#Diversity News Radio

[diversitynewsmagazineorg]

Nina Svet Is Winner of Mrs European Universe 2023

Nina Svet is the winner of Mrs European Universe 2023 On February 23, 2023, the Mrs European Universe pageant was held at the Taglyan Complex 1201 North, 1219 Vine St, Los Angeles, CA 90038 from 5:30 pm. The event held a red carpet arrivals, dinner banquet, celebrity judges and live performances. Nina Svet is the winner of Mrs European Universe 2023. Mrs European Universe 2023 Mrs European…

[alwaysbewoke]

[nostalgia-tblr]

"Oh but *I* don't get sucked in by The Capitalism, I only bought this one item that directly involves My Fave."

Yeah, so do most people. Endless merch streams are not made with the expectation that a significant number of people will buy *all* of it, they know most people will buy one or two items and nothing else, the point of making so much was it's more likely they'll have made those two items you desperately needed in order to scratch your fannish itch. If you want that [character] mug then fine, buy it, have fun with it, but you haven't somehow tricked The Capitalism by not buying every single item with the right logo on it.

[twistedsoulmusic]

We have a new selection of tunes we have enjoyed lately to share with you on our latest Blue-In-Green:RADIO show. You’ll find everything from folk to afro-soul, tropicalia, jazz, hip hop, and indie. Plus, two fantastic tracks from the newly released Dave Okumu & The 7 Generations album.

[chameleon777-me]

Enjoying the grand opening of the @cbc news station in Lethbridge! It's nice to be a witness to a moment in Communications history in Canada! @cbcnews @cbcradio #cbc #news #radio #communication #talking #alberta #yql #lethbridge #canada #history #voices #diversity #celebrate #enjoy (at Lethbridge, Alberta) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnpdR6nvq1d/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[reasonsforhope]

"In response to last year’s record-breaking heat due to El Niño and impacts from climate change, Indigenous Zenù farmers in Colombia are trying to revive the cultivation of traditional climate-resilient seeds and agroecology systems.

One traditional farming system combines farming with fishing: locals fish during the rainy season when water levels are high, and farm during the dry season on the fertile soils left by the receding water.

Locals and ecologists say conflicts over land with surrounding plantation owners, cattle ranchers and mines are also worsening the impacts of the climate crisis.

To protect their land, the Zenù reserve, which is today surrounded by monoculture plantations, was in 2005 declared the first Colombian territory free from GMOs.

...

In the Zenù reserve, issues with the weather, climate or soil are spread by word of mouth between farmers, or on La Positiva 103.0, a community agroecology radio station. And what’s been on every farmer’s mind is last year’s record-breaking heat and droughts. Both of these were charged by the twin impacts of climate change and a newly developing El Niño, a naturally occurring warmer period that last occurred here in 2016, say climate scientists.

Experts from Colombia’s Institute of Hydrology, Meteorology and Environmental Studies say the impacts of El Niño will be felt in Colombia until April 2024, adding to farmers’ concerns. Other scientists forecast June to August may be even hotter than 2023, and the next five years could be the hottest on record. On Jan. 24, President Gustavo Petro said he will declare wildfires a natural disaster, following an increase in forest fires that scientists attribute to the effects of El Niño.

In the face of these changes, Zenù farmers are trying to revive traditional agricultural practices like ancestral seed conservation and a unique agroecology system.

Pictured: Remberto Gil’s house is surrounded by an agroforestry system where turkeys and other animals graze under fruit trees such as maracuyá (Passiflora edulis), papaya (Carica papaya) and banana (Musa acuminata colla). Medicinal herbs like toronjil (Melissa officinalis) and tres bolas (Leonotis nepetifolia), and bushes like ají (Capsicum baccatum), yam and frijol diablito (beans) are part of the undergrowth. Image by Monica Pelliccia for Mongabay.

“Climate change is scary due to the possibility of food scarcity,” says Rodrigo Hernandez, a local authority with the Santa Isabel community. “Our ancestral seeds offer a solution as more resistant to climate change.”

Based on their experience, farmers say their ancestral seed varieties are more resistant to high temperatures compared to the imported varieties and cultivars they currently use. These ancestral varieties have adapted to the region’s ecosystem and require less water, they tell Mongabay. According to a report by local organization Grupo Semillas and development foundation SWISSAID, indigenous corn varieties like blaquito are more resistant to the heat, cariaco tolerates drought easily, and negrito is very resistant to high temperatures.

The Zenù diet still incorporates the traditional diversity of seeds, plant varieties and animals they consume, though they too are threatened by climate change: from fish recipes made from bocachico (Prochilodus magdalenae), and reptiles like the babilla or spectacled caiman (Caiman crocodilus), to different corn varieties to prepare arepas (cornmeal cakes), liquor, cheeses and soups.

“The most important challenge we have now is to save ancient species and involve new generations in ancestral practice,” says Sonia Rocha Marquez, a professor of social sciences at Sinù University in the city of Montería.

...[Despite] land scarcity, Negrete says communities are developing important projects to protect their traditional food systems. Farmers and seed custodians, like Gil, are working with the Association of Organic Agriculture and Livestock Producers (ASPROAL) and their Communitarian Seed House (Casa Comunitaria de Semillas Criollas y Nativas)...

Pictured: Remberto Gil is a seed guardian and farmer who works at the Communitarian Seed House, where the ASPROL association stores 32 seeds of rare or almost extinct species. Image by Monica Pelliccia for Mongabay.

Located near Gil’s house, the seed bank hosts a rainbow of 12 corn varieties, from glistening black to blue to light pink to purple and even white. There are also jars of seeds for local varieties of beans, eggplants, pumpkins and aromatic herbs, some stored in refrigerators. All are ancient varieties shared between local families.

Outside the seed bank is a terrace where chickens and turkeys graze under an agroforestry system for farmers to emulate: local varieties of passion fruit, papaya and banana trees grow above bushes of ají peppers and beans. Traditional medicinal herbs like toronjil or lemon balm (Melissa officinalis) form part of the undergrowth.

Today, 25 families are involved in sharing, storing and commercializing the seeds of 32 rare or almost-extinct varieties.

“When I was a kid, my father brought me to the farm to participate in recovering the land,” says Nilvadys Arrieta, 56, a farmer member of ASPROAL. “Now, I still act with the same collective thinking that moves what we are doing.”

“Working together helps us to save, share more seeds, and sell at fair price [while] avoiding intermediaries and increasing families’ incomes,” Gil says. “Last year, we sold 8 million seeds to organic restaurants in Bogotà and Medellín.”

So far, the 80% of the farmers families living in the Zenù reserve participate in both the agroecology and seed revival projects, he adds."

-via Mongabay, February 6, 2024

[coneheads-deserved-a-noble-prize]

I AM SO TIRED OF PEOPLE ASSOCIATING ALASTOR WITH ONLY JAMBALAYA SO HERE ARE OTHER CREOLE DISHES YOU HEATHENS

Fanfiction and Comic creators, this is for you especially.

Crawfish Étouffée

This beautiful dish was invented in Breaux Bridge Louisiana, where our favourite radio star is from! Although it's invention is attributed the Herbet Hotel in the 1950s -after Alastors death- it is a classic.

Crawfish Étouffée has a sauce typically made from a blonde roux with that classic cajun seasoning. It contains the Holy Trinity of cajun cooking too: bell peppers, onions and celery. The main meat of this dish is crawfish tails and it is usually served with carbs like cornbread, cajun rice or vegetables such as green beans and potato salad.

It is chock full of flavour, and a filling inexpensive dish for low income families - which I believe Alastor is from.

Some alternatives to the crawfish are chicken and shrimp.

-----

The difference between Étouffée and Gumbo.

These two often get mixed up, and I understand, they're both classic Bayou dishes. Here's how to differentiate them.

Texture: Both dishes use shrimp, chicken, or crawfish tail broth. BUT Jumbo has a thicker consistency, it's made from a dark roux and it tends to use more liquid to remain stew-like.

Flavour: Gumbo and Étouffée both use Cajun seasoning, but due to Étouffées blonde roux, it has a lighter, sweeter taste than the darker, fullness of flavour in Gumbo.

Meat: Gumbo uses a variety of meats at the same time (often shrimp and sausage are key components), as mentioned in the alternatives above, Étouffée typically does not.

-----

2. Red Beans and Rice

We're on a roll guys! This is another dish from Louisiana! Although, it is specifically associated with New Orleans, where Alastor hosted his radio show. It has a fascinating history, partly due to it's African and French/Spanish routes - But it was also a struggle meal during the Great Depression. It was originally a Creole, not Cajun dish.

