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she-wolf09231982 · 7 months ago

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Joe Toye

“The Bunny and The Fox”

Summary: You thought Joe Toye was too scary to even consider a friend, but he proves to be not only a great friend, but also a lover.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, JoeToyeX!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO Band of Brothers References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, Smut, *John Wayne/McClintock Movie Quote*, FOREVER FLUFF

@awaterfalls 😁🪖♠️🦅❤️

These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

He always appeared so….serious. His face in a constant state of pissed off and disdain. If looks could kill, Joe Toye (and Johnny Martin) wouldn’t have needed weapons in the war.

You avoided him all through Toccoa. He just seemed like the type to leave the hell alone. But every now and then, you caught a glimpse of him smiling or laughing with the guys.

“Not bad.” You’d think to yourself as you admired his smile.

Since you trained with Easy as a medic, you rarely had an excuse to speak to him unless he was injured. Even then you kept your conversation short and sweet with hardly any eye contact. But with his low raspy voice came a sense of calm while you took care of him. You supposed he seemed friendly enough.

~~~~~~

June 1944 Post D-Day

Orders were given to take Carentan where German soldiers were being sheltered. Carentan was the main crossroad between Cotentin and Calvados where the ally force's tanks needed passage to attack the main objective, Cherbourg.

"Listen up!" LT Welsh shouted. "It'll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on. No talking, no smoking. And no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz. We're taking Carentan. It's the only place where armor from Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head inland. Until we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole division."

Some of the men began to grumble under their breath. Everyone started to stir to gather their gear to begin the journey to Carentan.

Walking in a file formation on each side of the road to Carentan. You found yourself walking in front of Toye as Perconte proceeded you.

“Hey Toye, why you always in the middle when we convoy anywhere? Ain’t you ever in the front?” Guarnere teased.

“I go wherever the medic goes in case I get hit, Bill.” Joe responded.

You blushed and dared to sneak a glance behind you. As you did, Toye met your gaze shooting you a quick wink. You quickly look back to the front embarrassed he caught you acknowledging him.

“Awe now look what ya did. You scared her.” Guarnere teased.

You hear some of the guys laugh.

“Maintain your noise discipline.” Winters reminded.

~~~~~~~

"MEDIC!!"

You and Doc on separate ends of the streets trying to keep low to tend to the wounded.

You rush to two soldiers landing on your knees next to them, one on the ground with a trail of blood coming from his helmet, the other crouching over him.

"He's still breathing, help me carry him!" You call out. You each grab an arm of the injured soldier and drag him behind a building.

While you're working on the nameless soldier's head wound, a drug store gets blasted by German artillery not far from where you were, the force from the explosion sending you sideways into the brick wall next to you.

You shake your head to stop the ringing in your ears. Everything you could hear was distant as your vision became fuzzy and dark. You start to smack your ear trying to make it pop so you can get back to your senses.

“Y/L/N! We gotta move! Get up!” Toye’s muffled voice yelled out.

He grabbed you by the arm pulling you up to your feet. You still couldn’t barely see so you held onto his arms for dear life.

“I-I can’t see nothin’ Joe!” You called out to him.

“Ok, come on…UP we go!” You hear him grunt as he threw you over his shoulder.

You feel him trotting to safety while blast after blast erupted all around you. You feel him lower you as gently as he could to the ground against a wall.

“Hey, look at me.” Toye said as he guided your face towards his, “Can you see me now?”

You shake your head, “No, it’s all dark and blurry.” You reply as tears started to stream down your cheeks.

Were you going blind?? Is this it? You’re not going to be able to see your family’s faces? Never see your own reflection? You feel yourself slipping into shock.

“Hey! Stay with me now, ok doll? Don’t cry. Doc’s on his way.” You hear Toye’s voice break through your thoughts.

Doc ducked behind the wall with you and Toye.

“What’s the matta’ with her?” You hear Gene ask.

“She can’t see. Says everything is blurry.”

“Gene, I think I’m going blind. Am I going blind??” You asked panicked trying to reach out for him.

“What happened before she couldn’t see?”

“A shell dropped right by her and she went flying into a brick wall.”

Gene nodded, “That’ll do it. You got a concussion, Y/L/N, you ain’t goin’ blind.”

You released a sigh of relief.

“Joe, can you get her back to HQ? She ain’t no good out here if she can’t see nothin’.”

“I got her, Doc.”

~~~~~~~

Toye got you back to an aid station not long after Easy Company claimed victory over Carentan. You remained there until the following day after your vision returned. As you approached a group of the guys from Easy, you were welcomed with whoops and cheers.

“Hey! Look who it is!” Luz called out.

All the guys turned to find you walking towards them.

“Hey look what the cat dragged in!” Malarkey joked.

The chorus of laughter from the men lifted your spirits.

“Yeah, I look rough, I know. Thanks guys.” You greet.

You looked around for Toye.

“He’s over there.” Luz pointed out as he gestured with is thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh, I just, uh, wanted to thank him for-“ you began.

“-yeah, yeah we know. He’s over there.” Malarkey interjected pointing down the street.

You feel yourself get flustered so you scamper off to where they said Joe was. As you walk through the rubble that Carentan has become, you see Toye standing in a circle with a few of the other guys from Easy. He throws his cigarette butt on the ground, stomping it out with his boot before he turns and sees you.

His face lights up when he saw you walking up.

“Hey there she is!” Guarnere hailed.

Bill met you and extended his hand for you to shake, which you obliged.

“Good to see you, Bill.”

“Glad to see you up and about, doll.” He pulled you in closer, “Someone’s been real worried about you since they left you at the aid station, by the way.” He disclosed.

You pull back and met Bill’s face with confusion. He winked and motioned over to Toye with his chin.

“Go on and say hi to him.” Bill added.

You narrow your eyes at him and smile. You slowly approach Toye as he stood there with his hands in his pockets and smirking as he patiently waited for you.

“Hey, Toye.” You squeak.

“Hey, Y/L/N. Good to see you.” He replied with his signature husky voice.

“Well, if it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here. Thank you for helping me.” You say as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

You hear Guarnere whistle. You turn around and shake your head at him.

Toye cleared his throat, “It was nothin’.”

You both stood there awkwardly until Bill came over.

“Hey, the guys were going to go to the bar that survived the wreck. You wanna join us later for a few night caps, Y/L/N?”

“Sure, if I can find a place to get cleaned up.”

“Ok it’s that little place over there. We’ll all be there around 1900, aight?”

You knew Bill was scheming something for you and Toye. You look at him suspiciously.

“Ok, I’ll see you guys there later.”

