum pop group, you're too nice. You need a scandal, you need to be hated by the wrong people. Destroy that glint of hope in the mainstream media's eye. Show them you're like the rest of your group, heartless, conniving, toxic, but have the girls love you." He vented, his mouth bubbling in an excited hiss, closing his fist in exaggeration as his eyes drifted into that one thousand mile stare of his.

"That's not the real me though." I argued artistically, playing off the idea with a shrug.

"Nothing in Hollywood is real kid. Unless you want your career ending, I'd do what I say." He smirked evilly, my hands trembled on my knees as a chewed on the nail of my index finger - whether that was nerves or the drug rush I didn't know myself.

"Whatever." I spat in defeat, getting up from the couch in an aggressive strop.

"Good kid." He sneered, leaning back into the patent leather with an demonic stare glued into his blackened eyes.

Outside the door, Sunwoo seemed to of heard the entire ordeal as he stood against the wall with a lit cigarette between his lips.

"I hate our management, why do we even do this?" I slammed my fist into the wall beside me with a sharp bang. Sunwoo seemingly unfazed by it, walked up to me with a casual stroll and patted my shoulder sweetly.

"You're the only one that has complaints." He smirked as I brushed him off in annoyance.

"Yeah that's because I'm not like the rest of you, none of your care about anyone but yourselves." I spat nastily at this point, not caring too much about what I was saying to the wavy haired brunette next to me.

"We do care, but it's because we want the best for all of us. The best thing for you, is to listen to management. They'll ruin your life and all of ours if you don't." He replied with tolerance, stepping back to give me some space since I was clearly worked up about the situation.

"Sounds like you only care because it affects you." I chuckled bitterly, brushing past him and back down the hallway.

"Eric you're being-" He yelled after me, throwing his hands up in the air exaggeratedly.

"Fuck off." I cut him off before he could claim I was being 'childish' or 'immature' - in realty I knew I was the only one with any emotional intelligence, not that it would change.

The moonlight shone on to the rooftops in the city, walking out of the building with my hood over my head. We were playing in our hometown that night anyways, the others would only assume I went home early. The wind blew harshly, the bottom of my leather ankle boots hitting the pavements in loud echos.

"Do you think they'll leave through this exit?"

"I don't know I think Juyeon's more of a 'through the fire door' type of guy."

My ears perked up to the sound of a few girls whispering amongst each other beside me. They were clearly fans, their baggy fan merchandise tucked into their black skinny jeans.

"Excuse me, sir." One began to approach me, with that I sped up - almost picking up into a light jog down the street. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Sir?!" They didn't move but stayed in the same place as I ran away. I didn't intend to run as far as I did, wandering far into the high street where the store fronts lit up in glistening neons and fluorescent whites that flickered on and off in malfunctioning glitches.

Where even am I? I looked around as best as I could without spoiling my low profile. I continued to walk, to try and find some familiarity in the area. But it was filled with nameless bars, small pawn shops and taxi services. The nightlife was wild, however I couldn't risk asking someone for directions without the risk of them recognizing who I was. It was slightly quieter when I reached the end of the street, sighing to myself I took my hood down and proceeded.

"Come on just let me take you home princess."

"Fuck off, No."

"I'll take real good care of you."

"Leave me alon- GET OFF OF ME."

Overhearing a conversation to my left, I whipped my head around to see a girl in a short black ruffle dress being tugged by a larger male on the sidewalk. Crossing the street, I yelled over quickly.

"Oh there you are! I've been looking for you!" I shouted, approaching the unknown girl closeby. "Who's this?" I pointed to the man holding her arm, with a strange look.

"I don't k-" She replied with great alarm before being cut off by the large man next to her.

"We're old friends, she's letting me take her home." The man spoke for her, still trying to force her into his car.

"Well I'm her boyfriend, so I think I would know who you were. Now please get off of her." I brought her waist close, the man dropping her arm with a defeated huff and sliding back into his car. The car sped off down the street, the engine firing in a high pitched squeal.

"Thank you- thank you so much." She huffed out in relief, bracing her knees in a release of fear.

"No problem at all, are you okay?" I pulled her up from her trembling hunch and supported her upright.