(Note: Red Beans and Kidney Beans are different legumes)

This dish also contains the Holy Trinity, as well as bay leaves, oregano, cayenne pepper, garlic powder and more. Its protein comes from Andouille sausages, but like Gumbo, a variety of meats are used. If you want Alastor to be traditional about it, he should make it on a Monday incorporating the left over ham bones from Sunday dinner. It is also complimented with long grain white rice and green beans, amongst many other things.

Considering Alastor witnessed the Stock Market Crash of 1929 -which led to the Great Depression - There is no way he hasn't come across this dish before.

3. Creole Bread Pudding

The queen of Creole Dessert has arrived. Can you guess where she's from? DING-DING-DING! That's right! New Orleans Louisiana baby! Recipes of this treat have been recorded since 1885, so it suffices to say she's a classic.

Like most bread puddings, it is made by combining stale bread (preferably French), beaten eggs and milk. However, this variation often has an incredible amount of vanilla extract. What it will be complimented with varies from person to person. Some examples are: Whipped meringue and whisky, raisins and apple, or walnuts and butter.

Although not as popular in the modern day, I like to imagine this is something Mimzy, Rosie and Alastor might share together on a day out.

-----

There you go! I hope you enjoyed this - but more importantly I hope this helps people create a more diverse version of those cosy Alastor cooking scenes that I love.

[weebsinstash]

I want yandere Alastor being the biggest fucking hypocrite on the block and getting painfully humbled by reality so fucking bad you don't understand

I want a story where you stumble into becoming his friend with benefits, become the person who gets him interested in sex as a physical activity, and then one day you ask him "hey, what are we?" And his response being ABSOLUTELY RUDE AS HELL, albeit unintentionally, and you immediately cut him off from sex because his reply was basically the equivalent of "you're fun to sleep with, but the rest of you? No :)" (and also maybe he didn't even fully mean it, maybe he only partially meant it but he can tell he's forming some kind of new emotion for you and he doesn't want that to become a point of weakness for him so he's pushing you away but once you're actually gone he wants you back more than ANYTHING--)

I want yandere Alastor who laughs in your face if you nervously ask him if you're his girlfriend or something but then when you show up around town with another man less than a week later and he sees how easily you REPLACED HIM, he's just absolutely losing his mind. What do you MEAN you were still sleeping with other men this whole time?!?! The Radio Demon was getting SLOPPY SECONDS??? WHY would you let these-these disgusting bastards DEGRADE YOU-- meanwhile you and him could've been having like hardcore bdsm sex with actual degradation or some semi respectful form of it and he's STILL over here "B B BUT THESE MEN PROBABLY DONT EVEN RESPECT YOU--" and neither did you, you laughed in my fucking face you bitch!!!

yandere Alastor just having to sit and have a fulllll glass of whiskey and ruminate on his thoughts as he tries to come to terms with these sudden EXTREMELY POSSESSIVE feelings and urges he has. What do you MEAN he wasn't providing anything for you that you couldn't get somewhere else AND BETTER AND ALREADY HAVE BEEN? what do you MEAN you're making gifts for and going out and having actual fun dates with some of these men? What do you fucking MEAN YOU'RE 'ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH SOMEONE ELSE NOW' AND WOULDN'T SLEEP WITH ALASTOR EVEN IF HE APOLOGIZED BECAUSE YOU REALLY LIKE THIS GUY--

Alastor hardcore coping, trying not to think about you at all, telling himself he just needs time and this'll all blow over and he wont even think about you anymore, and eventually finds his feet carrying him to your favorite jazz club that he would take you to, AND YOU'RE ALREADY THERE WITH ANOTHER MAN. Now THIS is what causes Alastor to finally have a public episode. No, some RANDO can't come with you HERE, this is YOUR place, OUR place, it's special, it's for Alastor and you ONLY!! basically turns him into a little kid stomping his foot going no no no that's MINE!!!

This narcissistic ass man really ain't shit, over here responding to your actually extremely valid question of "what are we?" because you were actually trying to respectfully ask him if there were any certain boundaries or if you were now exclusive, and he hits you with some deflective dehumanizing diversion like "what makes you think I would have THOSE kinds of feelings about YOU?" until he's painfully aware you're sleeping with another man, kissing another man, making hot meals for another man, holding his hand tenderly as you take a leisurely stroll, GOD FORBID HE CATCHES WIND OF ANY MARRIAGE TALK, HE WILL FUCKING L O S E IT

Juat the idea of him being so close to having what he wants - your body, heart, AND mind- and he fucks it up big time and ruins your relationship and self esteem so badly. He tries to pretend that he doesn't need your attention and/or affection but the second he doesn't have EITHER, he's a jealous mess trying to literally one-up whomever you're with, show off, impress you, usually digging his hole even deeper. Alastor becoming more unpredictable over time, literally losing sleep over you, absolutely CONVINCED 500% that all of these, shall we say, "more modern men" that you're choosing are not even worth the dirt in the treads of your shoes.

Just twirling my hair kicking my feet thinking bout yandere Alastor, becoming dead-set on genuinely and fully believing he has to save you not just from these men, but also yourself. Oh honey, he's so sorry, CLEARLY this is his fault for not watching over you better. He already knew you were... delicate and naive, but here you are, running around letting these men treat you like some kind of object just because you need what you perceive as acceptance and validation. It almost breaks his heart, truly, but don't worry darlin'! He's a southern gentleman and, SURELY he can turn up the charm and make it clear to you that you MISUNDERSTOOD HIM, right? :) You're going to GIVE HIM ANOTHER CHANCE, right? :)

genuinely, i feel like this man is more likely to try and gaslight you into believing you completely misinterpreted what he said instead of just apologizing let alone ADMITTING that he himself didn't communicate jack shit about shit, wasn't honest or up front about his feelings, and may have even be intentionally cruel to you in a moment of weakness to try and keep his own insecurities at bay, but then is fully capable of convincing, some may even say BRAINWASHING you into believing, oh sweetie, if these DEGENERATE DELIQUENTS somehow convinced you that your best friend and future husband is somehow your enemy, then, CLEARLY he hasn't been keeping you close enough to properly care for you and help you keep a clear head, has he? guess it's a good thing both of you are Sinners and he has NOTHING but time to show you EXACTLY what his intentions are. So, dear doe, which do you like the sound of more: a spring wedding, or a summer wedding, or maaaaaybe you two could even get hitched during some lovely acid rain so your new spouse can demonically laugh at all your screaming "gentleman callers" captive in the wedding audience who "accidentally" weren't put under any gazebos or any sort of protection while being forced to watch Alastor take you away--

[allthecanadianpolitics]

When Viet Vu first calculated the gender pay gap for women in the Canadian tech industry, he was blown away.

Despite recent efforts to boost equity and diversity in the field, the pay gap between men and women tripled over five years between 2015 and 2021, according to a new report from Toronto Metropolitan University.

As of 2021, the average woman in the industry was making roughly $20,000 less than her male counterpart, up from $7,200 five years prior. 

"I thought that I had made a coding error," Vu, the report's co-author, told As It Happens host Nil Köksal. "I had to check the number again and again." [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[diversitynewsmagazineorg]

Koenig Spray Polish All In One Home Cleaner

Koenig Spray Polish – Click on picture to order. Koenig Spray Polish All In One Home Cleaner PERIOD. If you take pride in the appearance of your vehicle, you know that detailing is not just a chore; it is a series of chores that require a variety of waxes, polishes, and cleaners, in order to properly finish the job. If you are like us, you’ve dreamed of a single product that could not only take…

[earlycuntsets]

"Chemical Reaction forms Chemical Romance"

What a year it has been for My Chemical Romance. Only just forming this year and now they are on the verge on releasing their debut album later this month. It seems nothing can go wrong for these guys at the minute so I though I would be apart of the good fortune and ask Gerard a couple of questions and what the key too their success was, this is what he had to say.

Anemic: Hey Gerard, thanks for taking you time to do this interview?

Gerard: You're welcome. Thank you for giving us one. Sorry it took a bit to respond.

Anemic: No problem at all mate, so how are you doing today?

Gerard: We're doing very well thank you. Mostly healthy and almost all of our teeth!

Anemic: Well I must say it's been a rapid rise for you guys to say the least, you only formed at the start of the year and now you have an album coming out next month on Eyeball Records, how are you taking in all in?

Gerard: It's been more than would could have imagined when we started the band. From our first show we've been getting such a nice positive response. Getting signed by Eyeball Records really clinched it and since then we've been on a roll. We're all smiles.

Anemic: So how has it been getting your material out their, I mean you guys must be doing a great live show for people to stand up and take notice of how well you guys are really doing?

Gerard: After recording we were a little rusty as far as performing the material live but after the last weekend of shows we're back to 100%. We try to put on the most honest, energetic, and intense show we possibly can and it has paid off for us so far. It's really like therapy for us to be up there, we would do the same show for 5 or 500 people, the same energy would be there. Getting radio play and having a pressence on the web has helped get the material out there but our biggest push has been word of mouth.

