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barefoothighlander · 1 year

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mary on a cross - the unforgiven

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mdni (18+), violence, death, smut, unprotected pinv, creampie, blowjob, mention of scars & alcohol, oral (fem rec)

-word count: 5.5k

-summary: you and simon take a break from the chaos of the pub

prev chapter masterlist

a/n: okay idk why this took me forever to write but it's done, not proofread

You reach for him in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open as the feeling of the space beside you being empty, you reach for the sheets, pulling them to your face and inhaling his scent. The room is bright when you finally wake, the large windows illuminating the space, breathing life into the room.

You glance around looking for him, your eyes catching the clock beside the bed, it was around 8am, you drag yourself from the bed, pulling the blanket around you as you stumble across the floors. You call out for him a few times but there’s no answer, nearing the other side of the flat you can hear shuffling downstairs.

You make your way down the stairs, your blanket tucked tight around you, keeping you warm as the sounds of the men fill your ears.

“Morning lass” Johnny gives a whistle as he eyes your form, bare legs and hair a mess from your sleep, your cheeks blush at his comment, Simon peeking around the corner.

“Hey sorry, didn’t want to wake you” His arm snakes behind your back and he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

“S’okay, what’s goin on?”

“Stopped by for some coffee”

“Tea” Simon interrupts

“Fuckin brits”

You giggle a little, “I’m gonna get dressed” You smile and make your way back up the stairs.

“She still doesn’t know?” Soap asks

“No, and she never will, I’m done”

“You’re a shit liar”

“I won’t drag her into this”

“Little late for that, by the way, that ex-boyfriend is heavier than he looks”

“I told you not to get involved Johnny”

“And if I didn’t you would’ve had a body in your alley to deal with”

“Why were you there anyway”

“Wanted to check in”

“You’re a nosey bastard you know that”

“Oh don’t I”

You jog down the stairs, newly dressed, sitting next to Johnny on a stool.

“So, what’re you two talking about?”

The two men exchange a quick look, “Simons thinking of takin a vacation” Johnny says, Simon turning his stare to frown at Soap.

“A vacation? Where are you going”

He has to think quickly, and make something up, “I’ve got an old cabin up north, was thinking of spending a weekend there”

“That sounds nice”

You smile at him, a lightbulb going off in his head, “Was thinkin you could join me?”

“Who’d run the pub?” “We can close for a weekend”

“Won’t that cost a lot”

“You don’t need to stress about it”

You give a small nod, “And what about you Johnny, what are you up to”

“Oh ya know, couple of things here and there”

You raise your eyebrows urging him to continue

“Mostly some tidying around, boring errands”

Simon releases a sigh, swearing that if he could he would strangle Johnny right there

“Well, are you gonna be around the pub?” “I think I’ll hang around for a little longer”

“Great, I’ve gotta run out so I’ll see you later” You hop off your stool, moving around the bar to stand on your toes, placing a soft kiss on Simon’s lips, he blushes at the action while Soap rolls his eyes. You wish the two a quick goodbye, walking out the front door to get started on your own errands.

“She’s good for you” Soap quips

“Shut it”

“I’m serious LT, she’s sweet, a nice change from your grumpy attitude”

Simon just stares at Johnny, his face saying enough as Johnny sips his coffee, a smirk on his lips.

You spend a few hours running around the town, picking up some things, and dropping off some breakfast for Mia before you get back to the Pub.

“Hey where’s Johnny”

“Had to go”

“Shame”

“Yea, so about this weekend”

“You don’t want me to come”

“What? No, I was just going to say that it’s a pretty long drive so we’ll have to take your car”

“Oh, okay”

“So we’ll stop by your flat before we go, you can grab whatever you need”

“Sounds perfect, we’ll close early tonight”

You smile at him as he walks towards the backroom to grab supplies for the bar. Work was slow, with barely any patrons during the day, you occupied the time with conversation between you and a few regulars, trying your hardest to understand what they were saying through their thick accents.

“Oi love”

You look up from the table you’re cleaning, Simon’s changed into shorts and a t-shirt, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go to the gym, we’ll head out when I’m back?”

“Let me come, it’s dead here anyway”

“Alright, c’mon then”

You giggle as you trail behind him, waiting for him to lock the door before walking the few steps next door to the gym, you step in and the thick air hits you, the place reeks of sweat, scattered people all working out, you feel out of place in your casual clothes, Simon placing a soft hand to your back to guide you through the room.

He stops in front of a punching bag, throwing his gear down before he wraps his hands,

“You box?”

“I used to, trying to get back into it”

You give a hum in acknowledgement, watching as he sets himself up in front of the bag, his strong arms flexed at his sides, he hits the bag hard, watching it swing back before delivering another blow, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little bit, watching his arms flex as he made contact with the bag, the concentration on his face as he timed his hits.

You watch him practice some hits, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin before his hand moves to stop the bag, keeping it still,

“Enjoying the view”

You suddenly realize that you’d been staring at him the entire time, your cheeks blush slightly as he catches you, your teeth biting lightly into your bottom lip as you nod your head, he lets out a light chuckle, shaking his head before resuming.

You stay quiet as you watch him workout for some time, running to grab him some water after the first 20 minutes, he continues for a little longer, his breath heavy as he pulls his fists back, unwrapping his hands.

“All done?”

“You want more?” “I could watch you do that for hours”

He smiles, a genuine smile as he leans down to grab his bag, his sweaty arm slinging over your shoulders as you make a face of disgust,

“You smell terrible”

“Guess we’ll have to clean up”

“We?”

He moves in front of you fast, arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you into the air,

“Gross your sweat is all over me now”

“Whatever will we do?” He gives an exaggerated gasp, you roll your eyes at him, following behind as he unlocks the doors to the pub, making his way upstairs.

He moves to the bathroom, turning on the shower before stripping his clothes and tossing them to the side, your eyes are glued to him, drool practically forming at the sides of your mouth.

“You just gonna stare”

“Not a chance in hell”

You strip your own clothes, closing the space between you as you reach up to kiss him, your arms wrapping around his neck, his hands grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up so you can lock them around him as he walks the two of you into the shower, the steam from the water just heightening the heat that's emanating from you.

He presses your back against the tile wall, the water dripping over his bare skin as he peppers kisses down your neck, you let out a small gasp as his teeth dig into your flesh, biting lightly at your collarbone.

You can feel his hardening length pressing against your thigh, you wiggle your hips against him desperate for friction,

“Please Si, need you so bad” You whimper

He pulls back from you, his dark eyes scanning your face, full of lust, he leans in for one more kiss before he lines himself up with your weeping core, you clench around nothing as he teases at your entrance.

You sob into his shoulder as he pushes into you, the stretch of him moulding your entrance to his cock with every inch, your slick coats him as he pushes in deeper.

“Fuck love, see what you do to me, how bad I need you” He grunts into your ear, the noises shooting straight to your core as you cling to him. He holds your weight with his arms, keeping you against the wall as he thrusts into you, groans falling from his lips.

He nudges your head with his shoulder, urging you back so he can see you,

“Don’t hide, want to see you, want to hear all those pretty noises you make for me”

Your nails take across his back as you let your moans drip from your tongue, he leans in swallowing them with his lips.

He adjusts his grip on your legs lowering one so his free hand can toy at your clit, circling it with the rough pad of his thumb as you arch into him.

He presses his forehead to yours, the water cascading over the both of you as you melt into a puddle of moans and cries, his cock pounding into you as his fingers work your bud.

“Need you to cum for me angel, cum on my cock”

He thrusts harder, your hand bracing against the wall trying to keep your balance as you feel your legs weaken.

“Shit, so perfect for me, such a perfect little pussy”

His words ignite a fire in you, you grind your hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing your high as it bubbles in your stomach.

“So close Si, please”

“C’mon love, soak my cock”

You practically scream his name as you cum, your fingers pressing into the flesh of his shoulder as your limbs go limp, he holds you steady, his abdomen tightening as his own orgasm approach’s, he pulls you in for another kiss, holding your lips against his as he spills into you, his seed filling your core with warmth as a string of curses fall from his lips.

He releases your leg, his arm around your waist keeping you steady as you stand, the stream of water helping to ground you as your heartbeat settles, he holds you against him, choking back the words he so badly wants to say in order to stay in the moment.

You turn your back to him, reaching down to grab a bottle of shampoo before dispersing some into your hand, reaching up to run it through his hair, he hums at the contact of your fingers moving over his scalp, slumping his shoulders slightly to allow you easier access.

You can’t fight the smile that creeps on your lips, seeing such a large and daunting man melt under your touch made your heart skip a beat, his hands find purchase on your waist, his thumbs tracing over your wet skin as you work the product through his hair, you hands meeting his shoulder to urge him under the water.

He rinses the product, turning to grab a sponge, pouring some soap onto it before turning back to you,

“Your turn”

You giggle lightly as his hands make contact with your stomach, circling over your skin with the sponge as he watches the bubbles run down your frame, his touch is light, tickling you as he moves around.

You rinse off, finishing in the shower before stepping out, Simon grabs you a towel before wrapping himself in one and you can’t help but stare at his muscles, each ridge that sits on his chest,

“You stare a lot”

“Not every day you have a real greek god standing in front of you”

He scoffs at your words, “Don’t know about that one” He runs a tender hand over your jaw, his fingers pushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in to kiss you.

“Right, c’mon we’ve got things to do” He smacks your ass playfully, walking into the bedroom to get dressed. You do the same, throwing on your clothes as you watch him pack a small bag, tossing it over his shoulder before threading his hand into yours, the two of you making your way downstairs and through the pub.

Simon locks up before returning to you, he’s tall by your side as you walk down the few streets to your flat, the sunny weather outside amplifying your good mood as you chat.

You reach your flat in no time, unlocking the door before tossing Simon the keys to your car, letting him pack his things in as you step inside to gather yours.

You move around quickly, throwing things in various bags, picking out some clothes and sexy underwear just in case as you make your way back outside.

Simons leaning against the car door, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips as he eyes you,

“Ready to go?”

You skip over to him, standing tall to kiss him, he tastes like tobacco but you welcome it, smiling at him before moving around the car to get into the passenger seat. He smiles to himself, taking a final drag before flicking the butt to the pavement and getting in the car.

He was right, the drive was long, you’d already been on the road for two hours, passing by a few towns before you had made it to the country, bunches of trees breezing by your window, Simon's hand had been resting on your thigh for the majority of the ride, only moving to change the radio station or turn the ac up.

When you finally arrived it was close to sunset, the sky a mixture of purples and oranges as you approached the old cabin, he tosses you the keys while he grabs the bags from the car. You open the front door and scan the area, it's completely different than his flat, it's cozy, there are pictures on the wall, you take a minute to look closely, Simon's in a few but you don't recognize the others.

"My brother" He appears in the door frame, you turn your head to him, "In the pictures, it's my brother, sister in law and my nephew"

"You didn't tell me you had a family"

"I don't"

Your heart drops as your mind makes sense of his words, "This was their house?"

"Haven't been here in a while, little dusty"

You shake your head, "It's perfect" You move to him and wrap your arms around his waist, his snaked his around your back to hold you close.

“Whaddya wanna do” You ask, your head tilting up to lock eyes with him

“Honetly, go to bed”

“To sleep.. Or to bed” You smirk

He smiles at you, his arms hooking around your thighs as he lifts you, carrying you to the bedroom, your giggles echoing throughout the house.

The next morning was quiet, you woke up before him, watching the steady rise and fall of his bare chest, your fingers tracing his tattoos as you count the freckles on his cheeks.