"Yeah I'm fine, seriously thank you for doing that, god knows what could of happened." She replied brushing off the gesture in curtesy.

"Do you wanna grab a drink or something? Can you get home safely?" I asked, watching her eyes glint in the night light. She glanced over to a nearby convenience store, the ones with the small metal tables outside.

"Sure. I guess I wanna know more about you." She smiled, I returned the small curl on my lips and leisurely followed her across the street.

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆

hi clo here ! let me know if you want to see more snippets like this from possible plots of mine!

[mischiefmanaged71]

Tom Bennett x royal!reader headcanons

Request: Reader who's really in love with him to the point of questioning if she's good for him & has ties to English aristocracy. 

A/N: Not connected to my other series. Based on a request!

Tom met her as another individual seeking a way out of France. He didn't know of her identity or status until much later in the trip, only that Y/N sought out a safe route home as he did.

He initially thought she was another French woman until he heard her English accent. Although it was central to London. This would've made him spit something about Manchester and his detest for posh Londoners, if not for the woman's beauty and attitude. She held herself high and had this tenacity - a bite to her words that spoke largely of her personality.

From thereonward, the two grew closer on their shared English background, sticking together for the most part until they arrived at the border. This became apparent when they had to identify themselves and her relations to a certain Windsor House became apparent.

Tom wasn't abhorred or angry to be exact, he was more disappointed that she lied about her identity. Although, it became apparent to him much later on the boat ride back that she was merely doing what she had to do to survive.

After that followed an apology and then they were really off onto another path. She found themselves fawning over different parts. The shine of his hair in the sunlight. The glint of mischief in his eyes when he wore that smirk. He was no different in finding everything about her enthralling. She was the picture of grace and poise, as well as a sarcastic side to test him.

Their relationship is filled with sarcastic retorts and lots of banter!! Tom has found his match. Even in the most stressful situations, she finds a way to bring him back to the moment. They kept each other from falling to their nerves and the fear lingering over their heads. Lingering touches and glances turned to hand holding. Making sure the other is okay and offering comfort in tough moments.

He was a spitfire with ample fuel. Hatred towards the war, authority, and a load of abandonment issues and disappointing others. Tom hid these feelings of helplessness to his nature beneath the facade of confidence, his snark and flirtatious antics making up for the insecurities buried beneath the surface.

She...she was his equal, in a sense. From the first moment, she had returned his snark with equal vigour, and put Tom in his place without prompt. She was graceful, resourceful and quick thinking. The woman was respectful and kind, caring and the right amount of sarcasm to meet Tom's outrageous and loud personality.

No matter his tendency to get into trouble and start fights without prompt. She was quick in learning his tells and desire toward mayhem, taming him from the get go. Y/N made sure of that, pulling him away from the men he had pushed too far; tucking herself into his side while walking along a dark street with shift figures around; bringing his head back to earth when he drifted too far into the dark depths of his mind.

Their first kiss and realisation was a fixed close proximity where Y/N found herself staring into those oh-so blue eyes. She held her breath and lost herself in the moment where he pressed his lips to hers, and her head was spinning. One hand was on her waist, and the other grasping her jaw. To be kissed like this-

From there onward, it was a blissful relationship between the two. The rush of being close to another, the warmth of a shared bed; the comfort of a close body. Reassurance that everything would be okay even in the darkest of times.

The real problem began when she found herself questioning herself. She fell in love so deeply and quickly, Y/N questioned if she was good for Tom. They, of course, came from different upbringings and experiences. It was one of the differences between them that they managed to bridge a gap. And yet...she found herself overthinking about all of the happiness someone else could bring him.

Someone who could see him at any time of day, anywhere they wanted. A person who wasn't followed by security details and people watching their every move. Someone who didn't have most of their life planned out for them since the day they were born. A person without guilt in holding their love back from declaring their relationship. She pined for that type of relationship without paying the price of privacy. To love him in every way possible would be what he deserved. That is what she saw in him.

One day, Tom found her mulling over these thoughts alone, holding the papers with pictures of her and supposed bachelors. They talked it out and she confessed her thoughts. He would be much happier with someone who could completely be with him. In their relationship, they were reclused to closed doors - just the two of them. It was a matter of secret meetings and brief encounters. How could they truly be happy? How could he be happy?