Anemic: With live shows there must be a lot of fans, how would describe you fans?

Gerard: Well it depends. Alot of people that come out to see us have just heard about us so they don't know what to expect. Generally after we start playing alot of people just take a step back, this just happened in Deleware last weekend. I think they may think we're going to hit them but I always try and promise them we won't, we would never do that. We just go crazy up there. The fans that know us are all great, they are always friendly and our first biggest fan, Carlos, is the head of our street team now. The best way to describe our fans would be "diverse". We get all kinds.

Anemic: Who has been the best band you have played along side so far?

Gerard: Pencey Prep, without a doubt.

Anemic: How was it recording the new album, was their a good vibe in the studio were you could go about things the way you wanted them too without having any hassles in the process?

Gerard: The vibe in the studio was excellent. Very positive all the way through. Geoff, Alex, and John were great to work with and brought alot to the table creatively. It was hard to finish because there was a situation where Gerard ended up in the emergency room 5 times and it slowed down recording but we were still able to come under the deadline and make exactly the album we wanted.

Anemic: What should we expect from the new album?

Gerard: Well it's our first album so I would expect to see a band that evolves from the first songs that were written to the last. Expect a very different sound from what is out there right now. Very honest, sincere, aggresive. We make music that we would want to hear and thats why we play it so hard.

Anemic: Once the new record is out and selling to you guys plan to seel it on a global scale i.e maybe in Australia?

Gerard: Eyeball Records just got hooked up with worldwide distrobution, so the album will be available in Australia upon release I believe. We're very excited about that!

Anemic: Who are your musical influences, I guess you would have heaps and heaps but who are the ones that stand out the most for you?

Gerard: Classical guitarists, The Smiths, The Misfits, Queen, At The Gates, Iron Maiden.

Anemic: Before starting the band what did you guys do to occupy you time?

Gerard: Ray is a film maker. Matt is a mechanic. Mikey was in college. Frank was in college as well. Gerard is an artist. Other than that we used to play video games, watch zombie movies, drink beer, hang out, stuff like that.

Anemic: Some rumours I have heard is that you guys like Bats, what's the fascination with them, is it the Will Haven song BATS, or you just like the species?

Gerard: Haha...the whole bat thing came about at an early practice when Mikey joined and we finally gelled. Our energy just came together and a giant heavy metal vortex opened up and out flew a swarm of bats. We all saw it. It was like an awakening. After that we accepted bats into our lives. It was also while we were playing "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" so it probably had alot to do with that.

interview by simon from anemic magazine may 2003

[camarocarfight]

Alastor's Bloody Valentine

Human Alastor x Reader late Valentine's Day special

Rated very mature with sexual content, murder, blood, and gore. Set in the 1930s with human characters. I suppose you could look at this as being a little Alastor back story.

Maybe there'll be a part deux?

It's kinda edited, but I got lazy and lost interest, and I just wanted to finish it. I hope all of you dear readers enjoy!

New Orleans, 1932

There was a chill in the air, carried in on a breeze that whistled through the old willow trees, and rustled their long, spindle-like branches. The trill of grasshoppers and crickets and the occasional screech of a night owl were customary of the bayou. Only interrupted by the nightly steam train, whose whistle echoed for miles until it faded like a whisper. There was no moon - only an ebony sky accompanied by its thousands of starry hosts. 

As serene as it all seemed, the bayou was one of the most dangerous places to be in 1932. Not just because of the alligators, snakes, and venomous spiders. The neighboring town was full of talk about the Louisiana serial killer, who lured their victims into the darkness of the bayou to slaughter them, leaving no trace or remains. People simply vanished, though it seemed to be mostly men of diverse age and status. Innocent and not so innocent. The most recent being a younger gentleman who had just gotten married. The papers did fail to mention that he'd nearly beaten his new wife within an inch of her life not long after the wedding, but news traveled fast. He was the thirteenth person to go missing.

With Valentine's Day came the fear of who the next victim would be. Mothers and wives kept tight leashes on their sons and husbands, and the police put in place a mandatory curfew. Temporary police sentinels were stationed on street corners, keeping watch over the streets day and night. Which subsequently made it more difficult to get to and from the only speakeasy in town. The police were happy - killing two birds with one stone. 

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, don't let this curfew get you down. Take your gal out on the town for some swing and make the most out of your Valentine's Day. Ladies, keep your gents close, and stay safe-”

“Y’see,” Mimzy turned the cathedral radio off with a huff and crossed her arms over her voluptuous chest. “This curfew is ruinin’ everything!” 

You rolled your eyes and leaned your elbow on the bar and rested your cheek in the palm of your hand. Mimzy had been on a tangent for the last week for having to close the speakeasy. Being that it was in the basement of an old sugar mill, it was too risky to keep it running with the police snooping around. In one night, with the help of Husker, all of the liquor was moved under the cover of darkness to the crawl space of Alastor's hunting cabin deep in the bayou. The liquor would at least be safe if the police felt it necessary to search the sugar mill. The only thing they'd find would be an empty stage and bar. 

With no speakeasy, the regular meet and greet for you and all of your friends was the cabin. It was a comfortable space, at least. Alastor had used the extra money he made from his radio show to install new, polished wood floors, a nice bar, and even a loft with a decent sized bed when he would stay for the first week of hunting. It also had a decent kitchen, which was Alastor's favorite feature. As for you, Alastor made sure to give you your own bit of space. In the corner of the main room was a stone fireplace with book shelves flanking either side. The shelves were filled to the brim with books of every genre. Hanging above the fireplace was Alastor’s prized Stag - previously occupied by Alastor’s portrait from when he was in the service. You never did tell him just how creepy you found the stuffed creature. Alastor loved the hunting sport, but you appreciated wildlife as just that; alive. 

Mimzy sauntered over from the radio and sat herself on a rickety barstool, her brows pinched. “How am I gonna make money? Who knows how long this whole thing will go on for. And where's Alastor? His show ended an hour ago. His ass better not be dead too.”

You sighed and stood from your barstool to round the bar. There was a bottle of, ironic enough, Red Stag that was already open. It wasn't your first choice, but prohibition made everyone less picky. You poured yourself a generous glass, only for Mimzy to swipe it from you, and gulp it down in one swig. Your eye twitched in irritation as you glared at the woman through your lashes. The relationship between the two of you was decent enough, but as of late, she'd been grating your nerves and testing your patience. Mimzy's flamboyant personality didn’t jive well with your own in an enclosed space. You were more reserved, shy, and softly spoken. Not to mention that the cabin had always been an intimate space for you and Alastor. It didn't seem so intimate now - being that it was now shared space with Mimzy and Husker. 

“Would you like another drink before I pour my own,” you asked, your voicing clipped. 

Your head was pounding now, with a migraine blooming behind your eyes. The little grin that slid over Mimzy's lips told you that she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Actually, Doll, I would,” she flashed you a grin with her nose wrinkling as she did so. “You're such a good friend,” Mimzy cooed and thrust her empty glass in your face. 

Your grip on the bottle of Red Stag was white knuckle, and you opened your mouth to give her a piece of your mind, but the words caught in your throat when the cabin door opened. Both you and Mimzy looked over to see Husker coming through the door with Alastor trailing behind him. Your shoulders visibly deflated when your gaze met Alastor's.

Mimzy put her glass down on the bar and threw her arms up in glee. “Alastor! I'm so glad to see you!”

“And I you,” Alastor grinned. “Thanks for holding down the fort and watching over my darling for me.”

“I don't need a babysitter,” you grumbled and nodded your head at Husker when he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Husk.”

“Cher,” Husk greeted in that deep, baritone voice. 

Alastor laughed boisterously and leaned on the bar in front of you. Upon meeting his gaze, his chocolate brown pools started to melt away all of the tension in your body. It was so easy for you to get lost in his eyes. 

“I jest, my dear. Husker here is going to drive Mimzy home, and we are going to celebrate!”

Mimzy quirked a brow and made a sound akin to a high-pitched scoff. “I ain't ready to leave yet. I want to celebrate too! We could have a round of drinks!”

Husk had noticed that you and Alastor had yet to tear apart your gazes and were seeming lost in each other. Alastor flashed you a dazzling smile and leaned over the bar to press a chaste kiss to your lips. That was enough for your cheeks to flush and become a brilliant crimson. 

“C'mon,” Husk grabbed Mimzy's fur coat off the coat rack and all but threw it into the woman's face. “Before I drag your ass to the car.”

Mimzy put her coat on in a huff, then fussed over her hair, throwing insults at Husker as she did so. 

“Thank you,” you mouthed to Alastor and waved to Mimzy as she was all but pushed out the door by Husker. You could hear her nagging as she walked all the way to the door. “Poor Husker.”