“Mornin” He grumbles, he doesn’t bother to open his eyes, simply extends his arms around you, pulling you closer, you pepper kisses over his collarbones leading up to his face,

“Sleep well?” You giggle

“Best in years” His fingers push your hair behind your ear as he reches his neck to kiss you,

“C’mon” You move off of him, “You hungry?”

“Starving”

You make your way to the kitchen, pulling open cabinets to search for something, “Theres nothing to make” You pout, he stands in the hallway, arm braced against the wall as he stares you down,

“Not what I’m hungry for”

Your cheeks blush as his stare grows darker, closing the gap between the two of you and lifting you from the ground, his arms secure under your thighs as your ass falls against the countertop, the cold stone stinging your bare skin. He doesn’t bother to take your shirt off, he simply slides your panties from your legs, positioning your thighs over his shoulders as he trails kisses down to your core.

Your fingers thread through his hair, quiet pants falling from your lips as he teases around your dripping sex, placing kisses everywhere except the spot you need him most,

“So perfect” His breath ghosts over your pussy, the feeling making you clench around nothing

“Simon, please”

He stares up at you through his lashes, his hands pushing your thighs further apart, your hand falls back to brace against the counter, your chest heavy as your slick drips out of you. He licks lightly around your bud, whimpers escaping you as he teases around the bud, he enjoys watching you squirm, he wants you begging before he gives you anything. Your fingers are tugging at his roots, trying to pull him into you but he stands firm,

“Needy girl”

“Please”

“What do you need pretty girl”

“Need to feel you, need your fingers”

His hand extends toward your mouth, you open and he inserts two digits in, you swirl your tongue around them, hollowing your cheeks before he pulls them out with a pop, tracing them down over your chest before he pushes them into you, you let out a sigh of relief at the contact, his thick fingers working in and out of you, curling them as he pushes past his second knuckle, he watches your face scrunch from just the touch of his fingers.

He can’t wait any longer, his lips attaching to your clit, your elbow buckles from the contact, your back laying closer to the counter as his tongue flicks over the bud, swirling and sucking until you’re breathless.

“Taste so sweet baby” He purrs into your skin, your slick is coating his chin as his fingers pump into you, your leg tightens around him, holding him to you as he continues his assault, humming around your clit as your fingers tug at his roots.

“Please, so close”

“You wanna cum for me baby?” “Yes, please, need to”

“Good girl, cum on my fingers baby, doing so well for me”

His praise has your eyes squeezing shut, your pending orgasm forcing all your muscles to constrict against your will, you drop your head back, hands falling from him to grip the edge of the counter as his fingers brush against your sweet spot, over and over.

“That’s it baby, cum for me”

His free hand reaches to pinch at your hard nipple, the pressure building inside you threatening to explode, he presses his tongue flat and flicks over your clit, the change has you seeing stars as your climax hits you, your knuckles are white from the grip you have, your legs holding him against you as his fingers fuck you through your high, your hips twitching under him as your moans fall freely from your mouth.

“Such a good girl” He eases his movements, letting you come down before he stands, leaning over your breathless frame to kiss you, the remnants of your slick on his tongue,

“Told you, taste so sweet”

His arms help you from your position, sitting you on the counter as he holds you,

“You hungry?” He asks

You nod, biting your lower lip as your hands move to his pants, he stops your movements,

“I mean real food”

Your chest deflates a little, “Nothing here”

“I’ll go get some, towns a few minutes away” He leans in to kiss you, “Be good while I’m gone”

“I’ll do my best”

He smirks at you, placing a final kiss on your forehead before moving to the bedroom to get dressed. You wait a few minutes after he leaves, wandering the house, you check out a few rooms, your heart panging in your chest when you come upon a bedroom that clearly belonged to a young boy, trains and toy cars scattered across the floor, you know you shouldn't be snooping but curiosity takes over, you move around the upper floor, into the largest bedroom, everything looks like it hasn't been touched in years, the bed is unmade, there's laundry sitting in the basket, either Simon hasn’t been here in forever or he’s kept it the exact same for over a decade.

You leave the room, descending the stairs, trying to find something to do while you wait, deciding that going for a swim was the best option. Changing into your bathing suit you make your way out onto the back deck, it’s a small beach that the house looks out onto, but private, the water is cold when you step in, the waves lapping against your legs as the sun warms your skin, you make your way out further, the water sitting just below your shoulders.

You must’ve been in the water for a while as your trance is broken by Simon calling for you, you turn to him, arm braced above your head to block the sun as he stands on the desk, grocery bags in hand as he waves for you, you shake your head with a smile, urging him to join you, he drops his shoulders and you can practically hear the sigh that falls from his lips. Giving in he drops the bags, peeling his shirt off before making his way over to you, you can’t help but blush at the sight of him, tall and broad shoulders, his skin glowing under the light of the sun, the way his arms flex as he takes his shorts off, long strides carrying him towards you.

“It’s bloody cold”

“You get used to it”

“Right,” His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his form as the water from your chest transfers over to him, making his muscles tense a little.

“C’mon, let’s go eat”

“It’s so nice out here though” You pout

He huffs a laugh, bending down before his shoulder connects with your stomach, lifting you from your place and throwing you over his shoulder. You thrash your legs around but his grip keeps you firm against him,

“Oh my god, let me down!”

“Nope” His palm smacks your ass, making your flinch against him, the water from both of you dripping as he carries you into the house, planting you down on the floor once inside.

“I’m soaked”

He smirks at your words and you roll your eyes playfully,

“I’ll clean it later, come”

He urges you to sit, pulling out a few boxes and placing them in front of you, he devours his breakfast in seconds while you sit picking at your food.

“So this was your brothers house?”

He’s apprehensive to answer, waiting a best before choosing his words,

“Yeah, him and his wife lived here with my nephew”

“And they’re, gone?”

He just nods, turning his attention from you, you push your food away, standing in front of him before wrapping your arms around his dorm, his cheek settling against your chest.

“I’m sorry”

“S’not your fault love”

“I know it’s just, it sucks”

He huffs a small laugh, “Yea, it does”

You hold him for a moment before pulling away, your hand moving to grab his,

“C’mon”

“Where to?”

“Still hungry”

“Your foods there” He quirks his brow

You don’t respond, simply leading him to the bed room when you let go of his hand, turning to face him you pull the strings of your bathing suit, letting the clothing fall to ground before you make your way into the bathroom. He watches you curiously as you lean to turn on the shower, giving him the perfect view of your body,

“Coming?”

He moves towards you, “I will be”

You step into the shower, warm water washing the sand from your body as he stands in front of you, you reach up to kiss him, the water droplets cascading down your form as your hand snakes down his stomach, palming over his length.

“Been thinking about this all morning” Your hand grabs his length, squeezing lightly before running your palm over it, you feel him twitch into your grip, his hands roaming your form as he gazed at you.

You kneel in front of him, he plants one hand in your hair, pulling it back from your face while the other braces him against the wall, you stare at him through your lashes as you lick a stripe from his base to rip, feeling him grow harder under your touch.

He lets out a weak sigh as you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapped around him as your tongue flicks over his tip, gathering his pre cum and swallowing it.

Simon grunts as you take more of him into your mouth, his tip poking the back of your throat as your nose nestles against his pubic hair, you moan against him and he has to stop himself from thrusting into your mouth.

“Fuck love, feels so good”

You hum at his praise, your hairs roaming his form before settling on his thighs, grounding yourself as you bob along his length, flattening your tongue to lick every inch of him.

You feel him get unsteady as your hand plays with his balls, kneading them in your palm as you continue to work him,

“Shit baby, doing so fucking well”

You pull off him, staring up as a string of spit connects your lips to his tip, drool that pooled in your mouth falling to drip between your breasts, his eyes are glued to you as your hand pumps him.

He lets out a string of moans as your lips return to him, bobbing faster as the the sound of wet gags fills the air,

“Fuck, m’so close”

You stare up at him, gently squeezing his thigh to give him the okay to use you, his grip on your hair grows tighter as he holds you on his cock, burying himself in your throat as he begins to thrust, you gag around him, your digits squeezing into his skin to stay balanced as he grunts above you.

You focus on breathing through your nose as his tip makes contact with the back of your throat, over and over until he sets himself deep, holding you there before you feel his balls tighten.

He lets out a deep grunt as he cums, the hot spend dripping down your throat, he loosens his grip on your hair and you move slowly over his length, milking him for every drop.

He lets out a small whimper as he finishes, the sensation of your tongue overstimulating him before you pull off, swallowing as he stares at you.

“God you’re perfect” His hand cups your cheek as he helps you stand, pulling you in for a kiss and swirling his tongue over yours, his salvia mixing with the salty taste of his seed in your mouth.

You spend the rest of the afternoon outside, swimming in the ocean together, bathing in the sun, always in arms reach of the other. As the sun fades the two of you make your way inside for dinner, eating whatever Simon had cooked and managed to not burn while the sound of the waves and cicadas flood your ears.

“Can we stay here forever?”

“I wish love” He responds, smiling at you

“Don’t wanna go back tomorrow”

“I know but the pub can’t run itself”

You huff a small laugh, turning back to your meal.

The rest of the night was quiet, falling into a sort of domestic routine of washing dishes and sitting together on the porch, chatting about nothing in particular, you wanted to ask more about his family but you knew he didn’t want to talk about it, saving your questions for another time.

The next morning was just as calm, waking before him again and simply staring at him, he looked so peaceful when he was asleep, nothing to worry about or bother him, you trace the line of his nose with your finger, he scrunches his face in his sleep and you let out a small laugh.

He opens his eyes slightly, dark eyes staring back at you as a small smile creeps across his face, his arms pulling you into him as he lifts his body over yours, his broad shoulders resting against your form. You roam your hands over his back, fingers feeling over every ridge of scar tissue as he buries his nose in your neck, humming against your skin.

“Have to get up” You place a small kiss to his shoulder and he mumbles, “C’mon, it’s a long drive”

“I’ve changed my mind, we stay here forever”

You laugh against his skin, your fingers moving to thread through his hair as you pepper kisses over his shoulders and neck.

He pushes up with a grunt, gazing at you for a second before leaning down to kiss you, his warmth enveloping your skin as his body cages you against the mattress.

“So beautiful” He whispers and you can’t help but blush at his words, reaching up for another kiss before he gets up.

The two of you go for a final swim before packing all your things away, enjoying the water and sun as in a few hours you’d be back to work, busy and reeking of alcohol.

Simon carries your bags to the car, sitting himself behind the wheel before his hand finds its usual spot on your thigh, his thumb tracing over the skin as he pulls away from the house. You watch the building fade from view, your eyes glued to the sight of the ocean and the terrain as you drive back to the city.

You were a few miles out when you could already hear the noise, car horns and people shouting, there must’ve been a football match that day because everyone was in the streets, running around and shouting from their windows.

Simon pulls up to your flat, parking the car before getting out to open your door, he lifts your bags into the house before meeting back with you,

“I’ll see you at the pub in a few yeah?”

You nod, reaching up to kiss him before he walks away, his talk form navigating around the herds of drunk people.

You unpack your bag, throwing on new clothes and fixing your hair before making your way over to the pub, trying to ignore the shouting from drunk men on the streets, wishing deeply that you had your personal bodyguard to protect you. You arrive at the pub and stand outside for a minute, the lights are off but the door is open, stepping in you shout for him.

There’s not response but you can hear noises upstairs, making your way to the second floor your heartbeat rises,

“Simon?”

“Stay downstairs” You hear him yell, his voice is panicked as a loud thud echoes.

“Is everything alright? The door was open”

“Just go downstairs!”

