#ALSO DOUGLAS SIGHTING

[toffoliravioli]

every single thing about this video is just 🤭🥰🥹🫶

[mariocki]

Brannigan (1975)

"Well, if it was up to me, I'd get some men out thumping on the streets, passing out some 'e pluribus unum'. That's what ninety percent of police work is today."

"The murder rate in your country, I'm sure, gives ample testimony to your superior police methods."

[reyreadersblog]

i'm actually pissed off.

I am sure everyone in grishaverse fandom has seen this negative review of six of crows. If you don't know who i am talking about..

This, i'm talking about this specific review.

(Go watch it if you haven't but know that it the dumbest review ever)

(I couldn't take a better screenshot, *cough* she didn't deserve it *cough*)

At first when she started critisizing the book, i though "woah.." because it's one of my favourite books, but since everyone has different opinions, i decided to watch the video, in order to understand what she disliked about this book.

I don't know why, but i expected logical a explanation from her, mabye because she is a grown ass woman...

and what came out of this woman's mouth actually shocked me💀

First of all "it's a fucking heist for god's sake" and mabye she has sight problems? Because it litearlly says "six dangerous outcasts. One impossible heist" on the freaking cover so wtf did she expect?

"Do i look like that's something i would enjoy?" (Keep in mind she read the full summary) let me answer your question with a question, are you dumb? It's a ya book about group of teenagers with a heartbreaking past who go on this dangerous heist, if it is something you know you will not enjoy, then why tf did you read it in the first place?

Oh and uhm..this is her bio

She also said "half of the book was written in different laguage" saying that at your grown age is insane...

A. I understand that it is a little difficult to get into it, especially if you haven't read shadow and bone, and i haven't read it so it was a bit hard to understand certian magic elements in the book, but nothing that a human's brain can't comperhend...

B. Saying those kind of things about a YA book is crazy. I've seen her videos before and she is definitley one of those "i can't read a book if there is no smut" kind of reader, (litearlly her bio) so when you are reading a ya book and you decide to critisize it just because there was no smut in it is EMBARASSING, the book is about literal teens with trauma and you expect them to have sex??? DISGUSTING.

C. Soc has one the best romance subplot(s), oh wait let me spell it: S-U-B-P-L-O-T.

Definition:

And again, if you know you're a an adult romance girlie (with a lot of smut) , why are you reading a ya fantasy book with a HINT of romance in it and then start shitting about it??

Atp it's not even a "negative review" it's an insufferable blabbering.

Six of crows is an amazing duology and mabye next time she shouldn't read a book she know she won't like!?!

Like...go read Credence or any book by Penelope Douglas tbh

And leave ya books alone from this fucking smut for god's sake.

[rhq2744]

Urgent!!

Vertified by @el-shab-hussin , @nabulsi ,,, Num.221 on the list :

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

See below 👇👇

Hello, I am Raghad Qanou, a second-level medical student in Gaza, or I was. For a year, we have been suffering from genocide. I, my family, and my people have been exposed to it. Many crimes have occurred. We have seen a lot and are still seeing. I have lost my loved ones, my friends, my home, my university, and my entire future. We are trying hard to cling to life and survive! We have been clinging to life for a year, but we are tired, and we need help. We are very tired.We feel that we are alone now. We cannot find our daily food. We have lost our money, our jobs, our home, and everything. We have lost our life savings, on rubble, tents, and primitive life. Although it is primitive, it is expensive. In light of the siege and famine we are experiencing, there is no food or... Water or medicine, and if it is available, the prices are crazy. My family and I live in tents. Since last November, we have been living next to a public toilet with a destroyed sewage system. Can you live next to the sewage for one day? Me, my family and my younger brothers, we live hereAlmost a year ago, we haven't gotten used to it yet! We are not accustomed to the ugly sight of filth and excrement covering the oven on which we cook, nor are we accustomed to the insects and worms that feed on us all night, nor are we accustomed to the reproductive system diseases that we suffer from this polluted toilet, which we are forced to enter. It is also a mixed bathroom, there is no privacy. There is no respect for us as girls. We are subjected to terrible harassment and disrespect, and we suffer from many, many reproductive, digestive, and skin diseases, in addition to respiratory, due to the fire.

To cook food, that is, if there is any food. My brothers and I are very sick. We suffer from hepatitis. It is like an epidemic here. Everyone has yellow eyes, exhausted and tired. It is as if we were zombies. We are all lying on the ground, unable to do anything. It is heartbreaking the state we have reached. To him, and to see your world collapsing, and you do not know what the solution is, what is the way to end this nightmare, there is no way out, except this link,

Please, even if just a little, try to help us. It hurts me very much to see my family, especially my beloved brother, in this condition. He is thinking of committing suicide. The children here are crying and banging their heads against the wall from the force of the shocks they are exposed to, and from their regret for their childhood that was lost in the sewers and displacement. This is painful. I think I'm big, I can handle a little bit.

But please, for the sake of these children, donate what you can. If you do not have the money, post the link. Everything makes a difference in our situation, and remember, the little you have means a lot to us, and it may save the life of an entire family somewhere, so do not hesitate!

The verification :

[edwards-exploit]

"Aw, wow!" Cried Driver, as he marvelled the flora that bloomed next to the tracks, "Look at that, thistles!"

No. 667 was puzzled, "Whit's so special aboot them?" He asked, curiously. Driver was usually a serious man, so hearing him so joyful was a serious change of pace!

"Aye, they're Scotland's national flowers, ken? They mean resilience, defiance, resistance- a' that jazz."

"Huh!" No. 667 didn't know plants could hold such meanings! Looking at them with new eyes, he couldn't help but smile.

---

It was the spring of 1960, and Douglas brightened as he saw a familiar sight. "Look, thistles!"

"Huh," Kirk Darrow, Douglas' newest driver, leaned out from the cab, "Ah didnae ken they grew on Sodor!"

Hayden Myers, his stoker, also leaned out of his cab- but they didn't share their companion's enthusiasm, "What's so special about them, anyway?"

"Why, they're the national flower o' Scotland, of course!"

LATE 10/10 + TRAINTOBER: FLORA

[virtchandmoir]

Jeff Harris: "Pursue excellence, not perfection."

Last week, I had the privilege of representing Deloitte at the ServiceNow World Forum in Toronto for a conversation on 'State of Performance' with my colleagues Jodi Baker Calamai Kelsey Langford and Tessa Virtue. Specifically, the Deloitte team shared stories, perspectives, and data on how business leaders can harness inspiration from the world of elite sports to improve individual, team, and organizational productivity.

Speaking of productivity, the productivity slide of our country has been well documented and discussed. Central to Deloitte's 'State of Performance' program is the belief that our productivity challenges won't simply be solved through innovation or modernizing regulation. In order to create sustainable productivity gains, we must also not lose sight of the importance of human sustainability. There are substantial costs associated with burnout, disengagement, and mental health challenges.

It's time to change the game.

Michael Tang Kathryn P. Jacqueline Miller Bryan Walsh CPA, CA Steve Winsor Carrie Anderson Jody McDermott Amanda Perran Noreen Reid Greg Douglas Alana Steinhauer, PhD, ACC Stephanie Hauck Rachinsky Dejan Slokar

#StateofPerformance #DeloitteHC #DeloitteTMT #DeloitteSports

[maybe-moonchild]

9/27/2011

WC: 2.4k

Students cheered and shouted as they gathered across the quad, whatever had caught their attention obscured by the circle of bodies . When you looked up from your book, you wished you were more surprised at the sight of Flash’s first slamming into the side of Peter’s face. He went down hard but you were barely watching, already rushing to shove your things into your bag. 

You managed to shove your way to the front of the circle just as Peter shoved himself up off the cement. His eyes met yours and his face hardened immediately . The distraction cost him, preventing him from noticing that Flash was lunging forward for a body slam. 

There was a murmur of ‘Oohs’ from the crowd as they both wrestled on the pavement. Even at 15 years old, Flash Thompson was a force. His extracurricular activities included basketball, football, and beating up classmates. Some days it was really hard to justify being his friend. 

Today was one of those days.

“Alright, Flash! That’s enough,” you called out over the chanting. Before you could stop yourself, you shoved through the crowd to grab his arm. Flash managed to land another blow to Peter’s face before he stopped mid-reel.

“Knock it off!”

The sharp look on your face was enough for him to let out a groan at your intervention. He flashed you a sheepish grin, waving you off and rolling off of Peter. Katie smacked the back of his head before Flash could fully dust himself off. Not like she really cared about what he just did; she didn’t like when his stupid antics drew the attention of the entire school. 

“What?” Flash asked innocently as the crowd started to dissipate. The lunchtime show was over and would be forgotten by tomorrow morning.

Katie just rolled her eyes, likely having found the whole situation to be a waste of time. “You’re such a moron.” 

No one paid any mind to Peter who winced as he sat up. 

Flash noticed the dirty look you sent him. As Katie started to drag him back towards your usual table, he shrugged. “Sorry. Just having some fun.” 

Your face flushed from second hand embarrassment because of your friends. You knew what Peter thought about them even if he’d never actually said it outloud. You knew even more what he thought about you without ever speaking it outloud. 

He hadn’t needed to. 

Not when him pulling away at the beginning of last year said more than enough. 

When you’d started high school last fall, you’d told yourself that you would join at least one club and one sport. Even if you sucked at it, you wanted to be involved with the rest of your class. You just didn’t realize that cheerleading…  Well, you were pretty freaking great at it. With the gift of yellow and blue pom poms came the gift of attention, of eyes on you. You didn’t exactly mind it. 

It also came with the gift of Katie Douglas. Even in fourth grade, Katie’s face was always one of distaste, boredom, or a glare. If anyone thought her completely vapid, they were wrong. She was a natural born genius at anything to do with engineering. So when you both managed to snag spots next to each other on the bleachers the first day of cheer tryouts. Katie was gripping the seat so tightly you were shocked she didn’t crack a nail. You made a joke.

It wasn’t a funny one. 

But she laughed. 

When you both made the team, she invited you to the mall. 

With Katie came Flash Thompson.

Flash was lucky if he had three brain cells on a given day and he always used his fists before thinking. Befriending him was never intentional. When you got invited to an upperclassman Halloween party, Peter skirted around your extended invitation. He’d been pulling away for weeks but you tried to push through because you were trying to balance him, home, cheerleading, and new friends without letting any of them get dropped 

If Peter had been at that party, then there was a good chance that the senior dressed as someone from Jersey Shore wouldn’t have approached you. He wouldn’t have tried to coerce you into taking a shot while invading your space. But he did. It was Flash that shoved him back, towered over him and scared him off. He had a lot of moments like that where he was painfully kind… only for him to do something painfully stupid and barbaric the second after.

But they were your friends now.

Peter was the one that stopped answering your calls or you would catch him peeking out from his bedroom window after May had just told you he wasn’t home. 

Peter glanced at the hand you extended towards him, your eyes apologetic and hopeful that he would accept it. He didn’t take your hand. Instead, he opted to haul himself to his feet on his own and wipe the blood on his lip with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“Why’d you stop him?” He didn’t look up at you as he pretended to brush dirt off his jeans. He wasn’t going to thank you for stepping in.

