#group captain gilmore

[dougielombax]

My attempt to make a meme

[sporesmoldandfungi]

Captain America and Lieutenant Liberty - Introduction

1943. Camp Lehigh, New Jersey

The group of men stood at attention, all matching in their shades of green. Peggy Carter approached the battalion, eyeing the lineup. Two automatically stood out to her; one scrawny kid, who stood at the most 5’5” and an almost feminine looking boy, with wide hips and doe eyes. She narrowed her eyes at the two outcasts, before addressing the men.

“Gentlemen, my name is Agent Carter, I will be supervising your induction today.” She said, her British accent making a few of the men chuckle.

As a young man named Gilmore Hodge made less than appropriate comments to Agent Carter, Steve Rogers scoffed under his breath. He never understood the dynamic between most men his age and women. He didn’t understand the need to make a woman feel less than, to belittle them. So, when the Brit punched the loud mouthed American square in the jaw, he smiled. Most of the men looked shocked, insulted even, but the other outcast, the feminine looking lad, shared Steve’s smirk. He looked down the line, locking eyes with the boy. The boy simply gave Steve a subtle shrug of his shoulders before turning back forward.

“Huh…at least I won’t be the only one sticking out like a sore thumb.” he thought to himself.

Over the few weeks of Steve’s basic training, he grew close with the odd looking boy, who had learned his name was Evan. They bonded on the fact that they didn’t belong with the rest of the men. Although, the one difference they had, was their physicality. Steve thought he was going to pass out with every push up, every mile, but Evan flourished, often keeping up with the stronger men in the group. For reasons Steve couldn’t fathom, Evan was his friend, his only other friend besides Bucky.

After the grenade incident, Steve was offered a golden opportunity. To undergo an experiment to help America potentially win the war against Germany. When Dr. Erskine sat down across from Steve, giving him the low down for the next day, he revealed a key detail Steve hadn’t yet been told.

“So, you will meet myself and your partner in the lab tomorrow morning.” He said, pouring two glasses of schnapps.

Steve’s eyes widened. “Woah, wait. Other partner? You told me I was the only man undergoing the experiment.”

Erskine looked unbothered, giving Steve a nod. “Yes, yes, you are the only man. But, I have chosen a woman. We need to see how the serum affects both genders.”

“W-Woman? Where did you find her? Is it Agent Carter?” Steve asked, reaching for the other glass of schnapps that Erskine was holding.

Erskine smiled and shook his head. “Agent Carter isn’t who you’ll be meeting tomorrow. Wait, what am I thinking! You can’t drink, you have a procedure in the morning. No fluids.”

Steve smiled, seeing Erskine snatch back the schnapps. “You didn’t answer my question. Where did you find the woman? The one undergoing the procedure. I don’t know a lot of dames who would put themselves through this.”

“Simple, we found her here. You aren’t the only one who lied on their forms to get here.” Erskine said, drinking both servings of schnapps. He coughed before speaking again. “I have it under good authority you two are pretty close.”

Steve thought for a moment, racking his brain for anyone he may have met to fit the bill. Peggy was the only woman on the base, and he already knew it wasn’t her. He was at a loss. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Erskine simply patted the man’s leg, standing up from the bed. “See you in the morning, Steven.”

The man tossed and turned all night, his brain littered with endless thoughts and possibilities about the following day. When he met Agent Carter at the car that would take them to the city, he stopped in his tracks, seeing another woman by her side. She turned around and locked eyes with Steve. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere. They were the eyes he often sought comfort in, the eyes that shared his pain, the eyes that belonged to the only other outcast on the camp.

“Evan?” Steve asked in bewilderment, approaching the two woman.

‘Evan’ smiled and stuck her hand out to him, “My name is actually Y/N, Evan is my brother’s name.”

“Y/N…” Steve said tentatively, gently shaking her hand. It felt almost unfamiliar to him, like he didn’t know her at all. But he did. Hell, he almost considered her like Bucky. Well, he considered Evan like Bucky, but…

“I know it’s a lot to take it. It’s still me, Steve.” she said, interrupting his train of thought.

Steve nodded, letting go of her hand. “I know, it’s just, wow. I feel silly for not knowing sooner.”

She laughed, a musical laugh that he’d never heard before. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, punk, we’ve got places to be.”

They joined Peggy in the car, quickly making their way to Brooklyn. Steve stared at the woman at his side in bewilderment, relearning all of her features. Her hair was shoulder length, gently draping over her army green jacket. Her skin was smoother than his, plump and rosy. He could make out the pieces of ‘Evan’ he had come to know, the eyes, the nose, her chin.

“I bet you want to know why I’m here.” she said, turning to face Steve, who was still staring at her with wide eyes.

“If you don’t mind.” he said, snapping himself out of his trance.

“My twin brother was drafted, but he’s not healthy. He’s been in and out of the hospital for months now. But our father refused to let his family name be soiled by ‘a cold’ as he so lovingly put it. So, the night before he was supposed to report, I told Evan my plan, to take his place. He thought I was crazy, that’d I’d never make it. Well, look at me now.” she explained, motioning to herself at the end of her story.

“You’re very brave.” Steve said. “And you make one hell of a soldier.”

“Thanks.” she smiled.

They shared more of their stories, their journey to the army over the car ride. They pulled up outside an old looking store. Peggy didn’t say a word, leading the two inside. She had a brief conversation with the shopkeep, subtly dropping some sort of code. One of the walls slid to the side, revealing a long hallway behind it. Y/N and Steve hurried behind Peggy, seeing the looks they got from the others behind the shop facade. They entered the lab, seeing two pod like machines in the middle. Erskine approached them both.

“Ah, you are here. I told you, you knew your partner, Steven.” he said with a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Take off your hat, and your shirts.”

Steve quickly took off his hat and button up, handing them to an assistant of Erskine’s. Y/N followed suit, unbuttoning her jacket, leaving her in a white tank top. They shared a look before entering their respective pods. Erskine checked in on the pair before closing them both. He addressed the onlookers, but his words sounded muffled to both Steve and Y/N.

The transformation was painful to say the very least, especially with someone with as low as a pain tolerance as Steve. His screams ripped through his body, feeling like they were going to split them in two. His ears listened for Y/N, his mind racing on how she was doing. She let out a single grunt throughout the entire duration of the transformation, making him laugh internally.

Steve’s pod door flew open, the bright light making his eyes scrunch, even thought they were already closed. He panted, attempting to catch his breath. His eyes finally opened, seeing the lab once more. He felt a hand help him out of the pod, hearing a familiar voice.

“How do you feel?” Peggy asked.

“Taller.” He replied, suddenly realizing he towered over the woman. His concentration was broken by the sound of the separate pod being rattled. Loud banging was heard from the other side of the door. In a flash, he pushed past the onlookers that were crowding him and approached Y/N’s pod. With one swoop of his arms, he ripped the door clear off the hinges, revealing her to him.

Her eyes fluttered opened immediately locking with his blue one. She gave him a smile, also trying to catch her breath. Steve stared at his friend. He’d never realized how pretty she was. Even with her almost matching his height, she looked like a goddess. Her skin having a dewey glow to it, highlighting her cheekbones. She hopped out of the pod, standing in front of him. She looked Steve up and down, a smirk spreading across her face.

“You clean up nice.” she commented, drinking in his appearance. He gave her a shy smile, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud explosion and gunshots. They both ducked from the fire, immediately going into survival mode. Steve and Y/N looked up, seeing Erskine on the floor, two bullet wounds in his chest.

They quickly approached the scientist, trying to assess the situation. With the last of his strength, Erskine raised both of his hands, bringing his index finger to gently tap over their hearts on their chests. He didn’t need to speak, they both knew his message. It was why they were chosen. It wasn’t because they had guts, but they were good people. He was telling them not to let go of that. A low death rattle emitted from his lips as his head dropped to his side. Steve and Y/N looked up, seeing a man running away with the last remaining of the serum. They shared one look before taking off after the man.

They were faster, stronger, had more stamina than they had ever had in their lives, making it easy to catch up with the man. They had cornered him to a docking bay, but he had jumped into a submarine, disappearing under the surface. They dove into the water, breaking the window to the sub’s cab, making it fill with water. Steve grabbed the man’s shirt, tugging him back toward the surface. Y/N grabbed a few of the man’s belongings she could see in the sub before following Steve.

As Steve pulled the man out of the water, Y/N meeting him at the surface soon after, they dragged the body back onto land, pinning him to the ground.

“Who the hell are you?” Y/N hissed out, shoving the man further into the pavement.

“The first of many. Cut off one head, two will more will take its place.” the man croaked out, his teeth snapping against something. White foam threatens to spill from his mouth, and he uses all of his strength to mutter two words. “Hail Hydra.”

Y/N turned to Steve, confusion overtaking her. He shook his head in response, at a loss for words. They both stared down at the man, watching the white foam continue to pour out of his dead lips. One thing they knew for sure, Nazis may not be the only threat they need to worry about.

[critter-genfic-events]

Mystery Gen Recs

This week, we have seven mysteries for you to unravel! Check them out under the cut, and please comment and kudos if you liked them!

Resonance by elanoides (25072,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Background Caleb/Astrid

When the Mighty Six turn up on his doorstep, Archmage Caleb Widogast finds himself swept into their investigation of a crime twenty years gone. But the murder of Trent Ikithon isn’t just any cold case, and as impossible coincidences start to pile up, Caleb and the Mighty Six discover a far stranger mystery.

Reccer says: Instantly compelling and manages to be in character, even given the obvious changes to canon

Only the Nightingale Sings by MithrilWren (170518,Teen) Warnings: Torture, Mind Manipulation, Sensory Deprivation Pairings: None

Things go sideways in Felderwin - Trent manages to capture the Nein. The spellcasters are sent to the Soltryce Academy - and Caleb ends up under Trent's thumb again. And Yeza is still missing.

Reccer says: A true epic, with wheels upon wheels turning, and plenty of mysteries.

The Avatar Conundrum by R_Black (19861,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Last Airbender AU. Airbending Master Essek has been tasked to teach the Avatar airbending, and the Avatar's group--the Mighty Nein--is also willing to learn some techniques, despite most of them not being airbenders. The only problem? No one outside of the Nein knows which of the members is the Avatar...

Reccer says: It's so much fun to read a little mystery from Essek's point of view. And to see just how infuriatingly confusing the Nein are to outside observers.

the moon answers when you cry in the woods by royalgreen (allyoop) (685,Teen) Warnings: Pairings: None

Caleb is missing memories, but the pieces he is left with terrify him.

Reccer says: At under 1,000 words, it's a very short and fun mystery with plenty of spookiness

Among the Nein by Nellaplanet (124171,Teen) Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairings: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Nydoorin

An Among Us AU that has the Mighty Nein traveling on a spaceship - until someone murders the captain

Reccer says: I liked it

Debt of Vengeance by steelneena (61351,Mature) Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairings: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Shaun Gilmore/Keyleth/Vax'ildan, Keyleth/Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Shaun Gilmore/Vax'ildan, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III & Anna Ripley, Cassandra de Rolo & Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo & Scanlan Shorthalt, Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role)

A modern au. Anna Ripley is murdered, Percival is the prime suspect, and Detective Vax is determined to find the truth.

Reccer says: I'm a bit biased on this one as I helped to beta it, but because of that I know how much thought was put into every detail, including the ending and the reveal. Do pay attention to the tags, as while this isn't Dead Dove territory, it does touch on some dark themes and is clinical in the descriptions of violence. Also, without giving any spoilers, if you like happy endings, this may not be for you; but if you like a legal thriller that punches you in the gut and stays with you, then give it a read :)

somewhere in between by judypoovey (2223,General) Warnings: None Pairings: none

Umbrasyl is dead, but as Vox Machina try to catch their breaths, they're faced with another mystery: finding out that the dragon was working with a strange human woman.

Reccer says: I liked it

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone can include you!

Next week, we'll be featuring Monsters. Metaphorical monsters? Fighting monsters? Being a monster? It's up to your interpretation!

Then, it'll be humor, hurt/comfort, and then focusing on Yasha Nydoorin.