His voice booms, setting your nerves on edge, your mind races with all the thoughts of what could be happening, thinking about all the things he could be hiding you muster up some courage and push open the door.

A million thoughts ran through your mind, you almost wished it was a girl he was hiding compared to this, the sight of a lifeless body on the ground, a trail of blood across the floor while Simon drags the man.

He drops the body with a thud, his eyes locked on yours as fear sits in your chest, he moves toward you, his hands covered in red as he throws his palms up in defence.

“He broke in”

“You killed him” You’re frozen in your spot

“He had a knife”

“You- you killed him” You can’t face him, your gaze set on the dead body lying on the floor

“Love, look at me”

You shake your head, “How, what?” You struggle to form a sentence, his arms reach for you and you flinch, stepping back.

“Baby it’s ok, just go downstairs”

“No, I don’t, Simon what the fuck” Tears prick your eyes, “How are you so calm”

“You know I’ve done it before love”

“Those are different circumstances, right?”

“Yes”

“This, this is murder”

“Self defence, please, just go downstairs and I’ll explain everything”

You stare at him for a moment, your options run through your mind, how could a man so gentle, so tender with you be capable of this, be so calm during this, you should run, should call the police but against better judgement you listen, leaving down the stairs you lock the front door, sitting down to try and catch your breath.

You can’t think about anything except the sight of your maybe boyfriend dragging a dead man across the floor, your ears don’t even focus on the noises above you, the sound of Simon grunting as he moves the body.

You sit in silence for 10 minutes before you hear him come down the stairs,

“You stayed” He sounds relieved

“You have a lot of explaining to do”

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ereardon · 1 month

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In The Skies || Ch. 1 [Major John "Bucky" Egan x Reader]

Overview: On a night out in London, you meet fellow American Major John “Bucky” Egan of the 100th. As war rages on, you take a leave of absence during the spring of your third year at Oxford to sign up as a nurse on the front lines in England. Time and time again, you and Bucky find yourselves thrown together in the hospital ward as you tend to him and his teammates after missions gone awry. What happens when you find yourself falling for a man who might never return from the skies?

Pairing: Major John “Bucky” Egan x Reader

Chapter summary: You spend one eventful night with Major "Bucky" Egan after a night out in London. Will you ever see him again?

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, cursing, definitely historical inaccuracies

WC: 2.6K

Masterlist here

“Want a drink?”

“Sure!” Your voice got lost in the crowd. The bar, somewhere in Camden, was packed, a mixture of men in uniform and women with drawn-on hosiery packed like sardines in the tiny room. Music swelled over the chaos of voices, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears from the sheer volume of everything.

It was exhilarating.

It was the week before exams, and you and two girlfriends had decided to throw caution to the wind, taking the train from Oxford and staying in the city in a flat that Mary’s sister rented, the four of you squished in two tiny beds with one mirror and a bathroom in the hallway.

But the allure of London was such a vibrant change from Oxford. Even during the war, there was something romantic about the city. Maybe, in the fact of everything, it was the potential. To be who you wanted to be. To live a life worth living.

Or, perhaps the real reason your friends had wanted to go to London for the weekend, was the men.

So many military men.

You’d had your share of flings with Brits. There were the other students at Oxford. The townies nearby. You even danced on the edge of a romantic relationship with a professor. But in the end, they all went belly up.

Mary pressed a drink into your hand and you took a sip, eyes darting around the room. You had come to London only a handful of times in the two-and–a-half years you had been at Oxford. It was overwhelming, after the quietness of rural England. The hustle, the sheer volume of bodies, the loud voices and incoherent accents. Almost three years in England and you still could barely understand a British accent.

Mary and Eileen had an easier time adjusting. Eileen was also an American, from California. She looked like a film star, and you envied her sometimes. Mary was more quiet, originally from Dover, with diminutive features.

Barely an hour into arriving, they had both been swept into conversations with handsome men. You waved them off with a smile. That was the purpose of going to the bar, you reminded yourself. Experience life outside of the Ivy-covered halls of Oxford. Throw caution to the wind, just once. In the midst of all the tragedy and the chaos and the death, you were twenty one. You were just starting to live.

“Need a refill?” The voice was unmistakably American. Midwest American if you had to guess. You looked up from where you had been lingering against one dark wall in the corner of the club.

That voice. It was deep and throaty, and belonged to a tall man leaning against the wall to your right, his head cocked to one side, deep blue eyes staring straight at you.

You felt your stomach flip. There was something unmistakeable about his gaze. It cemented you in place, grounding you. He smiled, small lips turning up beneath a groomed mustache.

“I’m fine,” you replied, hating yourself instantly, the empty glass in your hand saying otherwise. He was going to walk away, try his luck with the next girl, and you cursed yourself.

Instead, he stayed rooted in place, nodding. “That’s alright. I recognize an American anywhere.”

“New York,” you replied.

“Wisconsin.” You told him your name. He reached out one solid, large hand. “I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky? You must have messed up big time to get that as your nickname.”

He smirked, his hand warm where it was still enveloping yours. You didn’t want to pull away. There was something magnetic about him. “You’re a long way from home.”

“I’m a third year at Oxford,” you said. He had to lean in closer to hear you above the noise of the club and you could smell the tobacco on his jacket, the musk of whiskey and oranges. “Just here for the weekend.”

“Seeing a boyfriend?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Bucky smiled. “Good.” Despite the noise of the club and the competing senses — boisterous laughter, the scent of sweat and perfumes mixed together, the rush of bodies all around — you found yourself entirely captivated by Bucky. He straightened up against the wall where the two of you were leaning. “Want to get some air?” he asked. “Take a walk?”

“Yes.” He held out a hand and you took it without thinking, not bothering to find Eileen or Mary in the crowd and tell them you’ve left. You simply let Bucky sweep you out into the cool London night.

The air outside was biting against the thin silk of your dress and you shivered almost immediately. He shrugged off his jacket, a fur-trimmed bomber coat and wrapped it around your shoulders without you asking.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “What’s your real name?” you asked quietly. “Unless your mother had an awful sense of humor and named you Bucky from birth.”

He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty street. “John Egan, ma’am.”

“Ma’am,” you repeated, the word slippery on your tongue. “Makes me feel old.”

“You don’t look a day over twenty.”

“Twenty one,” you replied. “Last week.”

Up ahead, yellow street lamps tossed delicate rings of light into the road. It was a T junction. You could go left or right. He stopped underneath the lamp at the intersection and you turned to face him. “Y/N,” he said. “I’m leaving tomorrow. What do you say we make this a night we won’t forget?”

“Do you say that to all the girls?” you whispered. “Or just the ones you pick up in clubs.”

Bucky smirked. “I say it because it’s true.” He paused, his face falling. “And because this time, we might not come back.” There was something dark and defeated in the way he said it.

Again, without thinking, you reached up, trailing one hand over his cheek. He pressed into your palm without thinking, closing his eyes for a second before popping them open. “Can’t let a soldier go off to war without a proper sendoff,” you replied quietly. “Wouldn’t be very patriotic of me, now would it?”

He reached out, pressing both hands to either side of your face, delicately stroking your cheek with his rough, large thumb. “No, it wouldn’t. And you’re a good little American, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“For my troops?” you whispered. “Anything.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours. You felt goosebumps prickle at your skin. He tasted warm, like tobacco and whiskey, and his mouth opened gracefully, accepting your lips across his, his tongue finding yours with soft padding.

Bucky pulled back, sliding both of his large, warm hands across the sides of your face. His slate blue eyes bore into yours for a moment and even though you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk in London, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, and empty space all around.

At the hotel, you slipped off your heels near the door, looking around. It was a small room, just a bed in the middle, a chair next to one wall, and a window overlooking the street. Bucky closed the door. You turned to him, eyes wide. “You ever done anything like this, sweetheart?” he murmured.

You shook your head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“So why me?” he asked. “Why tonight?”

“It’s war, Bucky,” you whispered. “People do things because they can. While they can.”

He stepped closer, his scent surrounding you. He was tall, so much taller without your heels on, and you craned your neck up to look at him. He cupped your face gently. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Might be the last pretty face I ever see.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He pulled away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Silently, you admired the way his thighs stretched the dark green fabric of his uniform, how long his legs were as he tapped one brown leather shoe against the carpet. “You don’t know what it’s like up there. Not knowing if we’re ever coming back.”

“Do you have a wife back home?” you whispered.

He looked up, frowning. “You think I’d be here with you if I had a wife?”

“I don’t know. Some men might.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. I don’t have a wife. Or a girl.”

“Tonight I’ll be your girl,” you whispered, slotting yourself between his legs, Bucky’s fingers automatically reaching out, tracing along the lines of your legs covered in hosiery. His fingertips ran along the back seam of your pantyhose behind your knee as you sucked in a breath, winding your arms around his neck.

“Is that a promise?” he asked, voice thick and deep. His eyes pierced yours.

“Are you going to come back safe?” you whispered.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Then it’s a promise,” you murmured, leaning down, pressing your lips to his, Bucky’s hands circling your waist, tugging your body against him, one of his hands threaded in your hair at the base of your neck where it was pinned under. He tasted of tobacco and drink and you let him slide his hands up beneath your dress, gasping as his fingers gently brushed over your bottom, fingertips grazing the snaps of your garter where it clipped to your thigh highs.

“Can’t tell you the last time I touched real stockings,” he whispered. You didn’t have the heart to tell him they were your last pair, and that you had been saving them. Most days, you drew a line up the back of your leg like all the other women, replicating the seam of stockings but going without in order to support the war.

“And how do they feel?”

Bucky looked up, his enormous hands clasped around the back of your thighs where your bare flesh sat between the edge of your panties and the top of the stockings. “Amazing.”

You tipped your head back in a sigh as he gripped your bottom, squeezing the bare flesh tightly. He unclipped the stockings, rolling them down your left, then your right, leg, slowly. You reached out, undoing his tie, his blue eyes watching yours with rapt attention as your fingertips shook while you undressed him.

His skin was warm as you slid your fingers over his bare chest, admiring the smattering of hair in the center of his sternum, the small scar on his left shoulder blade. You couldn’t help but run your hands over his abs, so clearly defined but still soft, the way the muscles melted into each other like rounded mountaintops.

You spun around so Bucky could undo the buttons on the back of your dress. There was an intimacy as he worked his way down your back until the dress peeled off. You placed your hands over your chest, turning around shyly.

“Don’t cover up, baby,” he whispered, voice low and gravely. “Let me see you.”

Slowly, you removed your hands, standing in front of him in only your sheer ivory slip dress. Buck reached up, tracing one hand over your breast, your nipple straining against the fabric, the air in the room full of expectation. You gasped as he slid the lacy strap off of your shoulder, exposing your chest, leaning forward and taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard as you threaded your fingers into his curling dark hair. “Oh!”

He pulled you down against him, rolling you over until your back was against the bed, his head still level with your chest as he kissed across your exposed skin. Your fingertips dug against his back, eyes closing as you widened your hips, letting him sit between your thighs.

You had been with men before. Oxford, for all of its poshness and etiquette, had seen a spike in debauchery since the war broke out. So different from back home. You were different here than you were at home.

But being with those other men was nothing like being with Bucky. His mustache tickled over the exposed skin of your neck as he pressed inside of you, his arms wrapping around your whole body, keeping you warm, holding you as close as possible as you moved together, your fingers tangled in his hair, your ankles curled around his hips, your moans drenching the small gap of air between the two of you.

And as he finished, his forehead pressed against yours as he moaned into the night, hips shuddering against your body, you let go.

You laid in the bed, tucked squarely in Bucky’s embrace, your face close to his chest as he lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from you. His fingertips danced over your shoulder. “So how do you like England?” he asked.