“He'll live,” Alastor hummed and gave you a wink. “Mimzy, however,” he chuckled.

“That would be too good to be true,” you mumbled and grabbed the bottle of Red Stag to pour yourself that long awaited glass. “How was work?”

Alastor set about removing his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress. Your gaze was drawn to the newly exposed, tan flesh of his forearms. “Same as always, my dear. I'm sure you were listening?”

“Until Mimzy turned the radio off,” You walked into the main sitting area and sat in your favorite rocking chair. 

In your left hand was your glass of bourbon that you then took a sip of. From over the brim of the glass, you continued to study your partner as he made himself comfortable. Alastor's bowtie was now untied, and the top button of his dress shirt undone, exposing a delicious expanse of his neck. Being that it was Valentine's Day, you hoped that it meant that Alastor wouldn't mind taking everything farther than usual. The man would tease you here and there, whispering dirty things in your ear, because he knew it riled you up. The act of sex, however, just didn't fit his idealism. Any affection from Alastor would include kissing and touching, maybe heavy petting, but the two of you had only had penetrative sex a handful of times. Each time it happened was mind-blowing, leaving you craving more and waiting on bated breath to feel him the same way again. You could feel yourself beginning to flush just thinking about it - the heat slowly building up in your chest and rising until your cheeks were crimson. At least you could blame it on the bourbon, which you quickly threw back and tore your gaze away from Alastor. 

“So,” Alastor sat down on the couch and crossed his legs, and draped his left arm over the back of the couch. “Quiet evening with a shared drink, my darling?”

Honestly, the man was entirely too distracting. It didn't help either that the bourbon was affecting you far sooner than you anticipated. Your mind blanked, seeing Alastor sitting there - sleeves rolled up, bowtie undone, the red vest that matched his trousers that fit him entirely too well. Alastor was your perfect definition of a sex-god that had a distaste for the very thing that you craved. His smoldering gaze and satisfied, closed-mouth grin told you that he knew exactly what  kind of effect he had on you. 

“Are you alright,” he cocked his head to the side. “You look bothered.”

“You're a tease,” you swallowed. 

Alastor’s brows rose in surprise. “Me? I'm just sitting here,” he laughed and beckoned you over with his finger. “Come here, my darling.”

A bolt of red-hot arousal shot right up your spine, and your body moved automatically, seemingly out of your control and under Alastor’s. Alastor moved to uncross his legs and seized you by the hips with his strong hands. You now stood in between his spread thighs, looking down into his brown eyes as he gazed up at you. His lips quirked in a crooked grin, making him look like the cat who got the cream. 

“Tell me how I'm a tease,” Alastor whispered huskily. 

You brought your hands up to cup his face and ran your left thumb along his bottom lip. “You know what you do to me, Alastor.”

Alastor grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Oh, I'm well aware,” the man's pupils were now blown with his own need. “Would you like me to do something about that?”

Relief flooded you, and you nodded eagerly. By now, the bourbon was really beginning to have an effect on you and how much you needed the man before you. “I've been waiting so long, Alastor.”

“The wait makes it worthwhile,” he growled.

Before your tipsy mind could even comprehend what was happening, Alastor stood, effortlessly hoisting you up by the hips, and bounded towards the spiral staircase of the loft Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his slim waist. Alastor’s arousal was very noticeable against your own pelvis. The heat from his girth radiated through his slacks. When his lips met yours in a fevered kiss, your mind blanked with arousal. Your senses quickly became overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, and his taste as his tongue coaxed your own in a scorching kiss. Alastor eagerly devoured your mouth and every subsequent moan he drew from you. He broke the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as he did so. His lips then trailed down to the column of your neck where he sank his teeth into the supple flesh. You hissed from the pain and carded your fingers through his brunette hair until you had a handful and tugged, earning a groan from him. 

“Fuck it,” Alastor growled and sat you on the steps of the spiral staircase. 

Alastor’s hands snaked up your dress to pull your panties down your legs, leaving the silk garment dangling from your left ankle. You gasped when he cupped your dripping sex in his left hand and breathed against the side of your neck. 

“I’ll have you right here,” he growled and claimed your mouth once again. 

You moaned wontanly into his mouth when he penetrated you with two fingers and curled them against your g-spot. Even though sex was a rare occasion, Alastor had memorized your body from the inside out. Knowing every sensitive spot to kiss, lick, or bite. Alastor groaned and pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, ripping the most delicious moans from your throat. Each and every sound you made went straight to his cock that was now straining uncomfortably in his slacks. With a tweak of his fingers, Alastor had you coming with his name falling from your lips like the most beautiful prayer. 

“Alastor,” you were breathless, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. “I need you inside me.”

Alastor’s eyes darkened, and he carefully withdrew his fingers from your quivering sex. “You’ll have me,” he whispered and kissed you chastly. 

The sound of Alastor’s belt buckle was like music to your ears, as your body was finally getting the attention that it so badly craved. With your left hand, you reached between you and Alastor and took his now freed, sizeable length in your hand. You bit your lip and looked up at Alastor through your eyelashes. Alastor held your gaze as he guided himself into your tight heat, slowly splitting you open and seating himself inside you. Both of you panted, attempting to adjust to the almost foreign sensation. No, you weren’t a virgin, but Alastor had been your first, and since sex wasn’t a regular occurrence, it took both of you longer to adjust. You, more so than Alastor. 

He was thankfully patient, waiting until the pained look on your face was no longer before slowly pulling out and thrusting back into the hilt. The man clenched his teeth painfully and screwed his eyes shut, completely drunk off of the feeling of you fitting around him so perfectly. 

You held onto Alastor tightly, with your nails digging into the flesh of his back, even through his dress shirt. Alastor’s hands had your hips in a death grip, and you hoped that you would have bruises left in their place. You wanted Alastor to claim you - mark you -  so that everyone knew you belonged to him. 

“Come inside me, Alastor,” the words fell from your lips in a pathetic whimper before you even realised what you said.

The look Alastor gave you startled you, and his hips stuttered to a pause. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity, Alastor’s eyes searching your own as if looking for truth behind that request. You feared your moment of intimacy with Alastor was ruined until he started moving once more. This time, he moved slower, taking his time pulling all of the way out and sinking back into you. He continued to hold your gaze and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Is that what you want,” Alastor asked, but it was barely above a  whisper. “To be mine, forever?”

Of course it’s what you wanted. Alastor had been your first, and you wanted no one else. It was difficult for you to imagine your life any different. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about starting a family with Alastor. You brought your hands up to Alastor’s face and looked into those chocolate pools.