Any fics coming to mind?  Well, then use this form to submit!

If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Robophobia

Synopsis

Nothing has ever been officially confirmed, but there is a rumour that on a Sandminer bound for Kaldor City, the robots somehow turned homicidal and nearly wiped out the entire crew. Can that really be true?

The robot transport ship Lorelei has a cargo of over a hundred fifty-seven thousand robots on board, all deactivated. So even if there were any truth in the rumour of that massacre, there'd still be no danger. Surely, there wouldn't...

But then, the Doctor witnesses a murder.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Silver Turk

Synopsis

Roll up! Roll up! To the great Viennese Exposition, where showman Stahlbaum will show you his most wonderful creation, the Silver Turk — a mechanical marvel that will not only play for you the fortepiano, the spinet and the flute, it will play you at the gaming table too!

But when the Doctor brings his new travelling companion Mary Shelley to nineteenth-century Vienna, he soon identifies the incredible Turk as one of his deadliest enemies — a part-machine Cyberman.

And that's not even the worst of the horrors at large in the city...

Propaganda

spooky cybermen! also mary shelley. the story does a good job with the not-quite-humanity of the cybermen i think (anonymous)

1963: The Assassination Games

Synopsis

London. The end of November, 1963. A time of change. The old guard are being swept away by the white heat of technology. Political scandals are the talk of the town. Britain tries to maintain its international role; fanatics assassinate charismatic politicians and Group Captain Ian Gilmore is trying to get his fledgling Counter-Measures unit off the ground.

When his life is saved by a familiar umbrella-bearing figure, he knows something terrible is going on. Whilst Rachel investigates an enigmatic millionaire and Allison goes undercover in an extremist organisation, Gilmore discovers a sinister plot with roots a century old.

The Doctor and Ace are back in town. A new dawn is coming. It's time for everyone... to see the Light.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Widow’s Assassin

Synopsis

Once, long ago, in a land of monsters and corridors, a fair maiden was captured, and placed in a deep sleep.

She was used to being captured, and she had a hero who rescued her on just such occasions. But this time the hero never came.

And the fair maiden slept on.

Eventually, a King rescued the maiden, and made her his bride, which many wise old women might tell you is just another way of capturing fair maidens.

And still the fair maiden slept on.

Then, the hero had another stab at rescuing the maiden from her prison, but he was too late. And, more importantly, he had forgotten the rules of fairy tales.

He didn't slay the dragon.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Dalek Soul

Synopsis

On the Dalek-occupied world of Mojox, a group of rebels is engaged in a futile fightback against the invaders – but at last they’ve found an ally, in the form of the mysterious Doctor. Elsewhere, however, the Daleks’ Chief Virologist is seeking to perfect a biological weapon to wipe out the Mojoxalli, once and for all.

Her name... is Nyssa.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Grey Man of the Mountain

Synopsis

Something haunts the peak of Ben MacDui.

Something with heavy footsteps, striking terror in the hearts of those who sense it. With climbers going missing, retired Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart visits Scotland to investigate.

But when some old friends join his ascent, he worries that they will make things even more dangerous. As the snows blow in, and mists surround them, the Doctor, Ace and the Brigadier will face the Grey Man of the Mountain...

Propaganda

Feels like the unmade S26 holiday special! Fun, cosy, and just a great time! (@finalpam8000 )

[havntngs]

[ christopher briney, cismale, he/him ] - was that LAWRENCE ‘LAURIE’ CAMPBELL i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY-FIVE year old who has been in nightrest for THEIR WHOLE LIFE and works as a/an CERTIFIED NURSE ASSISTANT has a reputation of being LOYAL, but also SELF-DESTRUCTIVE. they reside in ASHMORE & people in town usually associate them with late night games that stretch to 3 a.m. best friends, cigarette smoke out an open window, ripped jeans and baggy t-shirts of musicians you love, anger and grief often masked as cold and uncaring, a feeling of love that you don’t know what to do with or how to say, a love for your sisters that you don’t know where to put, and trying to find the better version of yourself that people need you to be. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

full name — lawrence 'laurie' campbell nickname(s) — laurie name meaning — god has helped age — twenty-five date of birth — august 31st place of birth — salem, massachusetts star sign — virgo sun, aqaurius moon, virgo rising  current location — salem, massachusetts  gender — cis-male pronouns — he/him sexual orientation — bisexual ( repressed ) religion — atheist  occupation — certified nurse assistant  education level — cna school   family — ted campbell ( father ), karen campbell ( father ), tracy campbell ( sister ), holly campbell ( sister, deceased ) finances — upperclass / personal finances: help spoken languages — english, spanish 

character inspos: lip gallagher ( shameless ), zuko (avatar: the last airbender), eve polastri (killing eve), cristina yang (greys anatomy), kaz brekker (shadow & bone), kat stratford (10 things i hate about you), will hunting (good will hunting), mike wheeler ( stranger things ), elliot alderson (mr. robot), scott summers (x-men), chandler bing (friends), rosa diaz (b99), jess mariano ( gilmore girls )

tw: absent parents, deceased sister, grief & mourning

if life were a movie then laurie would be the background character that says one funny line before absolutely ruining the scene. in fact, he’d say that his lines were probably cut because they just weren’t good enough. born from an upper class family laurie is unoriginal and there’s nothing that really screams, brilliance. if he were to give that title it would have been to his eldest sister, tracy, but the star that shined in their lives would have been holly. 

he’s young when holly was born, young and had no idea the kind of weight that she would place on the family–and holly died too young to understand that she had been the thing to keep the entire family together. she was the glue. all of the words that he could say but it would never be enough. 

it hadn’t been an easy run up of affairs. laurie was the perfect example of the middle child, too volatile to handle on best days, had his head devouring books on any piece of science that he could get his hands on. when he was asked as a kid what he wanted to be he said things like a doctor, and then an astronaut. he liked physics, quantum science, engineering. he liked knowing that there were things that could be definite, how a problem could always be fixed if he just had the right amount of calculations and even better hypotheses. 

he was the captain of the science club all throughout high school, went to science camp once before he asked his mom to come and pick him up, he had a group of best friends that he loved, who came over on weekends to play games in his basement, he liked making science experiments in his backyard, he tried to be on the track team once before finding that he was better in a classroom than out in the field. his father took him hunting but gave him when he noticed his song reading a book. laurie was good at a lot of things academically, but never much so when it came to talking to other people outside of his bubble. 

he liked a boy growing up but never said anything and by the time the moment came where he should he didn’t. for most of laurie’s life he always felt different from his family and what he was supposed to be. he could have been anyone, surely he was never the smartest in the room but he knew things, he could have dated people if he had just said something, he could have had more opportunities if it wasn’t his own self-preservation getting in the way. being different was dangerous—people say things, and it hurts, and it’s worse because they always mean them. it’s easy being different and hiding in the shadows than being brave and getting your heart broken. 

by senior year his sister went missing, and then she died. laurie stopped caring after that. when he was a freshmen he had already planned on going to m.i.t, it was the dream school to get the dream job. he could be all the things he said he would be. but by then it didn’t matter. laurie started getting in fights, and headed down a path where he never thought he’d go. he thinks the worst part is that his parents hadn’t noticed. they only cared by the time that laurie got suspended, and acted as if laurie had become a different person overnight. when he got that m.i.t letter holly was long gone and he said that he never got accepted in the first place. 

the past couple of years have been hard, and laurie has gotten all kinds of odd jobs until his mom got tired of laurie just laying around and doing nothing with his life. he thinks that it’s the first time that his mother has tried to be a mother to him. he knows that its the bare minimum, but for the moment it was nice, as if she was doing a kindness to him instead of acting out of embarrassment. 

over the course of seven years he always thinks that he sees his sister somewhere. he didn’t feel the snap of her being gone, as if she were a tether to him in some way on his heart. that first year he kept telling people that she was still around, he would have felt it, to anyone that believed him. it seems unfair that his sister was here one day and then just disappeared. he remembers the way that people looked at him, when he tried to do his own investigation of her disappearance, and how sometimes he looks throughout his town still for remnants of her. 

his family might have been fractured, but it just didn’t seem fair that their glue, and the one of the only people that listened to laurie and his hopes and dreams just didn’t exist anymore. he would have felt it. and the worst part, he thinks, she would be disappointed in the choices that he made after she was gone. 

life goes on. laurie’s life is repetition. he doesn’t really dream anymore. 

more fun stuff:

listen ,, he might be smart but he is also very Bad when it comes to people he is my cringefail son -- if you were ever friends with him he has never said i love you. not once.

honestly i'd label him as a burn out but like he's a cna but he's also like. a burn out. he could be doing more he just doesn't. and he doesn't see the point.

looking for a weed dealer :// ( it makes him anxious but that doesnt stop him sdkfnsd idiot )

honestly looking for his old bffs that he let go Due to being a Bad Friend ( not intentionally he just... doesnt deal with Things Well sighs )

still v sad abt m.i.t ngl asdkflnds he thinks abt his life as Before and After and thinks where he could have been , always assumed he'd move out of this state and Be Someone. with all the recent deaths he's Going Through It

[ooachilliaoo]

Twiddles

Elissa dragged her arm across her forehead, certain she looked an absolute mess. Her hair was probably sticking out at all angles, curls long since devolved into frizz. She could feel the sheen of sweat on her cheeks and the way her shirt was sticking at the back.

(She could only hope that there wasn’t a tell-tale stain as well…)

Usually, of course, she couldn’t have cared less about what she looked like while training. But then usually her training sessions were with Ser Gilmore, and there wasn’t anyone around to impress. At least not with her looks.

But lately, she found herself rather keen to impress with her looks.

Though to only one member of their little group in particular.

Normally, she wouldn’t have voluntarily elected to train in front of him – at least not in a way that required such intense effort – but the way Isabela had fought in the Pearl had been incredible, and she’d have been a fool to pass up the opportunity. Especially when Zevran knew her.

There was also something vaguely familiar about her too. Perhaps it was merely because she was a captain, but she thought it was more than that, a similar spirit, something shared by Isabela and herself and her mother.

She just wished Alistair had elected to remain in the brothel as Zevran had. She knew why he hadn’t, understood even, but having him out here lounging against the wall watching her with intense eyes as she tried to learn Isabela’s complex techniques was a little distracting, to say the least.

Twice already, Isabela had called a halt in order to loudly reprimand her for getting distracted by the tall, handsome scenery.

His coolly raised eyebrow had only made her blush even worse.

Possibly worse than his blush when the madam had informed him that many of her girls would be interested in soliciting his coin, and be glad to have done so.

She was still trying to ignore the rush of red hot jealousy that had elicited.

Still trying to convince herself that he wasn’t hers.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[novadodson]

"so come home" said ground control.

Is that NOVA DODSON? A SOPHOMORE originally from PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMPSHIRE, they decided to come to Ogden College to study ENGINEERING & MATHEMATICS on an ACADEMIC SCHOLARSHIP. They’re THE SUPERNOVA on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

‘‘ｓｏ ｃｏｍｅ ｈｏｍｅ’’ said the voice from the stars.

STATISTICS;

BASIC INFORMATION;

full name: noelle nova valerie dodson. nickname(s): n/a. age: twenty-two. date of birth: febuary 8th, 2001. zodiac: aquarius. hometown: portsmouth, new hampshire. current location: ogden, new hampshire. ethnicity: african-american & caucasian. nationality: american. gender: non-binary. pronouns: they/he. orientation: panromantic & pansexual. religion: agnostic. occupation: student & employee at rainbow road. language(s) spoken: english, chinese, spanish, tagalog, vietnamese.

FAMILY;

father: andrew ellis. september 14, 1973. mother: rose dodson. february 14th, 1978. sibling(s): n/a. children: n/a. pet(s): n/a.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE;

face claim: quintessa 'q' swindell. hair color: dark brown.  eye color: dark brown. height: 5'6''. weight: 121 lbs. tattoos: multiple, scattered. ● behind left ear. (1, position) (2, artwork) ● left shoulder. (1, position) (2, artwork) ● right shoulder. (1, artwork) ● left arm. (1) ● hands. (1, artwork) (2, artwork) ● left ribs. (1) (2) (3) ● right thigh. (1, artwork) ● left thigh. (1, artwork) ● undecided position. (1, artwork) piercings: left nostril, lobes on either side (multiple), septum.