~~~~~~~

You breeze through the front door of the pub and begin scanning the room for the familiar faces of Easy.

“Hey! Y/F/N! Over here!” Guarnere called out waving his hand.

You push through the crowd to get to the table where most of your guys were sitting. You catch Toye playing darts with LT Compton, Luz, and Heffron.

“What can I getchya?” Bill asked.

“Oh, whatever you’re drinking, Bill.” You reply.

“Comin’ right up.” He announced as he walked to the bar.

You look back to Toye and catch his eyes looking at you too. He smiled and raised his glass to you with a wink. You smile back and give him a little wave.

“Here ya go.” Bill returned handing you a pint glass of beer.

You cheers and take a hearty gulp.

“Thanks, Bill.” You say as you squeeze his arm.

~~~~~~~

The night was filled with laughter, banter, and taunts amongst Easy. And somehow, your glass kept getting magically refilled by each of the guys. You had to refuse Malarkey’s offer to buy your next round because you felt your head starting to spin.

“Ok, we’ll slow down.” Don chuckled, “But when you’re ready, I got the next one!”

“Yessir.” You quipped.

You turn towards the dart boards and see that Toye had moved. You began to search the room for him and suddenly stop at the bar where he was talking to a local woman dressed in a tightly fit dress.

You felt a distinct sense of dread mixed with anger, but you weren’t sure why. The longer you watched Toye leaning closer to whisper in her ear while she giggled, the more your rage boiled over inside.

“What’s the matter, doll? You gotta look on ya like you’re gonna murder someone.” You hear Guarnere chime in.

You avert your eyes to the floor.

“It’s nothing.” You say quickly.

Bill looked where you were just looking.

“Well ain’t that a son of a bitch. After all the trouble I went through to set you’s guys up, he goes and finds another bird to chat up.”

You look at Bill, “What do you mean set us up?”

Bill looked at you alarmed.

“Oh, well, I thought you knew. Toye over there has got it real bad for ya. Has ever since basic but he figured he never had a chance. I told him you were a catch and that you had a thing for him too.”

“Oh do I now?” You asked astounded by his response.

“Well, don’tchya?”

“I suppose he’s handsome. Good soldier. But looks like he’s not as sweet on me as you think.” You state as you gesture to Toye by the bar getting disgustingly close to the blonde bombshell.

“Ah, he’s an idiot. He’s just trying to get laid.”

You look at him with daggers behind your eyes. Bill’s eyes widen.

“Uh, what I mean is he don’t care about her, ya know? He’s trying to not think about you because he thinks you’re outta his league.” Bill hastily explained.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll get his attention.” You declare as you storm off towards the bar.

“Ah shit.” Bill mumbled to himself rolling his eyes.

You walk up to a soldier from Fox Company standing a few feet away from where Toye was with his new little friend. You approach the bar and slightly bend over to the surface of the bar and rest your elbows on it. The soldier noticed you right away and a devilish grin appeared across his face.

You look over at him and smile.

“Hey, angel, you’re the prettiest face in here.” He said as he scanned you from head to toe.

You see Toye look over the blonde’s shoulder at you. So you inched closer to the stranger.

“At least someone noticed how hard I worked on my make up tonight.” You say loud enough for Joe to hear.

Toye’s jaw started to tighten. Your plan was working like a charm.

“What are you talkin’ about? You’re a dish!” He returned enthusiastically, “Can I get you a drink?”

“A pint is fine.”

Toye excused himself from the company of his little vixen and approached you with obvious vigor. He stopped so close to you, you can feel his breath on your face.

“You think you should have anymore?” Toye asked in a low gravelly tone.

You were almost a puddle at his feet.

“What’s one more?” You dismiss.

“Hey, buddy, this one’s mine. Get lost.” The Fox soldier warned.

Toye glared at him, a clear warning with his fierce gaze to back off. “Shut up.”

He turned back to you. “You hit your head hard yesterday. You got a concussion, remember? Drinking too much isn’t good for you right now.” He cautioned.

The soldier behind Toye huffed outloud. You bring your face closer to his.

“How about you go on back to your little blonde bunny over there and worry about her?” You say softly staring intensely into his eyes.

You snidely smile and gently push him aside to accept the beer the Fox soldier was holding for you. Toye grabbed your wrist before you could get your fingers around the glass.

“Because I’m worried about you.” He sternly replied.

“Hey, pal, I’m not gonna tell ya-“

Before the guy could finish his sentence, Toye swung and punched him across the face sending him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“Joe, what the hell is the matter with you?” You bark.

He turned to face you, his teeth clenched and resentment in his eyes.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You got my attention.” He said raising his arms to the side.

Just then, another Fox Company soldier soared in and tackled Toye. When Guarnere saw Toye get sacked, him and the rest of Easy rushed in, clashing with Fox Company in a battle royalé in the middle of the dance floor.

You grab a bottle of whiskey and force your way into the horde to smash it over the head of one of the opposing soldiers when you suddenly feel your feet swiftly leave the floor, and you find yourself once again thrown over Joe Toye’s shoulder as he rushes out the front door.

You start to push off of his back to look at him.

“What are you doing?? Put me down, NOW! This is completely barbaric! Were you raised by wolves??”

“Shut your mouth.” Toye said sharply.

He wouldn’t cave no matter how hard you struggled. He continued to carry you until he got to the house where you had been staying at with the field nurses. He opened the front door and practically threw you onto the couch in the main corridor.

“You’re an absolute animal, Joe Toye.” You snarled at him.

“Yeah? You haven’t even seen the worst of it yet.” He retorted.

You stood up, only to lose your balance and fell backward on to the couch again.

“Well save it.” You spit back crossing your arms, “You can go now. I’m sure that little dish at the bar is waiting on you.”

Toye furrowed his eyebrows at you, “You’re the only one even thinking about her. I haven’t even given her a second thought since you walked through the door of that place!”

You scoff, “Sure, Joe. Didn’t seem like it when your hands were all over her like a magnet.” You pointed out as you stood up slowly.

“Yeah?” He queried as he closed the gap between the two of you, “You mean like this?”

He roughly grabbed you by the waist and kneaded your hips with his strong calloused hands as he pulled you into him. Your faces so close, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he only hovered over your mouth. You were a deer in the headlights, your words caught in your throat somewhere. You almost forgot to take breath when you started to feel faint, so you took in a deep breath through your nose to recover.

You put your hands on his chest and started to push away.

“What are you doing, Toye?” You manage to say.

He jerked you back into him, slithering his one hand across the small of your back while the other one firmly caressed the swell of your ass. You tried to protest, but your voice betrayed you only allowing a whimper to escape from your throat. This man had you a melting hot mess in his arms and it only made you angrier that he was getting you flustered.