You stiffened at the sharpness of the words. So sharp you couldn’t seem to look at him, jaw clenched so tight to hold in a scoff. He’d gotten taller since last year, the sleeves of his sweater just an inch too short from where they should have ended on his wrists. 

“Oh. Sorry,” you draw out sarcastically, your hip jutting out and your hand settling on it. “I didn’t realize I was just supposed to let him keep punching you in the face.”

“What? Did you want me to thank you?” Peter asked with equal sarcasm. 

Your face fell. You didn’t know why you expected some sort of banter that maybe bordered on bickering. No, this was anger, directed at you and you alone.

“No, I don’t,” you admitted, kicking at a pebble and trying to force down the white hot shame eating you alive. 

Someone called your name but you both turned toward the sound. It was Flash, his arms waving in the air to get your attention from the other side of the Quad. Katie sat perched beside him on the lunch table, giving you a look that clearly translated to ‘why are you still talking to Peter Parker… in public?’.

You shake your head to tell them to leave you alone but the damage is surely done. Peter just scoffs. That sound makes you feel even worse. He won’t even look at you, instead inspecting his camera to ensure it isn’t damaged. 

If it is, you won’t forgive yourself. Not when that was his prized possession, a memento from his dad. Relief slammed into at the same time it slammed into him when he confirmed that it was not broken from the fight. 

“You okay?” You tried to meet his eye and took half a step closer. His guard was up, blood accumulating in the cut in his lip and purple blooming on his cheekbone. “I uh… can walk you to the nurse.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at your offer, his expression cold and his lips pulled into a thin line. His thoughts and emotions were always so clearly plastered on his face. It's clear from his expression that he was not interested in your offer. Before he could get a word out, Flash interrupted again, calling out to you from his spot standing on one of the tables benches. 

You turned around and waved a hand dismissively in their direction. Some of the other kids you usually sat with looked like they were getting ready to go dick around off campus. Flash and Katie seemed determined to wait for you. They always did. It was why their faces scrunched up in confusion when you turned back around. 

“You sure you don’t wanna go to the nurse?” You kept your tone and face soft to avoid setting him off. “Might wanna put an icepack on your cheek.”

Peter looked like he was about to say something, but then decided not to with a shake of his head. 

“I'll be fine. You shouldn’t be seen talking to me anyway.” It stung and you hoped that it at least made him feel better. “See ya around or whatever.”

You swallowed a million things you wanted to say as you watched him collect his discarded backpack from the cement. The dig did what he’d hoped. To remind you that you had shitty friends that beat him up or made faces when you talked to people that weren’t deemed cool enough. 

Peter was already stalking off towards the school before you could respond. Fuck it. With a scoff, you decided to go after him. 

“Hold on a second!” You called out, jogging to catch up until you were hurrying beside him. “First of all, I talk to whoever I want. Second of all, I’m trying to make sure you’re okay after getting pummeled into the ground.”

“I’m not your problem. You should go be with your friends,” Peter shot back, head staring straight ahead in the hopes that he didn’t have to look at you. He hated looking at you now.

“Well I'm not. I'm right here talking to you.”

“So are you here to make yourself feel good? Trying to be all friendly and help me out so, at the end of the day, you can tell yourself that you’re not like them?” He let out a scoff, shouldering open the door without holding it for you but you managed to slip right in behind him. 

Those words made your face scrunch up in offense but you swallow it down. You have to. A part of him is right. Not because you were doing this to make yourself feel better but because you did tell yourself that. 

“Hey-”

Peter kept going without a glance in your direction. “I’m fine. Would hate to harm your important reputation.” His pace didn’t slow in the hope that he could leave you far, far behind. 

“Can you just stop for a second?” You reached out, hand hooking around his arm in the hopes that he would just listen. You were surprised when he actually slowed to a stop without turning around. A muscle in your jaw ticked at the sight of the back of his head, silence hanging in the air as you collected yourself. 

“I’m not doing this to make myself feel better,” you said tensely, dropping your voice to keep anyone wandering the halls from overhearing your conversation. It had nothing to do with not wanting to be seen with him. You’d never cared about that. You just didn’t need people to know you chased after him because he refused to speak to you. 

Maybe that was a shallow thought. You did have some semblance for your reputation. Thoughts like those had been ingrained in you. 

“I’m doing this because I care and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

It’s clear that he didn’t really have a response to that, the frown on his face said it all. Peter looked down at your hand on his arm, but didn’t make a move to yank away. 

“If you actually cared you would have talked to me all this time,” Peter muttered under his breath. His bitter attitude just made you throw up your free hand in exasperation. 

“I have tried to talk to you,” you reminded him, a sharpness in your voice and the grip on his arm forgotten. “You’re the one that will barely look at me or say more than a word without bolting.”

It wasn’t like you just decided you were too cool during freshman year and threw him to the curb. 

“Why would you want to be seen with me anyway?” Peter mutters, clearly agitated and a little annoyed. He pulled his arm away from you to shove his hands into his back pockets. 

You didn’t reach out to touch him again, instead letting your arms fall to your side. This time when you looked away and pressed your lips together, he actually looked at you. 

“I don’t care about that stuff,” you said quietly, face screwed up in hurt. “I don’t care about what they say because I think it’s all stupid.”

You wanted to say that you cared about him. That you never stopped caring about him. 

Peter narrowed his eyes at you before letting out a scoff. Sure, maybe a part of him wanted to believe it but he wouldn’t let himself be hurt by you again. Not when it had always been you and him against the world. Then, the start of high school filled your schedule with things that weren’t just him.

You were busy Monday through Friday from after school until six at night- and if there was a football game, then you were gone until almost midnight. He didn’t go to the games to watch you cheer and he certainly did not go to the after parties you invited him to. Newer and cooler classmates asked you to sit with them at lunch. He turned that down too and opted to spend that time in the darkroom. There were only a few times that you forgot about your plans with him only to call later that day and apologize religiously. It didn’t matter, after the first time, he avoided you for a week. 

Then the next week. 

Then the next.

He spent the entire ninth grade dodging you. 

And then all of tenth grade so far doing the same thing. 

“So you don’t care about what other people think?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s a load of bullshit. Isn’t that what you’re all about? Being liked? Being friends with the right people?”

That hurt. That hurt so badly you had to step back and you really couldn’t seem to pull your eyes away from the floor. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, willing your mouth to move and disagree with him. 

But you kinda deserved it.

“Right, sorry,” you breathed out after a long moment. The tight lipped smile you gave him barely even resembled a smile from how forced it was. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Whatever.” He was already turning around and slipping down the hall before you had finished speaking.

[teddypickerry]

can i request douglas booth! nikki x reader where it’s all of the crue members and they’re in their rehearsal room just relaxing & the reader is sleeping on the couch and subconsciously reaches out for his hand & he grabs it and just smiles and the boys see the interaction and tease him a bit (sorry if this is too specific or makes no sense at all, totally okay if you dont wanna write it either! thank u! 🖤)

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐗’𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 !

pairings! douglas booth; nikki sixx x fem reader

word count! 800

warnings! swearing, mentions of drugs & alcohol (no fucking shit it’s a mötley crüe fic)

a/n! hope i did your request justice;) pretty short fic, also unedited!!

the typical day in the life of a rockstar is something the average joe cannot mastermind. no matter how they try, very few are fit for the partying until six in the morning, taking some random girl to your hotel room, kicking her out by seven-thirty, and then falling asleep for a few hours. until afternoon rehearsals, which you're fueled by drugs and alcohol. then the show, then all over again.

it was safe to say sticking to the tour with the crüe was challenging, to say the least. the crüe did it like no other. so, joining your boyfriend nikki on his tour was the most exhausting time of your life. the first night was thrilling and ran on pure adrenaline. but as it got a few days in, it got draining and boring. the crüe was never boring but the idea of partying anymore or taking one more sip of alcohol made you sick. so you decided to leave the clubs after only an hour or two and revert back to your hotel room. but when that got too boring you were left alone with sleep. even with that, it still wasn't even to suffice for a good night's rest.

twenty minutes into rehearsals, it hit you hard. heather finally made you lay down on the couch in nikki's room backstage. by the time he came back, you were passed out and heather was curled up in a beanbag with a book. "she was really tired but didn't want to miss the show..." the blonde woman explained to the bassist who watched your sleeping figure with soft eyes. he swallowed before turning towards her. "cool."

she nearly laughed at his masked demeanor, trying to put on a more 'mysterious' act as if he wasn't watching you with pure life in his eyes. nikki was a tough guy and it didn't take falling for a girl to ruin that. he took off his shoes and comfortably made his way under you. he lifted your legs and sat under them, your thighs rested on top of him. the silent action kept you asleep as heather watched in awe with how gentle he was.

"man, did you see that girl-" tommy's giddy voice was cut off as he entered the room, mick appearing behind him, as heather slapped his leg. he held onto it as if he'd just been shot and glanced over at where her eyes followed. the drummer noticed his bassist's warm embrace on your sleeping figure. he nearly shit himself when he saw the never seen before sight. tommy's eyes light up with a goofy grin as he mumbled something and took a seat with heather on the bean bag. mick made his way over towards the chair beside them.

the look on nikki's face was obvious. one word of this and they'd all be dead. that somehow made it much more amusing to the two. "awe hush nikki, you're such a good mommy." tommy whimpered as he 'cradled a baby' with his arms. nikki couldn't help but roll his eyes as he crossed his arms. mick took a sip of his drink before turning towards tommy. "look drummer, nikki can hold his girlfriend all he wants. if he wants to be a little pussy bitch then by all means, let him."

tommy's mouth burst open into a fit of laughter making heather slap his arm hurt fully. mick only smiled as he toyed with his bottle cap. the abrupt sound nearly awoke you, stirring on nikki. your arms stretched slightly as your hand traced nikki's arm, he immediately uncrossed his arms as your hands came together. for a moment he forgot what was going on as a smile danced across his lips. nikki was used to your grasps during your sleep, or waking up with your arms wrapped around him. but the still new feeling was a comfort.

"why don't you hold me like that?" vince pouted from the doorway with a playful grin, catching the attention of all. nikki would have jumped up and chased him until the blonde barbie fell or was tackled to the ground. but the warmth of your body was too enticing to skip out. "okay fuck you guys. she's just laying on me, what fucking ever, man."

"oooh," tommy mouthed with the twirl of his drumsticks in his left hand, while the other arm locked around his wife. "sixx's gone soft."

"if you don't shut your goddamned mouth-"

"don't wake up sleeping beauty, bassist."

[humanpurposes]

Just for a Moment, part ii

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues, mentions of war and death

Words: 5000

A/n: Also available to read on AO3.

Monday 18th September, 1939

He can’t count the time as he waits but it feels like hours, leaning against the wooden gate, fiddling with his release papers. He’s still in the same jumper he was wearing two weeks ago when those coppers came for him, and he smells like a wet dog.

He supposes he should count himself lucky, all things considered. It’s not the first time he’s been arrested, and it’s not the first time he’s been threatened with jail time. Everything had caught up to him, but he’d found an escape, like he always does.