You pushed up off of him, chuckling. “England? Oh it’s fine. All beans and toast and pints. Still not used to the accents. I have to ask my professors to repeat themselves all the time, they think I’m hard of hearing.”

He smiled. “What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“Biology?” He took a puff of his cigarette. “To do what?”

“Research. I like plants and gardening and animals.”

He reached out, playing with one ringlet of hair that had fallen loose from your updo. “A New Yorker who likes gardening? Never heard of such a thing.”

“We had plants on our rooftop. I used to go out there every afternoon to sit with my schoolwork, reading by the fire escape. Dream about being anywhere else. Somewhere green.”

“England is green,” Bucky said. “Outside of London of course. From up there, it’s all green.”

“What’s it like?” you asked. “Flying.”

“Scary as shit,” he replied and your eyes widened. He stubbed out the cigarette in a bowl on the nightstand. “No matter how good you are, no matter how many times you’ve made it back, you never know what you’re going to find.”

“You’re scared?”

“Fucking terrified.”

You traced one hand down the side of his face. “What if you didn’t go back to base tomorrow?” you whispered.

“I have to. I have my men to worry about.”

“Tell me about your friends.”

“Well there’s Croz. Smart sonofabitch, but sick every time he gets in the air. There’s Curt and Rosie.” He smiled. “And then there’s Buck.”

“Buck?” You frowned. “I thought you were Buck.”

“I’m Bucky, he’s Buck,” he clarified. “It’s a long story.”

“Two peas in a pod, then?”

“He asked me to be his best man,” Bucky said and you saw the way his face turned up in a soft smile. His eyes were far away, like he was dreaming.

“Bet you look good at a wedding,” you whispered.

His eyes returned to yours. He grabbed your hand, pulling it in, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “Be my date?”

You laughed. “To a wedding for two people I’ve never met?”

“They’ll love it. Trust me, it’ll be great.”

“Alright, you promise me to come back home safe, and I promise to be your date to this mysterious Buck’s wedding. Unknown date or location.”

He grinned. “Now don’t go breaking that promise, sweetheart. You’d just about break my heart.” He leaned in for a kiss and you tumbled back onto the bed, a heap of arms and legs and sighs.

In the morning, you crept out of bed. Bucky laid on his stomach, arms tucked beneath the pillow, snoring softly as you rolled on your stockings, buttoned your dress behind you. You sat down at the desk in the corner before tucking the note into his jacket pocket and stepping into your heels.

As you opened the door, you took one last look back. He was handsome. So damn handsome.

You hoped with your whole heart that he would return from the skies.

A/N: This is my first time writing for MOTA or doing anything set in a different period so please bare with me as I work on my period writing skills!

Tagging some people I think may enjoy this:

@gretagerwigsmuse @gigisimsonmars @iangiemae @tgmavericklover @sunny747 @perfectprettypisces @na-ta-sh-aa @ryebecca @kmc1989 @spinning-away @yorkshirekiwi @clancycucumber230

#masters of the air #mota #john bucky egan #masters of the air series #major john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #callum turner

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londonlingo · 1 year

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Differences in Irish English vs British English

-Prepositions:

Irish people use more prepositions. It’s anecdotal but my Dad always likes to reference the joke of a parent saying to their kid: “get out from behind that thing behind which you are currently stood”

-Tenses (To be or not to be after doing?)

Where a Brit has “just done something”, and Irishman will “after doing” it. For example, in his 1988 novel “The Commitments”, Roddy Doyle writes: “I'm after rememberin'. I forgot to bring mine back. It's under me bed.” That is to say that character just remembered in that moment.

-Yes/No

For the Portuguese reader this may seem natural; in Ireland they are less likely to use yes or no. Instead they opt for using the verb again. Think: “Would you like a cup of tea?” “I would”. This may stem from the Irish language’s lack of the words yes and no.

-Religious influences in everyday speech:

Irish has been known to be “the most Catholic country in the world” so its like surprise that such phrases have entered into everyday vernacular:

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, - This is used to expressed surprise

Jesus H. Christ - This is used in anger, surprise, frustration or for humour (I would if Jesus has different initials internationally!)

-Individual bits of vocab

Press = Cupboard

Hot press = Airing cupboard

Gas = Great

To give out = To tell off a child

Yer man/yer wan = Any man/ woman that you’re referring to

Grand = Good/fine

Acting the maggot = Messing around or acting up

On the lash = Out drinking

Give it a lash= Give it a go

Now we’re suckin’ diesel = Now this is a phrase to mean something has started to go right

Effin’ and blindin’ = Swearing

Eejit = An insult for an idiot

I’ve been feeling homesick so here’s a list of differences between Irish English and British English inspired by my Irish da. Anyways go watch The Banshees of Inisherin -a good Irish film (pronounced fillum)

#irish #ireland #irish english #english language #irish accent #irish people #lingblr #langblr #linguistness #linguistic #linguistics #multilingual #linguist #language #language learning #learning languages

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oumaheroes · 4 months

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Congrats for the 1000 followers! :D You and your fics are such a blessing to this fandom

If I'm not mistaken, one of your answers said about the brit bros getting drunk and ends up in Wales' garden but Wales himself nowhere to be seen? O.o My mind went to that news about a drunk Welshman swimming across the hoover dam (I know it happened in the U.S but still) and your answer makes me very curious. Where he disappeared to? To the comfort of his own room or is he outside doing God-knows-what? I need some answers, please.

Thank you so much, @notnobleone! And I did say that, you're right! They go out drinking, Ireland ends up passed out in Wales' garden bushes, England's missing his shoes or something sat stupid on the doorstep, and Scotland's been trying to drunkenly unpick the door all night long. And Wales, the homeowner?

Wales is nowhere to be seen

And you know what? I spent hours looking for that post to link this to and I CANNOT find it; your memory is incredible! I don't even know how far back I wrote that!

Here are the answers you seek, just for you and your lovely brain ❤️

----------------------

Jail Break

Wales emerged into the Police Station waiting room behind a very stern looking young constable, overdressed for the weather in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. The constable looked away when Wales tried to smile at him in thanks, his mouth a disapproving hard line before he began to read him his exit procedure.

Wales was mostly presentable looking from his brief stay in the cells, despite wearing only last night’s clothes, and the only real sign that anything was amiss was that he was alarmingly more rumpled that Belgium had had reason to see him in years- hair all angles, dark circles under his eyes, and a curious amount mud around his hems.

He smiled at her once he caught her eye, giving her a small nod, ‘Hello, Marie.’

‘Rhys.’ Belgium smiled to the constable as Wales came closer and motioned with her arm towards the door, ‘After you.’

‘No forms to fill out?’

‘Already done.’

‘You’re a treasure.’

Belgium smiled, ‘I know.’

Outside, Wales blinking gritty eyes in the bright midday sunshine, Belgium took the arm he offered her and began to lead him forwards through to the centre of Brussels.

‘I’m so sorry about this.’

‘Don’t be.’ She squeezed his arm, ‘Was exciting. I’ve not been woken up by a call from the police in a good few decades.’

‘Francis?’

‘Lars.’

Wales raised his eyebrows but didn’t enquire further, ‘Were you asleep?’

‘Most people are at six in the morning.’

‘Six.' Wales rubbed his eyes, ‘Lord. I don’t even remember twelve in the morning. I'm surprised I remembered your land-line number.'

'You didn't. The police picked you up stumbling about outside the train station. You told them my name and I'm known enough by a few authority figures for them to make the connection.'

Wales held a hand over his eyes and sighed something in Welsh that sounded offensive. 'I won't ask you to keep that between us; it's too good not to share.'

Belgium watched him run his tongue across his lips, looking sheepish and uncomfortable, for long enough to make the early wake up worth it, and then took pity on him. She dug about in her handbag and handed him a fresh bottle of water. ‘Here.’

‘Ta.’ He took a long drink. 'You'd think I'd learn by now not to mix hops and grapes.'

‘I wanted to come and get you earlier,' Belgium told him, 'but there was some hassle with border control. They were a bit concerned that you’d managed to get through border control without a passport and it took a while to get them to drop it.’

Wales capped the bottle and shook his head helplessly. ‘I can’t tell you how. Didn't even have one when out.’

‘Yes, I thought that. Why would you ever carry a one at all.'

They fell silent as they came to a crowded crossing. The press of human bodies that close was a bit too warm even for Belgium in her summer dress and sunhat. She could only imagine how Wales felt, dressed for a presumably Welsh summer evening and legs stuck in thick denim.

‘Where are we going?’ Wales asked as they began moving again, across the road and then down a cobbled side street further into the heart of the historical part of town.

‘Home.’

‘Oh no,’ Wales looked horrified, ‘No love, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take myself home; get out of your hair.’

‘No offense, but you do need a bath-‘ Wales winced, ‘and I’d rather you leave my lands in decent condition, at least. Despite the inelegant arrival.’

Wales laughed awkwardly, ‘That’s fair enough.’

‘So, come on then.’ Belgium tugged his arm again, ‘Tell me. Consider it payment,’ she said as Wales made a face, ‘For breaking you out of jail.’

‘Like a hoodlum.’

Wales let out a breath of air, ‘I do wish I could tell you. I’m not sure what happened, honestly. We were-‘

‘-out in Cardiff?’

‘Bristol.’

‘Oh.’

‘We all took trains there; none of us could have driven home again, of course. I remember being in a pub and then-‘ Wales waved a hand, ‘bit and pieces in between. I remember the train seats, oddly enough, because they looked like the material of one of Alisdair’s shirts, you know those really ugly ones that he has-‘

‘Oh I love those. The terrible retro 80’s ones.’

‘Hideous things, absolute disgrace. But anyway, I remember the chairs, and I remember being at a station. I think Patrick was there, or maybe all of them were...’

He trailed off, thoughtful, ‘Actually, now that I think about it, I think Patrick put me on the train. He told me the platform and was there when I went through the gate, at least. How the fuck I didn’t realise I was going to London, I’ll never know. Then the Eurostar? Maybe night ferry? I would have had to have got the Tube to get that line, somehow, and I couldn’t have been in any fit state to-‘

He stopped, cheeks pinking.

‘Why were you in Bristol?’ Belgium asked, taking pity on him.

‘Arthur’s turn to pick the place we went. Bastard chose the nearest city to my house though, presumably knowing that I’d host rather than us needing to get a hotel or travel far back again.’

‘I’m surprised you let him.’

‘He said London’s too expensive.’

‘Still.’

Wales shrugged, ‘It is too expensive.’

Down another street, the smell of chocolate shops with their wide open doors and windows making the heavy air sickly. Wales took another sip of water. ‘So, Bristol it was.'

'And they just left you alone.'

'I'm starting to think it was more a planned abandonment.'

It took Belgium a considerable amount determination not to show her amusement openly. 'I'm sure they didn't know you'd end up in Brussels.'

'No,' Wales acknowledged gracefully with a rueful smile, 'That little mess is all my own.'

'I'd say safely making your way through several different transport methods and customs to illegally slip into the European Union is a decent achievement. I really hope you remember how you did it, the government won't like that gap sitting about.'

'I'm very sure I couldn't have done it any way other than by being far too drunk for sense. And maybe with a dash of fraternal vendetta.'

Belgium laughed, 'Well. Lucky you because now you can spend your day here with me instead of waking up with them.'

'Lucky me too,' Wales patted his pocket with a grin, 'Because I've still got my house keys with me.'