“What? Got nothin’ snarky to say now, sweetheart?” He teased.

The fire inside you began to rise, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were turned on, or pissed off.

“I hate you.” You sneered as you slipped out of his grasp and headed for the staircase.

Before you could lift your foot to take the first step, you feel yourself twirled back around and face to face with Toye in his arms.

*“Half of the people in the world are women…Why does it have to be you that stirs me?”* He growled before grabbing the back of your head to bring your mouth to his.

You wanted to fight back and push away again, but your body fought you, leaning into his body and fisting his uniform jacket to pull him as close as possible to you. You part your lips to allow his tongue to pass and explore yours. You playfully nip at his bottom lip eliciting a deep guttural groan from him. His hands scoured your body as his hips instinctively pushed his hard on against you. You dig your nails into his shoulders as you moan into his mouth.

You pull back, “Let’s take this upstairs.”

Toye only replied with a mischievous grin, then picked you up bridal style to carry you up the stairs. When you direct him to your room, he set you down to secure the door. Right at the moment he turned around, you forced him against the door and hungrily kiss him while unraveling his tie.

He grabbed you by the shoulders swinging you around pinning you against the door with a ‘thud’ then placed his hand around your throat. He tightened his grip enough to make a point he was in charge, but not hard enough to alarm you. You instinctively grab his wrist with both hands as you clenched your thighs together, hoping to get some friction against your core and to prevent the wetness from dripping down your leg.

You hissed through your teeth as a smile stretched across your face. Toye pressed himself harder against you, the bulge in his pants grinding into your pelvis. You slide one hand away from his wrist gradually finding your way to his belt buckle. His fingers around your neck increased their grip.

You ran your tongue along your lower lip. He looks from your eyes to your mouth as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly scooped you up from behind your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist and carried you over to the bed, dropping you on your back onto the mattress.

He removed his tie, then with one hand unbuckled his belt all the while staring at you like a starved wolf about to pounce on his prey. You scoot to the edge of the bed and start to unbutton your uniform top. He situated himself between your spread knees at the edge of the bed.

You look up at him through your lashes and smile as you start to work on removing his pants. Your top partially open with your cleavage peaking through, he fisted the front with both hands and yanked the blouse off your shoulders. You wiggle out of the shirt and drop his pants and briefs as he removed his uniform top.

Now you were both ravenous for eachother just yanking off articles of clothing and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. Finally when he slid your panties off, a devilish grin graced his face when he saw how wet you were for him.

He looked at you roguishly as he glided two of his fingers up and down your drenched slit.

“Is this all from me?” His gruff honeyed voice had you melting in his hand.

You nod without breaking eye contact. He crawled over you, caging you in between his brawny arms. As his hardened dick rested on top of your center, he started to grind into you, coating the tip of his cock with your slick between your folds.

You couldn’t help but arch your back, rhythmically moving your hips with his to feel him rub against your clit. Your needy sighs spurred him on, knowing he was making you feel so good.

“Oh my God, Toye-“

“No. No more ‘Toye.’ I want to hear you say my name.” He commanded.

You stare at him.

“Fucking say it.” He ordered.

“Joe…” you breathed as you playfully nip at his lower lip, greedily locking onto his mouth.

He lifted you by the ass and pushed his length through your dripping entrance with one fleeting thrust forward.

You gasp then wrap your legs around his waist, waiting for the ride to begin. Joe unleashed over a year’s worth of pent up rage and frustration from the war onto you, railing into you in almost a deliciously painful pace. He was rough, and aggressive, yet attentive and sensual.

He sat up resting on his heels and angled you closer into him by hugging your thighs against him and driving into you, hitting that spot that had you edging to your finish.

He feels your walls constricting around his cock, and starts to slow his tempo. You look at him with a pout.

All you could manage was a strained, “Why?”

He pulled out and hastily flipped you onto your hands and knees. He reached around your front under your arms once again grabbing your throat with his perfect hand. He pulls you back until your back was flush with his chest.

He guided the back of your head to rest on his shoulder before he turned to your ear.

“You think that fucking Fox Company chump could’ve done this for you?” He hissed.

You feel his grip constricting your neck. You’re so fucked out you can’t help but laugh.

“Fucking answer me, sweetheart. You think that asshole’s got anything on me?” His voice rumbling in your ear like thunder.

You start to pant, your bare chest and peaked nipples heaving from overstimulation and restriction of oxygen.

“No, Joe. Never.” You huffed.

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your jawline. He nipped at your ear.

“That’s right, baby.” He purred before he thrusted you forward on all fours.

He lined his dick up with your slippery pussy and entered you with a sweet push forward until he bottomed out. He plummeted into you, spanking you occasionally while his hips slammed into you.

“My God, Joe.” You moaned pushing back into him so he can get inside you as deep as possible.

“Yeah, scream my name so all Fox Company can hear.”

He had a vice grip on your waist, guiding you back everytime his hips came forward. The slams of his front against your ass grew steadily louder with groans and grunts between the two of you.

His stride began to stagger, and you could feel him pulsate inside you.

“I’m getting close, sweetheart.” You hear his low rugged voice from behind you.

“Me too, Joe.”

“I know, I can feel you squeezing on me. Let go, baby.” He hummed.

He reached around finding your clit and began rubbing hard circles onto the bud.

You close your eyes and focus on the sensation of where his hands were and the throbbing of his cock inside you then hearing his voice roar,

“Come on, baby, let go for me.”

He chased your orgasm until he felt your walls fluttering around his cock. You throw your head back practically howling as ropes of Joe’s cum released over and over again inside you. A guttural grunt left Joe’s lips as he groped your ass to have something to hold onto to steady himself.

Sweat glistened on his chiseled torso while he caught his breath. He snatched the hand towel by the basin next to the bed to clean you up after he pulled out. He plopped onto the bed next to you, pulling you into him to hold you.

You each sigh, content and relaxed in eachother’s afterglow.

“Your little bunny friend is going to be heart broken.” You joke.

Joe chuckled, “Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

You giggled.

“I got my girl right here.” He added.

Joe looked down adoringly at you with your head on his shoulder, sensing his eyes were on you, you look up at him. He gently kissed your lips, then rubbed his nose on the tip of yours.