He still can’t get the look of disappointment in Kitty’s face out of his head.

Something’s clawing at his mind, a restless feeling, like there’s something he’s forgotten but he can’t put his finger on it.

Finally he spots Lois and his dad. He starts to pull the jumper over his head. “Either of you started to smoke? I’m dying for a fag.”

Lois holds out a clean shirt for him.

“Didn’t bring my overcoat then?”

His sister glowers.

“I’m joking,” he draws out, tossing the jumper into her arms. He slips the shirt over his head and walks on. If either of them want to ask him about his little sabbatical, he’d rather it be a short and sweet conversation.

“When are you in court then?” Douglas asks, he and Lois walking a pace or so behind him.

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been on remand for two weeks, they must have charged you with something.”

“They were going to,” Tom says, bringing his arms through the sleeves and doing up the buttons on the front of the shirt, “but I said I’d join up.”

He knows why his dad hesitates. “You’d be better off in there,” he says.

“I won’t actually be joining up, dad. I’m a conscientious objector.” He knows he’s far too smug about the whole thing, it seems to irritate people, and he thinks maybe that’s why acts the way he does. 

“Since when?” Lois says.

Tom turns his head over his shoulder and grins. “About half an hour ago?”

The bus to Longsight stops just outside Gregory’s shop. He spots Kitty behind the counter through the glass. She doesn’t see him though, she’s writing something down. He asks Lois for some change and says he’ll see her and dad at home.

He takes a deep breath before he pushes on the door handle. The bell doesn’t distract Kitty from what she’s doing, but it gives him a few moments to admire the sight of her in deep concentration. She frowns rather sternly, pressing, pouting and biting her lips while she tries to think. Then with a frustrated huff she sets her pencil down and looks up.

She looks stunned at the sight of him. “Afternoon,” she says.

“Afternoon.”

“Not in prison anymore?”

He shrugs casually. “Didn’t get charged with anything.”

The edge of her mouth quirks. “And that makes it alright then?” 

He stops himself from rolling his eyes. Kitty has a remarkable talent for disguising her anger as passivity, but he knows better than to ignore it.

“Not charged on account of me joining up– for the war, like.”

“Oh right,” she says, folding her arms. “What did you come here for, toy gun and a uniform?”

“No,” he says, placing sixpenny on the counter, “usual.”

She looks at the coin, and then at him, before she turns to the shelf to get him the cigarettes and places the packet on the counter.

He’s never minded silences with Kitty before, they both seem to be able to sit in them, not having to needlessly fill the spaces. There’s nothing comfortable or familiar about this. He can see the rise and fall of her chest and her nostrils flaring when she puts the money through the till. The change rattles inside the draw as she slams it shut. 

“Cheers,” he mutters. He opens the packet and slips out a cigarette, only to realise they’d taken his lighter off him when he was arrested.

He taps it against the counter and Kitty just watches him. He has the feeling she might want him to leave.

“I’m not really joining up,” he says, “I’m gonna be a pacifist.”

“Tom Bennett the conchie?” she smirks.

Seeing her smile is like watching the sunrise, one of life’s little triumphs. He hopes he’s managed to break through the cold exterior.

“Dad’s giving me some leaflets and all,” he adds with a grin.

“You’re really committing then?” she asks, but there’s something sharp about her tone.

He feels his face soften. “What’s that mean?”

She huffs through her nose and turns her head away for a moment. “Well it’s obvious you’re only doing it because it gets you out of something you don’t want to do.”

“That’s sort of the point of pacifism, isn’t it?”

“Not in your case, no. You’re doing this to avoid going to prison.”

He scoffs, but he knows she’s right. Perfect Kitty Wheelan, she’s always right about everything.

“Would you rather that then?” he says, grimly.

“No! For Christ’s sake, of course I’m glad you’re not in prison!”

“So what’s your problem then?” he exclaims. “Because the only alternative is getting shipped off to die in some stupid war!”

He’s gone too far, he can see it in her eyes, they way they go wide and glassy. She takes a few moments to catch her breath, and when she blinks a tear rolls from each of her eyes.

“They’ve already gone, Eddie and Art. They’ve been sent to Belgium. Stevie’s not signed up yet, but he wants to.”

Two weeks. He’s been gone for two weeks and the war is already pressing on.

“Kitty…” he says softly, placing his hands on the counter, but she doesn’t reach for him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

She takes a slow breath. When she looks up at him his heart stops for a moment. She’s so beautiful, even when she cries.

“Tom,” she says softly, “if you’re going to do something, do it for the right reasons. Do it because you believe in it.”

His hands twitch on the counter. He looks at her with the face that she usually finds convincing, hoping somehow she’ll understand how desperate he feels, how much he wants her to just take his hand.

“Alright, Kitty!” calls the voice of Mr Gregory, appearing from the storeroom. “That’s you done for the day—” he freezes when he sees Tom.

“Thanks, Mr Gregory,” Kitty says, quickly wiping her cheeks and undoing her apron. “Are you sure you don’t want help closing?”

“I’ll be alright, lass,” the man insists, “you deserve a few hours off.”

She won’t look at him, but Tom waits for her to get her coat and her bag, and follows her out the door as she leaves.

He fiddles with one of the cigarettes he can’t light, walking beside her towards Slade Grove. His arm brushes against her shoulder every so often.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “for shouting, it was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was,” Kitty says.

“It’s just, you know, criminal charges’ll stick with me for life, and if I die as a soldier, then what was the point in signing up in the first place?”

He watches her face wince at the mere thought, but she keeps her head up and her shoulders strong. She doesn’t say another word to him. 

An odd feeling of panic settles in his stomach. He tries to think of all the things he could say to make things right, to get her to at least look at him. The panic only mounts as they get closer to the Wheelans’ front door. 

“Kitty,” he says as she reaches into her handbag for her keys.

Her eyes slowly come to him, with a sad but expectant look.

His heart could burst. There’s so much he could say but no words come to mind, like his eyes just see her and accept the sight completely. 

“Kitty I—”

Suddenly the door swings open. Nancy Wheelan looks like she’s ready to go somewhere by the green coat and the brown leather handbag on her arm.

“Oh,” she says, looking between the two of them. “Is the shop still open?”

“Mr Gregory’s closing. If you want something you should get there quick,” Kitty says.

“No matter, I can wait until tomorrow,” Nancy says, before she turns her eyes to Tom.

“Mrs Wheelan,” he says, as inoffensively as he can.

Kitty shifts her weight on her feet.

“Tom,” the woman replies, curtly. Your father tells me you’ve been on remand.” Like mother like daughter, never ones to avoid stating the obvious.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Tom says, tucking the cigarette behind his ear. He’s hardly going to get invited in for tea by the stern look on Nancy’s face. “I’d better be off,” he says, and turns to Kitty one last time. “I’ll see you around.”

Kitty nods and quickly follows her mother inside the house. He can’t help but feel the slam of their front door is deliberate.

Douglas leaves some pamphlets out for him on the kitchen table, along with a spare lighter. He sits with his feet on the table, eyes skimming over the words, flicking the lighter open and shut. No matter how hard he tries to concentrate, his mind always seems to wander to Kitty.

When Lois comes back from her gig, torn between delight and despair at Harry’s return to Manchester, Tom sits on the windowsill in their bedroom, blowing smoke through the open window. Across the road, Kitty’s bedroom light is on, the curtains wide open.

He wonders if it’s an invitation.

“He said he loved you, didn’t he?”

Lois is tucked into her bed on the other side of the curtain that divides the room, the duvet up to her chin. “That was before he went away,” she says groggily.

“Yeah and a bloke isn’t going to say it more than once,” he says, tapping the ash from the cigarette, “not unless he’s feeling guilty.”

“It wasn’t like before,” Lois says, “he said things were different…”

“He’d just be nervous,” Tom muses. “He didn’t write, temper on you, bloody hell who wouldn't be, eh?”

There’s a flicker of a shadow in Kitty’s window.

“Why are you sticking up for him?” Lois giggles from her bed. “You don’t even like him.”

A figure blocks out the light and then she’s there. 

Look at me.

She slides the window closed and turns the lock. 

Come on, look at me.

She reaches up for the curtains and before she draws them, she turns her head to their house. He lowers his cigarette. She’s looking at him, dead in the eyes, he’s sure of it, even if his face will be hard to see.

She closes the curtains and the light switches off soon after that.

He huffs through his nose and collapses onto his front on the bed. “I’m sticking up for you,” he says, taking another drag, “couldn’t cope for a minute if you went wobbly. Neither could dad.”

“Of course you could, you’d look after each other.”

He doubts that. He’s always been one to disappear when dad has one of his episodes, or sits in his bedroom, crying into mum’s old cardigans because the smell of her is starting to fade. It’s too much. It’s frustrating. It makes him want to shout and scream because why can’t dad just pull himself together? Instead he slips out the backdoor, smokes in the alleyway behind the houses, hunches himself over a pint in the pub, or finds himself in Kitty’s bedroom, just for a few moments of peace.

“You’re the one he needs, Lois. Me…” He pouts his lips as he takes another drag and inhales the smoke into his chest. It burns a little until he breathes it out. 

Kitty doesn’t let him smoke in her bedroom, in case her parents or one of the lads found out, but she says she likes the smell of it. She muttered it once, about a year ago, when he’d shown up at her window with a flask of whisky he’d filled from dad’s stash under his bed. They drank while her parents were at the pub and the boys were having some kind of party downstairs, until all they could manage were giggles that left them scarce for air as they tried to stay quiet. She curled into his arms that night and nuzzled into his neck, pulling herself into him with every breath she took.

“Because you smell like you,” she’d said in an airy voice, “Like fags and sweat and sweets.”

He kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her neck, but she was already falling asleep by the time his lips grazed the corner of her mouth. 

If she remembers that night, she never mentions it, and she’s never tried to kiss him back. He doesn’t blame her.

“... I’m just a bloody nuisance.” 

Tuesday 19th September, 1939

He comes back from the recruitment office with his hands in his pockets. Some pacifist he makes, almost starting a fight in the queue. He can’t even laugh at himself. He heard the word “coward” and he knew he couldn’t go through with it.

As he walks past the Wheelan’s house, he sees the light in the front room isn’t on. Usually that’s where the boys all sit, but with Eddie and Art gone the house must be quiet these days. He wonders what Kitty will make of the recruitment papers in his back pocket.

When he makes his way into the kitchen, Lois is busy with ironing, and his dad is looking at the papers through his spectacles. 

“Kałuszyn’s a German victory,” Douglas mutters as Tom drapes his jacket over the opposite seat. “Only took a day.”

“How was the recruitment office?” Lois asks.

Tom exhales through his mouth and places the papers in front of his dad, new but already folden and crinkled.

Once Douglas has read what he needs to, he lowers his spectacles.

“The navy? The blood navy? You can’t even steer a pedalo.”

“At least it’s not the army,” Tom says with a shrug, “and I’m not going to prison, so…”

“I must be stupid,” Douglas says, “I thought you’d actually become a pacifist, really believed in it.”