PERSONALITY;

character trope: the supernova. additional tropes: the astrophile, the cataclysmic, the connard, the dirtbag, the insurgent, the interstellar, the lothario, the lovable rogue, the miscreant, the phoenix, the rebellious spirit, the sabaist, the trickster, the vainglorious. character inspirations: bex mack (andi mack), brianna hanson (grace and frankie), captain james west (wild wild west), colin shea (what's your number?), lila pitts (the umbrella academy), lorelai gilmore (gilmore girls), martin whitly (prodigal son), max black (2 broke girls), nadia vulvokov (russian doll), robyn brooks (high fidelity), rue bennett (euphoria), shane madej (yes, just shane madej). positive traits: creative, optimistic, egalitarian. negative traits: rebellious, restless, unyielding. skills: adaptability, perseverance, speed reading. smokes: yes. drinks: yes. drugs: yes.

SCHOOLING;

attending; ogden college. major: engineering & mathematics. sports: n/a. extracurriculars: robotics club, math club.

BACKGROUND;

TW: death, parental loss, homelessness, murder, juvenile detention, prison. ● Nova was raised by a single mother, Rose Dodson, their father never in the picture as he had abandoned her the moment he found out she was pregnant. ● It became clear at a very young age that Nova was advanced and at only four, he took a Mensa test and was admitted as one of the groups youngest members with a score of 142. ● By age eight, Nova seemed entirely sure of who they were; they spoke to their mother about their identity and their future and Rose was nothing short of supportive, embracing her child and supporting them the way they always had. ● Unexpectedly, Nova's mother fell sick and passed away by the time he was twelve and they were placed with relatives. However, due to not knowing how to handle him, Nova was bounced around and eventually, ended up drifting between relatives homes, couch-surfing with friends or simply sleeping on the streets. ● At fifteen, after getting involved with the wrong people, a robbery Nova was a part of went wrong and he was charged with felony murder. They had never had a weapon or touched anyone, but due to their involvement with the original crime, they were charged as an adult and sentenced to seven and a half years in prison. ● Nova graduated high school on their own while in juvenile detention and even helped tutor and push other kids to do the same but once he reached eighteen and was transferred to an actual prison, something shifted within them and they gave up on themselves. ● A mentor from Mensa who had known Nova since he was a child refused to give up on him, visiting monthly and attempting to encourage him to continue fighting for the future he'd planned and when Nova was finally released, they used their connection as an alumni of Ogden to get Nova a spot despite their background. ● A sparks seems to have lightened back within Nova; he's brighter than he has been in the past four years, attending classes and excelling as they had been as a child but even they're not entirely sure what they want for their future or if their dream is any longer worth pursuing.

BIOGRAPHY;

TW: death, parental loss, homelessness, murder, juvenile detention, prison. Under Construction.....

EXPAND ON HOW THEY EMBODY THEIR SKELETON TROPE;

While most of the life of a star is stable, as it burns through its fuel and begins to cool, the outward forces of pressure drop until it's low enough for gravity to take over and cause it's collapse — a supernova. It's chaotic, bright, powerful, beautiful. It's also essential to life, a source of elements including the very iron in your blood and in their wake, can leave either a black hole or a new star. Balance was taken from Nova a decade ago, forcing them to drop further and further downwards, a decline they had long since lost control of until gravity or fate intervened. What was becoming a shell of the luminary Nova had once been was thrown into chaos; a new world, a new environment and perhaps, a new start. Chaotic, bright, powerful, beautiful. It was essential to his survival, his life. The only question that remains, what will be left in their wake?

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER;

Nova's relationships to Greer seems to exist more on a hypothetical than any reality. Their arrival was meant to be a new and exciting change, a return to the life they were meant to have, one that ended up all but cloaked by the darkness of Greer's missing status. It seemed to be everyone's focus and to some degree, Nova was thankful for it, his arrival able to slip mostly under the radar. After all, who held interest in your story when the school's golden girl had up and vanished?

LINKS;

AESTHETIC | FASHION | INTERACTIONS | MUSINGS | PINTEREST | VISUALS

[sircarolyn]

DW asks- 2, 6, and 19 (though why limit it to only nuwho?)?

2. what’s your favorite moment with your least-favorite doctor?

already answered to justify who my least fav is but i'll pick another moment! and that moment is, i really like it when 5 is a silly clown in black orchid. i just love that episode

6. favorite motif or reoccurring theme in the show?

when clara's theme hits in s10 😭

but generally, it's the otherness, the loneliness. that's what gets me. the fact that doctor who finds friends and loses them. the fact that the friends they find never quite fit, and never quite go back the same again. just, yeah

19. nuwho gets a designated one f-bomb per season. who gets to use it and when?

there's so many series! so i'm only going to comment on ones i feel strongly about:

season 1: barbara. i want her to swear at the doctor 4-6: jamie i think deserves to swear in there at least once. probably at something silly 7: the brigadier deserves a 'for fuck's sake' at least once an episode 12: the brigadier deserves one in robot 13: i think sarah should get a little angry one in there, maybe after she thinks the doctor dies again, any of the times 15: leela deserves at least one per episode 18-21: it belongs to tegan by law. but i also think she and turlough should yell and swear at each other at least once 23: six should get to swear at the concept of carrot juice 25: can i pick a niche one? i want rachel jensen to swear at group captain gilmore when she's yelling at him <3 series 1: rose should get it when she's cross 3: martha gets to yell it, probably at the very least in human nature 4: donna should get it at east once an episode too 8-10: twelve gets it when he's making fun of humans, but missy also gets it at least once when she's making fun of the doctor, and bill gets it once to tell them both to fuck off

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Four

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 10k

18+ MDNI!!

Chapter Warnings: (rushed) smuT!! with the hardest possible T on the end. (finally!!) as if it isn't only chapter four but also this is an accidental pregnancy fic so whatever fingering, oral (both receiving just not simultaneously lmao), heavy petting, (unprotected) p in v (like protection isn't even thought about or mentioned pls I beg be more responsible than this lmao), some admirable displays of endurance honestly, there's a random joke about jumping in front of a car sorry idek how else to write that warning, aaaaaand nico being... an idiot perhaps? he's a man after all, poor decisions are written into the very core structure of his chromosomes unfortunately

Summary: Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Three)

A/N: I'll just let yous crack on this time no yapping on my end hope you like it lmao (but I must say, as always, never proofread)

if you do wanna yap, if you have any feedback you wanna share or criticisms or whatever, my inbox is always open!! 💓

Poppy

Nia: !!! 

Nia: 🚨CODE BLACK 🚨 

Nia: !!!

Poppy wouldn’t usually be the type to sit on her phone at the table in a restaurant, but desperate times had called for desperate measures, and she would say being made to wait 10 minutes with no response to any messages on what was supposed to be a first date counted as desperate times.

She had been flicking through instagram stories, hoping to catch a sneaky glimpse at the guy she wanted to be the cause of her cell’s incessant vibrations, but to no avail so far.

She had been picking at bread rolls and sipping at her water, tapping on her screen every 30 seconds to check when fifteen minutes had passed, and she would have been able to up and leave without feeling bad about it. Would have been able to tell her mom that she had at least made an effort, unlike Mr Evidently Not-So-Perfect Tucker Lyon.

But who needs fifteen courteous minutes when you have a best friend like Nia Auden. 

Nia, who had introduced the Code Black protocol to their friend group when they were teenagers, and who had stressed the severity of it to everyone. Never to be abused, always to be used for the ultimate good.

When they were younger, the two of them specifically had abused it a couple times - to get out of presentations in class, bad dates, or dinners with overbearing parents. 

Nia had once sent Poppy a Code Black text when her dad had thrown some boring party in the family home, and there usually would have been nothing in the world that would have gotten Poppy out of it - but a text from her best friend, who’s parents were out of town, and who desperately needed someone to drive her to the emergency room after she sliced her finger opening a tuna can, had Mr Jensen agreeing in seconds. His heartstrings had been thoroughly plucked by the story of the fake injury and the thought of that poor girl sitting in Norwood Emergency Care on her own with half a finger left. Poppy had only just managed to convince him he didn’t need to help, and the two of them spent the evening binge watching Gilmore Girls in Nia’s basement, concocting a plan for Nia to wear a finger bandage for the next few weeks if she was coming over.

The contingency had been entirely pointless, obviously, because Poppy’s dad was hardly ever around enough to notice such a small detail, back then. And, despite her mother having the perception levels of a hawk, Mrs Jensen cared too little about Nia to notice, either.

In instances like that, the use of the code was mostly pre-planned. The girls would complain about whatever it is they wanted to get out of until one of them suggested it, and it was always a case of waiting for the incoming text without seeming too obvious. But her and Nia hadn’t agreed to this. Not this time.

Sure, she’d droned on earlier in the day about how much she didn’t want to go on the date, but Nia wouldn’t usually go rogue - especially not with a Code Black. This kind of thing takes preparation and a pre-warning.

Poppy: what’s up?

Poppy: you okay???

She had remembered Nia’s plans for the evening - taking a potential client out for drinks, showing them the wonders of the better side of the Hudson River, and hoping that she can charm them into signing with her agency - trying to work her way up the ranks of podcast production until she can hopefully get a job in television or film.

Nia: I’ve just witnessed the saddest sight I’ve ever seen in all my 25 years.

Nia: need to share out the misery before I let it consume me 😢 

Attached to her messages was a pixelated picture, taken from across whatever bar she had found herself in. It was blurry, and bad quality, taken in poor lighting and zoomed in the whole way but Poppy was still able to make out who it was. All too reminiscent of the pictures Jack had sent her a week prior.

Nico, sat alone at a bar, chin in the palm of one hand and a drink in the other.

Nia: he’s about as subtle as a smack to the face, Pop.

Nia: moping and brooding for all of NJ to see

Poppy: this is your code black?

Poppy: six exclamation points and two blaring alarms for nico moping again?

Nia: this doesn’t look like an emergency to you?

Nia: you’ve broken the poor guy

Poppy: why is it always my fault? 😢 

Poppy: you told me to make him sweat??

Nia: he looks like he’s one drink away from throwing himself in front of oncoming traffic

Poppy: wow dramatic much?

Nia: you haven’t seen him in person

Nia: in fact I think I just saw him wipe away an actual tear

Nia: how sad ☹️ 

Poppy: nico doesn’t cry in public

Poppy: only in private to movies about dogs

Nia: your date is clearly going well for you to be replying so quick

Poppy: he didn’t turn up

Nia: stfu

Nia: how rude!!

Poppy: it’s whatever

Poppy: can you tell nico I’m omw so he stops sulking?

Nia: no but I can bully him until you get here 🥰

Poppy: go easy on him pls 🙏 

Nia: 🤷🏽‍♀️

—

Nia was right. Nico is about as subtle as a smack to the face. The kind where the sound of it silences the rest of a room, and the imprint of closed fingers comes out almost immediately into the recipient’s skin surrounded by a hot, burning redness that lingers long after it’s done.

It’s something Poppy had realised as soon as she saw him when she got to the bar, as soon as he saw her, and he couldn’t wait to get to her - leaving Pally with his mouth wide open, mid sentence as Nico ejected himself from whatever one-sided conversation his teammate was having to seek her out.

She’d realised it when they were alone, and he practically had to cuff his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching her, unintentionally making a show of his attempt at restraint. Or when he’d pressed the stiff outline of his evident arousal into her hip, making a show of the complete opposite.

And when Timo had interrupted the two of them, the sharp clench of Nico’s jaw and the whitening of his knuckles by his sides.

Subtlety is far from Nico’s strong suit.

Not when he’s burning holes into the back of his teammate and long-time friend’s head when Timo returns to the group, not when he’s initially giving tight-lipped smiles whenever anyone asks if he’s alright, or mentions that he seems a little out of sorts.

Not when his hand takes up permanent residence on the small of Poppy’s back, and he absentmindedly rubs random shapes into her flesh as the two of them converse with the team. Although, she doesn’t entirely mind that aspect.