~~~~~~~

#band of brothers #hbo war #101st airborne #easy company #ww2 #joe toye #kirk acevedo #Joe Toye smut #joe toye x reader #Joe Toye x female reader #Joe Toye x medic #medic #band of brothers smut #bill guarnere #eugene roe #donald malarkey #george luz #one shot

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matan4il · 10 months ago

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Daily update post:

On Friday, there was yet another Palestinian terrorist attack. Terrorists started shooting at Israelis near a yeshiva, and as security forces gave chase, an explosive device was set off through remote control, which shows just how sophisticated some of these terrorists are getting. Seven Israeli soldiers were injured. The explosives were homemade, and I heard one estimate that if they had been "proper," the number of casualties would have been much higher.

Friday was also International Women's Day, when we asked people to remember Israeli and Jewish women, including the ones still being abused by terrorists in captivity. Here's a small round up of a few related global events... In South Africa, Jewish women marched, asking their president and government to condemn Hamas' sexual violence, protesting against the extra burden of proof demanded of Jewish women. Similar protests were held in other places around the world, among them in front of the UN headquarters in NYC. Following an Israeli request, the US, the UK and France have asked the UN's security council to have an emergency session on the UN report regarding Hamas' sexual crimes, Israel's Foreign Minister and the families of the hostages are meant to attend. But maybe the most poignant news come from the Norwegian capital of Oslo, where protesters holding up signs in support of the Israeli women held hostage by Hamas were barred from participating in the International Women's Day March by its organizers, after other participants of the march were physically stopping the group supporting the kidnapped Israeli women.

Biden's recent MSNBC interview, where he's said that "there has to be another way to deal with the trauma caused by Hamas," has managed to piss off even left wing journalists here. I'm gonna pass along what one said... Biden doesn't get it. We're not fighting in Gaza to deal with trauma, this is not the equivalent of going to therapy. We're facing a terrorist organization that massacred us, rules an entire strip of land, and has turned it into the world's biggest base for terrorist activity, turned its 2.1 million people population into a human weapon, and if there is another way to make sure Israeli civilians are safe by destroying Hamas, with less casualties on the other side, let him present it in practical matters. So far, all he does is to give the vague, abstract, "Israel needs to do better," which is not a practical plan of action, and it's especially condescending, when we don't actually have historical examples of any country doing better during fights conducted under the conditions created by Hamas in Gaza.