“I don’t really believe in anything for long, dad,” Tom says, curling his fist on the table in front of him. “At least I’m fighting on the right side, at least give me that!”

“Everybody thinks that, every war that’s ever been fought,” Douglas says.

“Yeah well this one’s different.”

“Every war’s different!” Douglas bellows, tossing his spectacles onto the table. “Until it’s the same.”

Tom hangs his head. He knows he’s not a coward, and yet he’d still found himself switching to a different line once it had all calmed down. He knew he was stubborn, but this, signing up for a war to prove a point to a stranger… the worst part is he’s stubborn enough to go through with it.

“Lois, talk some sense into him!” their father says.

Lois can be so quick to anger, but with dad she always manages to stay perfectly calm. “I can’t do that dad. I think he’s right to join up.”

Tom can’t bring himself to look up, even when he hears his dad scoff at her.

“At least he’s getting out in the world,” she says. 

“Yeah, to get shot or blown up!”

Tom snatches up the recruitment papers as he stands, reaching for his jacket on the back of the chair. Lois’s eyes are a silent plea begging him to stay but he knows if he’ll just make things worse.

As he slams the kitchen door his dad shouts after him, “and do the same to lads no older than him, who have no more idea why they’re fighting either!”

He walks to the end of the red brick wall, where the alleyway leads to the main street. With his back against the wall and his head thrown back, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and lights a cigarette. 

It’s all bollocks, he concludes. The war, the signups, the idyllics and the madmen signing their own death warrants. He’s no righteous pacifist, but he’s not exactly a hero either. There’s no right side for him, not really.

He rattles some change in his pocket; he could use a pint, but he thinks there’s somewhere else he’d rather be. So he waits at the end of the alley, until the street is silent and he’s sure most of the residents will have gone to bed.

When he walks out onto the street he looks up at Kitty’s window. The curtains are closed but the window is open and the lights are on.

He’s well used to climbing up there by now. He avoids the view from the window to the lounge and pulls himself up the drainpipe and bay window. For the last little bit he has to slot his feet between the bricks, put his hands on the ledge below Kitty’s window and lift himself onto it. 

There are two voices on the other side of the curtains. He holds his breath and awkwardly looks around the street, but thankfully there’s no one around to spot him.

“I thought you were going to wait a bit longer,” Kitty says.

“I can’t keep putting it off,” Stevie replies, “not while Eddie and Art are out there risking their lives. Even Connie says she and Lois are auditioning for ENSA. We’ve all got to do our bit.”

“But we need you here, too,” Kitty says.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again.” The door handle rattles as someone reaches to open it.

There’s a pause, then Stevie sighs. “I’ll stop by the shop on my way home.”

She doesn’t reply.

“Night, Kitty,” Stevie says.

She grumbles back, “night.”

The door closes. Kitty releases a shaky breath that makes his heart ache. Her footsteps move across the floor towards the bed. He hears her sheets rustle and the light switch off. Surely she realises she’s left the window open?

He cautiously pushes the curtains back with a slight scraping noise of the rings against the curtain frame. He swings his legs inside and ducks his head under, kicking off his boots before he moves towards the bed, careful to avoid the floorboards he knows are creaky.

Kitty lies facing the wall and close to it, leaving a small amount of space on the mattress beside her.

He takes off his jacket, belt and jumper, leaving on his slacks and shirt, and lifts a corner of her duvet, slotting in against her back. He places the hand that isn’t underneath him on her arm, tracing up and down, along the texture of her skin.

Kitty hums dreamily. She takes his hand and clutches it against her stomach, so his arm falls around her waist. He holds her tighter, bringing her further into him until he can feel the curve of her spine against his shirt.

“I’m sorry I was such an arse to you earlier,” she mutters. 

He brushes the hair from her neck, his eyes inches from her bare skin. Her nightgown is starting to slip down her shoulder too. She smells sweet, like red sweets and vanilla perfume. 

“It’s my own stupid fault,” he says, softly, but they’re so close she’ll hear every word. “Besides, didn’t even go through on the pacifist thing. I signed up for the navy this morning.”

Her hair flicks in his face as she turns to her other side. His arm settles back on her waist and the tip of her nose barely brushes his own.

“You did what?”

“Signed up for the navy,” he says.

“You did not,” she breathes.

He swallows his disappointment. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to find a principle, to do something for the right reasons?

“What are you so upset for?” he says, “I’m the one who has to go, not you.”

She nods, but he can see the tears welling in her eyes.

“And Stevie’s signing up too,” he realises.

She huffs, the way she usually does when she’s upset but she pretends not to be. “That’s it then, once you and him are gone, I’ll have no one.”

He takes her hand and brings it between their chests, clasping it tightly. “Oh my pretty Kitty,” he grins, knowing how much she hates it when he calls her that, “you’ve got your mum and dad, you’ve got mates. Dad and Lois adore you. You’ve got your job, you’ve got a life here.”

“You’re a part of my life too,” she says.

It knocks the breath from his lungs.

“I’ve signed up now. Couldn’t take it back even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Kitty says.

His chest feels like it might crush under the weight of it all. “But you said—”

“I know what I said, just… why’d you have to get yourself caught up in all these messes?”

He sees it in the way she looks at him, not exasperated or angry just, sad. He’s never really understood why she seems to take his mistakes so personally.

He turns his head further into the pillow and moves his tongue over his teeth. “Some bloke at the recruitment office said I was a coward for queuing up with the conchies.”

Kitty’s lip trembles. “So what?” she whispers.

“Squared up to him, didn’t I? But when it came to putting my name down… I don’t know, I just couldn’t do it. See the grief dad gets for his paper, what would people think of me if I stayed home while men are laying down their lives?”

Her chest rises and falls as she sighs, slowly, deeply. 

“Maybe it’s me,” he says. “Maybe I’m a bad person.”

“You’re not a bad person,” she says, placing her hand on his jaw, fingertips stoking lightly over his neck. “You’re just…”

“Just what?”

She smiles sadly. “You’re just stupid.”

He smiles back, and nudges his forehead against hers. The rest of the house is so quiet he worries he’s breathing too loudly.

“Kitty,” he whispers, sliding his hand along her waist and into her back, pulling her closer, closer.

“Yes?” 

His palm maps every curve and detail along her body, her back, her hips, her rear, her thighs, the feeling of her skin and the way she shudders at his touches. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Her smile is wide and unashamed. She puts her arms over his shoulders and gently presses her lips to his. 

They had kissed before, once or twice when they were kids. Back then they thought it was hilarious, another secret they could keep with each other, and they felt so grown up at even just the briefest peck of their lips.

Kissing Kitty now is unlike anything he’s done before. It’s slow and steady, and he savours every moment of it, the softness of her mouth, her hands in his hair, the little hum she gives when he kisses her neck and the way she arches her back when he slips his thigh between her legs.

She follows his lead at first, but finds her stride soon enough, kissing him deeper, holding him closer as she slowly starts to rut her hips against him, grinding into his thigh.

He whispers her name into her mouth, desperately squeezing her waist through her nightgown as he feels himself becoming hard against her stomach. And it hurts. Everything about her consumes him, sets him on edge and lulls him into a calm and assured warmth.

Her hands slip between them, unsure but determined fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt. He catches on and quickly has it over his head, leaving it forgotten on the floor.

She pauses, her eyes, palms and fingertips running over the bare skin revealed to her, the light patch of hair on his chest, the lines of his muscles, the small moles running down his torso and the scar on his bicep where he’d broken his arm years ago. 

She slips further, brushing over the bulge in his slacks. Tom clenches his teeth and places a hand over hers, bucking under her touch. 

“Can you take these off?” she says, and with that doe-eyed look, how could he ever refuse her?

He lifts his hips and shuffles his slacks past his ankles, and soon those are on the floor too. He looks back to Kitty, with a pleased grin.

She teases her fingers over the fabric of his boxers. “Those too?”

He removes the final layer, smiling at Kitty’s apparent fascination. She cautiously feels along his naval and his hips, until she comes to his cock. She traces her fingertips over it, already half-hard.

He positions her hand around it and guides her to stroke up and down. Their eyes meet. Even through the low light and the dreamy haze of his own want, she’s beautiful, lips parted, brows in a wanting frown, and the corners of her mouth curling up. When she brushes her thumb over the tip, he thinks he might come there and then.

He leans up, kisses her cheek and whispers in her ear. “I want to see you too.”

She comes to her knees and lifts her nightgown over her head. He leans his head against the headboard, a contented sigh leaving his lips at the sight of her. She’s perfect. How could she be anything less? 

He reaches for her hips, bringing her to straddle him. Never parting from her body, his hand slides along her waist to one of her breasts, squeezing gently and dragging his thumb over her perked nipple. He starts to guide her with his other hand, rocking her hips back and forth, dragging her wet centre along his cock. He bites down on his lip to stop himself from groaning at the little whimper that catches in her throat, and the feeling of her gliding against him, so warm and practically soaked. 

She braces herself against his chest. “Tom,” she whines, though it’s barely above a breath. He can feel her trying to move faster, desperate for friction. “I want more, please…”

He hushes her, placing a finger to her lips. He turns his head to the floor, impressed with himself that his slacks are just within reach. He takes a packet from one of the pockets and tears it open with his teeth, sliding the condom along his length.

He leans up again and catches her lips in a gentle kiss. “Are you alright with this?” he says, “we don’t have to.”

Kitty holds his face in her hands as she lifts her hips. “I want to,” she utters.

Tom positions his tip to her entrance and holds her as she slowly starts to sink down. He can’t help the low groan that sounds in his throat no matter how much he tries to resist, but she’s so tight, so perfect.

She gasps and clenches her hands in his hair, but is determined to keep taking him, until their hips meet and he bottoms out. They stay like that for as long as she needs, catching her breath, getting used to the feeling of him inside her.

“Good girl,” he hums, tracing his thumbs over her stomach. “How do you feel?”

Kitty’s eyes flutter and she nods. “It hurts a little, but it feels good.”

“This should help,” he says, circling his thumb over her pearl.

She clasps a hand over her mouth as she lets out a short gasp and braces herself against him again. 

“Fuck, does that feel nice, pretty Kitty?” he grins.

Her moans are starting to make too much noise. If they go any further they might wake up her whole family. Not fancying having to explain a black eye or any broken limbs to his dad or commanding officer, he takes Kitty in his arms and brings her to lie down beside him again, keeping his cock nestled inside her.

He brings her head close to his shoulder. “I’m going to start moving, tell me if you want to stop.”

She nods, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"And I know it feels good but you need to be quiet too, yeah?"

"Yes," she utters, "please, just..."

He starts to fuck her slowly, finding a rhythm that ensures the bed doesn’t make any noise as it rocks. He draws her pleasure from her gradually, his cock dragging through her and his fingers circling over her pearl. He can feel it when she starts to clench around him, her hips moving against him to match his thrusts. 

They fall apart together, silencing their moans into each other’s necks.

The quiet of the night feels precious; two people existing in the same space, breathing the same air, sharing the same heat, clinging to each other like they’ve always done. 

She kisses him again, messily, like she’s drunk. Somewhere in it she loses her focus, her mouth slides along his jaw and she giggles into his neck.