Not when she had initially thought he might act the opposite - might keep his distance, pretend their back of the bar rendezvous hadn’t happened and refuse to get too close out of a fear someone might notice something between them. 

He hasn’t left her side for almost two hours now, and she quite likes the quietly possessive stance he has taken up beside her. 

She quite likes a lot about how he has been tonight.

Likes the attention and affections he gives her, likes the way he clues her in on conversations she otherwise would have no business being involved in, likes the way he lets her see little parts of himself she hadn’t got to really see before - not this fully, at least.

Like how he leads his team with gentle authority, wanting to make sure they’re having fun, looking after themselves, not letting their loss from the previous night dampen the joy from the win the night before that. Not caring that they are in fact supposed to be out celebrating him, and knowing that with a short break until their next game, they all deserve to let loose a little. He checks in on everyone, recalls little details she doesn’t know how he juggles in his mind with everything else he has going on, and she can’t help but lack subtlety herself in the way she admires how he deals with Jack.

Nico, who is soft spoken, but assertive, seemingly shy, but comfortingly confident, handles the younger boy with such care it makes Poppy’s heart thud rampantly in her chest.

Jack had suffered a knock to his shoulder in their game against Chicago on the Friday - had missed the game against the Canucks, missed the game against his brother, the whole Hughes-Bowl extravaganza - and is now stressing over missing his first time co-captaining a team during the All-Star weekend at the end of the month.

And Nico somehow manages to calm him down - taking his time to let Jack air out his grievances and coming back on every worry to diminish it with words of affirmation and encouragement.

Nico is reassuring, gentle, understanding of his frustrations, and as they sit across from Jack in a darkened booth, a couple hours after their encounter in the hallway, a few drinks deep into the evening, she starts to think she’s never been this attracted to another person in her life.

With their legs pressed together under the table and his hand, the one that lays free when he uses his other to gesture as he talks, rubbing gently into the flesh just above her closest knee, she’s starting to lose her mind just a little.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself in the empty hallway before from launching herself at him, but 4 days of no contact with Nico had her entire body buzzing with anticipation.

Anticipation of his feelings, of her own feelings, even, and what they could lead to if she just let them take the reins.

Twice they had kissed now - twice her whole world had been rocked off it’s axis with just the press of his lips to hers, and as she’s been pressed to him for the better part of two hours, has watched the indent of his dimples form into his cheek, watched his dark eyes gleam under the poor lighting in the bar, watching him laugh and smile and be his charming, charismatic self, she starts to feel a pressure rise within her. It’s like she’s a shaken up bottle of soda, and one more touch, one more glance, is going to twist the cap straight off of her until she fizzes all over the place.

And when Jack dismisses himself to get another drink, his mood seemingly lifted, able to crack a smile, at least, she leans into Nico, hand on his lap as she cranes her neck to speak into his ear. “I think I’m good to get out of here, now.”

She only just manages to jut her chin away when his head turns to look at her, tongue darting out to wet his lips, dark eyes dashing down to survey her own tucked between her teeth. “Oh yeah?” His voice is a lot lower than it had been when he spoke to Jack, huskier, breathier, and the deep hum of it rings all the way from her ears to the pit of her stomach. “You want me to take you home?”

She nods, and it takes every ounce of restraint she has not to kiss him again, in the middle of the crowded bar, surrounded by all their friends - especially with the way he’s looking at her, his darkened gaze pooling with pure unadulterated lust.

“Let me grab my jacket and we can go.”

“I’m gonna say bye to Nia.”

He squeezes lightly at her thigh as a confirmation before edging out of the booth and lending her a hand to help her out. “I’ll come find you.”

Nia isn’t too hard for Poppy to find, having joined the group in their private section, bringing her hopeful clients along with her and introducing them to the team. She’s stood with John Marino and Nate Bastian when Poppy comes over, and her best friend looks at her with the smuggest grin she’s ever seen in her life.

“Finally broke free of Captain Sexy’s clutches, huh?”

Poppy wishes, not for the first time, she would stop calling him that, especially in front of other people.

“Nico’s gonna make sure I get home okay,” Poppy tells her best friend, immediately cringing at the hollers that break out beside her. 

“Ooh, I bet he is,” John scoffs, nudging Bass in the side, the two of them grinning almost as wide as Nia.

Nate wolf-whistles, before singing, “Poppy and Nico, sitting in a tree-,”

“Whatever word you’re thinking about spelling out,” she hooks a finger pointedly at John, cutting the two of them off before they can carry on whatever childish rhyme they could come up with between them, “Save it before I spare the world of any future mini-Marinos.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, “A little early to be heading out though, isn’t it, Poppy?”

“Some of us have work tomorrow,” she smiles, regardless of the fact that she doesn’t have to go to work until she has a meeting in the afternoon - but these two don’t need to know the semantics, “I’m just borrowing Nia for a sec.”

She drags her friend a safe distance away so the two of them can’t eavesdrop, and tries to ignore her lack of subtlety when she sings, “F-u-c-k-i-n-g.”

“Don’t stoop to their level, Ni,” she sighs, rolling her eyes despite the stuttering of her heart, and holds her hand out to retrieve the purse she had left with her when she’d first come into the bar. “You’re better than that.”

“What? It’s catchy,” Nia shrugs, hazel eyes slowly assessing Poppy as if trying to read her like a book. “And you’re so trying to get laid tonight. Don’t think I don’t know what the two of you were up to when you disappeared into the back, before."

“Whatever.”

“Hey, do me a favour?” Nia asks, reaching into Poppy’s purse for her phone and holding down the side buttons until the device powers down. “Don’t turn that back on until tomorrow.”

Poppy doesn’t even have to ask. She has a sixth sense for her mother’s interference, and she just knows she’s been blowing up her phone all night with questions. Nia is right, she doesn’t need to dedicate any precious mind space to that tonight.

Tonight is for her and Nico, whatever may happen.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Poppy lets out an uneasy laugh, allowing for Nia to zip the cell back into her bag before stepping away ever so slightly. “I’ll text you as soon as it’s back on, though.”

“Damn right you will.” Nia scoffs, leaning in to give Poppy a quick hug, “I want every last detail, Jensen.”

“Sure thing, Auden.”

“Have fun, Poppy, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The two friends part with a quick peck to the cheek, and Poppy retreats in search of Nico, who she finds by the bar, eyes meeting from across the room as if he had been waiting for her to finish.

Once she had made her way over to him, he holds his jacket out to drape over her shoulders, and she tucks herself under his arm as he leads them out of the bar into the cold of the night, wrapping her arms around his middle in an attempt to distribute some of the warmth she has stolen from him by borrowing his coat.

“I’ve got us an Uber,” he says, pulling her into him as they wait by the side of the building. “It should be here in a minute.”

“You don’t wanna walk me home?” They’re in Jersey City, maybe a fifteen minute walk from her apartment, and they could easily warm up if they made pace. The sky is clear, and she wouldn’t mind getting to walk somewhere and hold his hand.

“I’m not piggy-backing you all that way, Poppy,” he scoffs, knowing her better than she knows herself - the mention of a piggyback bringing forth an ache in the soles of her feet. Not a chance of walking fifteen minutes. “We can get the car to stop a block from your place, and I promise I’ll carry you around the corner.”

“If we’re going to my place we should get the Uber straight there, you won’t ride in my elevator and I need to be carried the last two flights of stairs at least.”

“Your elevator is a rickety death trap,” he hums into her skin, nose tucking into the open collar of his jacket draped over her shoulders, nudging at the curve of her neck. “And I don’t feel like dying tonight.”

“Oh, do you have big plans for the rest of your evening?” 

“I have a very pretty girl in front of me and a lot of time to make up for.” The last time he had mentioned making up for lost time, it had made her feel uneasy - this time couldn’t be any further from that. She feels anticipation, excitement, exhilaration - knowing the time he’s referencing goes so far beyond those months apart. 

“My place, then, the whole way,” she confirms, “And I’ll just have to figure out a way to distract you in the elevator so you don’t think about dying.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you to distract me.”

She tries not to overthink the meaning behind that - tries not to let her mind wander down paths it shouldn’t go down, where she pictures him thinking about her when he shouldn’t - when he’s with other people, in other places, away from her.

And, just in time to save her from an embarrassing display of public affection, a black Suburban pulls up to the curb in front of them, and Nico nudges her toward it.

They sit together in the back, his arm around her, thighs pressed together, her right hand holding the hand attached to the arm slung over her shoulder and the left fiddling with the fingers of his other in her lap.

The two of them make very brief small talk with the driver, and the drive takes maybe 5 minutes before they both stumble out right in front of Poppy’s building, Nico quick to send the driver off with a tip while Poppy unlocks the main door.

The elevator is already on the bottom floor, and she tries her best to do all the work in getting it to go up. Nico had been mostly accurate to call it a rickety death trap - the type with doors you have to close manually and lights that flicker and hum like something straight out of a horror movie. 

The only surefire way to distract him is to kiss him, and she doesn’t have to use up any brainpower to convince herself to do so.

She pulls him in with soft hands placed on either side of his neck, and he falls immediately into the flow of it - large hands gripping at her hips, pushing her gently into the far wall as the elevator begins its ascent. They don’t part until the elevator stops, and even then, they only do so so that Poppy can yank the door open and pull him out with her, immediately attaching herself back to his lips and kissing him with fervour.

They shuffle down the hall until they’re outside her apartment, and she blindly, one-handedly fumbles around in her purse for her key, manages to slot it into the keyhole after a few tries, and twists until she can hear the lock turn. 

Once the door is unlocked, the two of them stumble into Poppy’s apartment, the thick heels of her boots thudding against the hardwood floor with each clumsy step, and in the very back of her mind she hopes Peter downstairs can’t hear it too loud.

The thought is fleeting, though, because Nico’s hands press firmly into the base of her spine, causing her hips to jut forward and practically thrust straight into his, his tongue taking immediate advantage of the gasp she lets out and prodding into her open mouth. 

He guides them backwards, tangled limbs interlocking until their bodies careen toward the kitchen, he throws his jacket somewhere on the way, and he manages to blindly reach a hand out to stop her colliding with the island counter.

He slowly lets her fall back into it, hand curved over the sharp edges, mouths still pressed together in a sloppy, messy kiss and his body follows suit, aligning to her every curve and indentation. 

She wonders briefly if it would have been easier to just break apart - to allow the dim lighting emanating from her kitchen to guide the way to safety instead of relying on Nico’s hasty memorisation of the layout of her apartment, but as she feels the soft muscle of his stomach roll into her torso, feels the flicker of his tongue against hers, she realises it all adds to the exhilaration. 

Adrenaline is pumping through her very core, and she doesn’t want to break apart, even for a second. 

She’d had a dream about him, once. In the very early stages of their friendship, before the somewhat rational and entirely brutal part of her brain stomped down on her attraction. It went something like this, wandering hands, frantic movements, she doesn't remember exact details but she does remember waking up in a cold sweat.

Regardless, nothing she could ever dream of lives up to the real thing.

To the way his stubble scratches at her skin, the way his hands dig into every part of her they choose to touch, grabbing and clawing with desperation and determination, the way his thick thighs nudge hers apart with subtle dominance so his leg can slot between hers as they both lean into the counter.

The real thing is something else, entirely.

He manages to lift her onto the counter, somehow communicating through touch exactly where he wants her, because as soon as his thick fingers press into her hips, she knows to leverage her hands on the surface behind her and assist him with picking her up, their lips locked the entire time.

Every move is frantic, but intentional, and she is teetering on the edge of rushing this and savouring every moment - and it seems like he is too when he pulls back, their lips parting with a wet smack and his slightly sticky forehead pressing into hers.

The rise and fall of her chest is scattered, while he tries to level out his breathing, trying the in through the nose out through the mouth technique to seemingly calm himself down. 

All she can do is watch. Admire the way his eyes drop closed, thick eyelashes fanning out as he scrunches his face, even thicker brows furrowing as he battles whatever internal dialogue is taking place - one she doesn’t want to interrupt or intervene with. 