“Make me yours, forever, Alastor.”

~~~

You awoke the next morning, nestled in the king-sized bed of the loft alone. Alastor was nowhere to be found, with his side of the bed neatly made. Between your legs was an ache and a stickiness in the inside of your thighs that served as a reminder of the previous night's activities. What little bourbon you had, had also left you with a slight headache that settled over your temples. Coffee would be a good fix, and you wondered why you hadn't smelled it perking if Alastor had already been up. 

There was a fire going in the fireplace when you made your way down the staircase, confirming that Alastor was around, but nowhere to be seen. You thought nothing of it and went over to the kitchenette to get coffee perking and breakfast ready for whenever Alastor returned. 

You sat down in your rocking chair by the fireplace when the coffee was ready to enjoy your cup. The chair rocked rhythmically on the hardwood floor, nearly lulling you to sleep until you heard a god awful noise coming from the crawlspace under the cabin. Your first thought was that a stranger or the police had found the liquor stash, and you bolted out of the chair to get the pistol hidden among your books. 

The door to the crawlspace was in the kitchenette and was flung open, revealing a blood covered Alastor. The man looked up at you with blood splattered across his face and chest, staining his white dress shirt. There was enough blood that you couldn't tell if it was coming from Alastor or not. 

You dropped the pistol that was in your hands and rushed over to him, and hooked your arms around his arm. “A-alastor, what the hell? Are you-”

“It's fine!” He laughed and looked down at you with a grin. “It's not mine.”

Your eyes widened, and you took a tentative step away from him and shook your head. “Then, whose is it?”

Alastor ignored your question and casually walked over to the pot of coffee on the stove. He poured himself a mug, all the while humming a song with that same grin on his face. 

“Alastor,” you demanded. “You're scaring the hell out of me.”

“I'm sorry,” he put his coffee mug on the counter and turned back to you. “This,” he pointed to his stained shirt. “Is just the latest victim.”

“The latest���,” you paled, with the details finally coming together. “You're him.”

Alastor flashed you that dazzling grin and opened a drawer next to the stove. Without even looking, Alastor pulled a massive knife out and studied it. 

“Did you know, my darling, that in order to inflict a fatal wound, you need at least fifteen inches of penetration?”

“Please put the knife do-”

You gasped. Before you could even react, Alastor lunged forward, plunging the knife deep in your abdomen. He stood in front of you, holding the blade in place with his smile never faltering. Pain blossomed throughout your body, and you began to choke on the blood that bubbled up through your throat. You coughed and watched the blood mixed sputum splatter across Alastor’s already stained shirt. Tears fell freely from your eyes, staining your cheeks, and your trembling hands grabbed onto Alastor’s arm that still held the knife inside you.

Blinking up at Alastor through your tears, you saw no remorse on his face. Just that twisted grin that you had fallen in love with so many years ago. 

“You should know I'm too much like my father to have children,” Alastor said darkly. “That's a risk I cannot take.”

Alastor pulled the knife out of your abdomen and stepped back as you crumpled to the floor on your knees. The pain was white-hot, but it was nothing compared to that of your broken heart. Your body screamed for his closeness and wanted to hate him for everything. Even after the previous night, after telling you he would be with you forever. In an attempt to stop the bleeding, you held pressure on the wound, but you knew it was no use. You were dying. At the hands of your lover.

“It won't be long, my love,” Alastor got down on one knee and brushed your hair out of your face. “I'm sorry I had to do this.”

“F-fuck you,” you gasped and choked. 

Your vision was beginning to fade in and out, along with your hearing. The weight of your body suddenly became too much and you fell to your side. Before your head hit the floor, Alastor had caught you and laid you down gently. The last sensation you felt, other than the pain, was Alastor kissing you. It was a passionate kiss, similar to that of the kiss you shared while making love. He didn't care about the blood that pooled from your mouth, but seemed to enjoy it more than anything. When he broke the kiss, you met his gaze, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I'll see you in hell,” you spit, using every ounce of energy you had left before going still.

Alastor smiled down at your now lifeless body and ran his fingers through your hair. A single tear ran down his cheek, and his smile grew into a grin.

“It's a date.”

Part Two

[soullessdianthus]

𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐲 | 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝟏𝟒𝟏 𝐱 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Requested by anon:

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR SUCH DELAY, I kept postponing it and then I had other things on my head.

Summary: Task Force 141 is sent to gather intel from cartel's warehouse. However, their informations were flawed and they were cornered by hostiles. Soap got shot and it doesn't look good. What will they do in a stalemate as such?

Warnings:reader is eastern european coded (just briefly), some gruesome desc. of wounds, blood and fights, talk of killing people

Word count: 3.8k

GIF by oleworldblues

The flight wasn’t a steady one, turbulence occurring every minute on board. Although such voyages weren't anything new, those tremors were irritating to say the least. You managed to stay in the seat for the most part of it, cursing the pilot, Nikolai for such an unpleasant ride.

A flick of regret crossed your mind, scolding yourself for being so strict on him. But all the remorse passed, when another turbulence made you hit your head over the helo’s wall.

When you crossed through the storm cloud, the helicopter twitched so suddenly and you jumped in your seat. Afraid of falling off the bench, without much thinking you grabbed what was the nearest to search for support. And it was Soap’s thigh.

 ━ Jesus, since when th’ lass‘ so handsy? ━ Scott laughed it off as you straighten your back against the helo’s surface. 

━ Since Nikolai forgot how to navigate damn thing. 

━ Then ye hadn’t seen Ghost drivin’ a car. That was somethin’ to be terrified of. 

Soap chuckled while jokingly mocking the lieutenant sitting across them. As always the skull face remained solid, still and emotionless. You spent enough time in Task Force 141 to know that he had to be smirking under that thick layer of balaclava. Even if the big, grumpy guy denied it verbally. The spark in his eyes revealed all you had to know. Some people laugh with their eyes, you know?

━ I hope we won’t live that long to repeat the thing. ━ Gaz cut in, leaving the cockpit and entering space, where they were sitting. It meant they were close to landing. 

Thank God, because if the flight would continue like this, you would have bumped into all of them by the time of your arrival at the meeting point. 

The lights went off, when you got closer to the ground. A one, stronger jolt and the helo landed, dust floating in the air due to the propellers spinning around.

All of you gathered up near the exit, doing the last weapon and inventory check up. When everything was proper and intact, you were ready for the ramp to open.

━ Gonna wait for your signal on the radio ━ Nikolai said with a Russian accent, flicking some of the controls above his head. ━ Nadrat im zadnitsu [rus.: Kick their asses].

━ Sure will. ━ Gaz patted the pilot on his shoulder, before joining the rest of the team. The platform began lowering itself until it hit the ground beneath, hard.

You were supposed to meet up with Captain Price, leading a group of his own, just a few kliks from your landing location. Team’s sole purpose that night was to infiltrate the cartel’s hideout, north of Mexico's border. It wasn’t a fortress, but a well equipped warehouse at most. 

Well, at least that's what your superiors were suspecting.

They needed proof of the cartel's affiliation with powerful drug traders overseas and any other information you managed to find inside, while Price’s team created a diversion. You were a group of professionals, what could go wrong?

When all of you walked out the helo, you took a look around, eyes getting used to the darkness flooding the field around. The night has fallen as the sun disappeared over the horizon. 

You stuck closely to MacTavish as it was never smart to split up without strict order. Your main task as a medic was to keep an eye on them, patch them up if needed – overall, keep them alive.

There were no crickets to be heard, creatures hiding somewhere in the grass. But the gut feeling, or rather a natural intuition convinced you, something else was lurking in the plain field. When Nikolai started the engine again of the helo and flew off the ground, your eyes crossed with Ghost’s. 

It was too quiet.

He believed something was off too and the Englishman was much more experienced in a field than you. That could only mean trouble. 

You pinched your lips together into a fine line, involuntarily holding a breath in. Your muscles and joints were in a preparation mode. If the military had a medal for prophetic abilities, you would have a stack of them by now. 

Just as you started moving towards the old, abandoned truck in the middle of the grassy field, the first shots got fired. Your knees softened, when you sprinted towards the rusty vehicle to take a cover. 

You managed to take a quick look through the scope on your rifle, trying to asses – where were the fuckers coming from. But they hid in the bushes quite well. Those who were foolish enough to come closer to your group, quickly got eliminated.

Kyle was right by your side by the rusty car, shooting just above your head as you kneeled down. Suddenly an enemy troop jumped from his cover swinging a knife at your comrade. The steel shimmered in the moonlight.

It was a matter of seconds – despite the training sergeant had received, he couldn’t break the laws of time and space. You, on the other hand, were facing the threat directly. 

━ Gaz, down! ━ You yelled, before taking down the man, piercing his chest with few bullets. You held the rifle up and steady, meanwhile the attacker stumbled backwards and fell onto the coarse grass beneath. Lifeless. 

Kyle nodded in your direction, not exchanging a word of gratitude, but he didn’t have to. Besides, there was no time for courtesy. You were under fire. 

━ Piece ‘f cake, eh? Real nice fuckin’ cake, Lt. ━  Soap mocked Ghost earlier words, as his predictions regarding this mission didn’t include an ambush right off the bat. ━ What now?