“Are you tired?” he says.

“I think so,” she mumbles.

“Come here then.” He slides slowly out of her and turns onto his back, one arm draped over her shoulders. She leans into him, keeping a hand against his skin, over his heart.

Kitty snores softly in her sleep but he doesn’t mind it. 

He visits her every night for the next week, until he’ll have to leave for his training. He waits until all the lights in the Wheelans’ house are off, then sneaks in through the window and discards his clothes before he climbs into her bed. They kiss and fuck as quietly as they can, until they’re both breathless and too tired to stay awake.

On his last night in Longsight, once Kitty is fast asleep, her breath fluttering against his chest and his fingers stroking over her hair, it occurs to him that he might love her. But he’s seen what a mess Harry and Lois made, saying stupid things like that before one of them went away. So he lets her sleep, and stay in blissful ignorance. 

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa

[billy-cockblock]

I wrote a little thing inspired by @saintalondre's swtd afterlife au, before they'd posted more info about it, so this doesn't really fit in their au at all, but I had fun.

Gibbo hated the water tanks. 

But Addair was busy in engineering today, and he was the easiest to push the task of fixing a leak onto. It shouldn’t be a difficult job, just tedious to find the source that was causing all the flooding. 

He thinks that’s why they assigned Douglas to come down with him and help. Got him somewhere in the belly of the rig and away from the sea below. Poor guy needed something to take his mind off yesterday’s… incident. Gibbo’s heart dropped every time he thought about what happened, and he wasn’t even the one to pull Caz out. Douglas had hardly said a word since Rennick had taken the situation over and shipped the body back to the mainland. They’d been told to “avoid spreading rumors around the crew” and he’d completely shut down. Still, despite their boss’s attempts to cover up the incident, word of their missing crewmates had spread. The mood over the whole rig had doured after that morning. Dobbie and Trots had to make yesterday’s lunch, and when Roy had returned, dinner and breakfast tasted flavorless. 

Bringing himself back to the present, Gibbo stepped into the flooded water tank room. It was up to his knees, but shouldn’t get any higher that he couldn’t wade through it. 

“Right, this shouldn’t be hard,” he said, turning to face Douglas wading in behind him. “All we have to do is follow the water pipes. If you find the leak, call me over so I can patch it, aye?” Douglas nodded absentmindedly, eyes still distant like his mind was somewhere else. “Hey,” Gibbo put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, snapping him out of his trance with a start. “Let’s just focus on patching the leak, okay lad? Water’s cold, and we’ll lose our toes if we take too long.”

“A-aye,” Douglas looked away again. “Water’s real cold.”

“How about you start looking that way, and I’ll go this way, eh?” Gibbo pointed towards opposite sides of the room. “We’ll get done here and get to warm up twice as fast. Just keep an ear out for flowing water and look for the source.”

Without a word, Douglas just nodded and turned to go the way he was told. Gibbo watched him for a moment before sighing, trudging his own way. 

He’d only been searching for a few minutes when things started to get strange. He heard a metallic bang from the walkway and jumped. Finding a gap through the tanks and pipes, he saw the door of the locker hanging open. The water at the bottom of the stairs was rippling like someone had just passed through it and walked out of sight.

“Douglas?” he shouted, checking on his coworker.

“Aye?” Douglas responded, coming from the opposite side of the room as the sound.

“You hear that?” While he wasn’t moving, Gibbo could hear the quiet sounds of something sloshing through the water past the pipes around him.

“No? Hear what?”

“Hello?” Gibbo called out. “Anyone else is in here?” He listened closely to track the sounds, but every quiet noise echoed in the enclosed space. He started walking slowly to try and pinpoint their location. “If you’re trying to joke, it’s not very funny.”

The sloshing, drips, and creaks blended together, seemingly coming from several directions at once. As he wandered, Gibbo also picked up on the sound of breathing. It was shaky and muffled, like someone was trying to be quiet but too nervous to slow their breaths.

“Hello?” he tried again. “Aren’t you cold? You sound like you’re shivering.”

He’d been passing by a row of tanks when he heard a splash right on the other side.

“I’m not looking, I promise,” a small voice whispered, small and terrified. They sounded familiar somehow, but Gibbo couldn’t place it.

They started walking away where Gibbo’s path ended, and he’d have to go the long way around if he were to get to the main tanks where they were headed. He crouched down to see if he could see them under the tanks, soaking himself up to his waist, but only caught a hint of a blue uniform through the shadows before it disappeared around a corner.

“Douglas, meet me by the main tanks,” he called across the room.

“Uh, okay.”

He hurried through the pipes until he reached the raised walkway by the tanks. The stranger wasn’t there, but there was a trail of water and he could hear the metal rattling of a ladder. He hurried around the corner and only caught a blur of boots as they climbed over the top.

“Oi! Get down from there!” he yelled, climbing up after them. The top of the main tanks was fenced off and the only way to go was into the tanks themselves. They may have been mostly drained to prevent more flooding, but they could still be extremely dangerous. 

He only saw the top of their hardhat as they descended through the hatch, causing him to scramble the last way up.

“Wait!” He rushed to the edge to stop them, but they were already too far down the ladder. They looked up at him, blinding him with their torch as their grip loosened in surprise. With no warning, the hatch moved on its own and slammed shut, nearly taking Gibbo’s hand with it and locking itself. 

“Shit!” he cursed, gripping the wheel to open it, but it refused to budge. No matter how much force he put behind it, it wouldn’t twist. 

“Gibbo?” Douglas asked from behind him, startling him so bad he screamed. 

“Don’t do that, Douglas! How’d you get up here so quietly?!”

“What are you-“

“No… No!” The voice cried out, echoing out of the second tank. They looked over and saw the second hatch open, allowing sound to escape. 

“Douglas…?” The voice sounded farther away than it should be. It had an odd quality to it, like the whistling of the gales in the outer rooms of the derrick, or the sound of waves from the middle of the deck. Like holding a phone away from your ear but having it still close enough to hear a caller’s voice. “Douglas!” They continued muttering to themself, too quiet to be understood through the echoing and strange effects. 

Gibbo turned to ask Douglas a question, but his words were lost when he saw his face. It was ashen with dread and he looked like he would vomit. 

Douglas pushed past him to get to the hatch, twisting the wheel open with ease. 

“Hey! What are you-!“ The hatch was already open and Douglas practically sliding down the ladder. He at least felt relieved seeing the water so low, but he still hated the idea of anyone going in there. 

Douglas disappeared from view, heading towards the connecting space between tanks. Gibbo almost reached for the ladder himself, but hesitated. 

“Douglas, get back here!” he whisper-shouted into the dark, keeping an eye on the other hatch and the stilling water below. There was no reply other than fading sloshing sounds.

After what felt like far too long, a familiar knit hat emerged from the opposite hatch, looking around wildly.

“Where’d he go?!” Douglas asked, voice frantic. “Did you see him?”

“Calm down, lad,” Gibbo tried to reassure. “No one’s come out of there other than you. You sure the guy isn’t still in there?”

“I-I don’t think so, but it’s so dark…” he was starting to break down; Gibbo figured it was the stress of yesterday catching up to him. “I heard him, I know it was him…”

“I have a torch,” Gibbo said, reaching into his pocket where it was located. Douglas didn’t seem to hear him, forcing Gibbo to make up his mind. “Alright, lad, stay there. I’ll check the tank and meet you up there. Don’t move, alright?” He waited for Douglas to nod before shakily grabbing the ladder.

He hated the water tanks. He was vehemently reminded of that fact as he landed in water up to his knees. It was as cold as the water filling the outside room, but the solid, enclosed walls made it so much darker and easier to flood if someone were to forget he was in there. 

He shined the torch around the first main tank, going as far as to look up the walls. No sign of the mystery man in here, but he couldn’t shake the childish fear of something lurking in the dark. 

That meant he had to do his least favorite part…

Coming up to the connection between the tanks, he had to turn sideways, squeezing into the narrow gap. He wasn’t the smallest man, so the fit was very tight. He hated having to do maintenance inside the tanks, he hated the dark, he hated the tight fit, he hated the water-

He just hated the water tanks.

He was eventually released, coming out on the other side with a relieved sigh. He pointed his torch at the dark corners and-

His light shut off, plunging him into darkness. 

His whole body tensed and his breathing picked up. He quickly flicked it on and off again, trying to get it to come back with no luck. He shook and smacked it, only succeeding to get it to flicker rapidly. 

He spun around, pointing the blinking light behind him, in the corners, and all around, searching for beasts lurking in the dark, making his anxiety worse. 

He pushed through the water towards the ladder, wanting to get out as quick as possible, when he froze solid, his heart dropping to his stomach.

At the base of the ladder, his light caught an orange uniform floating just under the surface. The light flickered and he noticed the body’s dark skin. It flashed and he caught his grey knit cap-

The torch died again, and in the low light filtering in from the hatch, the body was gone. 

“Gibbo?” Douglas called down from above. “Is he down there?”

“N-no!” Gibbo finally managed to stutter out, trying to shake the panic off. It had just been his mind playing tricks on him. It had to be. “He-he must’ve snuck past me somehow. I’m coming up!”

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten up a ladder faster in his whole career working on rigs. Douglas seemed to have calmed down a bit, still occasionally wiping his eyes. 

“He didn’t come this way either,” Douglas said. “How’d he get past?”

“I don’t know,” Gibbo replied. “He must’ve slipped out while I wasn’t looking.” He looked over the tank room, looking for any sign of movement in the shadows. “Who was he, anyway?”

“What?” 

“You said you knew who he was and it got you in a right state, so who was it?”

“Ah,” Douglas hesitated. “I must’ve just imagined it, it couldn’t have been-“

A slam echoed through the room, making both men jump. It sounded like the hatch door up the stairs to Accommodation. 

“Well, sounds like he got through okay,” Gibbo joked, trying to shake off the tension. “But who’d you think-“

“Is that the leak?” Douglas interrupted him, pointing to something in the half of the tank room they hadn’t searched. Sure enough, Gibbo spotted the junction between pipes where a steady stream of water was leaking out. 

Gibbo sighed. “Aye, that’s it. Good job, lad.”