---------------

AN: This fic was written in honour of the many Brits who get drunk and end up wandering about in Europe with no memory of how they got there, like Switzerland, Spain, the Netherlands, France... it's common

#aph wales #hws wales #aph belgium #hws belgium #hetalia #hws #aph #heroes writes #heroes treasures

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vendettasfanfictioning · 4 months

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I need more fics framing The Rupture as something necessary for destiel—it hurt like a fucking bitch, sure, and it was a low blow for Dean to hit Cas exactly where he knows Cas hurt most (in being the problem or a burden), but also. Looking at it from Dean's perspective, it really did feel like a move that old, early-seasons Cas would do; withheld information, acted on his own, took risks that could cost others.

And when it all piled up? From Jack's soulless behaviors directly killing Mary, to the deal with Belphegor in hell costing them Rowena. Again, hard agree that it was one of the most painful lines dropped in the show (especially so if you remember that this is post-Empty deal), but context guys, context.

Plus, I believe this separation wasn't only long-time coming but also a pretty important addition because what is destiel if not a pair of stubborn idiots who can't communicate. That's not to say an argument is necessary to talk (it can be, in certain situations, sure) but they've been on different pages since Cas came back in S13.

The center of their disagreement seemed to mostly lie in their belief in Jack. I can't remember a time they really sat down and smoothed things out so much as they avoided talking about what happened during the Widower arc altogether, and that's when the wound really began to fester. (It didn't help that they had to deal with so many problems all at once; the Brits, Asmodeus, Apocalypse World, Lucifer, then AU Michael...)

Here is what we know that Cas believed (from the canon narrative): Jack formed a bond with Cas, even before he was born he somehow showed Cas a possible future; paradise. It's the same power, perhaps a protection mechanism with nephilim seeing as God labeled them as Abominations, that turned Kelly as well. What we know Cas saw (from the deleted scene/script): Cas' paradise consisted of everyone he loved, his family, being safe. This included Sam, Kelly, and Dean on a beach, with more focus on Dean as he tells Cas, "thank you."

From what we could see that Cas did not, Dean had enough resentment against Jack that wasn't going to magically go away overnight. Jack hadn't formed the same bond with Dean that he did with Cas.

What happened before Jack was born: Heaven and Hell both sought out Jack for their respective goals, an innocent woman was going to die from the sheer magnitude of giving birth to a Nephilim, and Cas left by what Dean assumed was delusions and manipulations. What happened when Jack was born: Mary fell into a portal to a different universe—a rift that only opened due to the anomaly and power of Jack's existence—Kelly died, and Cas got stabbed right in front of him.

And this isn't to discredit Dean's love for Jack, when he did allow himself to love him or see him as family, but you can love someone and still resent them or feel bad about them. Moreso during extreme circumstances, however unfair or illogical it may be. Again, did they ever really talk? Maybe my memory is failing me but I'm pretty certain they didn't, or at least never in great detail, or came to an agreement about it.

Dean and Cas... just had so much dirty laundry and Rupture made sure they aired it all out. But I think we, as a society, would benefit greatly from not framing Dean as the big bad villain here or Cas as some poor innocent bean. Supernatural's theme was never about brotherhood or family, it's about how shit could have been so much easier if they just communicated.

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emiliosandozsequence · 29 days

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what scifi media do you like?

OH ANON I HAVE SO MANY. i'm so glad you asked 💕💕💕 (tagging @gorydean too so she sees 💕💕💕)

gotta start first and foremost with the sparrow series by mary doria russell as my blog is basically just a shrine to it at this point. amazing book and definitely recommend it if you love found family, first contact, trauma, tragedy, and the abandonment of the faithful by g-d. huge massive trigger warning tho. everyone says the second book isn't as good as the first, but i completely disagree. i think they're bitg equally as good as each other; the second book just takes awhile to get to the most insanity inducing parts whereas the first one starts out strong with that and keeps going until the end of the story.

i would have more books to recommend, but i've only just started REALLY getting back into reading after several years of not reading as much due to a variety of reasons (mostly trauma and chronic and mental illness). that being said, i have an insane amount of films to give you to watch instead of books.

gotta recommend my all time fav film (or one of the two anyway), the fountain. most people...don't like this movie because they think it's hard to understand and doesn't make sense towards the end (i had to watch it several times to get it), but please please please watch it. it's a beautiful film both visually and plotwise as long as you give it a chance 💕

sound of my voice is softer in terms of scifi, but still definitely scifi. it's another film that lets you decide what to believe. it's also another film people tend not to like for whatever reason, but i think it's extremely well done and the ending is so 💕💕💕💕💕💕

cloud atlas. very much a story in the same vein as the fountain taking place over different timelines. another beautifully done story about how everything and everyone is connected throughout space and time. ofc my fav timelines are the ones with robert frobisher and sonmi-451. i do also recommend the book, but i liked the film better because of a few of the changes they made.

sunshine is one of my fav films ever and i've loved it since i was in high school and first saw it. it reminds me a lot of three body problem in the sense that antagonist (idk if i would exactly call him a villain even tbh) is using g-d as a reason for the things he's doing. there's a few deleted scenes i wish they'd kept in because it really emphasizes this, but even so, this film is gorgeous in so many ways.

i origins. if u can't tell already i'm a huge brit marling fan and i think this is one of her best stories. again: you get to choose what to believe and you really have to watch the whole film for the pay off, but it is so very much worth it. i think i've actually only ever watched this film once, tho idk why bc it's genuinely one of my favs.

looper is another film that idk why more people weren't into it. the setting is dystopian. i was trying to think of a way to explain it in a few short sentences like i have the rest of the films here, but it's one of those films also that i think going into it knowing nothing is better. the kid who plays the rainmaker is so fucking good too. he's not even 10, but he played that role perfectly.

elysium. EVERYONE KNOWS DISTRICT 9 BUT NO ONE KNOWS ELYSIUM. i stand by my opinion that this film would be infinitely better if diego luna were the main character instead of matt damon, but even so i really love this film. the score is gorgeous. also lmao we for real might be living in this universe soon if elon fixes up that space hotel he wants to do fucking rip

ender's game. the author is a homophobic and transphobic dickwad who actively gives his money to anti-lgbt organizations, so watch this for free if you can (and buy the books second hand), but i actually really enjoyed what they did with this film. a lot of people thought it was too rushed, but also like....ender's game is a very Dense book, so i understand why they did it the way they did it. also the score is amazing.

signs. another film involving g-d and religion seen through the lens of scifi and first contact. this film gets shit on a ton for reasons i do not know, but it's actually really well done. it scared the ever living shit out of me the first few times i saw it tho bc i did Not grow up watching horror.

knowing. another film involving g-d and religion seen through the lens of scifi and first contact (can you tell i have a type of film/media i like???). this film also scared the ever living shit out of me when i first saw it to the point i had to sleep with the lights on, but in all actuality it isn't scary at all (i was just 14 and had never seen a thriller before lol). i really love disaster films tbh, but this is one of my all time favs (next to greenland).

another earth i did not like when i first saw it. i thought the whole thing was kind of pointless and didn't make very much sense, but the more i've thought about it since then, the more i've understood it. funnily enough, i never watched it a second time, but it's brit marling, so i probably will eventually. again: definitely recommend.

lucy. listen i know this has scarlett johansson in it and none of us like her, but this film is good despite her. i thought it was going to be dumb as hell when i first saw it, but i actually ended up liking it so much that it's heavily inspired the next novel i'm planning on writing (a scifi space opera about a girl becoming g-d).

origami. okay this one is difficult to find and you WILL have to buy it if you want to watch it (trust me: i have searched FAR and wide for this film in any other place and vimeo is the ONLY place i found it; it's only $5 to rent on there tho), but it's so worth it. it's worth it. it's one of my fav films and i watched it purely because of francois arnaud and i'm glad i did. this literally is his best work imo.

ink is my all time hands down favorite film. idk if you would even call it scifi, but i love it so much i just wanted to talk about it. it very obviously had zero budget, but they used what little money they had VERY wisely and the result was this beautiful film. the story makes me sob every single time. actually it's quite similar to origami, so if you like one, you'll probably like the other.

tron: legacy is another film that people shit on and idk why. it has The Best religious imagery. like how are you going to top one of the programs falling to their knees in prayer as flynn passes by????? the whole thing seems to be a jesus/judas metaphor anyway and i'm crazy for that shit. gotta mention the score as always because daft punk knocked it out of the park (people shit on the score too and i really don't get why).

thelma. i watched this one a whim with a friend and i cannot recommend it enough. i feel like it was kind of popular on here when it first came out bc it's a sapphic film, but it's also just very good in general. i've seen people get super upset about it also bc their interpretation makes it lesbophobic (which is crazy to me but whatever.

melancholia. i did Not like this movie for the longest time, but then i watched it recently and finally Got it. i guess you really do have to be a certain level of depressed to understand this film, so if you're insanely suicidal and can barely function like me, then i recommend it. you will probably get some catharsis out of it like i did. it is a very Strange film tho.

the creator came out at the end of last year and it was so good. definitely my fav film to come out in the last few years and involves g-d, religion, and AI. the score also in this is great (everybody say thank you hans zimmer. again.). the ending makes me sob so much.

more that i love a lot, but not as much (apparently there's a character limit, so i can't explain why these are my favs too, but it's for similar reasons as above).

the matrix trilogy

the fifth element

snowpiercer

blade runner 2049

as for tv shows, i don't have as many, but i do have a few that i would highly recommend if you like any of the films above:

halo. again: everyone shits on this show, but the absolute TRAGEDY of it is the fanboys hate it bc they suck and are bigots and everyone else who would like it (LIKE MY MUTUALS) refuses to give it a chance because of its overall reputation, so i'm BEGGING YOU GUYS TO GIVE IT A CHANCE.

foundation. genuinely fucking good. so much of what the creators of this show have done to change the story has been for the better. i read the books and they were okay, but the show is so so good. idk when season 3 will be coming out, but hopefully soon (same for halo, which i actually like better than this show).

the oa. i will forever mourn what we could've had with this show. i can't even talk about it without getting choked up. this getting canceled really truly fucked me up.

castle rock season 1. technically a horror series, but this season is more scifi than horror, i think. everything really comes to a head in episode 9 iirc and that episode still makes me crazy when i think about it. i definitely need to do a rewatch.

firefly/serenity. you've probably heard this one recommended before, but there's a reason for that. it's really so good, but g-d and jesus hate me because it too was canceled before it could even finish ONE SEASON. thankfully there's a film that kind of ties everything together, but WE COULD'VE HAD SO MUCH MORE.

i tried to put in some movies that aren't talked about as much on here!! i also have several letterboxd lists dedicated purely to scifi, which you can find below.

holy holy holy (scifi (and other films) involving religious imagery or straight up just about theology

the sparrow cinematic universe (films that are either discussed in the sparrow or remind me of it or that i could see the main characters watching)

but it was my body. it was my blood. and it was my love. (films that i either genuinely believe could be based off of the sparrow or just remind me of it in some way)

per aspera ad astra (scifi films i have seen or heard of. this literally is every single scifi film i remember ever in existence so it's quite long)

also mainstream scifi that i recommend/am obsessed with

interstellar

dune series (wer'e talking about the books here; not whatever the fuck denis villenueve pulled with the films lmao)

district 9

annihilation/southern reach trilogy

ex machina

prometheus

pacific rim

arrival

event horizon

mad max: fury road

nope

mobile suit gundam series (mostly hathaway and g-witch tho)

star wars (mostly the prequel and sequel trilogies)

nausicaa of the valley of the wind

castle in the sky

inception

tenet

high life

aldnoah zero

hanna

real steel

86: eighty-six

this is so much longer than i meant it to be omg. anyway people do not call me the scifi queen for no reason.