“Are you too drunk for this?” He asks, a surprising croak to his usually level voice, his dark eyes opening to gauge the honesty of her response.

“No,” she pants, still a little out of breath, not so used to being able to pull herself back together as quick as he is. “Are you?” 

“No.” 

He sounds a little more certain than she did, although he had been out longer tonight, and had definitely had more to drink. She supposed he has the constitution for it. But she knows she isn’t too drunk - knows she would consent if she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all night. She had been ready to jump his bones in that dingy back corridor of the bar, and had been fully sober at the time. 

He flexes his fingers at the sides of her thighs on the countertop, itching to touch as if he’s holding back until he gets the right answer. “Do you want this?”

She nods, gaze flickering between his rich, dark chocolate eyes as if trying to read his mind.

In what world would she not want this?

“Tell me, Mohn,” he commands, knuckles whitening as he clenches his hands into fists.

“I want this.” She breathes out, pressing her forehead back to his, eyes fluttering closed as if too heavy to keep open, and allowing for her other senses to heighten. “I want you.”

She blinks her eyes open to see relief visibly flood through him in a rushed wave, and watches as it washes over his entire being - realising just how much her previous rejection, if she would even call it that, had weighed on him the past few days.

Her hands fall onto his atop the counter, rubbing soothingly until his fists flatten out, and all the tension in them disappears. Her fingers fold over his, lifting and guiding them until his palms lay flat where the bottom of her dress meets the soft skin of her thighs. She can feel how hot she is before she starts to push at his hands, taking a shuddered breath as he takes enough initiative to curl his grip around the curve of the flesh there, and she guides his hands slowly upward, the skirt bunching up as they go. 

She watches as his gaze follows the movement, staring intently as more of her skin is revealed, until he looks up to meet her eyes, seeking permission in a heated glance. 

She feels like she can read his mind when he looks at her like that. Feels like he’s laying out his every intention on a storyboard, visual aids and all, sees it branch off into two potential paths, just like the two she had been weighing up in her own mind.

One where they both take their time, tension building to a euphoric crescendo, where his hands get to memorise every curve and hers get to do the same, where they uncover every unheard sound, every unpracticed touch.

And another where he rips off her clothes and takes her for the first time on the kitchen counter, where she claws at the skin of his back, and he uses his lips to scatter purple bruises across her chest.

He seems to be able to find a middle ground when he starts to help her undress, and keeps one hand slowly caressing the slight dip of her waist as they both push the dress up her body and tug the fabric over her head, with him discarding it off to the side when they’re done.

He flicks teasingly at the strap of her bra until it falls down her arm, gathering and draping just above her elbow, and leaving him free rein to lean down and press his swollen lips to the space where her shoulder meets her collarbone, just about able to feel the subtle echo of her pulse as it travels down her neck.

Her head dips back, granting him full access to her upper body, all the way up her throat and to her jawline, and one of her hands raises of its own accord to the neck of his sweatshirt, fingers tangling in the chain she had gifted him until her nails are tickling and scratching at the skin beneath it. He makes quick work of unzipping her boots, again pulling them off and throwing them away with a heavy thunk.

The moan she lets out is breathy, sparse, but it appears to fulfil something inside him all the same, awakens something greedy as his large palms cup at the sides of her hips and tug her forward, grasping the waistband of her panties and having enough leverage as she slides across the surface to bring them down. She hops slightly so he can pull them over the roundness of her ass, and he steps back a touch from between her legs so that he can dispose of them, flinging them to God-knows where to lay with her dress on the ground. 

She’ll worry about it another time.

He maintains his position, fingers wrapping around her calf to push it to the side, parting her legs until he can see what beauty rests between them. 

He gazes upon her with unabashed hunger, goosebumps rising on every inch of her skin as she takes in the heat behind his eyes. She has never felt so exposed to another person, so admired, so adored.

Her kitchen is illuminated only by the under-cabinet lighting strips behind them, but she can see the way his irises glisten and sparkle with desire. He makes slow, deliberate movements - painstakingly displaying his intention as he steps forward into her space, leaning with a hand down on the counter beside her thigh, and the other remaining on her opposite leg. When he starts to bend, she stops him with a shaky hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” she whispers, losing her breath when he breaks his gaze from between her thighs to look up at her. “Could you take your shirt off?”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, a single brow arching in a teasing question.

“Please?” She thinks she almost sounds pathetic, but has little space in her brain right now that she can dedicate to caring about it. “I need to touch you.”

He wordlessly follows her command, straightening up and reaching back to pull the sweatshirt from his body. It drops straight from his grasp to the floor, and the t-shirt he layered underneath follows suit. “Better?” He asks, biting back a smug grin as he watches her eyes trail down his torso, lingering on the faint dark patch of hair just below his bellybutton. 

“Kiss me, again.” She requests with a shaky breath, and he fulfils her command, lifting a hand to cup at her jaw and pulling her face into his. Her fingers tickle at the nape of his neck when their lips press back together, immediately parting them until their tongues collide in the middle. She brings her other hand to his chest, his skin warm beneath her touch as she drags it painstakingly slowly down his torso, savouring the feeling, stopping at the button of his jeans and skilfully popping it open without the need for them to part.

Nico releases a cautioning hum into her mouth, pulling away with a slight pop and taking her hand into his to stop her as her fingertips start tickling at the elasticated waist of his underwear.

“Me first.” He huffs, selfishly, swatting her hand away and bending until he can press a kiss to the inside of her knee, pulling her legs apart with a hand clasped around her ankle and lifting until he can swing it over his shoulder.

She gasps when his nose bumps at her thigh, trailing up at a dizzying pace as all she can do is fall back onto her hands placed atop the counter and wait for him to reach his target. He does so with his tongue first, licking a slow, long stripe upward, culminating with his lips pursed around her clit until he can apply mind-numbing pressure to the bundle of nerves.

A hand soon finds purchase in his hair, scratching easily at his scalp and gently tugging when he introduces a finger into the mix, then another, prodding at the wetness that has gathered at her entrance and easily sliding his middle and index fingers up to the bottom knuckles.

There’s nothing she can do to contain the sounds that tumble out from parted lips, gasps, moans, squeaks, all spurring him on where she cannot mask the pleasure he elicits within her.

He adds another finger, she lets out another elongated whine, hips thrusting forward of their own volition into his face, and he doesn’t even seem perturbed. His mouth maintains the same pressure on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking, lips pursing, and the noise of it all is downright filthy.

His fingers bend and prod and pulse within her until a knot builds deep in the pit of her belly, and ineligible sounds fall from her mouth, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

So much better than anything she had dreamt.

“You’re trembling, Mohn,” he chuckles darkly once he pulls away for a quick breath, pupils blown when he looks up and meets her eyes from between her legs. “Are you gonna come for me?”

He presses his thumb where his mouth had just taken up residence on her clit, rubbing random little shapes into it as he lifts his head, angling his body to press his forehead to hers. 

The pressure swirling in her stomach is almost too much to bear, and she can’t help the tremors in her thighs as he holds her in place, her mind tumultuously cloudy and the interlink between her brain and her mouth cut off with a staticky disconnect.

Her hand lands upon his arm, nails digging in with a marking pressure until crescent shapes form into his skin as his digits work at her masterfully, that knot within her growing and unfurling into something beyond words.

The sensation rips through every fibre of her being, head thrown back, mouth dropping open, stomach clenching and the entirety of her legs trembling, from the tips of her toes to the apex of her thighs, as her orgasm hits like a tsunami, walls clenching around Nico’s skilful fingers and pulsing into a vice-like grip.

He presses his forehead to her chest, both of their skin slightly clammy with a light sheen of sweat, lips seeking out the flesh of her breasts spilling over the cups of her bra, and with his free hand, he reaches around to unclasp it until they fall free of the fabric, just for the sake of it.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a minute of her catching her breath, smirking into her skin as he presses light kisses around her nipple, avoiding the sensitive area in an attempt to tease, watching as it hardens in anticipation of his lips. She feels the shivers wrack all the way down her spine and shoot straight to the nerve endings there.

“I think I,” she babbles out incoherently, and he chuckles deeply into the valley between her breasts. “Yeah.”

She’s thankful for the moment of reprieve, rolling her shoulders and lifting her head back up to look down at him. She feels dizzy - the cartoon kind of dizzy, where stars whirl around her head and her vision mimics the wavy lines of tv static.

He seems mesmerised by something, too, and when she follows his gaze, she can see the staccato rhythm of her heartbeat bouncing visibly from under her breast, and he’s watching it as if trying to memorise the staggered, spiky flow.

She lifts a hand to run her fingers through his hair, using the clamminess of her palms to push the strands away from his forehead, clearing a path for his heated stare to find hers before he pushes himself the rest of the way up and presses his lips back into her own.

“That was crazy,” she mutters into his mouth, teeth clashing ever so slightly as he chuckles in response.

“Crazy?” He asks, his own teeth tugging a little at her bottom lip, “Not mind-blowing? Incredible?”

“How would you describe it?”

“Perfekt. Herrlich.” His accent is thick with the words spoken into her skin. 

“What does the second one mean?”

“You can look it up when I’m done with you,” he bumps at her nose with his own before pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, teasingly.

“I’ll be sure to do that if I can remember my own name by then,” 

“Magnificent.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, hands travelling to grip at her hips and sliding her to the edge of the counter until her body presses fully back into his. He lifts her enough for her to drop unsteadily onto her feet, and holds her until she can stand up straight on shaky legs. Her hands immediately drop to the open waistband of his jeans, pushing them until they fall down his legs and he can kick them off with his sneakers. 

“Is it my turn now?” She asks, plucking at the elastic of his briefs with a hooked finger before she takes his hand in hers.

“Whatever you want, Mohn.”

Nico

When Nico had started his evening, never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined where it would end up. When he had been dragging his feet about the party - had taken too long getting ready, had lied about his Ubers cancelling on him when he turned up late, had moped around his friends until he was exiled to getting his own drinks at the bar - he could not have pictured himself finishing his night in Poppy’s presence. And even in the back of the bar, when the two of them had kissed - despite how heated things had gotten, and despite asking her if she wanted to leave with him - he wouldn’t have thought he would be currently attempting to coax a fourth orgasm from her.

He’d asked with the intention of spending the night, sure, but his mind hadn’t let itself wander this far. It had envisioned a night cuddled up on her couch, maybe making out, maybe relieving the tension between them by grinding into her like some love-struck horny teenager who didn’t know how to control his libido.

He’d given her her first sat atop the kitchen counter, leg thrown over his shoulder, the other bent up and resting on the side to give him full access to the heaven between her thighs, where he’d gotten his first taste of the wetness that had been gathering there all night. His fingers had mapped out the path his cock would take, rubbing in and out, bending, curling, pressing at her spongy walls until she came apart in front of his very eyes - her entire body trembling in euphoria. 

The second had come after he’d moved her over to the couch, had sat her on his lap while they kissed a little more, and she’d worked her nimble fingers at taking him out of his briefs, had wrapped them around the base of his cock and worked up and down with a mind-numbing pressure while he struggled to kick his underwear fully off. Before he knew it, she was leaving a wet patch on his thigh, his hands were moving of their own accord to lift her hips and he was easing her down on his length until she was fully seated upon it.

He’d given her some semblance of control at first - let her work at her torturously slow pace while she got accustomed to his size, and he pressed delicate kisses to whatever skin he could reach. Her breasts, her chest, her neck, her jaw - leaving light but memorable marks to evidence his occupation of her body. When he felt her ease up, when she started lifting herself to bounce on him a little, his hands stopped listening to the little voice in his head telling them to be gentle with her, and they grasped at her waist, leveraging her up and down into the perfect rhythm until she was begging, “Nico, don’t stop.”

The sounds she let out, the moans, the whines, the cries, he thinks he’ll be playing back for a long time to come, and the feeling of her walls clenching around him as she came for the second time is a one he never wants to forget.

How he had managed to hold himself back, he’ll never know. How he lasted long enough for her to pull herself off of him, swing her leg over and lean down beside him until she could take him in her mouth, he thinks it’s commendable - especially considering there was a point earlier in the night he had pictured himself coming just in his pants.