I have written about the incident in northern Gaza, where over 100 people were killed in a stampede, as they were storming humanitarian aid trucks. It was a complex situation, in addition to those who died from the pushing and trampling (something we've seen in lots of tragic disasters around the world, which were by no means a massacre, such as a fairly well known stampede of Liverpool soccer fans), apparently some of those who died, were ran over when the (Arab) truck drivers were scared and tried to drive away from the mob, while a small number of suspicious people advanced menancingly on the soldiers. An IDF investigation report confirms the Israeli soldiers only fired at this smaller group, suspected of being terrorists, not at anyone else, and certainly not at the aid convoy itself. Of course none of this complexity was reflected in any anti-Israel propaganda posts, which labeled this a massacre. But now the size of the stampede has been confirmed as well, which in itself says a lot about this tragic chain of events: no less than 12,000 (!) Gazans were storming those aid trucks. Given the size of that crowd, it's almost a miracle that not more people were killed. Just compare the Liverpool fans stampede, where the size of the involved crowd was smaller, the situation less complex (no moving trucks or terrorists around), and the number of fatalities was practically the same, at 97 people killed.

This has got to be one of the worst things I've heard since Oct 7 brought new focus to the antisemitism problem on American college campuses. One of the morally clearest voices against this Jew hate has been a Jewish Israeli professor at Columbia University, Shai Davidai. Now apparently the uni has started an investigation into him, instead of... IDK, learning from the criticism he has raised regarding their failure to address antisemitism. They sure are doing a great job, showing Jews they're listened to and cared about, and protecting Davidai's freedom of speech, that last line of defense that all the college presidents fell back on when they had to address why calling for the genocide of Jews is not considered bullying or harassment on their campuses.

youtube

This is 100 years old Yocheved Gold (on the left, obviously).

Yocheved was born in 1923 in Germany. In 1936, as a Jewish teenager who was mistaken for a Christian girl, and despite her fear, she refused to hand a bouquet of flowers to Hitler at the Berlin Olympics. Two years later, at the age of 15, she was among the last Jews to flee Europe before WWII. She managed to make it to the Land of Israel, which saved her life. On Oct 7, she was in kibbutz Sa'ad, one of the southern Israeli communities attacked by Hamas terrorists. Eighty years after antisemites first forced her to flee her home, she had to do it again, and is maybe the only Israeli evacuee to be over 100 years old. Now she has returned to kibbutz Sa'ad, even though most still haven't (as they don't feel safe from Hamas), because she said she doesn't want to die away from home.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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queenvidal · 1 year ago

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Welcome To The Sanctuary

Negan x Reader (Rick’s Daughter)

Chapter 1: Something Eerie

Chapter Summary: It was supposed to be just another pickup day - not a nightmare. Rick is ready to strike against Negan, but all war efforts come to a complete stop, when the life of the woman both men care about the most is on the line.

Wordcount: 2157

Era: Season 7

- Part 5 of the The One And Only Series -

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 - COMING SOON!

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

It’s late in the morning, when a small convoy of trucks makes its way down the deserted roads.

The Saviors are heading to their bosses favorite community. Negan is almost mindlessly driving behind one of the trucks, watching the all too familiar suburb passing by his windows. Today is pickup day for Alexandria and he can’t wait to see what Prick’s people got him this time. It better be good after all the trouble his son caused last week.

It probably won't be much, he muses. Not that he cares too much about it but the town is now short of three more people. It certainly has to put their scavengers under even more pressure. But then again, Rick and especially his Sweet-Thing had to deal with even worse conditions in the past, when coordinating their teams and if anyone can get shit done, it’s her.

After the events of last week's pickup, Negan had to think of her constantly. She must have known about Spencer's plans or at least had to have a suspicion, given how stressed she was, when he first approached them. What a slimy asshole and a coward on top. There is no doubt in his mind his Sunshine would have killed him for what he tried to do. Luckily she didn’t have to lift a finger, she is already close enough to getting exiled as it is and also Negan was more than willing to lend a hand in that matter.

As much as he can't stand Rick, he's got to admit that he's doing a good job - that is keeping his people alive and scavenging good stuff. Also he is well experienced from his years outside of that town and kept so many people alive during that time. That knowledge is priceless in times like this and Negan actually respects him for it. That Spencer really thought he'd not just be as good but even better than Rick as a leader is not only astonishing but also downright pathetic. That asshole got what he deserved.

Still, there is one thing from this whole ordeal that’s still leaving a bitter taste in Negan's mouth and that is the death of the fat woman. He disliked her and was never subtle about it but he knew she was somewhat close to his Sunshine and although it was Arat’s decision to take her out, he still feels sorry for Y/N.

He can’t forget that burning anger in her eyes, when she glared at that bitch that tried to shoot him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit turned on by the sight of it, as out of place as it was. After all his Sweet-Thing is hot as hell when she’s pissed and she’s been seething.

Negan can’t help but smile at that memory. He’s so excited to see her again. It surprised him how much he actually enjoyed their little game of hide and seek. It made the whole affair even more enticing. Still he’s glad people somehow found out eventually. Hopefully this will result in more time with her than rushed quickies every now and then. Given the new circumstances, Negan decided to retire his RV for the time being and left it in The Sanctuary. There is no need for it anymore and her bedroom will do just fine. He really can’t wait to take his time with her.

Finally the high walls of Alexandria are slowly coming into view and the head of the Saviors focuses back onto the road ahead of him. Slowly the gate opens up, making way for the convoy. Negan scans the guards standing on the wall but his Sunshine is nowhere to be seen. She’s not on duty right now it seems.