#ask #anonymous #long post cw

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avalentina · 5 months

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Harry Styles and The Most Difficult Time of the Year!

It's here! The first one-shot for my Holiday Spectacular.

“Lovie, we’ve been at this for hours, are you done yet?” H asked me. H as in Harry Styles, my boyfriend, who is being a very good sport while helping me with my Christmas Shopping.

“I’d be closer to being done if you would actually tell me what you want for Christmas H.” I reply in a slightly snarky manner as ive been attempting to get my answer to this question out of him since September.

“All I want for Christmas is You, baby.” H said back.

“Mariah Carey? Seriously H?” I say before turning into a kitchenware stall at the Christmas Market, and selecting a bells with holly cookie cutter for my mother. I’ve been giving her one every year since I was 6 and she let me help her make the sugar cookies. “Now I just need something for your mum,” I say after tucking the cookie cutter into the bag with the gifts for my dad, sister, and brother.

“I already have our gift for my mum.” H says to me, and quite matter of factly at that. “Now come on, let's get some cocoa to go, I wanna wrap you up, tie you in a bow, and put you under the Christmas tree for me.” You both laugh at that.

A few hours later, you've finally returned from the market and are getting your big wrapping station set up in your art room. It's huge. Big enough for quite literally every medium of art you do. Harry was happy to adjust his renovation plans when you agreed to move in with him just shy of a year ago. There are only two things in this lower level, your art room, and Harry's Studio. The music softly making its way through the sound panels for the instruments and that first croon Harry does. Though lately, Harry has been having the sound proofing on so nothing goes beyond his studio walls. And whenever you ask him about it his answer is the exact same, “You'll hear it one day Lovie, it is for you after all. Not until that one day though, there will be no spoilers.” That last line is your favorite because he glares at his mates, Mitch and Kid especially since he knows you're pretty close with them.

Now as Harry is chilling in the lounge chair in your art room singing acoustic Christmas songs while you wrap gifts, you stop every so often and turn to him.

“H, I need the present for your mum so I can wrap it.” You say and he just smiles at you before getting himself back into the song.

Finally after hours of wrapping, Anne's gift is the only one left and you still don't have it.

“Harold Edward Styles, I need the gift for your mum, NOW!” You give him your best death glare, hoping it will scare him at least a little bit, after all, you're no fun when you're mad.

He runs over to the studio and comes back with a little black wooden ring box with Le Raoulivere engraved into it. He sets it in your hands and you open it automatically.

“It's empty H.”

“Mum's old one for the ring from Robin broke, so we're getting her a very, very nice new one.” H says and I go to wrap it in the blue snowflake paper I have when h interrupts again. “Can you use the sleeping puppies wearing Santa hats one instead please love?” He asks very politely and you just sigh before wrapping it up in the paper Harry wanted.

“Thank you my love!” He says with a kiss when the bin is all packed up with the presents.

*****

December 24th

We're all dressed up. Harry has on his suit he hugged Stanley Tucci in at the Brits. You're in a midi silver dress with white Mary Janes and a small white clutch. The house is decorated, the presents are under the tree, the appetizers are in the ovens, and the doorbell is ringing. Plenty of time to calm down and not freak out. Shit wait, that's the doorbell.

“They're here H.” You holler and run over to let everyone in. “Merry Christmas Eve!”

Your family and H’s family are both here. Your mum, Dad, sister, and brother, Anne, Desmond, Gemma and Michal, Mike and Amy were invited, but had other plans. Everyone mingled with appetizers while you and Harry prepped the lasagnas. When they were done you all sat around the table smiling and laughing with each other. After dinner you turned on the fireplace and some soft tunes while doing gifts. When Anne unwrapped the one from you and Harry, she just smiled at you. It was a bit confusing at first, until the music switched. Harry was suddenly more anxious, and everyone else was just watching the two of you.

“What's going on?” You whispered to Harry. He smiled, pulled you over to stand in front of the Christmas tree with him, and said, “Y/N.”

You instinctively replied, “Yes H?”

“Y/N, it's the title of this song.” He answered back and let the lyrics wash over you both. You realized they were telling the story of the two of you, from colliding in a rainstorm, to you having almost no clue who he was, the time you spent apart, and him showing up at your doorstep soaking wet from rain ready to do whatever it took to get you back, and finally his little dreams for the life ahead of you two. The last line of the song was, “All you have to do is say yes to me.”

He knelt before you, took the box from Anne, and pulled the ring out of his pocket. “Mum's been on my case lately, she knew I wanted to marry you before I did. So our real gift to her, only if you want it too, is us, because all I want for Christmas is you to agree to be my wife. I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too H. And yes, yes I want to be your wife!” You let out between tears.

After sliding the ring onto your finger, H kisses you and whispers, “best Christmas ever.”

“I made you a new pendant.” You whispered back.

“I'll love it, but even more so because it's from you.”

@freedomfireflies

Let me know if you want to be added to this taglist!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harrystyles #hstyles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 months

Text

Five Fics Friday: Oct. 27/23 (Spoopy Edition)

Happy Friday everyone!! It's almost Spoopy Day, so I've gone through my MFL offline list, picked four random fics that came up in my "Halloween" term search, and I'm promoting them here for you today!

AND the boosted fic this week is a mystery, so it works!!

Happy Haunting!!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Reichenbach Falls by VeeTheRee (M, 551,435+ w., 105/303 Ch. || WiP || Gravity Falls / Multifandom AU || Alternate First Meeting, Gay Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Unilock, Summer Romance/Love, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Villain Mary, First Kiss, Slow Burn, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Canadian John, French Canadian Lestrade, Insecure Sherlock, Mystery, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship Summer Love, Light Angst, BAMF! John, Case Fic) – Two Canadians, two Brits studying in Canada, and an upkeeper walk into a Mystery Shack…. and live there. Summer holidays are here, and the step-siblings, Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes, find themselves in a boring town called Reichenbach Falls, Oregon, USA. It isn’t as boring as it seems, however, once Sherlock stumbles upon a mystery journal, and the author is unknown. The journal contains ciphers, a strange colour wheel, and information about magical creatures that are said to be looming in the Northwestern forests. With mysteries to solve in hand, he and Irene set out to get to the roots of the town, and the abrupt disappearance of the author of the journal. But they’re not alone - John Watson, quite the handsome nephew of the Mystery Shack owner Greg Lestrade, is on their side to help out, plus mess with Sherlock’s feelings, in a good way. Shenanigans, romance, fun, danger, and deductions ensue. Oh, and there’s also occasional SuperWhoLock and two dorky Winchester brothers to spark up the action later on. Part 1 of the Reichenbach Falls series

MARKED FOR LATER HALLOWEEN FICS

One Good Scare by blueink3 (M, 17,386 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Holmes Family, Parentlock, Misunderstandings, Family, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Halloween, Happy Ending) – Mummy invites Sherlock, John, and Rosie to the country for her birthday, which just so happens to coincide with the annual Harvest Festival, an event Sherlock loathes. With John seemingly making the wrong move at every turn and with ghosts hiding in each of their closets, what will it take for their (Halloween) masks to finally come off?

the napoleon by darcylindbergh (E, 24,823 w., 4 Ch. || 1980′s AU || Halloween, Action & Romance, Costumes, Costume Parties/Masquerades, Mutual Pining, First Kiss / Time) – Halloween, 1989: John and Sherlock both have big plans for the night, but serial killers have the worst possible timing.

From a Well, Dark and Deep by Vulpesmellifera (M, 32,691 w., 18 Ch. || Post S4, Supernatural Elements, Horror / Milld Body Horror, Bed Sharing, Possession, Hand Holding, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Alternating POV, Nightmares, Caring John, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is desperately trying to reconcile his newfound memories and feelings within his transport—a transport that won’t quit with the nightmares and the strange, fiddly anxieties that crop up at the most inopportune moments. On the advice of his psychiatrist—not that he’s thrilled to be taking the man’s advice, but needs must—he's going to mark the anniversary of Eurus’ torments. That explains why he visits the well. What he finds at the well, though, is entirely unexpected. Meanwhile, John Watson has finally come to terms with something he’s ignored his entire life. He’s ready to share that something with Sherlock, except Sherlock isn’t acting himself. It's not the time for confessions, and John determines he must get to the bottom of his best friend's affliction before he can reveal anything. Part 3 of Vulpes' Halloween Johnlock

This Is Family by SaraStarchild (T, 39,840 w., 16 Ch. || Hereditary AU || Psychological Horror, Body Horror, Demonic Possession, POV Third Person Limited, Protective Mycroft, Cults, Mycroft Whump, Sherlock Whump, Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Retelling) – When the Holmes family's secretive mother and matriarch, Ellen Holmes, passes away, the family she leaves behind – father Martin, sons Mycroft and Sherlock, and daughter Eurus – begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry. The more they discover, the more they find themselves trying to outrun the sinister fate they seem to have inherited. This is, pretty much, a word-for-word retelling of the 2018 Ari Aster film, Hereditary. Part 1 of Sherlock Halloween Stories

#five fics friday #my fic recs #johnlock fic recs #halloween fics #spooky fics #mystery fics

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classiclitbracket · 1 year

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Welcome to The Classic Literature Bracket!

Moderated by @sorrel-scribbles [she/her, minor] and inspired by @ultimatehistorical, @riordanversecharactertournament, @baldguy-fight, @spnepisodebracket, @classic-lit-couples-showdown, @ultimate-poll-tournament and so many more!

***VOTING HAS STARTED, SEE PINNED POST***

Important Info:

Submissions will be open one week (March 15-22), but will stay open if I have less than fifteen submissions or close early if I receive more than one hundred.

The current plan is a 32 entry bracket, but I will consider doing a 64 entry one if I get enough interest/submissions.

There will probably be a couple of preliminary rounds before the actual polls come out, because there are a couple of authors whose work I expect to see multiple submissions for.

Propaganda is welcome, but please wait to submit it at least until the first preliminaries come out (this can be done by using the ask box or making your own post and @ing me)

If you have questions feel free to submit them to the ask box!

Friendly competition is fine, but I will block you if you can’t be civil with one another!

Voting/Submitting Guidelines:

The goal here is to determine which is the most classic piece of literature. You can vote based on your personal favorite, what you think had the most cultural impact, what is the most popular or timely today etc.

I DO NOT want to see any moral complaints. Many of these authors/works were racist, sexist, etc. and I fully condemn that, but we can separate the art from the artist and still understand the importance of/enjoy the work despite its flaws.You’re free to not like/not vote for a book due to offensive material, but I don’t want to see tags/comments/asks saying “you shouldn’t have included x because it’s racist” or “nobody vote for y it’s misogynistic.” This isn’t “which classic lit book is the most morally correct”.

Submission Criteria:

The book must have been published between 1600-1970 CE

It must be written by a European (Russia/the Ural mountains to Ireland, not including Turkey/The Ottoman Empire), Canadian, or United States American*

The book must be fictional and considered a novel (no short stories, plays, poetry etc.)

You can’t submit a book already on the auto-inclusion list

You can’t submit for an author already on the auto-inclusion list as I’m only allowing one book per author

You can submit a series together (ex: Sherlock Holmes) or an individual book from the series (ex: A Study in Scarlet), just make sure to specify in the form

Up to five submissions per person, but you can only submit each book once

You have to make your submission through the google form (below). Submissions in comments, asks, etc. will not count (sorry, but I need to be able to keep track).

*on the Eurocentrism of this criteria: There is so much amazing Islamic, African, S./E. Asian, Pacific, and South American literature out there, but I feel it really merits its own bracket by someone who understands the material more and that it wouldn’t really get the fair chance it deserves in this bracket anyway as I expect it to be American and Brit Lit heavy as is and more people will come out to support those books so I might as well just limit the criteria off the bat.