Tom dismissed each of these with his logic immediately. He didn't care for extravagance or showing off their relationship. He loves her and the relationship they have. Having it in private or public, no matter - all he cares about is her and having her in any way he can. He tells her how eternally grateful he is to be know her; to love her; to eventually wed her.

Right about then was when she flushed and the overactive thoughts dimmed at the half lidded glance her way. The stare that enveloped all of the love and adoration she held for him. The knowing look that meant he understood exactly how she felt and desired nothing more than her.

TAGS

@pearlstiare @dothrckis @aemonds-sapphire @xcharlottemikaelsonx  @filipinamultifandom ​ @padfooteyes ​@batsyforyou @yentroucnagol @cl-0-vr @viviartsy @h3k3t @arcana-greenleaf  @yummycastiel @lauraneedstochill @ladybug0095 @rntrsna @schniiipsel

[obscure-song-tournament]

Obscure Song Tournament Masterpost - Round One!

Bracket images + list below the cut. (Long post)

Extremely apologies for that fucked up formatting, it was the easiest way for me to set it up & now I don’t feel like redoing it <3

BRACKETS

Matches will be updated with links when the posts go up :-) (links removed when votes finished. Link link whyyyyy </3)

A

虚に産まれた毒蟲達の選択 - Haint VS. Keep Away - Insane Driver

Manchester - Lana Wild VS. Pulp Friction - Fool Heavy

Scatterbrain - Casual Tees VS. Dopamine - The Fundementals

Angelic 2 the Core - Corey Feldman VS. Sad Hit Song - V is for Villains

Cosmos - Jawbreaker Reunion VS. Patches - Jawbreaker Reunion

John Congleton & The Nighty Nites VS. Away From You - Nicole

New Dance - DEERPEOPLE VS. Not My Good Side - Deafpony

Maple Leaf Etc. - Maxshh VS. Give Me a Moment - 2far2jump

B

Goodbye Goodnight - Eudora June VS. Mama - Eudora June

The Helper - Giannah Noelle VS. The Hummingbird - Miss E

Worm Song - Sunny Side Down VS. Victim of a Siren - Seraph Siege

There’s a Darkness (but There’s also a Light) - The Wild VS. Ray - Dylans TIE

Alive - GON VS. Red - Oh Dorian

You are Loved - David Lamotte VS. Getting Around to it(Maybe) - Ollie Oxyn

Timed Out - blockkids VS. Where U Goin? - Half In the Bag

All That I Am - Maia Grandy VS. For Me - Dearlie

C

The Hidden Word - Noe Venable VS. Echo in the Hills - Carrie Elkin TIE

Hold Onto Myself - Yendawg VS. YOUR GALAXY - ROZLYN PELL

critter song - tidepooler VS. Juliet and Juliet - Kactus Kid

Low Rent Truman Show - Marc with a C VS. Body Heat - Guard Petal

Pub Money - Bag of Cans VS. Take a Peek - Heat Above

Daddy Daedalus watched me GO DOWN IN FLAMES! - lonely carp VS. The Danger - Patricia Wallinga(twt: @ pwallinga)

Call Me Captain - Emrys Layne (tumblr: @ callmecapt) VS. Insecurity Impermanence - Ian Woodside

Deep Blue - Grapefruit VS. You’re So Hot To Me - Commuted

D

Fly Octo Fly Piano Arrangement - Original - ButterShutter VS. PIANO GAMES - Hazma Notes

Devil’s Game - Lonovve VS. Worst in the World - Uncle Outrage

Cheese (Original Mix) - Cheese VS. The Best Poop of Your Life - Squatty Potty

Сопряжение сфер - Ясвена VS. Hokutoshichisei no Ichiya - Akiko Ikuina

Pink Clouds - Sammy J VS. There Will be Someone at My Funeral Who Doesn’t Want to be There - Sammy J

The Crayon Song - Class of 3000 VS. Eco - Jim Valley

Kinky Murder Machine - Slav the Dog VS. TECVM CIRCVMAMBVLARE NOLO - John Linnel

Imagination - Niel Innes VS. Me & Nikolai - Pale Young Gentlemen TIE

E

Checking My Pulse - Alix Olsen VS. Eat Your Heart Out, Sigmund Freud - Mollie Maxwell