The trucks drive through the gate onto the parking lot and Negan stops his car right on top of the convoy. The Saviors gather around their vehicles, ready to go through today's pickup. Negan jumps out of his car, shutting the door shut.

Uncomfortableness is creeping up his spine immediately - Something is wrong.

Somehow he has the feeling that something is off but Negan just can’t put his finger on it and it's making him feel quite uneasy. Suddenly on high alert, he's looking around the area. Usually around this time Alexandrians would roam the street, watching the activities but the streets are empty.

Except for one person.

“Ah, Rick!” Negan calls the approaching man with a bright smile that quickly dies again. The closer Rick gets, the more his sorry state becomes visible. The man looks like he’s seen a ghost. His skin is pale, only accentuating the redness of his sunken eyes. The hell happened to him?

Once he’s reached the Saviors, Rick greets them with a weak nod of his head. “Negan. Your stuff’s at the pantry.”

A frown settles on Negan's face. Rick’s not meeting his eyes and while that’s nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it’s quite welcome, it still seems off. The other man’s not avoiding his gaze like he used to but is just staring into the void. What the hell is going on here? After another quick glance around the area, still not seeing his Sweet-Thing, Negan asks, “Where’s Y/N?”

Rick swallows hard. After a moment, he states. “She’s out scouting.”

This statement only adds to the distressing feeling in Negan’s gut. Rick is so obviously lying. She would never go out scouting with a different car than her stupid Mini. The Mini that is clearly sitting in the far corner of the parking lot.

Negan takes one step closer to Rick, his eyes narrowing. But before he can confront Rick about his observations, he sees a woman appearing in the corner of his eye. She’s stepping out of the infirmary. That’s one of Sunshine’s team, he realizes. The woman is crying and wiping her tears. Blood is dripping from her hands.

Negan’s eyes switch between her and Rick. Something is going on. After one final glance at the other man who’s still not meeting his eyes, Negan gets moving. He pushes himself past Rick without a word, heading for the infirmary. Rick’s about to say something but when he sees Sasha standing on the porch, he keeps his mouth shut, following Negan with his head down.

Knots tighten in Negan's chest. The air feels tense, almost eerie. There is not a single person in sight and the whole town is silent. Only the sound of boots moving over the gravel can be heard. It’s quite goosebumps inducing. The head of the Saviors tries to calm himself down, he can’t have his nerves get the better of him.

When they reach the porch, Sasha moves out of their way to the side. She looks at Rick, even more tears are running down her cheeks when she slowly shakes her head at him. Negan can’t see Rick's reaction but at the moment he doesn’t care. All he wants is to find out what’s going on. With the unpleasant feeling in his gut quickly growing, he opens the door and moves inside.

Once through the door, the man is being hit with the pungent smell of blood. His nose crinkles to its own accord and he is met with another puffy red eye. Rick's boy is sitting on a chair next to a cot, looking up at him with a tear stained face, holding the hand of the person lying there.

When Negan's eyes eventually wander to the cot, he stops dead in his tracks. Sunshine. Negan almost forgot how to breathe. There is so much blood.

"It's been an accident." Rick's small voice sounds behind the boss, but he barely registers the other man. Negan moves forward, coming to stand right next to Carl. The boy doesn’t say a word, only holding the hand of his sister in silence.

Negan’s eyes roam over her. His Sunshine is almost unrecognizable, the way she's lying there, completely still, unconscious. Her skin is so pale, almost gray. Bandages are wrapped around her exposed middle but there is still so much blood on her, the cot, the equipment. A rusty metal rod on the cart catches Negan's attention briefly but he quickly moves his eyes back to the big crimson red spot on her belly.

"It happened so fast." Rick tries to explain, "We couldn't-"

"Got a doc or something?" Negan cuts him off immediately, his eyes not leaving her.

Rick’s just looking at his daughter. "She's… she’s our medic.”

Negan’s clenching his jaw. A quiet fuck is leaving his lips as he’s running his ungloved hand through his hair, still taking all of this in.

She’s dying.

Once that thought passes his mind, Negan snaps back from his spinning mind. He moves his attention back to her father, “Prepare her for transport. I’m taking her with us.”

“No-” Rick is about to argue, but there is no room nor time for a debate right now.

“I see you still don't understand what your daughter means to me, Rick.” Negan states in a serious tone, towering over the other man. “I’ve got a doc and a clinic. She’s coming with me.”

“I'm coming with you.” Surprised, both men look at the boy. “So she won't be alone.”

After a short moment of consideration, Negan agrees and nods at him. “Fine. Pack her some things.” Carl carefully places his sister's hand on the cot again, before quickly rushing out of the room. Negan turns his head back towards Rick again. “You get her ready,” he orders, before brushing past him, getting his car.

Rick watches him leave before moving his attention back to his daughter again. Slowly he comes closer, taking her hand in his. His eyes well up again as he looks at her. He raises her hand to his lips, praying to any God who cares to listen, to make her stay, to not take her away. “I love you so much,” he whispers against her skin. It pains him so much to see her like that.

After a new wave of tears are threatening to stream down his face, Rick realizes he has to get going. With as much care as he can muster, he puts a blanket around his daughter, wrapping her up into a cocoon before slowly lifting her up into his arms. Cautiously he hugs her against his chest. “Please don't leave us, Y/N.”

Eventually Rick starts moving, bringing his daughter outside. Sasha is sitting on the railing, still fighting the tears, trying to take a breath and calm down. She offers to help him but Rick doesn't seem to notice her as he’s passing her by without a word. Negan parked his car right in front of the house, Carl is already waiting next to it with a duffel bag in his hand.