━ Focus, MacTavish, we need to take a cover. There’s an ol’ farm, only a klik east-south ━ The lieutenant reloaded his own rifle with a firm tug on the empty magazine. As always, he kept a cold blood even when surprised by unpredictable ━  We’re headin’ there, is that clear? 

━ Aye. ━ Gaz approved and you silently nodded, feeling the raging pulse of your own heart in the neck artery. 

You noticed that his dark gaze got stuck on your face, that probably got a little too pale due to the adrenaline. You were still getting used to working in a field, you’ve never been cornered like this before. Verbatim. 

Every time after the mission, when you lay still in the barrack at night time, you wonder if Ghost felt like he was actually babysitting the whole Task Force. At least sometimes. Because it was usually you, Soap or Gaz who got into trouble.

Kyle and Johnny were around the same age, still fairly young to be in special forces, but you? You were even younger and less skilled, though you managed to catch up with different abilities than your male mates. 

And Lieutenant Riley? He was older than all of you, that’s for sure. You didn’t know how much exactly, but that’s what you managed to deduce since your joining the squad. 

So it wasn't an uncommon occurrence, where Ghost took the lead during a crisis and led you all to safety. He was more than sure all of you would manage on your own, if the circumstances were different. 

━ Y/C, with me ━ the lieutenant stated, getting ready for the next step. ━ Soap, Gaz, you go together. We’re movin’, now. 

Each soldier with a rifle held steadily in their hands, began to move swiftly through the darkness of the upcoming night. While Gaz and Soap took the right flank, you and Ghost took care of the left. The lieutenant kept in mind checking the back too. All you had to do was push forward.

It was a challenging task to keep up with their longer strides, but they were mindful of your struggles. You would never be left behind. One for one. 

The outline of the old barn appeared in the reach of your hand as you pointed the rifle’s barrel towards the two men coming from your left. You managed to take one down, by shooting through his knee, however you missed the other one.

You cursed in your native language, letting the frustration out. Within the span of a couple seconds you collected your breath and aimed once again. This time you shot him, right through his shoulder. They had bullet proof vests, therefore shooting at their chest made no sense at all. 

Shooting at the vest from up close – then, that’s a different story.

Muppets, as Captain Price called them, took down each one of the enemies without a slip up on their flank. 

You’ve never said it outloud to anyone, especially not any member of Task Force, but in a work field you looked up to…well, some of them. They executed their tasks immaculately. Whilst you still had some things to learn, they were usually understanding, willing to help out. Usually, not always. 

Sometimes, due to his harsh comments, you thought that Ghost expected you to be born with skills he achieved through the years in a service. Which, for obvious reasons, was not fair.

The way to the farm was a bumpy one, tall grass covering any holes in the ground, but you finally made it. Ghost and Gaz broke into the old stable and began checking out the insides. You were just behind them, when you heard Soap’s grunt through clenched teeth.

It could only mean one thing – Johnny got shot. You reached to touch his arm, maybe to pull him inside, but the Scottish sergeant did it anyway. With Kyle’s help you shut the heavy doors behind to give the team extra coverage. 

You finally took a deep breath. 

Ghost spoke through the radio, slowly walking up to the barn's other end. You deduced that he spoke with Price about the ambush, but your focus was on blood pouring out of the fresh wound.

You stepped closer and MacTavish leaned in, letting you take a look. And it didn’t look good. Soap inhaled the chilly air, a droplet of sweat rolling down his temple.

━ Shit. ━ You felt Ghost’s gaze upon your back, when you cursed with such passion. He was waiting on a report. ━ Bullet went through his arm. 

━ The cartel wasn’t wasting money on security, huh?  ━ Gaz mentioned, still quite not believing himself they encountered such skilled soldiers. Why weren’t they informed about that beforehand? They would take a bigger team.

━ But ━ you continued ━ because Soap is so bulky, the ammo didn’t scratch any important artery. 

━ I knew you’d appreciate my form, lass. 

━ Nevertheless, I insist on patching him up.

━ Insist? ━ The big Englishman repeated what he just heard, surely raising an eyebrow beneath mysterious balaclava. At least that's what you imagined him to do. When he looked at you, he saw your scowl. ━ Fuckin’ hell, fine. We need to stay ‘ere until Price comes with backup. 

Ghost’s voice sounded firm and emotionless as always. Maybe there was a hint of annoyance, but who wouldn’t be? The intel wasn’t good enough if the cartel's security managed to take you by surprise and outsmart the special forces. 

Kyle silently went outside to take a look around, patrol the surroundings when you took care of John’s nasty wound.

━ Hey, I’ll manage, no need to–

━ Don’t even start ━ you interrupted Scottish man, rummaging through the medic bag.  ━ You want them to follow us by the trickle of blood you left behind? Or do you want to faint due to blood loss?

━ Alright, alright, I get it, lass. Sweet Jesus. 

━ You’re like children. ━ The lieutenant pointed out at your foolish scuffle, checking each corner of the barn. 

━ Do you know children that carry M4s?━ An even more stupid joke escaped your mouth, before you giggled silently, opening the new package of gause. Even Johnny chuckled, when you began applying pressure on top of his wound. 

━ Keep your morals like this and we just might fulfill our task. 

Ghost definitely had the charisma of an exhausted father, but that was one of his characteristics that not many people were fond of. But you were. You liked his tacky humor, always a way to brighten the day.

━ One-four-one, do you copy? 

A sudden sound of the radio on your vest broke the silence. It was a voice belonging to Gaz, but usually his tone wasn’t so… nervous. Another bad omen. 

━ We need to get out of ‘ere! ━ Just as he finished the sentence, Kyle ran through the barn’s door, M4 rifle in his hand. ━ They’ve got their own reinforcement. 

━ How many? ━ You asked, finishing wrapping a tight bandage over Soap’s bicep. 

━ I saw four cars riding through that bush we came from. ━ Dark skinned soldier answered, glaring through his shoulder. You have to be very aware of your surroundings from now on.

━ Y/C, you feel like sniping? ━ The skull had spoken, the brown eyes looking at you. No, through you. ━ Can you cover us?

━ Yes, I’ll keep an eye from the attic. 

━ Good. 

━ What about Price? Where is he? ━ Soap asked, reloading his weapon. 

The Englishman pressed the button on his radio.

━ Bravo 0-6 this is Ghost, how long?

━ Hang on, four more kliks. Are you still in the barn? ━ Captain asked through the speaking channel only your team had access to.

━ Positive.

━ Good, stay there. Over and out. 

Price’s voice vanished as soon as he echoed through the old stable. Situation wasn’t looking good for your team, but what else could you do? If Gaz was right and the enemy managed to distribute groups of his soldiers around the farm, there was no way out. 

So you had to defend your position and wait. For what? At this point for a backup that miraculously appears from the skies.

You swiftly climbed onto the wooden ladder until you reached the upper floor of the old stable. There were bales of hay scattered around and few windows. One of the bigger ones was facing the courtyard between the buildings. When you were in a position, you took a look around the property. 

Ghost was already prepared on the right side of the building you were in and Gaz was on the other. Meanwhile Soap was slowly walking around the antique fountain in the middle of the courtyard. 

Everyone was ready and anticipating the enemy’s next move. 

━ Gaz, three coming from your left. ━ You warned him through the speaking channel, before pointing the rifle’s end to those mentioned soldiers. 

When the adrenaline bursts inside of your veins, time passes quite fast. Which was a dangerous thing, because if you lost track of it or a consciousness about your surroundings – you would be dead quickly.

You had to withhold your nerves and focus on one task at the time.

After a deep breath in, you slowly let it out. Looking through the rifle’s loupe, you began shooting at the group that just got out of the truck. A gunfire right beneath their feet, before they got perforated with your bullets. 

A bitter, metallic taste spreaded over your tongue. You swallowed some saliva, checking up if you had bit the inside of your cheek. It happened before, when you completely zoned out during a shooting. You were so fixated on the task, you clenched your jaw on the delicate tissue. 

But this time it was just remorse, building up each time you pulled the trigger. Of course, you knew not each inflicted harm caused inevitable death, some just made the enemy’s soldiers… indisposed. Nonetheless, it was a burden you had to carry on your shoulders.

When you cleared out the zone near the parked car, your sight moved to the Ghost outpost. He was stabbing the soldier's neck and shoulder with short and quick movements. In your assessment, he was doing fine.

Then when you wanted to check on Gaz and Soap, there was a thud over the wooden surface that got your attention. You snapped your head towards the sound and saw one soldier that managed to climb  here. 

━ I found the sniper. ━ The man said into his own radio, hooked over his tactical vest. 

He rushed towards you and you tried to point your rifle at him. The man was faster and he grabbed the weapon, stopping you from shooting at him. There was only a little window of time to decide what to do next. So you used all your body weight to tackle that soldier to the ground.

Your arms wrapped around his thighs and you pushed forwards, causing him to fall backwards. Meanwhile, still having an upper hand, you reached for a karambit that was stacked behind your belt. 

You managed to climb on top of him swiftly, because that was your advantage in a clash with big, muscular men. You raised your hand and before the blade reached his chest, the man grabbed your wrist in the air, blocking your further movements. 

For a short while you struggled against his grip, trying to push the knife into his ribcage with the mass of your upper body. However, the mercenary locked you with his leg and rolled over you, trapping you beneath him. 

You took a quick look around – both of you rolled over dangerously close to the edge of the attic. A sight of a few meters depth made you lightheaded. So you continued struggling, as the soldier held a firm grip over your wrist, cutting the blood flow. Even when your wrist went numb, you did not drop that karambit. 

It was your most valuable bargaining chip in this situation.