[tabl3]

ways the rats' neurodivergencies manifest

chase: autism, OCD, insomnia

autism: chase is intrinsically one of the kindest characters in the series. he deeply cares for his family and friends. however one of the manifestations of his autism is low empathy. he's very intelligent, and can tell when one of his loved ones is upset, but isn't great at approaching them in a more emotionally intelligent way. on top of that he struggles to show his own emotions, as well as deeply understand others (also a result of living in a basement for 14-odd years) his siblings are good at understanding him nowadays though, and gets when he is trying to help or express affection :) (mostly because tasha taught them how) this is one of the ways that having a partner like kaz is a double-edged sword. on the one hand, he's more comfortable expressing himself and has more of an ability to as well from spending time with kaz, who is the most passionate person he's ever met. on the other he struggles sometimes to understand how kaz feels and can unintentionally be insensitive. kaz is also pretty patient though :) he also has severe sensory issues and can go nonverbal at times. douglas has been working on ways to help the sensory things, like calibrating his nose against pet allergies

OCD: chase has a very specific way of doing things and specific expectations for how other things get done. he likes having certain things under his control and having protocol be followed, because without it he struggles to function (just like me fr) his thumbnail biting habit is a result of this and his anxiety

insomnia: chase has a hard time sleeping because of the rate that thoughts travel through his mind, his touch, sight, and hearing being intense, and his physical back pain. he also frequently has nightmares (due to both trauma and intrusive thoughts) and knows he doesn't need as much sleep as regular humans, making him not too keen on trying that hard to sleep. he does sleep well when he's with kaz though <3

extras - stims: flappy hands/the little jumping giggle thing show chase does when he's happy, lip biting/arm folding whenever, rocking when he's overwhelmed/upset. special interests: science, inventing, space, bugs

bree: ADHD (hyperactive), arrhythmia

ADHD: bree's bionics mixes with her ADHD. she is always moving in some way: touching her hair, tapping her foot, messing with her fingers. she chews gum to keep herself busy when she wants to be still. she also "glitches" a lot, jumping, twitching, etc. this is why skylar is a good partner for her, both because she's a very calm individual and can't be hurt if bree accidentally hits her from glitching. it was worse when she was younger, and she was jealous of her brothers: chase because he could peacefully put puzzles together without glitching and tossing the whole thing to the floor, and adam because he seemed carefree like his brain wasn't producing thoughts a million miles an hour. she can also be forgetful (not as much as adam) donald figured this was all linked to her bionics, but as soon as tasha met her she got her fidget toys to help her stay busy during school. this also has to do with bree being an artist. she likes the constant of moving her hand.

arrhythmia: this one is linked to her bionics and is a side effect of them: her heart sometimes beats too fast, especially when her overactive metabolism is out of fuel (which is why chase keeps snacks on hand for her)

extra - special interests: bree's fluctuate a lot. she likes one thing for a little, then another. but she's always hyperfixated on something

adam: ADHD (inattentive), dyslexia

ADHD: adam seems on the outside to lack intelligence. he isn't as book or street smart as his siblings, but he certainly isn't stupid by any means. he has great emotional intelligence (despite the emotional repression donald somewhat forced on him and the other two) and actually notices a lot. the reason he seemed dumb when he was younger is due to the spacey nature his ADHD gives him. he's often lost in his own thoughts and is very forgetful of short-term things. he doesn't ever pay much attention to anything unless it's something the specifically interests him, because he knows that chase and bree paid enough attention for all three of them. he also often asked for things to be repeated, which took another shot at his perceived intelligence. even though he's emotionally intelligent he also misses a lot of social cues (also a symptom of basement)

dyslexia: aside from struggling to pay attention in class, his dyslexia made doing schoolwork a huge difficulty. so he stopped caring because he wasn't interested in it anyway, dropping his grades, adding to the fuel of everyone thinking he was stupid. he could've asked chase for help, but he didn't want to be made fun of. now that they've both grown up, matured, and mended their relationship, he often calls chase to tutor him through his college courses, which chase does (as patiently as he can, though he does get frustrated sometimes bc autism lol)

extra - special interests: animals (esp dogs), cars (lesser), flowers, sports (he's in school to be a P.E. teacher) tasha gifted him a stim necklace to bite on when he started college because it helps him focus

[sepublic]

So TOH’s color designer Dresden Douglas released a bunch of references used for the show, including the book Amity gives to Lilith in the epilogue and… The Titan?! Three Archivists!? And the symbol used to hide King from their sight…

It appears to be a spell of the Titan, or another one, and the presence of witches beneath them as they cast it may mean this Titan protected past witches from being turned into scrolls by hiding them and/or teaching this glyph! This makes me wonder where witches did come from, if their origins lie in a specific Titan, is there any meaningful distinction with demons (King refers to the Trappers as such and Tarak doesn’t correct him)… Did the Trappers fight other witches loyal to the Titan, who opposed the Archivists and realized they’ll likely betray the Trappers too? Not unlike covenscouts loyal to Belos despite also being targeted when their purpose is fulfilled…

Of course, this may not be a Titan but the giant Titan Trapper seen helping the Archivists! The blue heart symbol on the forehead is suspicious… But it was also used to mark a potential victim in King, so this could be a legit Titan!

Could this book be from Titan Trapper Island? Is it THEIR explanation of events? And again, the motif of three witches…

Again, makes me wonder if this was all foreshadowing for the three Archivists; And if petrification (turning something into an object, such as a scroll or stone) was magic used by them, which was passed down by the Collector to Belos, alongside the rest of his strange red magic! Which is capable of directly petrifying someone without the machine…

And the mystery glyph! Framed by stars, did it come from them? Is it Archivist magic wielded against them? This all feels like setup for an epilogue adventure confronting the Archivists, and we now have Lilith and Amity knowing something here, too! And of course, they could always ask the Collector when they stop by (though as a sheltered child later imprisoned, they might not know everything, though they do have their Archive murals).

[srbachchan]

DAY 5525

Jalsa, Mumbai                  Apr 2,  2023                Sun 11:49 PM

Birthday Ef 

🪔 .. April 03 .. birthday wishes to Ef Haarsha Balraj from South Africa .. Ef Krishna urf Kris Dwivedi from Bilaspur CG .. and Ef Divyansh Rawat from Lucknow .. love and happiness .. ❤️❤️❤️🌿 and all the good wishes from the family Ef .. and the Sunday meetings at the Gate be in preference of course .. hence here 

And the very revealing aspect for the coming day be that on April 3, for the first time an adventure took place .. the first plane to fly over the Everest  .. in the year 1934 , apparently ..

Justification :

📌 .. and on this day .. April 3, 1933 .. conquering the impossible .. happened the first fly ever over Everest 🏔️ .. by two British aircraft  of type Westland Wallace bi-planes .. crewed by Squadron Leader Douglas-Hamilton and Colonel LVS Blacker in one and Flight Lieutenant MacIntyre and Mr SR Bonnet in the other .. they took off from Lalbalu aerodrome, near Purnea, India .. the flight lasted for around three hours, covered a return distance of 320 miles reaching nearly 30,000 feet clearing the mountain by a reported 100 feet .. close range photographs of Mt Everest proved the achievement which previously was not possible to any airplane .. 

further justification  -

the peak , the highest point on Earth .. the mountain , the Himalayas and the feat that seems to this generation to be no big deal, because they are unaware of the conditions and circumstances that prevailed then ..

Everest .. named by the British when they ruled over India ..

In the nineteenth century, the mountain was named after George Everest, a former Surveyor General of India. The Tibetan name is Chomolungma, which means “Mother Goddess of the World.” The Nepali name is Sagarmatha, which has various meanings.

Sagarmatha .. ‘sagar’ , the Ocean .. ‘matha’ churning .. and the Indian mythology that the Oceans were churned by the mountain to produce the ‘amrit’ ..

my interpretation .. though the knowledge from the records says this :

Sagarmatha is a Sanskrit word, from sagar = "sky" (not to be confused with "sea/ocean") and matha = "forehead" or "head", and is the modern Nepali name for Mount Everest.

the Goddess of the Sky .. in Tibet it is addressed as 

Therefore, the historic, local Tibetan name for Mount Everest is Chomolungma, also spelled Qomolangma, meaning "Goddess Mother of the World." Chomolungma is pronounced "CHOH-moh-LUHNG-m?." The Nepali name for Mount Everest is Sagarmatha, meaning "Godess of the Sky." Some refer to the entire massif of peaks as ...

and the many adventure stories on the Sagarmatha prevail .. 

And the great thrill at the time of a shooting in Nepal, when I went on a plane that flew us right next to the Everest and the experience almost unreal ..

Such be the moments of remembrance ..

It was a touristy matter and many such flights I do believe operate from Kathmandu, Nepal for the pleasure of tourists .. even now .. 

Its majesty has never reduced despite the conquering of it by several now ..  and the very sight of which evokes so much wonder .. the wonder of the Gods .. the makers that introduced us to us all .. and the reason of its formation .. that the entire subcontinent now known as India was a part of the continent of Africa, at Egypt .. and many millions of years ago the entire subcontinent broke away from the mother board and shifted travelled over the Indian Ocean, to the Eastern sub continent and attached itself there .. the impact of the joining of the land mass being so great , it formed the realm, now known as the Himalayas  !!

I do not have authenticity on this , but it does seem to be believed , historically and geographically .

and the day in recuperation and the meeting at the Gate , of the ever present well wisher ..

Amitabh Bachchan

and the signature above out of place , because the icon that opens the Desktop to search the sign is JUST not appearing ..  

and this has been on several times before too ..

this model of the updated Mac, the Ventura is absurd and has created many problems .. 

deliberately done to attract more when the changed model is brought out ?? marketing and manufacturing often does that  .. the deliberation to access the mode of investing in the latest and doing away with the present .. 

[vintageairplanehub]

Are Old Planes Safe to Fly?— A Look into the Reliability of Vintage Aircraft Models

Have you ever seen a vintage airplane model  fly and wondered, "Are old planes safe to fly?" The sight of these classic aviation models gracefully soaring through the sky can evoke a mix of nostalgia and admiration. Yet, it also raises questions about the safety of flying aircraft that have been around for decades.

The vintage airplane models lies in their historical importance and timeless design. These aircraft models represent an era when aviation was still in its infancy, and each flight was a pioneering adventure. However, the reality of flying these older planes in today's world requires careful consideration.

One key factor in determining the safety of old planes is the rigorous maintenance they undergo. Unlike modern aircraft, which are designed with advanced technology and materials, vintage airplane models rely heavily on regular inspections and meticulous upkeep. Owners and operators of these planes are often passionate about their aircraft, dedicating countless hours to ensuring that every component is in top condition. This attention to detail is critical because the safety of an old airplane models hinges on the reliability of its parts, many of which may no longer be in production and need to be custom-made or sourced from specialized suppliers.

Moreover, the regulatory environment for old planes are strict. Aviation authorities, such as the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), impose strict guidelines on the operation of vintage aircraft models. These regulations ensure that only planes that meet specific safety standards are allowed to take to the skies. This means that an old airplane model must pass the same rigorous checks as a modern aircraft before it can be deemed airworthy. The pilots flying these planes are also subject to special certifications, ensuring they have the skills and knowledge to handle these unique aircraft models safely.

However, flying a vintage airplane model is not without its challenges. These aircraft were built in a different era, using materials and techniques that may not match the durability and performance of today's standards. For example, older engines may not be as fuel-efficient or powerful as modern ones, which could impact the plane's overall performance. Additionally, the aerodynamics of some old planes may not be as refined, making them more challenging to handle, especially in adverse weather conditions.

Despite these challenges, many aviation enthusiasts argue that old planes can be just as safe as their modern counterparts when properly maintained and operated. The key lies in understanding the limitations of these aircraft models and respecting the knowledge that has been passed down through generations of pilots and engineers. Flying a vintage airplane is not about getting from point A to point B—it's about preserving a piece of aviation history and experiencing the joy of flight in the early days of aviation.