Rick walks down the steps attentively, going towards the car. Negan, who just finished instructing Simon to carry on with the pickup, comes closer, ready to take over but Rick moves past him. Carl quickly opens the door before helping his father to slowly and carefully lay his sister down onto the back seat of the car. Rick tugs her in one more time, whispering to her to keep fighting, to please wake up again, before he has to reluctantly let go of her.

As much as he hates Negan and as much as he distrusts him with every fiber of his being, if that man can save her, he will swallow all his hatred up. He’d do everything in and beyond his power for her. All he wants is for his daughter to open her eyes again.

Negan comes to stand next to Rick, looking at him with something close to compassion in his features, “Whatever happens, either way, I’ll let you know.” He's reaching out his hand, offering the other man a two-way radio.

Rick only nods silently, taking it. After one final look at his daughter, he's moving away. Negan lets out a sharp whistle, gaining Carl's attention. “Jump in.” The boy does as he’s been told, hopping into the passenger seat while Negan hurries onto his.

The engine roars to life as they quickly take off and hit the road. Rick watches them drive out of the gate. His heart is shattering into a million pieces. This feels way too much like a last goodbye.

Sasha’s slowly approaching him. She puts her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture, but there is nothing that can console him.

Negan is racing down the streets as fast as he can. Adrenaline is rushing through his veins. Please, let it not be too late. It’s dead silent in the car. Now more than ever is he afraid of noises.

Dreading to hear the tell-tale sound of quiet groaning.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 - COMING SOON!

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

Taglist: @starry-night-20 / @joceymoo / @srhxpci / @ladykxxx08 / @sunneeflower / @frombloodandflesh / @aleeeesa /@lanamiller / @fanfic-n-tabulous / @noirfan12 / @abbiesxox / @elinafresk / @obsessiveformiyatwins / @kokushibosgirl / @syrma-sensei / @oceandolores

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nightofhappylight · 11 months ago

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Initially just wanted to draw Sasori and Kisame in their respective villages' standard uniform.

...And now there's a whole idea for a fanfic, so here's a short one of GuardianNinja!Akatsuki AU.

Snow Country Reading Club

Sasori hates waiting.

Not that he would go on a frustrated, genocidal mass-killing over waiting for a few minutes or anything, but if any of the idiots don’t arrive soon—or worse, if they change shifts without informing him—then there’s no telling what his smallest, mostly harmless doll he’s now fiddling with would do.

Flicking a finger, Sasori absently watches as the doll picks up a stick and starts to draw something on the ground. Not quite distracting enough, he makes it take up a stick on each limb and do a weird, half-remembered imitation of Suna’s traditional fan dance. If he cares enough, there’s a faint laugh he can hear from inside the big, heavily guarded building some meters away from where he’s sitting. He looks down and sighs.

Just fifteen more minutes. He would ditch the idiots if they don’t come after that.

༄ ༄ ༄

Deidara, for the umpteenth time, curses the ancient Tsuchikage for making him put up with this.

The job pays well, yes. And he is qualified, certainly.

But does he care? No, not really. Feudal Lords can do anything and Deidara would pay not even a quarter of shit to it. Their orders are shinobi’s main source of income but Deidara prefers the messy, explosive kind to the boring, tasteless, mind-numbing ones, like body-guarding.

He doesn’t have a choice, though. Not if he doesn’t want to get in another trouble with the old old man. Besides, it’s better than desk jobs, he guesses (because sage forbids he has to sit and write and think), and he gets to switch and take a break for a few hours to do whatever he wants.

…He just hopes a certain redhead wouldn’t stick a poisonous needle in him or something, though, because his shift lasting for one more hour is not his fault.

༄ ༄ ༄

When Kisame comes to their usual secret-but-not-really place, he is in a fairly cheery mood.

After seeing the familiar redhead, though, there’s something concerningly similar to fear—and morbid curiosity—that makes him blink.

“Uh” he starts, eloquently, “Where are the others?” because he’s usually the last one to arrive but there’s no blond or raven in sight.

Sasori looks downright pissed—Kisame wonders why the guy’s still there—and levels him with a look, “Who fucking knows.”

Oh. Wow. Okay.

Whistling a random, carefully low tune, Kisame sits a few feet from the puppeteer, “There’s a change in the Lightning’s Guardians, I heard.”

That, thankfully, gets the redhead’s attention.

“Who died?”

Kisame snorts, “Nah, just resigned, I think. It’s Dodai-san”

“The rubber guy” Sasori recognizes, “He is old, I guess.”

Kisame thinks about how Sasori is pretty old himself—despite his very misleading looks—and keeps the thought to himself. He glances to the windows of the building that currently holds the nations’ Feudal Lords, chuckles at how constipated Deidara had looked and faintly wonders why the convoy from Fire hasn’t arrived yet.

༄ ༄ ༄

When Itachi appears, it’s a day later than the schedule and he is greeted by a whole sour mood that turns off like a light the second he steps onto their self-claimed patch of clearing.

“Hey, Itachi-san” Kisame greets, a hand in a lazy wave, and Itachi follows the Kiri nin’s gaze and blinks at a raised eyebrow.

Ah. Right, he hasn’t had time to change yet.

“There was some trouble on the way” he explains, which is a normal occurrence, really—Feudal Lords eat assassination attempts for breakfast—but there has been a little more effort in the last couple times, “Asuma-san’s team is currently acting as decoy and we went here undercover.”

(Not that Itachi would say it out loud, but he is forever grateful the Fire’s Lord is mostly a chill guy and is fine with their modus operandi, however questionable it can be).