Her eyes had met his as she licked him from base to tip, swirled her tongue around the head of his cock before slowly taking him into her mouth inch by inch. He’d held her by her ponytail, gripping tighter the further she took him, watched as her pretty eyes rolled back and her mouth grew sloppier. Her tongue pressed against him, suctioning to his length as she worked up and down with varying pressure and a hand cupping at his balls, and he quickly found himself tugging at her hair to let her know, “Poppy, I’m gonna come,” but she just gripped at his thigh to keep herself in place until he released down her throat. 

He watched intently as she had lifted her mouth from his length with a pop, brought herself level onto her knees next to him on the couch and his eyes followed the bob of her throat as she swallowed - she had even licked her lips to make sure nothing had gone to waste - and the sight of it all contributed to the pulsing feeling that shot straight back to his cock, where he honestly couldn’t remember it even going down after his release.

He’s never been one for kissing a girl straight after she’s gone down on him, always thought there was something a little weird about it - but there was something about tasting himself on Poppy’s tongue that he couldn’t let go amiss, and so he had grasped at her chin, pulled her toward his open mouth and wasted no time in swiping his tongue against hers.

The making out on the couch plan had ended up coming to fruition after all - way less clothing involved, of course. He’d laid her back, cupped her face with one hand and her hip with his other, bodies slotting together as she bent a leg to accommodate him, and kissed her until they both got worked up again, grinding and writhing against each other until it became impossible to restrain themselves. 

“Do we ever make it to my bed in your big plans for the evening?”

Her fingertips had been scratching up and down his back, from the base of his skull to the dip above his ass, some indentations deeper than others, some movements more soothing, but he could feel that he had been marked up - not that he minded.

“You’re so desperate for me to carry you somewhere, huh?”

“Well, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t decline.”

He had snuck another kiss from her before working himself up onto his feet, offering her a hand to help her stand before he had picked her up, her legs wrapping around his middle section and his hands encompassing the backs of her thighs.

She had kissed him while he carried her, stumbling blindly toward the other side of her apartment, freeing a hand to guide himself until he found the door to her bedroom. He clumsily edged into the room, kicking the door shut behind him and stepping forward until he felt the edge of her bed and could let her down onto the thick comforter, her body falling back into it and splaying out like a dream.

“You might wanna cover the rabbit’s eyes,” Nico smirked when he noticed the stuffed animal tucked in between the pillows behind her, “She won’t be able to look at you the same after tonight.”

“Bunny’s seen me do a lot over the years,” Poppy chuckled, reaching back for it and stroking over it’s head with tender eyes, turning it toward Nico as she held it’s ears back and waved it in front of him, “Plus, you’re a teddy bear, you wouldn’t defile me in front of my sweet little bunny would you?”

In a surge of possessiveness at the thought of that damn rabbit seeing Poppy do anything with anyone else, he quickly grabbed it from her hand and tossed it across the room, lunging forward to pin her down and capturing any protest she would give between his lips.

He could hear her sweet laugh, feel the shaking of her chest beneath him, and he felt warm all over - felt like in all the years of knowing Poppy, this is where he had longed to be - soaking up her joy, sharing her space, clothing entirely optional, completely wrapped up in her everything.

The third orgasm had come from slow, sensual movements - slipping into her heat as he kissed her with intent, swallowing her moans and savouring them as he moved on top of her, his hands holding his upper body just above hers, her arms curling under his, clawing at his shoulders as the two of them press completely into each other with burning intensity. Her legs had trembled again, the telltale sign of bliss wracking through her, and had wrapped themselves around his hips as he chased his own pleasure.

And in chasing his second, he wants to give her a fourth, which is how he has found himself holding her legs up, thighs pressing back into the mattress to open her up completely for him, and he gets to look down and watch himself disappear into the heaven between her angled up hips.

“Nico, please,” she whines as his pace quickens, pressing himself deeper and harder into her with dizzying pressure. “I can’t,”

“You can give me one more,” he knows she can, can feel it in the way her walls clench around him, squeezing tighter and tighter, “You’re so good, Mohn, such a good girl.”

If he wasn’t so astute to her every reaction, he might have missed the way her back arched, and her eyes clenched a little more shut at the affirmation. But now that he knows she likes it, he can’t stop himself, leaning down to nip at her ear and keep whispering his every dirty thought until she comes again. 

“My good girl taking my cock so well,” he groans, his own climax approaching quicker than he can control, “My pretty flower, just one more, you can do it, you’re so wet for me, yeah?”

The response she gives is a stuttered mess, and he thinks he could get used to making her speechless like this. 

“All for me, you’re all mine,” he breathes into her sticky neck, and he doesn’t even need her to confirm it, not with the way her fingers clutch at his back and her body arches into his like the perfect puzzle piece. 

She is his.

The 3 prior orgasms prove it. The jewellery adorned on her wrist proves it. The pictures scattered throughout her apartment prove it. The years of shared lives, shared jokes, shared meals, shared friends, shared rides, shared routines - they all prove it. 

The way her first thought after being stood up by someone else was to come to him, to kiss him, to spend her evening pinned by his side and her night underneath him, it’s all the proof he needs.

She is his, and he is hers.

They come together - him with a guttural groan into her skin followed by mutterings of profanities in his native tongue, and her with a pleasured cry, and he all but collapses on top of her as the two of them come down with deep, laboured breaths and shaky limbs.

It takes a good few minutes for their breathing to even out, her rubbing soothingly at his back as he softens inside her, eventually pulling out and causing the both of them to wince at the sensation. Nico rolls to the side, off the top of her, but stays so that he can get a proper look at her in the afterglow.

And glow, she does - despite the mess of her hair, the swelling of her lips, the blooming bruises littered across her chest and neck - she looks like something out of a dream. Especially with the soft smile that erupts when she looks up at him, eyes sparkling like they always do when they are cast in his direction.

He reaches over to swipe a stray wisp of hair out of her face, long enough to tuck behind her ear and he’s able to cup the side of her face, leaning into her for another kiss, still unable to get enough.

“I have to use the bathroom,” she utters once they’ve parted again, pressing a hand lightly to his chest, “Could you get me a glass of water from the kitchen?”

“Of course,” he pushes himself up before offering her hand, and he can’t help but watch as she stumbles toward her en-suite with a proud chuckle.

His bare feet pad across the hardwood until he gets to Poppy’s kitchen, and he quickly rounds up some essentials while he’s away from the bedroom. He slips into his briefs for comfort, picks up the t-shirt he had worn that he wants Poppy to wear while she sleeps, gathers his cellphone from the pocket of his jeans and then gets Poppy her water, taking a large gulp of it himself before topping it all the way back up.

Poppy is still in her bathroom when he returns, and he decides to join her, throwing the t-shirt over to her when he enters. She’s cleaned her face in his absence, and her hair is down now, the comb she had used to detangle it laid beside her sink. 

She takes the top from him with a muttered thank you, and shrugs into it before pulling her hair out. Once she’s adorned in his clothing, he gets a good eyeful of her ass again when she bends to the cabinet beneath her sink and throws a small package at him. 

It’s a toothbrush, red, compared to her lilac that she’s just retrieved from a holder on the sink top, and once he’s unwrapped it, she holds out the tube of toothpaste for him. 

It hits him that he’s never really shared this part of his routine with anyone, before. Never stood side by side, catching each other’s eye in the mirror, holding back smiles every time they do - he’s usually coming back to his previous partners already in bed, getting in late from a roadie, or having to slip out before them in the morning to get to training. He’s never had time like this, doing the little things, having something so usually mundane and established make him feel sparks in the pit of his stomach. 

He can see flashes of other routine things he could do with Poppy. Things like grocery shopping - pushing the cart as she checks items off a list on her notes app - cooking together - him in charge of cutting the ingredients because he doesn’t trust her not to get too cocky with a knife, and her mixing everything together, lifting a spoon to his lips for him to try whatever delicious concoction she had put together - doing the chores - she would vacuum because she knows he hates it, and he’d do all the chemical based stuff, because she doesn’t like when her hands get dry but also doesn’t like them getting sweaty in gloves.

All things he’s never given anyone else the time for, before, he’ll give it to Poppy.

He’ll give her anything. 

He puts the toothbrush in the holder beside hers when they’re finished, and he doesn’t miss the little smile she gives when he does.

For next time, he thinks.

And even though they’ve barely caught their breaths from the first time, he craves the next with every fibre of his being, especially when Poppy leads him back her bed, and they settle in under the thick duvet, tangling up in one another - limbs interlocked, stomachs pressed together, her hands stroking at his hair and his pushing his t-shirt higher up her thighs.

“Do you think you still remember your name?” He asks.

“Just about,” she hums, “Not sure about yours, though. Nick, was it?”

“Still good enough to crack bad jokes, I see.”

“Hey, I don’t ever crack bad jokes, take that back,” she pouts, adorably, swatting at his bare chest.

“Say my name, and I’ll take it back.” He can’t help but be possessive when it comes to her - even the thought of her saying a made up name as a joke in her bed has his fingers itching to hold on tighter to her. His. Not Nick’s. Nico’s. “C’mon, you’ve moaned it enough tonight, Mohn.”

“Stop,” she whines with a bashful smile, swatting at him again. “You’re the one who’s not funny.”

“Say my name, Poppy,” he commands with a playful pinch at her ass.

“Nico!” She squeals, her leg twitching until she lifts it to rest over his. 

“Good girl,” he hums deeply, rubbing soothingly over where he had just nipped at her flesh. She nuzzles into him, and he can’t help the smug smile that breaks out as she once again reacts to the brief utterance of praise he had given her. “Sweet dreams,” he mutters into her hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and committing it to memory. 

This is where he wants to be every night, the last thing he sees before he falls asleep being Poppy, her pretty eyes drifting closed, her soft lips parting as her breathing evens out.

And as his own tell-tale signs of beckoning slumber appear, he lets the realisation wash over him that he hasn’t felt this content in a really long time - and it’s that thought that soothes him into a deep sleep, the kind in which he hasn’t been able to have for the longest time, either.

—

Nico wakes to the uncomfortable feeling of a full bladder and a gentle buzz on the nightstand beside him.

The vibrations continue as he tries to adjust to the darkness of the room, the sun still not having risen yet, and when he reaches back to retrieve his phone, he cranes his neck to make sure he can read the time without bringing it too close to Poppy.

05:12am.

He doesn’t have morning skate today, so he knows there shouldn’t be an alarm on there, but his Face ID isn’t picking up his features from this angle to be able to read whatever notifications had interrupted his sleep, so he carefully untangles himself from the peacefully resting girl beside him and tiptoes over to the bathroom.

He flicks the light on and closes the door to, just enough that it doesn’t disturb Poppy, and pads sleepily over to the toilet to relieve himself. 

His phone buzzes again in his hand - the continuous kind of buzz, as if someone’s calling him - and, as if by second nature, he presses to the bottom right of the screen to accept the call, lifting the device to his ear and muttering out a quiet, croaky, “Hello?”

“You’re awake, thank God,” the voice that responds is female, the words uttered in German, and it takes Nico a good few seconds for his brain to connect the dots as to who is currently speaking to him.

“Talia?” He asks, a sudden shot of panic seeping into his previously calm demeanour, his heart rate picking up and pins and needles rushing through his hands.

“I need to speak with you, it’s urgent.”

“It’s 5am.” He sighs, rushing over to close the bathroom door so he can flush the toilet without running the risk of waking Poppy with the sound. “Can’t this wait?”

“No, it can’t. Why are you whispering, is someone there?”

“I’m not whispering,” he tries not to, but again, he doesn’t want to make too much noise.

“Whatever, I need to come over, are you at home?”

“Yeah,” he responds before he can think, knowing any other answer was a sure fire route into an argument. Any other time, any other place, he would have told her the truth, but 5am in Poppy’s bathroom doesn’t seem like the prime spot to be bickering with his ex girlfriend over the phone. “What do you mean, come over, aren’t you in Germany?”

“No, I just landed in Newark. I told you, it’s urgent.” She does sound panicked to give her credit - and why else would she fly back to the States if she didn’t need to talk about something serious. “Can I come straight over?”