In fact, some vintage airplane models have become iconic in their own right, celebrated for their unique design and historical significance. Aircraft models like the Douglas DC-3, the Boeing Stearman, and the Piper Cub are beloved by pilots and aviation enthusiasts. These planes have earned their place in the annals of aviation history, and their continued operation is a testament to the dedication of those who keep them flying.

So, are old planes safe to fly? The answer is that with the right care, expertise, and respect for the aircraft's heritage, they can be. Vintage airplanes represent more than just a mode of transportation—they are living pieces of history, connecting us to the golden age of aviation. For those who appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship of these aircraft models, the joy of seeing them take flight is worth the extra effort to ensure their safety. Whether you're an aviation enthusiast or just someone who admires the grace of these old planes, there's something truly special about watching a piece of history roaming the skies in todays world.

[happilyhertale]

Finding the courage – Tom Bennett x female!reader, Part 5

Summary: You spent a sheltered childhood in Brighton. Until the time when your father died. Your mother is overwhelmed with the role of caring mother, which eventually leads you to leave home and seek happiness elsewhere. But you have not in the least anticipated what or who awaits you in your new adopted home.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warnings: In some parts Smut as well as Violence. There will be an extra warning for the respective parts.

Author’s note: Hey you (:

This short Tom Bennett story is based on the request that was sent to me.

The story takes place before the first season of World on fire. I hope you will enjoy the story! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

18+ NSFW

Word count: 3k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tom helps you with your morning chores because you're a bit behind now. But not without giving you a few kisses now and then. But every time his hands want to roam over your body, you take a step away from him. Then a smile curls his lips and he starts chasing you around the house. Eventually he catches you every time and wraps his arms tightly around you. You can't stop it and are showered with kisses. It's not that you don't enjoy it when he touches you. But you don't trust yourself as soon as he touches you. As soon as his hands explore your body, you can no longer think clearly. And you're a bit afraid that Lois might ask why the work isn't done. And instead of answering her normally, you would stutter...

Lois comes home that evening with Douglas. She doesn't seem to have told Douglas that she picked Tom up from prison that morning. Her mood also seems to have improved. She and Douglas laugh as they enter the hallway. She seems even more cheerful when she sees that dinner is already ready. How you managed all this in time, with Tom by your side, is a mystery to you.

After you have eaten together, Douglas retires to his room, he is very exhausted from the day. Lois also wants to retire as she has a headache and asks you if it is okay if she leaves you alone to do the dishes. You assure her that this is not a problem and that she should rest.

And so you get to work and start doing the dishes. Tom helps you wash up without you asking him for help. But you notice that he is grinning all the time. Eventually you can't ignore it any longer, "Why are you grinning all the time?"

He just shakes his head and winks at you, "No reason, love."

He's still grinning and you can't stop the heat from rising in your cheek. You turn back to the washing up and shake your head slightly, a faint smile on your lips.

"My blushing love...", you suddenly hear him whisper in your ear.

You hit him lightly, "Stop it Tom and do your job", you're trying to sound serious.

He laughs softly, "My job...? Okay"

After he has dutifully dried the last plate, he gives you a fleeting kiss on the cheek and goes into the living room. You still have to smile and bite your lower lip lightly. Your thoughts are still circling around Tom while you wipe the sink dry.

As you turn around, you see him standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and he is grinning at you.

"What is it now?" you ask, trying to suppress a smile.

He just holds out his hand without saying anything.

You place the tea towel on the sink as you slowly walk towards him and take his hand. He pulls you close and puts his arms around you. "I'm just doing my job," you hear him whisper. A light kiss lands on your lips. You look up into his eyes and feel the warmth flood through your body.

He pulls you into the living room and you see a few candles burning. He has adorned the room with the candles so that they envelop the room in a warm light. You have to smile and stand still for a moment to enjoy the sight. Tom stands next to you and pulls you towards him again. "Mhmm?" you hear him hum as he gently presses his nose into your hair. You look up at him and just smile. After a while, he pulls you further towards the sofa and you can't help but bite your lip. He lies down on the sofa and pulls you down to him. His chest presses firmly against your back and he presses his nose into the crook of your neck. You feel his chest gently rise and fall. His arms are wrapped tightly around you. His hands lie gently on your belly and caress you almost imperceptibly.

His embrace is enough for you to feel the warmth in your body turn into arousal between your thighs.

"What are you doing?" you whisper after a while.

"I want to hold you..." he lets his nose slide over your cheek, "I just want to hold you..."

Your breathing becomes heavier, "But Lois... and your father are upstairs..."

He chuckles softly and then you hear his deep voice, "Then we should be quiet."

His voice goes straight to your core and you feel your arousal rise further. You slowly begin to press the curves of your ass rhythmically against his crotch. His arousal also makes itself felt and presses against you.

You hear him moan softly into the crook of your neck.

Gently he spreads kisses on your neck. You feel him returning your movements and pressing his aroused length against you. You let your hand slide to the back of his head. Gently you reach into his hair and press him closer to you. Your hand sinks into his soft hair. His hand moves from your belly up to your breast and he grips it tightly. You cannot suppress a moan.

"Shh my blushing love... We don't want to be heard, do we?"

You can only nod and bite your lip. He continues to massage your chest, pressing his ever-growing arousal between your ass cheeks.

A "Tom...", leaves your lips and you hear him chuckle softly.

Slowly his hand leaves your breast. You feel his breath on the back of your neck as his hand moves down the side of your body. He gently caresses your body. When he reaches your thighs, he carefully pushes up your skirt. His fingers gently caress the inside of your thighs and you open them a little so that his fingers can run along your thighs more easily. You rest your leg on his leg to be more comfortable. But by now you are at the end of your patience. You really need to feel him now. You whimper slightly as his fingers slide further and further up. His fingers leave a trail of arousal on your skin. He reaches your panty waistband, "If I am interrupted again now... I think then I'll scream..."

You have to laugh at his sudden statement. You can feel his smirk against your neck.

And then he lets his fingers slide into your panties. You move your hips more and more rhythmically towards him. When he suddenly touches your folds. You press your lips together to stifle a moan.

Slowly he lets two fingers slide through your wetness, "Already so wet for me? Oh love... I had no idea how much you long for this..."

You can only nod, you don't trust yourself and as soon as you say something you are afraid a moan will escape instead.

Until his fingers turn their attention to your clit. They work it with firm, circular movements. Your breath quickens and you grip his hair harder, just to reach for something. You whimper as he moves his fingers away from your clit. Slowly he lets his fingers slide through your wet folds again until he pauses with his index finger in front of the entrance to your hot core.

Your impatience grows immeasurably and you whimper again as he slowly slides his finger inside you.

Your walls immediately clench around him.

"God Love... You are so fucking wet... So tight... I can't wait to feel your pussy around my cock"

Again a moan escapes you but Tom immediately presses his lips to yours to muffle it. Never before has a man aroused such feelings in you. Wild kisses follow as he guides his finger deeper and deeper into your moist, warm core. With each thrust, his finger reaches new depths inside you.

"Can you take another finger?" he whispers as he breaks the kiss. You nod and a "Yes, please," leaves your lips. He has to grin.

Immediately he lets another finger penetrate your wet core. You bite your lip. You have to take a deep breath because of both his naughty words and the way he works your wet core with his fingers. His index and middle fingers thrust in and out of you, his palm rubbing over your clit again and again with each thrust.

Your moisture runs down your thigh as Tom continues to work you with his two fingers. Every time he lets his fingers penetrate you deeper, the pressure against your clit doesn't let up either. Without effort, he keeps up his pace and doesn't let up with the thrusts. He notices how your walls keep tightening around him. "T-Tom," you stammer.

He kisses your neck as he slides his fingers faster inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of your moist core fill the room, only increasing your arousal.

Suddenly he angles his fingers and reaches your spongy spot inside you with each thrust. Your thighs begin to tremble and you start to see stars. As you notice the familiar sensation spreading through your lower belly.

"Don’t stop, Tom.. Please…"

Your hand reaches for his arm. You grasp it firmly to find a support. Your walls begin to clench around his fingers. "Yes… Come Love, cum on my fingers.... Show me how much you're enjoying this right now...", he whispers in your ear. That's enough to push you over the edge.

"Tom, fuuc...", Tom's lips are immediately on yours and stifle your moans. He slides his fingers out and in again and again until your walls stop spasming.

You do not interrupt the kiss until your breathing has returned to normal. Slowly he pulls his fingers from your warm insides and guides them to his mouth. He licks his fingers with pleasure, you stare at him with wide eyes, your cheek glowing.

"Mmhm you taste delicious my blushing love"

You giggle, "Stop it Tom"

"Well, until recently you didn't want me to stop," he grins at you. You bite your lower lip and twist in his arm. You look him straight in the face, he smiles. You kiss him softly and let your hand wander down his stomach.

"Mhmm what are you doing love?" he whispers.

Slowly you put your hand over his still visible bulge. "I don't want to keep anything from you"

He kisses you again and gently caresses your cheek.

"No need, love, I just had to do my job," he grins again.

You look at him almost indignantly, but have to grin. Gently he squeezes you tighter against his body and holds you.

After a while you whisper, "I should go to bed soon..."

He continues to hold you, "Noo... Stay here for a moment"

"But what if Lois sees me here?" you murmur into his chest.

"She won't," he whispers into your hair.

You smile and cuddle your face further into his chest.

Slowly you drift off to sleep, accompanied by his calm breathing, his steady heartbeats and his fingers gently caressing your back.

When you wake up again, you are lying in your bed. Tom must have brought you upstairs and you didn't even realise it...

Cautiously you look past the curtain, but Lois's bed is empty. She must have already gone to work.

You get up and the day goes by without any incident. Tom helps you during the day to finish your chores. But of course not without trying to engage you in wild kisses and letting his hands wander along your body. Somehow you find it harder to resist him, but you do your best.

Around afternoon Lois comes home and you prepare dinner. Tom and Douglas are sitting in the living room when you call them over so you can eat.

Conversation and laughter fill the kitchen. Even Lois doesn't seem to be angry with Tom anymore and is fooling around with him.

"Guys, tomorrow night I'm singing at the Dancing Mouse. You should come!"

You are chewing on a carrot when Tom replies, "Uuf... Lois.. You know I don't like that sort of thing. If you were singing in the pub, I'd be there," he winks at her.

As you turn to her and pat her hand, "I'd love to hear you sing! And I'd like to dance again, too," you smile.

Tom can't take his eyes off you.

"Ay! That would be great!", Lois giggles, "I'm sure there are some pretty boys there who would be great to dance with", she winks at you.

A slight blush comes to your face and you have to giggle. Tom feels a pinch in his chest. He doesn't know if he feels it because your giggle hits him right in the heart or because he doesn't want to imagine you dancing with other men. He can't bear the idea of them letting their hands wander over your body under the pretext of dancing.

He clears his throat, "Well, I guess I'll have to come after all... Someone has to watch out for you giggling girls."

Lois rolls her eyes in annoyance and looks at him, "Don't worry about it, we'll be fine. And besides, Harry will be there. He'll look out for us."

"Pfft, Harry... That's what I want to see, Mr Snob protecting you. He wouldn't even know how to swing his fist without help."