You huffed a couple of times, slightly changing the position under the man’s frame. But when he finally reached for his gun, you grabbed the short barrel and pointed it far from your head. 

Calculating the next step carefully, you decided to let him win over the knife in your hand. Because with the drop of it, he released your wrist. The man swung his whole shoulder to punch you in the face. 

For a short moment you saw spots in front of your eyes, when his clenched fist met your cheekbone. Ouch. 

And finally, when your arms began to give up, you focused your defense on your legs – they were stronger. You managed to tuck them beneath his pelvis and strengthen your legs, kicking him over your head. Only then, you released the barrel of the gun. 

The mercenary fell over the edge of the attic and onto the ground beneath. You heard the loud thud followed by a crack. He broke his neck.

You laid there for a while, collecting your breath as you just faced death. Quite a normal day in the life of a soldier. The shootouts from the outside began to fade and it got you worried. You had to check that out.

━ Steaming Jesus ━ a familiar voice, brought you back to your full strength. You got up on your knees and carefully looked through the hole in the floor. ━ Is that how you greet people?

The American was standing above the body you just threw from the upper floor. A puddle of blood staining the ground. 

━ Alex! ━ You expressed your enjoyment, seeing your college for the first time in a while. It meant he came with a backup. A miracle of tonight's ambush.  ━ You’re saving our asses. 

━ Come down now, the situation is under control. 

You ran to gather your weapon, before hooking it around your shoulder. You quickly climbed down the ladder and walked up to a man with bright eyes and trimmed mustache. 

━ Laswell send her regards. Price team wouldn’t make it on time ━ Alex Keller explained, putting one of his hands on your shoulder as the two of you slowly walked out of the barn to the courtyard. ━ A bloodbath, huh? Only the four of you?

Soap was sitting on the fountain’s edge, the material hugging his arm wasn’t soaked with blood. “Good” you thought. Some of Alex’s soldiers that were sent here by Kate Laswell walked around the farm to check every corner. 

━ We don’t like crowds. ━ Gaz reached his hand to greet their friend, who was in Urzikstan. At least, that's what they thought. Until now. 

━ Understandable, sergeant. ━ The ends of his mustache lifted up as he smiled. ━ We should wait here for Price and regroup. 

━ So we continue what we started? ━ Just before you asked, Soap and Ghost joined the conversation in the middle of the courtyard, the pathways laid out with stones.

━ We can’t retreat now, they would know we’re after ‘em. ━ The lieutenant explained, why the retreat was an idea not even being speculated here. The presumed cartel would move along with their belongings, the proof you needed to gather. 

So therefore withdrawal was off the table. 

━ We need to strike ‘ard, now. ━ Ghost continued his talk, when the soldiers began to talk between each other from the other side of the abandoned house. 

All of you turned around to see the upcoming Captain Price, pressing his rifle to his chest. 

━ Took ya long enough, Captain. ━ Gaz stated bluntly, few droplets of blood appearing on his forehead. 

━ Yeah, the intel was shit, we’re gonna take care of it later. Now, we have different targets. Gather up. Everyone in one piece? 

The man in his forties looked at each one of you – from head to toes. Obviously, his eyes were locked with the bandage over Soap’s arm, but MacTavish quickly assured him it was only a scratch on the surface. 

Which it wasn’t, yet he wasn’t bleeding, so for the sake of peace you nodded your head to assure Price.

━ Alright, the real fun can begin. We got ‘em outnumbered, this is going to be a quick and smooth operation. No slip ups from now on, understood?

The whole team agreed and began to mentally prepare for what was coming. Captain patted Gaz on his shoulder, before slowly walking away.

━ No more flying corpses? ━ Alex whispered, leaning towards you. It seemed that only the two of you heard the conversation. 

And maybe Ghost who was standing on the other side of Sergeant Keller, because he looked at you with amusement. 

━ We’ll see about that. Just try to get on my bad side, American boy. 

Price whistled in a high pitched tone, announcing that all of you should gather up. 

Once again you had that feeling in your guts, that it was going to be a long, exhausting night. And at the end of the day, your hand would be covered in blood, like a butcher (which you swore you wouldn’t be).

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Daily OFMD Renewal Tasks - Updated 01/31/2024

Hey all! These were starting to get a bit big for the Recap, so I'll link here instead. I'll keep this updated every day so feel free to reference back here and I'll link to this inside the Recaps.

==Things to remember==

Keep it positive! We are wooing them!

Only address one platform at a time!

Make it personal! Tell them why you want to be on that platform (inclusivity, diversity, other shows that are similar, etc)

“It’s okay to reuse some content with new tags but try to space the posts out a couple hours so they dont stack up on top of each other in hashtag very obviously.” -Jac

==Today's Hashtags==

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

#FinishOurStories

==Platforms to Reach Out to==

Netflix

AmazonPrime

AppleTV

If you reach out on the social medias, you can cater to individual mission statements per platform.

Cheat Sheet Below provided by @aproperpirate on Twitter

If you wanna talk about the shows creativity, feel free to reference Ra Vincent's site, he was the Production Designer for OFMD. Great inspiration and pictures to use to show off to the networks.

It's also helpful for Amazon to show them the international reach

== Vote on the Queerties! ==

You can vote once a day!

Best TV Comedy

Best TV Performance

== US Social Media For Each Platform ==

Instagram:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @primevideo

Apple TV @appletv

Threads:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @primevideo

Twitter:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @PrimeVideo

Apple TV @AppleTV

Facebook:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @PrimeVideo

Apple TV @AppleTV

==Daily Helpful Tasks:==

1. Push That Petition

2. Fill out Feedback forms:

Make sure to request Our Flag Means Death on all the platforms, and indicate why you like the show (if that's an option) and keep it positive. Source: @Lcmwriter100 on Twitter

Netflix

AppleTV - looking for an example letter? Check out @saltpepperbeard’s post

AmazonPrime

For Amazon Prime - Courtesy of @yougotofast over on twitter.

Existing Prime subscribers, you can access a Suggestions/Feedback form on the Prime Video app in the Settings > Help & Feedback section. The form is automatically tied to your Prime account, not sure if that makes any difference compared to anonymous feedback.

3. Platform/Article Engagement

HBOMax

If you still have HBO Max, please still go ahead and stream Our Flag Means Death, it keeps up engagement and numbers.

Search Our Flag Means Death on Netflix

If you have Netflix, after your search, stream the first title that comes up for a few minutes.

Article Engagement - Source: @candiedsilkmoth on twitter

@itsmfgames Has been kind enough to be keeping up a running list of Articles about the campaigns -- so if you have the time and want to go catch up on some articles, please checkout the guide below and visit this google doc for the list!

4. Make Calls

Contact Netflix and say why you love OFMD

You can call them at (844) 505-2993 as well and let them know about a hoard of pirates looking for a new home. You're welcome to try their toll free number as well (888) 638-3549

5. Daily Link Clicks to keep up engagement

Our Flag Means Death Wikipedia Page

Google Search for Our Flag Means Death

Google UK Search for Our Flag Means Death

Our Flag Means Death IMDB

Current @renewasacrew Daily Links:

Tumblr

Twitter

Instagram

For Industry specific help see @TheCozyPirate on Twitter as well. I will try to include any pertinent information in the Daily Recap or here, but if you have twitter they're a great resource

== RADIO! ==

Some awesome new suggestions from @AdoptACrew Check out the thread here. Link to the NPR suggestion site: Here

=== Staying a Polite Menace to Max ===

For those of you who are still up for it-- We are still contacting Max and Commenting on their posts. Thank you @asgardian--angels for the reminder! I'll update this section with more details tomorrow once we have some more.

Current focus with Max is less requesting Renewal and more to Expressing Disappointment about them cancelling marginalised Stories (OFMD, Rap Sh!t, etc), specifically to give them bad PR.

We're still letting Casey Bloys and David Zaslav know no peace.

As usual please be polite, we're not letting max off the hook, but Monday there will be a news article coming out regarding this (Source: Jac (@TheCozyPirate) on Twitter))

==Media Resources (Pics, Gifs, Vids)==

Gifs, Pics, and Videos to use: show clips to use Src: @havethisonelife

Our lovely @kiwistede made some great custom gifs you can use to tweet and message the platforms with. Check out their tumblr here

== Stats ==

Some Cool Stats you can use:

==Infographics==

Some folks like infographics instead of text so here's some stuff for you! Courtesy of @edandstede on Twitter

I have a limited amount of pictures I can put on one post so here is a google drive with more: Google Drive

==Other ideas for engagement:==

Courtesy of @sandwrite2 on Twitter

[majorbaby]

it takes a conscious effort to break your patterns of consumption and unlearn the notion beauty, interiority, diverse ways of existence aren't exclusive to whiteness or maleness. part of that isn't your fault. certain music is played on the radio, certain shows survive cancellation no matter what, certain people seem to be able to commit the worst possible acts against other human beings and are excused on account of their creative genius. others are selectively punished, with good reason sure, but still, selectively.

now more than ever it's easier to immerse yourself in art made by people outside of the mainstream. reading lists, free resources, playlists... all this stuff is more accessible than ever, but you've got to make an effort to give it a try. it's black history month, the recs are pouring in, go have a look. or take a chance on something absolutely no one has recommended anywhere and if you find something you like, rec it to someone else because the likelihood is they haven't heard of it.

tracy chapman's "fast car" is one of eleven songs that appears on her self-titled debut album. can you name the second hit single from it? if you're american and you fell anywhere left of center as of the 2016 election, it should be on the tip of your tongue if you were engaged in your country's politics at the time, regardless of your level of actual investment in the system. if not, the next time you're doing a task you need both hands with, washing the dishes, having dinner, doing your makeup, put that album on.