Auto-Entries:

The Great Gatsby-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Pride and Prejudice-Jane Austen

The Metamorphosis-Franz Kafka

Wuthering Heights-Emily Bronte

Little Women-Louisa May Alcott

1984-George Orwell

Frankenstein-Mary Shelly

Les Miserables-Victor Hugo

Sherlock Holmes-Arthur Conan Doyle

Crime and Punishment-Fyodor Dostoyevsty

Submissions Here ⇊

#tumblr polls #bracket #tournament #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #classic literature #classic lit #the great gatsby #pride and prejudice #franz kafka #wuthering heights #little women #george orwell #frankenstein #les miserables #sherlock holmes #crime and punishment

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hailqiqi · 8 months

Text

Don't Let Them In

The BBC wants their money.

Notes: Absolute crack inspired by a short conversation in the Chaos server. Also, because I wanted to write Lucy playing a part like she did at Winkman's in the books.

Tags: Gen, Crack, Brits writing Very British Things, First Person POV (because that's how the books are written and it works for Lucy idk), one or two swear words Words: 2297

Read on AO3 here, or read on tumblr under the cut

'Television licence inspection, open up!'

Lockwood halted and whirled around, blocking the kitchen doorway. 'I told you it was their van, George!' he hissed.

'And I told you, my brother says that's impossible—'

'Don't be ridiculous, everyone knows they send out TV detector vans—'

'And how exactly are they supposed to detect TVs?'

Lockwood huffed. 'How am I supposed to know?! But everyone knows it's a thing, right Luce?'

'Yeah, actually, my mam was always worried when—'

'See?'

'Oh for God's sake.' The banging on the door had continued throughout our whispered conversation, but George ignored it, instead removing his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt with a huff. 'Whatever you two numpties believe, the facts are that we have a TV with no licence. We can't let him in.'

'Do we have to let him in?' I asked, glancing at the door. 'Mary said Andrew's boss says you can just tell them to sod off and they'll leave.'

The banging grew louder, now accompanied by flicks of the letterbox and shouts of 'I know you're in there! I can see you through the glass!'

Lockwood winced. 'He doesn't sound too happy,' he said, eyes darting around before landing on our offending TV set. 'Right, okay, here's what we'll—'

'Open up already!'

'Just a minute! I can't find the key!' he shouted a response at the door, then turned to us. 'Okay, so, we'll put the set in the high-security storage room. He's an adult, he won't want to go in there.'

'He'll probably leg it the second he sees our kit,' George said, snorting.

'Exactly. So, Lucy, you answer the door and stall him, while we carry the TV down the stairs.'

I ignored George's groaning in favour of staring at Lockwood, incredulous. 'Why should I be the one to open the door? You're much better at the whole people thing!'

Lockwood shrugged. 'It's a man, just smile and give him the pretty girl look — don't look at me like that, you do it to me all the time!'

At my shoulder, George made a choking sound; I felt my face flush. 'I'm sorry, what—'

The banging at the door intensified and Lockwood gave me a blinding smile, the same bright, dazzling grin he'd give me when trying to convince me to face off with a Wraith without flares. 'Come on, Lucy, you've got this.'

Warmth fluttered through my chest, and the next thing I knew the boys were fumbling the set out of the sitting room while I (slowly) headed for the door. Dangerous things, Lockwood's smiles; they tended to spark momentary insanity in whoever he turned them on — child, colleague, client, adult. George alone seemed immune, with all his surliness, but I hadn't built any sort of immunity up in my ten or so months at the company and could only hope that would come with time. Though we all know how that turned out, I'm sure.

The banging on the door was echoing in the hall so loudly I was surprised the door hadn't been knocked off its hinges. I watched the crystal skull on the key table vibrate for two more bangs as the boys manhandled our illicit TV into the kitchen, then summoned my most vapid smile and opened the door.

A man stood on the top step, his hand raised mid-knock. He was balding and wore a wrinkled white shirt with visible sweat stains large enough to rival George's rapier training shirt, and the tie loosely-knotted at his collar was over-large — perhaps in an attempt to compensate for his lack of neck, who knows. His sleeves were rolled up over meaty arms against the unseasonable weather, the cuffs tight and reminiscent of bread dough exploding from a loaf tin, and he carried a clipboard and small, black box in the hand that was not currently raised in a fist at my head-height. If a gorilla with mange had been stuffed into a suit, you'd be hard-pressed to convince me that he wasn't currently standing at our door.

He narrowed his small eyes further at me, and I gave him a simpering smile. 'Hello! I'm sorry it took me so long, I couldn't find the key for the door!'

A pause followed, in which his eyes grew so small they should by all rights have imploded. I kept my smile fixed firmly in place and hoped the inspector wouldn't notice the door was a latch lock.

'You were a bloke a second ago.'

Shit. 'No, I wasn't!' I pitched my voice higher than usual and feigned offence. 'I certainly am not a boy!'

'Yeah, you was. You weren't a Manc, either.'

I didn't have to feign it now. 'Excuse you, I'm from Northumbria.'

'What's it matter? You lot are all the same, anyhow.' I glared at him and considered the benefits of shoving him down the steps and slamming the door, but then I’d probably have to deal with DEPRAC and the police instead of just the BBC. The man cleared his throat, unperturbed, and started what was obviously a practised spiel. 'Right, I'm here to check for TVs. We don't have a licence on file for the property, so I'll need to take a look around to make sure you're not doing anything illegal.'

I fluttered my eyelashes in an attempt to recover. 'Of course we're not doing anything illegal! We don't even own a TV!'

We were, in fact, doing multiple things DEPRAC would take issue with, but that wasn't the point.

'Then you won't mind me taking a look around.'

'Normally, yes, but I'm home alone and that would be terribly improper…'

He peered around me and down the hall. 'You lose ten stone between that door and this one, then?'

'What?'

'Your shadow was a lot larger a minute ago. It's just a quick look love, then I'll be on my way.'

The inspector moved to walk around me and I draped myself against the doorframe to block his way, desperately wishing I knew what 'pretty girl' nonsense Lockwood had been on about. Maybe Floating Joe had got him in the head earlier, because the inspector simply rolled his eyes.

'If you'd just—' a yell from the kitchen interrupted him, and he raised an eyebrow at me. 'Home alone, are you, love?'

'Yes,' I said, nodding enthusiastically. 'That was my cat.'

'Odd-sounding cat.'

'No, it isn't.' More yells came from behind me and a smug smirk slowly settled on the man's face which, if you remember his gorilla-esque looks, made me want to vomit more than it made me want to let him in. I gritted my teeth; the boys obviously needed more time, and my dignity was shot anyway. With what I hoped was a dainty gasp, I widened my eyes theatrically and summoned my most injured cry: 'Are those my keys?'

He paused. 'Sorry?'

'There!' I pointed to the keychain hooked at his waistband, which was quite clearly his own. 'You've got my keys!'

'What?! No, these are my—'

'I can't believe you!' I wailed. 'I looked everywhere for them! No wonder I couldn't find them!'

'Look, love, these—'

'You rotten thief! I bet you're not even a TV man after all! You're nothing but a—'

Alas, neither of us got to find out what nonsense I was about to spout next as at that moment a gigantic crash sounded from the kitchen, the noise reverberating in the hall and cutting me off quite effectively. Raised voices followed — though who was shouting at who, I couldn't tell — and, without thinking, I abandoned the door and dashed towards the commotion.

Lockwood and George both stood half-way down the basement stairs, locked in a shouting match and completely oblivious to my arrival. The source of the crash I’d heard was not immediately obvious, but when I chanced a vertigo-inducing glance over the bannister there on the floor was our TV set, face down and surrounded by shattered glass, looking somewhat like a large-bottomed lady after an over-indulgent afternoon at the pub. It was no wonder they were both so upset about it — while our set was ancient, there was no way we could afford a new TV if we couldn’t afford the licence fee in the first place, and both boys liked to watch the football when they could.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind me. ‘Home alone, were you, love?’

I turned meekly to face the inspector, who stood at the top of the stairs looking thoroughly unimpressed, clipboard at the ready. The boys were still wrapped up in their blame game, and the inspector had clearly noticed the broken TV on the floor, and there I was trapped on the stairs between an argument and authority — but I did my best to muster up a winning smile and tried my luck anyway, because that’s what we did at Lockwood and Co.

‘See? I was telling the truth when I said we don’t have a TV!’

— — —

A year later saw us huddled in the corridor outside the kitchen door, older, wiser, and more competent, yet reliving a hushed argument from the past (albeit with one extra player).

‘What do you mean you haven’t paid the licence fee? I saw you in the papers all winter, I know you can afford it!’

‘Look, there was so much going on that I completely forgot once we brought it home—’

‘Shouldn’t Hol have done it?’

A delicate snort. ‘Normally, George, yes — but I distinctly remember Lockwood saying he would take care of it himself.’

‘Did I? It was all a bit of a blur, really, what with—’

More bangs reverberated down the hall, accompanied by shouted threats that made me wince.

‘Look, I don’t know what happened while I was gone but I’ve been telling you all week that that van on the corner looked dodgy and you need to check the licence has been paid—’

‘Lucy, how many times do I have to tell you that TV detector vans aren’t real.’

‘They are real! They’re in the papers and everything!’

‘Not everything in the papers is true, we all—’

‘No, no, I recall my aunt forgetting to pay her licence fee and a van was parked on her street the next week.’

‘Holly!’ George let out an exasperated huff. ‘Not you, too? Anyway, that van’s been there because the Johnsons are having some work done, it’s not a mythical bloody—’

‘Is nobody going to answer the door?’ Kipps wandered out of the kitchen and leant against the doorframe, arms crossed and frowning. ‘It’s a bit hard to enjoy my tea with all this racket.’

‘I can see you in there!’

‘We really should stop having these kinds of discussions in the hallway,’ Lockwood mused, running a hand through his hair before turning to me with one of those smiles. You know, the ones that light up the whole room, make his eyes twinkle, and somehow leave me both weak-kneed and furious at the same time. ‘Lucy, do you think you can…?’

I backed away towards the stairs, my hands up to ward him and his blasted smiles off. ‘Oh, no. No way. Don’t you remember what happened last time?’

Kipps sighed. ‘I’ll get the door.’

‘Stall him for a moment, me and Lockwood will have to move the telly—’

‘Absolutely not, not after what happened to the last one! Holly, how much is the fine?’

Holly looked offended at the mere notion she’d ever had to pay it. ‘I have no idea.’

Suddenly the banging stopped and sunlight flooded the hall — as one, we turned to where Kipps had opened the door, his reedy figure silhouetted in the glare. ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

It was the same gorilla-esque man from last time, again caught with one meaty fist raised mid-knock. However, he quickly lowered his hand, smoothed his shirt out and pronounced, ‘I'm here to check for TVs. We don't have a licence on file for the property, so I'll need to take a look around to make sure you're not doing anything illegal.’

We held our breath. There was no way we’d move the TV in time now — especially not the gigantic monstrosity that had been purchased during my time away — so our only hope was that the fine was in the hundreds rather than thousands. Or, less likely, that Kipps had some modicum of charm hidden somewhere at the very bottom of his pointy shoes, and that the inspector would be more susceptible to it than he had been to my own.

‘Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think you’ll be doing that.’

The inspector towered over him, moving closer so that his figure almost completely blocked the doorway. Kipps appeared unperturbed, a thin, willowy figure facing off against a giant.