"Who's Harry?" you interject.

"He's Lois' boyfriend," Tom purses his lips and makes kissing noises.

You giggle as Lois hits him across the table, "Stop it Tom!"

Tom pulls his arm away with a jerk and almost falls off his chair to the side, causing you to laugh a lot more. Douglas looks up from his newspaper, "Kids. Stop hitting each other while you're sitting at the table. Don't you have a room for that?"

After a short silence, you laugh together and Douglas looks at his newspaper again with a slight grin. Once you have all finished eating, Lois goes upstairs. She still has to pick out the perfect dress for the performance. Douglas has retired to the living room to read the newspaper. You have gathered up the dishes from the table and carried them over to the sink. Lost in thought, you watch the sink fill up with warm water. Slowly you begin to wash the glasses when you suddenly feel Tom approaching you from behind. His warm breath tickles your neck. You notice the light smoke from his cigarette. Neither of you says anything and you continue to try to wash up. When you feel his soft lips gently caressing your neck. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment. Your hands stop their work as you notice his hands reach around you from behind and gently press you against him. Gently they rest on your lower belly and caress you softly. You immediately feel the effect this has on your warm core. Never before has anyone evoked such a reaction in you with such banal touches... You are literally on fire.

You close your eyes and lean your head back. Tom presses himself closer to you, slowly spreading light kisses on your neck.

"Tom...?" you whisper.

"Mmm?" he hums against your skin. The vibration sends a shiver through your body that reaches its climax between your thighs. You clutch the edge of the sink.

"Your father is in the living room," you breathe.

"He'd better stay there," you feel his smirk on your skin.

You giggle lightly.

Until you hear him whisper, "I needed to feel you one more time... I had to make sure it wasn't just a dream..."

You turn in his arms and he smiles at you. You put your hands on his chest and immediately his shirt soaks with water from your wet hands. Two handprints are visible on his shirt.

"Oh! Tom," you look at his wet chest, startled.

"Nah.. Don't worry, my blushing love," and with one movement he pulls his shirt over his head. Now he stands in front of you, grinning, as he notices how you can't take your eyes off him.

Your gaze is fixed on his chest, on his perfectly defined chest. You bite your lower lip lightly. Slowly, he leans in and kisses you. You lean completely into the kiss, for too long your lips have been parted. Your hands wander around his neck and you pull him further towards you. Again you notice a smile forming on his lips. Slowly he presses his thigh between your legs and you can't stop it and moan softly. "Ssh... love... my father is in the living room after all"

You pull his hair a little and he groans in response.

As his hand runs along the familiar path on your thigh, you hear him whisper, "Are you wishing my father wasn't in the living room...? That we could just go over there...? That I could make your thighs tremble until you come around my cock?"

A "Tom" escapes you as his fingers reach your now completely soaked panties.

Desperately you cling to his shoulders and thrust your hips towards him for any satisfaction. "Mhmm... So needy, my blushing love," he whispers in your ear.

You stifle a moan as he applies more pressure against your wet folds. Only your moist panties still separate his fingers from your warm core.

As Lois calls from above, "Y/n? Can you give me a hand? I can't decide which dress to wear!"

Tom kisses your neck and lets his fingers continue to roam over your panties. You try to find your voice again, but then Tom replies, "No Lois, she's..." but you press your hand over his mouth, hoping he will be quiet.

"Yea... Sure... I'm coming, Lois!"

"Already?", Tom chuckles.

You push him away slightly, and it almost looks like he's pouting.

"Ha-Ha Tom... Don't be so sure of yourself...", you try to sound convincing while still breathing heavily.

"Well, yesterday it sounded different..," he whispers to you, a grin on his lips.

You try to suppress a smile, but can't. Slowly you walk over to the stairs.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[jedimaesteryoda]

Red Wedding II

Take into account that after the Black Dinner that inspired the Red Wedding, one of the architects behind the Black Dinner was James Douglas III, uncle to the two boys killed, leaving him their title and seat as Earl of Douglas. Twelve years, later, history repeated itself when James’s son William was murdered at a dinner in Sterling Castle. There is likely going to be another Red Wedding in The Winds of Winter.

Whose POV is it going to be through?

Jaime, or if not him, then Brienne.

Who is getting married?

Ser Daven snorted. "I'll wed and bed my stoat, never fear. I know what happened to Robb Stark. From what Edwyn tells me, though, I'd best pick one who hasn't flowered yet, or I'm like to find that Black Walder has been there first

-AFFC, Jaime V

Daven Lannister to his Frey bride. In a fit of irony, he cites Robb Stark breaking his agreement to marry a Frey leading to his demise, yet it is his honoring the agreement and his wedding to a Frey that results in his demise.

Where is it going to be?

Riverrun. Its proximity and equidistance to the Westerlands and the Twins makes it the perfect location. It is the castle Daven besieged, the former capital of the Riverlands and the sight of the final Lannister-Frey victory over House Tully when they took their overlords’ castle signifying their de facto rule over the riverlands. It also helps that the Blackfish left it stocked with plenty of food meant to last a two year siege. 

Who is going to be there?

A number of other Freys are likely going to be there including Emmon and Genna’s family since they are the Lords of Riverrun.

Lord Walder Frey is going to be there. This wedding is a big deal, celebrating the alliance between Houses Lannister and Frey, and as shown with his defilement of Robb and Cat’s bodies, he is a petty men who likes to humiliate his enemies. Having his kin’s wedding at his former overlords’ castle is something he cannot pass up. 

It also draws one other person. 

Lord Emmon rubbed his mouth. His hand came away red and slimy from the sourleaf. "To be sure. Riverrun is mine, and no man shall ever take it from me."

-AFFC, Jaime VII

Lady Stoneheart could not stand the idea of her two most hated enemies celebrating in her family’s ancestral seat. She has her agent Tom O’Sevens in the castle who would likely tell her of the wedding and that Lord Walder is attending. Lord Walder being there means she will definitely come.  

She also won’t be the only Tully visiting. 

"After the trouble Ser Brynden took to leave us, I doubt that he'll come skulking back." Unless it is at the head of a band of outlaws. He did not doubt that the Blackfish meant to continue the fight.

-AFFC, Jaime VII

The Brotherhood would likely find Brynden and he would of course aid his niece in taking back their family seat. Edmure might be there as well, rescued by the Brotherhood.

How will it go down?

Walder and a few men and Freys from the Twins will come down to celebrate Daven’s wedding in a celebration of the Lannister-Frey alliance as the Lannisters control the Iron Throne and the Freys are de facto liege lords of the riverlands. Tom O’Sevens acting as an agent will coordinate with the Brotherhood to get them into the castle during the celebration.

The smallfolk of Riverrun will likely aid the Brotherhood given they served the Tullys their whole lives and remember Edmure for sheltering them in his castle during the Battle of the Fords while their new lord Emmon doesn’t inspire much confidence in even his own family, and he made them all stand out in the rain for three hours talking about what he expected of them. That’s not even mentioning that they all know he got Riverrun as a reward for the reviled Red Wedding, and his wife Genna is a Lannister, sister and aunt to the same people who attacked them. The smallfolk will likely hold no love for any of the occupants, wedding guests or garrison.

The Brotherhood will also have Jaime and Brienne, with the former in a position similar to the one Roslin was in the first Red Wedding in that he is forced to play a role in the massacre. Like with Brienne who was forced to lure Jaime to them, they will likely force Jaime to serve as a Trojan horse with the Brotherhood using Brienne as a hostage to ensure Jaime will follow through on his part. He will arrive with a supposedly captured Blackfish (and possibly Edmure) as a wedding gift and with the Brotherhood in tow disguised as his men to lure Riverrun into letting them in. Most of them will likely mingle with the Riverrun garrison who will be feasting separate from the main party while a few accompany Jaime to the great hall. 

The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits. With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew "The Rains of Castamere" when she heard it. Edwyn was hurrying toward a door. She hurried faster, driven by the music. Six quick strides and she caught him. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? She grabbed Edwyn by the arm to turn him and went cold all over when she felt the iron rings beneath his silken sleeve.

-ASOS, Catelyn VII

Like the first Red Wedding, the attack will be signaled by a song. In this case, Tom O’ Sevens will play “Wolf in the Night,” the song commemorating Robb’s victory at Oxcross to signal the attack.

The Brotherhood without Banners and any of Riverrun’s smallfolk will kill off the garrison. Lady Stoneheart then reveals herself at the wedding. Lord Walder’s reaction would be noted now that he is no longer protected behind the walls of the Twins and finds himself surrounded by foes in an enemy castle completely exposed. The same man who quivered at a ten year-old Tywin speaking against Emmon’s match to Genna would undoubtedly be terrified at an undead Lady Catelyn having come for revenge. 

"on my honor as a Stark, I will trade your boy's life for Robb's. A son for a son." Her hand shook so badly she was ringing Jinglebell's head.

Boom, the drum sounded, boom doom boom doom. The old man's lips went in and out. The knife trembled in Catelyn's hand, slippery with sweat. "A son for a son, heh," he repeated. "But that's a grandson . . . and he never was much use."

-ASOS, Catelyn VII

Walder will likely make a similar offer of “a son for a son” in a way that shows the contrast between the two characters. While Catelyn offered to spare his kin to save her son’s life, he would be offering his sons’ lives to spare his own, ie “I’m sorry, I know you’re mad about your son’s death. So, how about this? Just to make us even you can kill one of mine. Take Emmon. If you want you can take more.”

Of course, it would work just as well as Cat’s did. Stoneheart won’t be swayed anymore than he was, and he like Cat was, is without any bargaining room. Lord Walder would likely get the most gruesome fate.

Catelyn would gladly have spitted the querulous old man and roasted him over a fire, but she had only till evenfall to open the bridge. Calmly, she said, "All the more reason that we must reach Riverrun, and soon. Where can we go to talk, my lord?”

-AGOT, Catelyn IX

Addam Marbrand's scouts had found them, hanging black-faced beneath a crabapple tree. The corpses had been stripped naked, and each man had a crabapple shoved between his teeth. None bore any wounds; plainly, they had yielded. Strongboar had grown furious at that, vowing bloody vengeance on the heads of any men who would truss up warriors to die like suckling pigs.

-AFFC, Jaime V

Walder will be put on a spit and roasted like a suckling pig over a fire. Such a thing would not be easy for Jaime to watch given it would be reliving his traumatic experience of seeing Aerys burn people alive.

The rest of the Freys and Lannisters captured who aren’t cut down will likely be hanged. Genna might survive, but she would see her children and possibly grandchildren hanged. She would be a mother who lost her family, exactly Cat’s situation at the end of the Red Wedding. 

Brynden and Edmure would likely be disillusioned seeing what became of her, realizing this isn’t the Catelyn they knew and loved.

Jaime would escape Riverrun and the Brotherhood eventually, and like last time he would escape with Brienne. But as for House Frey, Walder was the glue holding them all together, and with him gone it’s going to be a civil war in the Twins over who becomes the Lord of the Crossing with Edwyn being next in line but his brother Black Walder will be looking to take that title and Lame Lothar will be working behind the scenes.