there's a post with over 100K notes on here that i see all the time of bruce springsteen and clarence clemons kissing. there's a part of that that is immediately meaningful to many if you're lgbtq, and a part that is harder for non-black lgbtq people to feel the weight of. but it is worth trying to do and was part of the reason why they kissed so often in the first place. clarence clemons was from norfolk, virginia. he released multiple albums outside of his work with the e street band. they may not be for you, but give them a try.

give enough music, or movies, or books that aren't a part of the approved canon a try, and there's no way you won't find something you don't feel as passionate about as you do about springsteen, siken, the beatles, what have you.

james baldwin was a prolific artist. see if you can't find something of his you like more than giovanni's room.

immerse yourself in ringo sheena, who mitski cites as one of her influences.

if you have difficulty paying attention to music you don't recognize, (i get it) make a playlist that alternates tracks you know and love with brand new tracks. start small. 5 faves of all time, 5 you're going to try out. you won't like everything, but you might find yourself looking forward to 6 songs instead of 5 eventually.

for movies, pick an actor whose performance you loved in something and explore their work. last year i picked whoopi goldberg, also a prolific artist, with a vast body of work that's pretty accessible as a result of her constant, intentional effort.

if you're an artist yourself, you can only stand to improve by getting to know your fellow artists better. so expand your notion of what art is. you can do it for free in lots of cases, and you're spending that time listening to music or reading or watching movies or series anyway, what have you got to lose?

anti-racism sometimes means engaging in real-world narratives of pain endured by brown and black people. that pain permeates much of our art, but we're just as three-dimensional as everybody else, and every aspect of our experiences come through in our work. you know that already, because what else is happening when you indulge in various genres. for everything you love or enjoy, there's a brown or black person who's doing something along those lines, in many cases, those genres wouldn't exist in their current form without the influence of our communities, some more than others, depending on where you're from. you can actually keep one foot inside your comfort zone and dip your toe into something else. that choice is both a joy and a luxury.

[ena-writes-stuff]

— love in the paddock.

˒ ⌕ amidst the excitement and chaos of traveling the world to support your boyfriend's racing career, you find solace in his affectionate gestures and supportive presence, despite his pre-race anxieties and the whirlwind of grand prix events.

— warnings: female reader, use of his real name

— words count: 1.3k

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The weekend always brimmed with intense emotions and excitement. There was something profoundly exhilarating about knowing that, each week, life offered the opportunity to explore new horizons. It still felt a bit surreal to be able to travel to so many countries each year, all to watch your boyfriend compete in yet another racing circuit. Australia, Japan, Abu Dhabi, Brazil — the list seemed endless, each destination offering new landscapes and cultures to discover. The ability to choose from such diverse locales felt almost magical. Each trip was a unique adventure, a dream come true. As a child, you had fantasized about these distant places, and now, you were living that fantasy.

Yet, despite the constant change of scenery and the perpetual sense of wonder, there was an element of strangeness that never quite disappeared. With every new destination and each new weekend, you marveled at the reality that this was, in fact, your everyday life. The chance to visit countries that once seemed so distant and unattainable still held the power to surprise you. And although you weren’t entirely accustomed to this new reality, you continued to delight in the world's wonders, all while cheering wholeheartedly for your boyfriend’s success on the racetrack.

The paddock at the Spanish Grand Prix was extraordinarily busy — more so than usual. Barcelona, a city already known for its vibrant hustle, seemed even more chaotic on race day. However, there was a glimmer of hope that the journey to the Red Bull Racing garage might be quieter than anticipated.

Amidst the frenzy — the constant noise of mechanics working at a frenzied pace and the fans erupting in cheers with each driver’s appearance —, an unexpected sense of calm descended when you spotted Alexis talking with the engineers. His presence at the center of the action seemed to create an oasis of tranquility amid the chaos. The focus of the engineers and his interactions with them conveyed a sense of control and professionalism that helped dissipate the paddock’s agitation.

Charming was perhaps the most fitting description of him. Every time you saw him in his racing suit, adorned in vibrant shades of indigo, red, and yellow, you couldn’t help but be captivated. These colors had become his signature, alongside the Mexican flag emblazoned on the lower part of his abdomen. He held the white balaclava with casual grace, his dark hair tousled as if resisting control. The number 66, emblazoned on his broad back, held a special significance — a number he had embraced with affection, symbolizing his bond with racing since that first major event where he first used it.

He truly stood out as the golden boy of Red Bull Racing.

“You’ve arrived!” Alexis’ voice rang out with contagious enthusiasm as he spotted you, cutting off any conversation he was having. In that instant, the world seemed to vanish; nothing else mattered but your presence. “Did you have trouble finding the garage? I could have come to get you, querida.”

The softness in his voice when addressing you was a stark contrast to the moments of frustration you had witnessed before. Through the radio, you had heard the irritation and expletives he’d utter when things didn’t go as planned. Yet, when speaking to you, he transformed entirely. His voice became warm and affectionate, as if he set aside the harshness of the daily grind and revealed a gentler, more caring side.

“You look so beautiful. I promise we’ll go to that Italian restaurant I really like after the race,” he said, his smile radiating love as he gently touched the VIP lanyard hanging from his neck. The lanyard, a simple piece, displayed a photo of you with your full name and the words “Alexis’ guest” printed in elegant letters. “You’ll wait for me here, won’t you?”

“Of course I will, silly,” you replied with a smile that conveyed all your certainty. It might have been the simplest question of the day, but you knew how much it meant to him. It was a small tradition between you — a gesture of support and love that made a big difference, no matter how simple. “I wouldn’t miss watching you race for the world.”

You glanced around, taking in the bustling crowd, the people moving with excitement, and the corridors preparing for the practice session. It was an important event for him, and you were there, ready to support him every step of the way.

“Great, great,” he said, repeating the phrase with almost palpable nervousness. When anxious, he fixated on certain expressions, repeating them incessantly — a detail you found endearing rather than annoying. “That’s great, that’s great.”

You watched as he tried to compose himself. “Are you nervous?” you asked gently, running your fingers through his hair. The touch was meant to offer comfort and reassurance. He responded with a click of his tongue, a subtle sound reflecting his discomfort more than effective communication.

He tilted his head towards your hand, seeking the affection you offered as if it were the only thing capable of soothing his momentary anxiety. Your presence seemed to be a refuge amidst his restless thoughts.

“It’s my first time racing on this circuit. I’m afraid I might not qualify and end up not winning and —”

His monologue was almost a constant in such situations. Even before getting into the race car, he was consumed with the worry of potentially failing. It was as if anxiety had already taken over before the race had even begun.

You knew these bouts of insecurity were common for him, but you always tried to calm him. “Alex, darling, today is still Friday,” you interrupted softly, steering him away from the whirlwind of negative thoughts. He fell silent, visibly relieved to have someone to offer support and guidance. His brown eyes, usually sparkling with determination, were now fixed on yours, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“You’ll only be racing for real on Sunday,” you continued, offering a reassuring smile. “Today is just practice. And it’s okay if you don’t win this race.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing your words. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into a warm, affectionate hug. His embrace was firm yet gentle, conveying a sense of security and tenderness. With a tenderness only he could express, he kissed your temples lightly, his touch soft and comforting. He made no effort to break contact, allowing you to lose yourself in the familiar, reassuring scent of his racing suit.

The moment between you was perfect, filled with a silent, shared love. However, the tranquility was abruptly interrupted by a mechanic’s voice echoing through the environment with friendly urgency.

“Alexis, ten minutes until practice starts!”

Despite the urgency, the voice seemed distant compared to the warmth and intimacy of the embrace you shared. Alexis grumbled quietly, a sound mixing frustration with reluctance. He let you go but not before stealing a series of delicate kisses on your lips. His lips were soft and warm, pressing lovingly against yours. He held your face with both hands, his fingers fitting perfectly to the shape of your face. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sensation of his caresses — a light, infectious laugh that seemed to make time stand still for a brief moment.

You loved when he showed affection in public. There was something genuine and special about how he demonstrated his feelings for you, regardless of the presence of others. It was as if the world around you simply vanished, leaving only the warmth of his love.

“Will I see you in a bit?” he asked, his smile a blend of anticipation and love. He already knew the answer, but the question was a ritual, a moment to reaffirm your bond. As you nodded and returned the smile, he pinched your cheeks tenderly.

“Great. I love you.”

His words were simple but filled with deep, sincere emotion.

“I love you too, always.” Your reply was a promise, a guarantee that, no matter what happened next, the love between you would remain constant and unwavering.