‘It’s the law that you must have a TV licence if you have a TV, and it’s my job to check for TVs if you don’t have a licence.’

If anything, Kipps’ posture looked bored. ‘I think you’ll find it’s the law that we don’t have to grant you access, and considering that this is an active psychical investigation agency we could even argue that it’s for your own safety. Have a good day.’

And with that, he shut the door in the gorilla’s face.

Things remained tense for a moment — the man certainly hadn’t seemed the type to back down from a fight when we’d met him the year prior — but much to my surprise, the giant shadow lurking on the other side slowly diminished, until the inspector was completely gone. We gazed at Kipps in shock.

‘What? You don’t have to let them in, you know.’

#lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george cubbins #quill kipps #my writing #fanfiction #a bit late but finally adding this here #yes tv licence inspectors are real #as are tv licences #the idea is that the public service is then not beholden to the government for funding so can be impartial #but of course the tory bastards have stacked the board #but anyway the licencing system is why the bbc keeps putting out quality content #i'm not against it...even though I'm not paying it either XD

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thekatebridgerton · 8 months

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imagine: Kate’s maternal uncle and auntie coming into the picture and they love her… but ignore Mary and Edwina completely. They hold a grudge and think Mary maliciously kept their niece away from and forced her to give up her dowry for Edwina to come to England.

So, they come over, find out about the chaos and decide to stir shit up and bring Kate back with them. They first act unassuming and act all pleasant. Slowly… They try to make Mary look like the bad guy, Kate’s Aunt making a scene and crying her eyes out of something Mary ‘said’ and painting Mary as a wicked stepmother and Edwina a ungrateful half sister. Both of them try ensure that it’s not the case and that they love Kate but as Kate’s aunt ran out sobbing and telling the Bridgerton and Danbury that she never felt so insulted and will NEVER come back. Kate’s uncle acts desperate and gently tells Kate to come by as soon as she can as her aunt needs her. He needs her.

One thing should be clear, they both LOVE Kate. She gets put in a tough situation where she either chooses her maternal family who longs for her to come back with them OR stay with the family back here and who want her to stay.

I like to think that Kate’s mother was likely related to the Majaraj in India, maybe not a sister, but a distant cousin, because in India, Kate’s father had a moderately comfortable way of life, so it’s possible that they were very well connected at least until Kate’s father died. And her maternal family thought that once the mourning period was over Mary would take Edwina and go back to England with ‘her people’ but Kate would of course stay and marry back into the family, to one of the sons of the Majaraj or any of the high ranking officials in court who would keep her in the same comfortable lifestyle she was used to. But Kate decided to go to England with Mary and Edwina instead so her maternal family felt like somehow their little cousin’s only child was sacrificing all her oportunities in India for Edwina and Mary’s sake.

So of course, Kate’s family has to go ‘rescue her’ from those stick in the mud Brits who wouldn’t know real tea if it was serve to them in golden teacups. And show up right in the middle of the season, just as Kate is both trying to pretend she gets along with Anthony for Edwina’s sake, and also fend him off because apparently he’s insistent on marrying her sister.

Here’s where it gets funny, because if you’ve ever met an Indian Auntie and an Indian Uncle, you know they are persistent and they are very argumentative. And Aunties in particular tend to be… loud. So the Bridgertons, particularly Anthony, always end up overhearing that Kate used to have a seemingly perfect life when her father served the Majaraj and now her Aunt and Uncle think she’s been reduced to servitude.

I can imagine them being the perfect house guests but the minute everyone leaves the dinner table, Auntie Shivani starts trying to convince Kate to go back to India with them, using the typical arguments.

‘You would be so much more comfortable at home bebi’

‘Listen to your Aunt, you could be singing and dancing with the daughters of the Majaraj, instead look at this, all British people, long faces, no good music’

‘Come to India Kathani, as soon as were back home, Auntie will have your favorite Gobi Paratha made to celebrate, why do you want to be here? food in England doesn’t have spices, how can you truly be happy anywhere without spices?’

So Auntie and Uncle try their best to convince Kate that Edwina will be taken care of, because the Viscount likes her already and why not just come back to India and leave Mary to Lady Danbury. Etc Constantly making Mary out to be some downer who leaves everything to Kate and acting like Edwina needs to stop bothering her big sister for everything. Of course they like the Bridgertons because at this point Anthony is taking Edwina out of Kate’s hair, and that’s all Aunt and Uncle Sharma care about. Anthony is about to propose to Edwina, when he again overhears them trying to convince Kate to go home with them, and they bring up that the Majaraj handsome son still wants to marry her so really, this idea of being a governess in India is pointless when she could still marry Rahul and have a houseful of Indian babies. If she doesn’t like Rahul she could still marry Vijay, he’s also handsome and he’s an official.

Anthony has a shock because he was under the impression that Kate was unmarried because nobody had proposed to her, not because she willingly had already rejected her fair share of proposals in India. And the moment she goes back home, she’s going to be swarmed by those good and nice men her Aunt and Uncle keep preaching about. It’s the push Anthony finally needed to make him see that he’s got nothing if he doesn’t have Kate and if he does marry Edwina, she’ll be in a ship to India with her family faster than he can say divorce. So instead of proposing to Edwina, Anthony follows his heart and proposes to Kate. Much to the scandalizing outrage of Uncle and Auntie Shivani. And Kate’s absolute shock.

Can you imagine that anon. because that’s the tea

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #Kanthony #lets just say I used to have an aunt Shivani

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smolsilvey · 3 months

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Self care is me borrowing Cemetery Boys from Libby again just so I can listen to the epilogue and smile and stim. I can already tell that this is gonna be my book of the year. It's joining the ranks of My Grandmother Asked Me To Tell You She's Sorry and Brit Marie Was Here.

#i have so many feelings about this book #cemetery boys #autistic joy

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 year

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tuesday again 4/25/22

where the fuck were we

listening

Tongue by Rêve. i do not care for this latex aurra sing album art, but this instantly went on the "somebody come fuck this (GAY)" playlist. a fun danceable party bop about oral. other than a concerning line regarding "gamey like venison", what more can you ask for. spotify

Yeah Yeah Yeah by Blood Orchid. starts out with some very straightforward drums and then gets SLUDGY. this makes me want to sing along with the chorus with as much vocal fry as i can manage. i think the band is american, but the pronunciation of "yeah" is something i have only heard from posh brits? i think it works here. spotify

Praising You (feat. Fatboy Slim) by Rita Ora. this is somewhere between a cover and a reimagining? fun if you already know and like the original, fun if you don't. short, peppy, got me through a lot of mopping on saturday. spotify

reading

very long title by susan pinsky. checked this out mostly for any advice on moving, which was limited to two paragraphs that said "get rid of everything possible, the most efficient packing is not always the thing that will get you through a move in one piece, hire people to do everything for you if possible". this was unhelpful to me.

the author is not adhd, but is writing it out of the experience of having an adhd daughter and a ton of clients who probably had adhd. it feels like it is largely geared toward people who have a wife or child with adhd. while the version i read had been updated, it did feel very out of date at several points, especially with regards to calendaring/planning systems and (if possible) forcing everyone to call you at your home phone so you can check your wall calendar that you keep on your wall and not double book yourself. like what.

while i had independently derived some of the specific tips through great trial and error and much of the book simply did not apply to me, it did give some interesting background on why specific things (open storage, clear bins, open shelving, the concept of having one or two shelves free as a staging area in each place you have shelves) work with rather than against us.

i can see this being useful to someone who has recently been diagnosed as an adult, or is managing a family with multiple adhd/otherwise neurodivergent members, but i certainly wouldn't buy it. her big thing is Get The Fuck Rid Of Your Shit while not really providing a lot of pointers on how to go about that, so i could see how pairing this with one of marie kondo's books might be helpful? neither pinsky nor kondo really give a whole lot of advice on like "so you're an adult, here are things adults have in their house to make their lives easier" so perhaps a third unknown book might complete the perfect trilogy. idk man. im cranky her advice about moving was half a page.

Witches, Princesses, and Women at Arms, a collection of erotic lesbian fairytales edited by Sacchi Green. this was objectively fine. i skipped one completely bc it would have been a fucking hysterical short skit but did NOT translate to the page at all. as is ever the case with anthologies, some of them were decent, some of them not so much, almost none will stick in my brain even though there was some very nice butch representation. the one that does stick in my brain, Woodwitch by M. Birds about a princess trying to break a familial curse re: war, and a witch who follows the army, was memorable more for its leadup and acknowledgement of how a marching army works? like yeah! historically that is how armies move and camp and feed themselves huh, this is surprisingly well-researched for lesbian erotica!

the level of explicit erotica is...sort of on the same level as most modern f/f fic? this came out a good five years ago and people sure are having sex on the page, but there's a lot of metaphor and various other veiled imagery.

unfortunately, i want to read about women gettin absolutely nasty with it. i want to read about a pussy written with the same fervor as the average m/m cock in fanfic.

it's misogyny is what it is.

watching

rewatched For A Few Dollars More (1965, dr. Leone). in my heart he fucked that old man

You Can't Win Em All (1970, dir. Collinson) bc a very western-ish screenshot had me absolutely baffled about why a mauser was in a western. this is not a western, this is about some american mercenaries during the 1922 turkish civil war. this is not a very good movie (my main beef is that it spends twenty minutes trying to convince itself why its leads should work together, and the contrivance it lands on isn't particularly compelling or comprehendible after carting through us a whole bunch of other failed inciting incidents). this movie doesn't even manage enjoyably bad, but it sure is a spectacle of a war movie. great calvary columns riding through the prettiest goddamn landscapes you've ever seen. all forms of transportation are covered, including "armored train" and "trio of biplanes". my personal tolerance for exotic travelogue movies is fairly high, yours may not be.

if you want an actual cowboy western with different triple-crossing american mercenaries played by burt lancaster and gary cooper, Vera Cruz (1954, dir. Aldrich) is like a proto-revisionist western? quite a bit darker than i expected for 1) an american western made in 2) 1954

playing

sort of tied in with the making section-- i am deeply unhappy with how much time i am spending with fallou/t 4 bc it is not a game that makes me happy. however, the startup cost to finding a new game that makes me happy is pretty steep. so i spent some time on saturday flinging games into various folders, bc i forgot that was a thing steam lets you do now. maybe a different organizational system will fix me.

do not need to look at again: lots of demos and prologues from my old job, a couple things that aren't on steam anymore, some stuff that came in bundles that i'm not interested in, any strategy games.

done: my time with this game is at an end but i may want to return to a handy list to remind myself of what i have finished. lots of short indie experiences, wolfen/stein the new order, night in the woods, the portals, firewatch, things of this nature

old faithfuls: fnv, fo4, dishonored, sable bc i love simply zooming about.

hard bounce: this is mostly to make myself stop trying to click with hollow knight. i am never going to like fiddly platformers. and that's okay.

try again later: i'm deeply annoyed i'm not clicking with hardspace shipbreaker bc on paper it's the perfect fucking game for me. in practice even after fucking around with all the sensitivities it's still too fiddly for me. i need much, much more forgiving games with a shotgun-close-enough mentality.

making

important moving prep: cleaned out the storage unit that still had the dregs of my last move plus boxes from three grandparents and my mom. this took three full fuckin days bc it was extremely hot, i had to stop to cry a bunch, and a lot of goodwill trips.

the great thing about siblings is that if you've been caretaking a family heirloom that makes you feel weird due to your fractious relationship with the dead person in question, you can foist it off to a sibling who had a completely different less fractious relationship with the dead person in question.

once again i have failed to take a pic of the baby blanket in real daylight but we are slowly chugging along, halfway through repeat 6/10

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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