Poppy’s apartment is within walking distance to his own, only a few blocks away. If Talia is leaving Newark now, he should be able to make it back before she gets there. They can talk about whatever it is, then she can delete his number and leave him alone, and he can move on with his life.

“Talia,” he huffs, partly ready to reject her as soon as he remembers where he is, remembers who he has yearned for so long to wake up next to, and who would be really upset to find out he had ditched her to go meet up with an ex.

“Please?” She sounds like she’s crying, and if there’s one thing Nico can’t do, it’s say no to a girl in tears. Even if it’s a girl who, not even a month ago, dumped him via text message.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Thank you. I can let myself up, I still have the key, I’ll see you soon.”

He mutters out a quick goodbye before hanging up, quickly washing his hands, and making his way back into Poppy’s bedroom.

She’s on her back now, arm laid out beside her as if ready to take him back in, and he feels a pang in his chest at the thought of disappointing her.

He knows that he should wake her - should tell her that he doesn’t want to leave her to wake up alone, but that he has to. That he wants to be back - he will be back. But that would all cause her to ask questions, and he’s not sure that she’ll like the only answer he can give right now.

Poppy is understanding, but this has already caused a wedge between the two of them - caused her to doubt herself far beyond what Nico can comprehend, or what she’s been able to share with him. 

He can explain things to her as soon as Talia is gone. As soon as she’s said what she needs to say, has given him back the keys to his building and apartment, and has closed the door on them ever interacting again.

Hell, if it’s quick, maybe he can come back with breakfast from the place around the corner Poppy likes so much, and she’ll never have to know where he had disappeared to, or who he had seen while he was gone.

He presses a brisk, soft kiss to her cheek, quickly surveying the floor of her bedroom before he leaves to retrieve her bunny, slotting the soft toy into her open arm so she can cuddle it in his absence.

He briefly considers leaving her a note as he dresses himself in her kitchen, checking around for something to write it with, but the realisation quickly dawns on him again that he can’t be certain if or when he’ll be back.

He just has to hope that if she wakes up before he is back, she isn’t too upset, and that he has enough persuasive power to get her to forgive him just one more time if he doesn’t make it.

He leaves her apartment with the soft click of the automatic lock behind him, and the sound echoes in his head until he makes it back to his own apartment, the ever-growing weight of dread filling his empty stomach as he waits for his ex girlfriend to arrive.

Next Chapter

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[scifi4wifi]

James Bond, Eastenders, Doctor Who Actress Pamela Salem Dead at 80

Left to right, Simon Williams as Group Captain Gilmore, Sylvester McCoy as the Doctor, Pamela Salem as Professor Rachel Jensen, {image via the BBC} Who Was Pamela Salem? We regret to confirm actress Pamela Salem, who played Miss Moneypenny in Never Say Never Again and appeared as a guest in several sci-fi shows, has died at the age of eighty. She was probably best known for playing Joanne…

[skyetheprophet22]

Various Writing Prompts

#1 ~

I couldn’t believe it when they told me. The study had been successful. The pokes and prods of needles; the saliva-stealing test tubes; the snakes of IVs and blood-sucking syringes. It all had led to the development of some truly incredible powers. One tiny pill and countless exams and exercises later…now look at me - lifting buses without breaking a sweat and swinging thousand pound bears over my head as if it were nothing. One tiny pill and countless exams and exercises later to be told that my pill was a fake.

“Plecebo?” I choke out in indignation.

First off, how could they? Do I look like a plecebo kind of a person? Of course not! I am clearly the kind of brilliant, self-possessed, humble type of person who would be the perfect addition to any kind of super-soldier army. I’ve watched all of the Captain America movies, after all.

#2 ~

She was a creature of the desert. Of white suns and waving heat and parched tongues. Water was a luxury only the cunning could afford. She had sacrificed the tip of her tongue to a dying raptor for a mere sip. Shade was an amenity provided only by the night; at times by glistening monsters which ate the people and spit them out again. These monsters radiated heat, so there wasn’t much relief to be had. 

This was such a different land than the one of her origin. Here the rain was plentiful, rolling over waxy green leaves and spilling into vast lakes. The sun was hidden by vast amounts of interlinked branches and huddled bushes and hanging ferns. And here something extraordinary happened: the leaves would fall off the trees, a brisk wind would nip through the land, and the cold would creep its way into her bones. 

That’s when she first experienced it. The white rain. At first it was a gentle drifting, carried by the whispering wind. It flurried about her muzzle, tickling her whiskers and numbing her nose.

#3 ~

“Come, Johnny, come,” called the robotic voice.

John groaned. Rolled over in his bed and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Coooooooooooooooooooooooome.”

“Shut-up,” John growled, throwing his pillow at the blinking box of gray gears and beeping attennea. 

“No, no, Johnny,” the robot chastised. “That’s a bad word.”

A second later John was shocked by a spray of cold water. He shot up from the nest piled at the foot of the robot’s charging station, a look of murder burning in his eyes.

“I swear to the fucking Lord above if you do that again-”

Suddenly his whole body seized up. John’s hands flew to his neck to grasp at the shock collar currently zapping into his flesh.

“That’s what bad humans get,” the robot said.

#4 ~

They were the very best society had to offer. Golden children with spectacular gifts who, yes, had their tragic backstories and bad days, but in the end always did the right thing. They protected the helpless and saved the bystanders. They had so much in common, but that didn’t mean they all got along at first. Samuel “Stormsurge” Johnson had a nasty case of survivor's guilt, leaving him serious and brooding and continuously butting heads with the cool and narcissistic Gemma Gilmore, the Nightshade. Robert Randall tried to quell the constant bickering, but usually ended up growing angry himself and lashing out. It took years for them to become a cohesive unit; a specialized team of friends who could take down any manner of villain.

They were a ragtag group of nobodies all molded by the very worst of the world. They had lied, cheated, whored, maimed, slaughtered…They were prisoners to their own dark urges and sadistic thoughts.

#5 ~

There’s not much to say about me. I’m just an average teenager, I guess: parents who won’t get off my back, an addiction to mountain dew, and a tendency to lose track of time when I load up the playstation. I know everyone can relate to the parents thing, but I don’t think you really understand how bad it is for me. My old man is like a ghost, hovering over me and prophesying my demise into the incredibly exciting career of accounting. I’m just like him, he says. My mother is a different story. My dad doesn’t harp on me for not doing my homework or threaten to ground me for staying out past curfew. Nope, he leaves all of that lovely helicoptering to my mother. She literally followed me one day while I was out with friends, creeping down the street in her black Sedan like a panther. It’s not like my friends and I are up to anything suspicious. Just the usual demonic possession and arson that every young devil gets out of their system when they're young. It’s totally different when your parents are the physical embodiments of Death, though. Then everything you do could literally throw the whole universe out of whack. 

#6 ~

The viking in me wants to slaughter everyone in sight. I’ve been up since five am. I’ve endured a forced workout session, 6 hours of classes, and a two-hour lab of training baby freshman and sophomores on how to defend a pretend base in a completely ridiculous and unrealistic scenario, and to top it all off, I’m being yelled at because I cracked a smile. The smallest, most fleeting of grins because one of my peers stuffed a jacket up their shirt and was pretending to be pregnant. The viking wants me to eviscerate the condescending little boy with his holier-than-crown crown perched sloppily atop his head. The guy who was held back a year because he didn’t make the cut the first time. 

WHY SHOULD YOU HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THIS SCUMBAG, the viking roars. SLICE OPEN HIS BELLY AND WATER THE GROUND WITH HIS BLOOD!

It’s oh-so-tempting. To just scream back at this little red-faced punk. How good it would feel in the moment with his fucks and shits thrown carelessly in my face.

But a gentler voice sings out from my right. That’s no way to handle bullies, dear. You must be the bigger person, otherwise you stoop down to his level. 

#7 ~

He had slipped through his fingers once again. The promising trail of death and destruction he’d been following screeched to a sudden halt, leaving him nothing save for another dead little girl and a strange symbol etched into her leaking forehead. His calling card. The gruesome flair he left on all his victims. Further study led him to discover that the symbol wasn’t indicative of a witch coven, as he had initially thought. No magic was to blame for these murders. They had more demonic undertones than anything…He had the behavior patterns of a demon. 

[blueboxphenomenon]

The Shoreditch Incident

Sunday November 24th, 1963 and the London borough of Hackney is released from military cordon after clean-up crews worked the night hiding the evidence of what happened the previous day. By the time the news media gets access, the president of the United States of America has been assassinated, providing the perfect front-cover news story to bury what happened in London on that Saturday morning. Now, we have acquired top secret documents pertaining to the events of "the Shoreditch Incident."

On November 23rd, explosions rang out across Totter's Lane and Coal Hill Road in Shoreditch, London. Six soldiers were killed. The soldiers were granted military funerals, though one was given a more hushed-up burial a few days later. The newspapers would have you believe that these six military professionals were the victims of an unexploded bomb, however there do not appear to be any reports of a UXB made on that day. Coal Hill School, at the center of the activity, issued a letter to concerned parents regarding a gas leak that ignited. Was it a bomb, or a gas leak? Why were the military called to Shoreditch?

A terrorist attack by Russia?

Declassified documents now available thanks to the Freedom of Information Act show that the government were on high alert in 1963 due to multiple intelligence leaks to an alleged Russian spy ring operating out of London, with one particular police station a frequent target. Local cabbie William Pike was discovered to be transporting Russian documents on the morning of the 23rd of November and was arrested accordingly. Police also apprehended and questioned a potential ally of Pike's who was carrying an unusual communications device. The two, however, escaped custody and the unnamed girl who assisted him seemingly disappeared into thin air.

So were the explosions caused by a Russian bomb, deployed by communist spies operating out of London under the government's very noses? Did the government cover up the incident with tales of a gas leak to hide their own incompetence, or supress public fears of further attacks? Well... Pike went on to prove his innocence, and while the documents he was accused of transporting in his taxi self-destructed, the explosion was not big enough to take out six members of the British military. Indeed, the explosive barely scorched the table in the police cell where it was detonated.

A gas leak?

The letter issued by the school board brings to light further details. Not only were six soldiers killed during the incident, but so were a headteacher at the school, and a caretaker (Coal Hill is no stranger to such tragedies, as in that same year two teachers went missing, a female student vanished, and another female student was killed having been shot with silver bullets).

The media and the school board seem to be implying that the damage to the school on Coal Hill Road and the military maneuvers in Totters Lane were separate incidents. How likely is it that explosions in both locations happened at the same time due to different causes? An unexploded bomb, and a gas leak?

The key to all of this comes in identifying the military arm dispatched to Totters Lane. One would expect the Search Regiment Royal Logistic Corps for such a task. However, it was ICMG that were operating in Shoreditch on the 23rd of November, 1963.

At the time, ICMG operated in secret. However thanks to the accounts and memoirs of Group Captain Gilmore, the Freedom of Information Act, and 'the Zen Military' by Kadiatu Lethbridge-Stewart, we now know just what the ICMG was all about. And unsurprisingly for this blog, it's aliens.

Operating under Department C19, the Intrusion Counter-Measures Group (ICMG) was established in the early 60's in response to alien incursions, as a pre-cursor to UNIT. There had been multiple reports - covered up, of course - of alien incursions on Earth and the Shoreditch Incident would go on to cement in the minds of the British government that it was imperative to protect the UK not just from alien attack but from the fear of knowing the truth: that there are alien beings out there far more capable than our planet's military forces, that can easily come and go as they wish. This is the military branch that was called to Shoreditch.

So was it an alien bomb?

Readers, it was not even a bomb. Every facet of the reports - save the deaths - was fabricated. In truth, the explosions at both Coal Hill school and Totter's Lane were caused by alien invaders engaged in civil war, using Earth as their battleground.

On the 3rd of December, Military scientific advisor Rachel Jensen filed official reports regarding the xenomorphs seen in Shoreditch the previous November. She describes amoeboid creatures of around twelve inches in diameter possessed of vestigial limbs, operating inside of metallic casings. While the sample obtained from Totter's Lane appeared to have "substantial brain activity," she posited that the example extracted from Coal Hill was of superior breed. The second sample possessed genetically engineered enhancements, including a chitinous claw and operational appendages. The document includes a witness sketch of one of the creatures as seen with its casing, which is fitted with a large weapon.