Pink Lemonade - Kristi Krause VS. Don’t Want You - Carpark

Home(Here) - Big Tree VS. Runaways - Big Tree

Przyszłam do miasta - Ballady I Romanse VS. 10,000 Days - OK Glass

Cross My Heart - Richard Myhill VS. Hurricane - My Cat Umi

Bitches (Do as Bitches Are) - Brain’s All Gone VS. Rotten - Missouri Surf Club

Born To It - Freefonix VS. No Place Like Home - Freefonix

8:15 - 3:30 VS. last week/month/year - rain

F

Pointillize - Raccoon Fink VS. Tokyo Koya - Van

execute - ninty VS. Bloodlust - ninty

Better Red than Dead - KELChip VS. Bloodbird - KELChip

EGO - Powderpaint VS. Tax Evasion Scheme Artist - Golden Line

.. - subeteanatanoseidesu VS. Fictional Girl - cindersnow

Nighttime (I fall asleep) - SamX VS. No Time at All - MORE

GOTH BITCH DUB - 621 gecs VS. BORKYCORE - ida deerz (ft. kaj strife)

To.Get.Her - Nixis VS. Hyper Arcade - Glass Daydreams

G

Dusk and Dawn - Das Fi VS. Full of Light - Le Professeur

Between You and Me - Clementine Werchola VS. Digital Love - SilverTunes

I Wish Was Dead - Cherry and the Other People VS. Monmon_Fanmoran - Mochitsune

Splitter Girl - Weevildoing VS. Can Graze the Roof bring you back to childhood? - Anomaly Vector

Moongrains - Anomaly Vector (ft Gumi Ai) VS. Memories - Jens East (Ft Lotta Rasva) TIE

Black Plate - Profilgate VS. Ode to Janey Lou - FOE

It’s Murder - Skeleton Staff VS. The Dreaming - Marquis of Vaudeville

Best Friend - Taitoki VS. Chakra - Marnage

H

Rusalka and The Shepherd Girl - The Forgetmenauts VS. Minesweepers - Peter Bellamy

Four Tall Trees - Leslie Fish VS. Carmen Miranda’s Ghost - Leslie Fish

Butterfly/Drowsy Maggie - Double Indemnity VS. Captain Ward - Tempest

The Finchley Waltz - Robin Grey VS. The Trials Of Oscar Wilde - Alan John

Blood and Passion - Alexander James Adam VS. Winter’s Tooth - Alexander James Adam

He of Sidhe - Alexander James Adam VS. Curiosity - JTSteam

they say you see the sparrow fall - pabrizzer VS. Labyrinth - Madeline S

Star Fire - Julia Ecklar and Cynthia McQuillin VS. The Phoenix - Julia Ecklar

I

Liar and the Hound - Beneath Eden VS. Song For Sandy - Thirsty Moon

Snake in the Grass - Couch Slut VS. Bodysuit - FlooringCo

On a Walk - Fort Womb VS. Pause Button - Particle Devotion TIE

Death is a Girl - Skippocalyptic VS. Sea ll - Momoi ALLU

52 Pickup - Z. VS. Are You Underwater - The Gerbils

山谷澗 - Mysterain小雨樂隊 VS. Lately - Strip the Image

J

613 - FC the Kid VS. Never Be Famous - Hussalonia TIE

Too Hot - Jay Safari VS. Lhasa -Shapaley

We Made it - JAMIEvx VS. Collide - Harold J TIE

412 (coffin built for two) - Mollie Maxwell VS. Vampire Bop - Feel Spectres

No Bird Sing - Plastic Lines VS. Unretractable Fact - Second Person

SCARY* - EXIT ONLY VS. THREATS - ILLFIGHTYOU

Real Woman - comfort VS. Preserve - PETROLEUM! GENDERLOSS

See You in The Pit - Rotten Youth VS. No Proposals - Physical Plant

K

Rebels - Old Death Whisper VS. Maneater - Blue Eved Blondes

Candy - Joe Mama VS. la somnambule - La Femme Pendu & Damien Done

Center Stage - Howard Martin VS. Lethal Temptress - The Mendoza Line (COVER)

Gears of the Atom Man - Angels of Liberty VS. Inhuman Liberty - Dr. Arthur Krause