The real story...

In autumn of 1963, the ICMG were on high alert due to an unusual spike in mysterious incidents in London. Many witnessed lights in the sky, unusual weather activity, reports of werewolves culminating in the paranoid murder of a Coal Hill student, a Satanic cult in Wycombe, witnesses claiming to see a man mutate into a horrible monster in a pub, and a series of mysterious disappearances in Shoreditch. It was as if a storm were brewing, and it came to a head on the 23rd of November.

Group Captain Gilmore was assigned a team to monitor Shoreditch, particularly the areas surrounding Coal Hill. He was assisted by Cambridge-educated chief scientific advisor Rachel Jensen, physicist Allison Williams of the British Rocket Group, Sergeant Mike Smith, and a team of hand-picked soldiers including Gary Jonathan Finch. Gary's son Clive Finch would go on to found the "Who Is Doctor Who?" website which drew attention to the mysterious traveller who appears frequently at incidents such as these.

Rachel Jensen and Allison Williams detected unusual magnetic activity - a pulse, artificial in origin - coming from Coal Hill Secondary School and I. M. Foreman's scrap yard on Totter's Lane. This lead the ICMG to an encounter with one of the metal-encased aliens. A firefight broke out at the scrap yard, resulting in the deaths of two of Gilmore's men. Once it became apparent the creatures were susceptible to ATRs, the tables were turned and the creature was killed. This would become Jensen's first sample of the alien lifeforms, extracted from the remains of the tank-like shell.

Two mysterious entities joined the ICMG around this time. One, a girl we can now identify as Dorothy 'Ace' McShane, founder of A Charitable Earth. The other, a man who answered only to the title "the Doctor."

The area was evacuated to protect civilians, with the cover of an unexploded bomb. A media blackout was called and cover stories disseminated.

As events unfolded over the course of three days, a second faction of the shelled aliens arrived both via the school's basement and through the landing of a shuttlecraft in the schoolyard. The two factions went to war, tearing up a small corner of Shoreditch while the ICMG intervened. Coal Hill would provide Jensen with her second sample of alien life, the augmented amoeboid. The ICMG and Coal Hill staff suffered fatalities as a result of the conflict, though thankfully the alien invaders were wiped out before the conflict could escalate any further.

Why these creatures chose Shoreditch for their battle is rumoured to be down to an artifact hidden in the area. Some say it was the mysterious Doctor who hid it there, bringing alien war to Earth and putting us on the interplanetary map as a target for alien invaders. However, these rumours come from Sergeant Mike Smith, who it came to light was a Nazi sympathiser liaising with local fascist organiser George Ratcliffe, who in turn was in service to one faction of the alien invaders. Both were killed during the incident, with Smith being denied a military funeral due to his fascist beliefs.

What ever the truth, Coal Hill School has remained the center of unusual activity in Shoreditch for many years, with reports of strange events surrounding the school continuing well into 2016...

[thedoctorwhocompanion]

Remembrance of the Daleks' Counter Measures Team Return in Birds of Prey

Remembrance of the Daleks' Counter Measures Team Return in Birds of Prey

The Counter Measures team from Remembrance of the Daleks in a new novel from Candy Jar Books. Birds of Prey is the second book in a two-novel event, following up book one Birds of Passage, although you don’t need to have read the previous story to enjoy this one. Counter Measures, featuring Group Captain Gilmore, Professor Rachel Jensen, and Dr Allison Williams, was created by Ben Aaronovitch…

[chalinyu]

Patriots exclusive teamer Brandon King upon offseason workout routines: If Invoice tells me towards write-up, I reporting

With the NFL scheduled towards kick off the initial action of offseason exercises up coming Monday, the Contemporary England Patriots are anticipating their gamers in direction of short article toward the staff members by means of April 19. The exercises, which are concentrating upon power and physical fitness, are voluntary within just character nevertheless however typically comprise sturdy attendance. For some avid gamers, this is around functioning out within just a atmosphere furnished by means of Fresh new England workforce. For some, it on top of that is more than placing on their own toward receive exercise routine bonuses within just their contracts. One particular participant who falls into the minute group is veteran unique teamer Brandon King, who might make up in direction of $100,000 additional this offseason if engaging inside employees-geared up functions. The economical angle is normally merely a person piece of the puzzle after it arrives in the direction of gamers reporting his calendar year. Soon after all, the NFL Gamers Affiliation instructed towards taking part in just voluntary routines this yr thanks in the direction of Coronavirus considerations Tucker Addington Flag. The NFLPA needs all pre-performing exercises camp workout routines moved in the direction of a digital surroundings, with the league alone pushing for upon-market behaviors right before late July. As a outcome, a few teamsavid gamers consist of presently introduced that they would miss voluntary get the job done: the Denver Broncos, Seattle Seahawks and Tampa Bay Buccaneers will not take part as was declared upon Tuesday. The Patriotsavid gamers incorporate not developed a related option nonetheless, however the circumstance continues to be a distinct just one for King if delivered with a preference no matter if or not towards short article subsequent 7 days. f Monthly bill [Belichick] tells me toward short article, I reporting,he advised the Boston Globe Ben Volin. Just one of the Patriotsemployees leaders, King incorporates been with the Patriots simply because signing up for them as a beginner no cost consultant inside 2015 Brenden Schooler T-Shirt. Simply because then, he is made up of produced into a cornerstone one of a kind teamer that seemed in just a blended 68 regular monthly year and playoff online games and aided convey 2 Tremendous Bowls in the direction of Contemporary England. Whilst he disregarded the closing 2 seasons because of towards harm and was not voted a captain within just any of his 6 several years with the club, he is a very well-dependable voice inside of the locker house and was actively bundled inside the Patriotssocial justice conversations in the course of the 2020 period. His term carries pounds within just the locker area, which makes an attention-grabbing dynamic already offered the NFLPA advice towards sit out voluntary exercises owing toward the Coronavirus pandemic. Irrespective of whether or not Fresh England will sign up for other golf equipment within just boycotting individuals periods continues to be in direction of be recognized, nonetheless they now experienced a quantity of avid gamers pay a visit to the facility upon a semi-continual foundation. Aa overall of 14 avid gamers ended up possibly doing work out or rehabbing at Gillette Stadium all through the offseason, with cornerback Stephon Gilmore and linebacker Josh Uche between them. Many others, this kind of as quarterbacks Cam Newton and Jarrett Stidham, contain done participant-led workout routines absent in opposition to the Patriotsamenities considering that the conclude of the year inside of early January greatest prominently the as a result-identified as Pats Westperiods geared up via Stidham within mid-March Calvin Munson Pillow Cover. Below pure situations all of the gamers would be a part of forces future 7 days. Even so, there is no make certain they will adhere to Brandon King case in point.

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 2 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

1963: The Assassination Games

Synopsis

London. The end of November, 1963. A time of change. The old guard are being swept away by the white heat of technology. Political scandals are the talk of the town. Britain tries to maintain its international role; fanatics assassinate charismatic politicians and Group Captain Ian Gilmore is trying to get his fledgling Counter-Measures unit off the ground.

When his life is saved by a familiar umbrella-bearing figure, he knows something terrible is going on. Whilst Rachel investigates an enigmatic millionaire and Allison goes undercover in an extremist organisation, Gilmore discovers a sinister plot with roots a century old.

The Doctor and Ace are back in town. A new dawn is coming. It's time for everyone... to see the Light.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Red Lady

Synopsis

An anomaly in time brings the Doctor and Liv to London in the 1960s, where they meet a young lady named Helen Sinclair - desperately trying to make a name for herself in the face of sexism and prejudice.

Whilst the Doctor tried to uncover the secrets of a mysterious artefact, a far deadlier mystery awaits Liv and Helen in the collection of a recently deceased antiquarian.

Because that's where they find the Red Lady. Because if you do, you might not like what you see.

Propaganda

I've tried getting into big finish several times because I KNOW it's good stuff, but language barriers make it difficult. So I barely enjoy any story. HOWEVER. The Red Lady immediately had me hooked. Helen is introduced beautifully, Doctor x Liv is a treat as always. And the monster? Just works so so well in the audio format. One of my favourite dw monsters for real, the red lady who stalks you inside a work of art until she kills you. And no one else can see her until they find their own. It's absolutely amazing. And THEN Helen joins the TARDIS as like the cherry on top :) (anonymous)

[revolutionarywarhistory]

Favoring the British Crown: enslaved Blacks, Annapolis, and the run to freedom [Part 2]

Continued from Part 1

Reprinted from my History Hermann WordPress blog.

© 2016-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[1] Grumbelly was related to Capt. Keelings (of Princess Ann/Anne County, VA), with some of the people in bondage running away to join the British lines including Argyll, who joined Royal Artillery Department, and Robert. Grumbelly is also within this book. It would make sense it is Virginia's Eastern Shore rather than Maryland's, although this cannot be confirmed. William was undoubtedly one of many who was part of a small plantation within this area.

[2] Others would be evacuated on the La Aigle. His bio says that "William Keeling is assumed to be the husband of Pindar Keeling. They travel near to each other on board the Clinton and despite the presence of other Keelings, they are not listed in the Birchtown Muster." Perhaps they settled in a different area or died on the voyage North. Pindar was formerly bound to a Norfolk slaveowner named Willis Ball. One transcript of the manifest says  "William Keeling, 40, feeble fellow. Formerly the property of Grumbelly Keeling of the East Shore, Virginia; left him 6 years ago. GBC." This being the case, then it makes sense that he cannot be found in Maryland records. It also clarifies that on 31 July 1783 the Clinton was Clinton bound for Annapolis [Royal, Nova Scotia] & St. John's [Saint John, New Brunswick]. This means it was going to Nova Scotia ultimately. The GHOTES Genealogy and History of the Eastern Shore group on Facebook lists 38 enslaved blacks who had left New York, originally enslaved in the Eastern Shore (presumably Virginia's).

[3] The word "loyalist" is used in quotation marks as it is an inexact term, and like Patriot it was used positively by those supporting the British Crown. Instead, the term supporter of the British Crown or any of its derivatives is used instead.

[4] Alan Taylor, American Revolutions: A Continental History, 1750-1804 (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2016), 21-22; A. Leon Higginbotham, Jr., In the Matter of Color: Race & The American Legal Process: the Colonial Period (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980), 91-95, 98-99.

[5] Specifically referring to Abbaco (John Rootes, Benjamin Guy), and unknown location (Solomon Slaughter, William Causins, Francis Wright, John Morris, Thomas Fisher. Here the locations of those included in the above chart: Norfolk, Virginia (John Hirst, Matthew Godfrey, Robert Gilmore, Samuel Bush [Boush], John Willoughby, David McClaurin, William Mallery, William Egerson, James Hunter, Edward Hack Moseley [Mozely], Joseph Mitchell, Thomas Newton Snr, Robert Barns, Charles Connor, Samuel Elliot,  Simon Hogwood, William Hancock, Archibald Campbell or Arthur Campbell., Thomas Hoggart/Hogwood, Mr. Scarborough, Stephen Tankard, William Hogwood/Hopgood Sr.);  Nansemond, Virginia (Mills Wilkinson, Henry Burgess, Solomon Sheppard, Willis Wilkinson); Crane Island, Virginia (William Connor, George Robertson, Andrew Stewart [Stuart]); Portsmouth, Virginia (Willis Wilson, Andrew Sproule, Richard Brown); South Carolina (Captain Hullet, Bland Steward);  Princess Anne/Ann County, Virginia (Edward Moseley,  John Loveat); Pennsylvania (James Stewart); Mecklenburgh, Virginia (Richard Sweepston); Dismal Swamp (James Wright Moore); Petersburg, Virginia (John Holloway); Tanners Creek, Virginia (Anthony Walker [Walke]); Isle of Wight (Richard Jordan, Andrew Mckay); Suffolk, Virginia (Lambert Reddick); Greatbridge, Virginia (Alexander Foreman).