Wake Up Girl - Skeeter Truck VS. Pennies in my Pocket - Stamen and Pistols

Flower Gurl - Ronen VS. Dark Rip - Teen Girl Scientist Monthly

Heart of the TARDIS - Time Crash VS. Trust Me - Time Crash

The Machine - Asta Wylie VS. Not Yet - Leo and the Little Things

L

Grace - Raelle VS. Transfixed - Joss Smith, NUYD

Animal - Xisco Feijoó VS. No Me Lames - Natalia Cassis

Hyperphantasia - Fearful Earful VS. We Who Are About To Live - Le Professeur

Tonight Eternity Alone - Rene Claus VS. HEAD OF HOLOFERNES - lonely carp

Milá má - Nahore VS. Cardigan Sweater - Jasmine Kennedy TIE

Side B - Alohaha VS. Side A - Alohaha

The Binding Of Isaac - Schmekel VS. the man who wasn't there - A Fictitious Band

Let It Go - The Murder of Crows VS. Slip! - Bright Orange

M

Boy who Blocked the Sun - Demi the Daredevil VS. Rainy Day Georgia - Jayne Trimble TIE

Burn it Down with Math - Deuce of Gears VS. Camouflage - Ed's Redeeming Qualities

Reach - Rachel West VS. Haircut Song - Shannon Moser

BurnerPhone - Dirty Heathen (ft. Bittersweet Evergreen) VS. Reunion - Brent Spiner & Maude Maggart

Deadname Birthday - The Timewasters VS. Small Parts of Something Much Larger - Suns

STILL FEEL IT - caseJackal VS. Sunshine and Lollipops 2020 - Sad Snack

Smooth Operator - Supernothing VS. Say What You Want - Growth Spurt

Бетонные блоки - Truckdrivers VS. Mirèmèngies - Edona Vatoc

N

Have You Ever Seen a Duck, Like, in Real Life? - lisa the beauty queen VS. Zip Ties and SSRIs-Dinosawh

Housekeeper- Faun Fables VS. Kill the King - Rabbit Rabbit Radio

Caroline - Espers VS. Mega Mouse - Putrid Shark

Whiskey and Water - Parader VS. Tales of the Phantom Ship - Nathan

Raising the Dead! - Jessica Law VS. Lotus Eaters - Jessica Law TIE

Autism Murder Memorial- Fit to Work VS. All Cats are Beautful - Fit to Work

Moon - Feel Spectres VS. Blow Up the Moon - Feel Spectres

All For Me Grog! - Spud Bugs VS. A Place We Could Call Home (Turncoat Collective) - Spud Bugs

O

Reclaim - Porch Cat VS. Perspectives - The Cast Before the Break

Orpheus on Ice - The Small Calamities VS. Violin Concerto in the Key of Crippling Regret - The Small Calamities TIE

Paint By Numbers - From Fragile Seeds VS. Homme Offer Knee - Ben Below

Tomb Song - Nora Keyes VS. Hold My Heart - The Dune Sea

Each Time She Calls - Jessie Goslin VS. Daisies - Heather and Hay

A Catalyst - Blood Crying Twinks VS. flexible guy - clown residue

Howard - Demo - Mother Aiden VS. going thru it - teamonade

Blooming Strangely - Ginger & Pear VS. Pressed - Ginger & Pear

P

Alright! Heartcatch Precure! - Aya Ikeda VS. 恐竜あげみざわ★ - Kyouruu Friends

星の旅人 - Sayaka Senbongi & Yumiri Hanamori VS. Gyokuza no GEMINI - Eclipse

The End of the World - Fred Deakin VS. Weekend Anarchist - MEMODEMO

運命は “I" Love You - チームDEKAI VS. Endure Emptiness - Kain Vinosec

Heritage of Sampled Electronic World - KR. Palto47 VS. Ultimate Performance of Abandoned Magic Boxes ~Rack of Junks - KR. Palto47

Liminal Spaces - Logan Fredricks VS. 薔薇は美しく散る × 輪舞-revolution - okurigi66

297回の試行 - Image44 VS. 川のそばで - Image44

DiViNE - EXiNA VS. We'll make a monster of you - Freefonix