Vainly tapping his flak jacket to at least dust some dried red, Itachi takes a seat on the ground where Deidara is patting enthusiastically.

“We were talking about the Lightning new guy, yeah.”

“Darui-san?”

“What – you already knew??”

Itachi nods, pulling out a gray-bound scroll and a soft-cover book and thumping them on top of the other ones piled on a relatively cleaner spot, “Hokage-sama told me.”

Deidara rolls his eyes, “Of course he would, yeah” he says and goes to mutter something about blonds and old mans and retirement.

Kisame smirks, eyes alight in humor “Good for you, Itachi-san. Yagura-sama prefers his subordinates having surprises.”

“That’s because Kiri nin would die if you don’t get anything exciting happening for more than twenty minutes—”

“Hey! The one who had a rampage on a ‘seemingly empty desert’ doesn’t get to talk!”

“I’m not the one with the huge-ass, chakra-eating sword—”

Itachi snorts softly, taking one random book and flipping it open. Ah, a general history of the Stone’s alliance with Grass. He has read about it in Konoha’s archive, but having another point of view wouldn’t hurt.

“How old is the guy anyway?” Deidara asks by way of redirecting the topic because Sasori is now starting to bring up their tardiness.

“Young.”

“Younger than Itachi was?”

“No one is younger than Itachi was when he first joined.”

“…Fair. Younger than Deidara?”

“No, a little older,” a pause, “Acts ten years more than his age, though.”

They each grab a book or a scroll, a comment slipping here and there, and soon they’re sitting in a semi-circle, silent, each reading one thing or another.

“…We could invite the guy some time” Kisame says some half an hour into the silence, page opened on a certain kata illustration. (…So that’s why he has been… weirdly moving his hands about.)

“I’m fine with that, yeah” Deidara nonchalantly agrees, already on his third book and flipping many pages all at once and stopping randomly to read “Hey, somebody gotta teach me this one!”

Itachi glances at the pointed passage. A chakra control exercise. …Hmm.

“I could show an example” he offers, before looking at Sasori, “Unless Sasori-san is willing to demonstrate it” because the book is from Suna, after all. Said puppeteer just waves a dismissive hand, eyes still focused on an old, fraying scroll pertaining… Kiri’s desserts?

Deidara shoves the book into his hands. The raven reads the page once again to make sure of the theory and starts channeling it into practice. Brown and black dust falls from the hem of his sleeves and he glances forward as he feels the other half of Konoha’s convoy arriving and getting into the building.

It would be his shift in a couple hours, but for now, he is content to enjoy his break with some company.

#naruto #naruto fanart #naruto fanfiction #akatsuki #GuardianNinja!Akatsuki AU #itachi uchiha #kisame hoshigaki #sasori #deidara

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your-highnessmarvel · 1 month ago

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cotton candy | s.riley

CHAPTER TWELVE

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: language

Chapter Summary: Ghost has never felt the need to protect her as much as he does now.

A/N: There's no much here but the continuation and sort of closure from last chapter. This was more of a transition from where we left off last time (LMAO) to what's next.

Masterlist

Find it on AO3 HERE.

MINORS DNI BELOW THE CUT

When she awoke, Laura wasn't blinded anymore. In fact, she wasn't sleeping against Ghost's form anymore. It was Soap whom she leaned against, Soap that she was curled up on, his hands in her hair, his fingers caressing her jaw.

He was shaking her awake.

The room had darkened when she rose on her haunches, looking around with puffy eyes and brain fog.

"We're cleared to go out," Soap was saying, but Laura was looking for Ghost.

She groaned, reaching for her pants, and standing up to put them on.

Soap stood, watching her with a corner smirk. "You okay?" he asked when she lost her balance with only one foot in her pant leg.

She sighed, straightened, and slowly put her other foot through, pulling her pants back up. She hadn't noticed how sticky her panties were, and it made her so uncomfortable to put her pants over it.

"I'm okay, just tired, and I want to shower."

Soap grabbed her wrist gently, looking out towards the door as if someone would come bursting in.

"No I mean..." he trailed off, searching her eyes. She kept them averted, looking at his feet, the floor, the cot where everything had changed between the both of them. The three of them.

He gently brought her face to his with his thumb on her chin, dragging her eyes right back to his baby blues. "Are you okay?" he repeated, much slower, much more emphasized.

She swallowed hard, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. "I'm just... what do we do from here?"

He smirked, cockiness etched onto his features. "That's all up to you, lass," he answered, gruff. "But right now, let's get you back to the RV, back to Laswell, and then a shower!"

---

Alejandro and Price were both pacing in opposite directions of Laswell's small office. The lights had been dimmed, the screen of her computer turned off. Laswell kept appearing in glimpses, between the interlacing bodies of Alejandro and Price, as they paced back and forth, meeting in the middle.

She was sitting at her desk, hands clasped together, her chin rested on top of the net her fingers made. Her eyes were huge, glassy, dissociated.

"How many?" she asked--again.

"Eight," Price confirmed.

Eight members of staff dead. Nineteen injured. Twenty six shadows identified--Twenty dead, six missing.

All for Laura.

Ghost's insides felt like hot spaghetti, twisting and slipping around under the skin of his belly. Churning. He could picture it, piss yellow noodles in a pool of his blood, angrily coiling into each other, stretching and pulling at his sides.

It was hot, burning, scalding--his anxiety. It was so unbearable that he had to bend over in his chair, elbows on his knees. It made him tense, like his stomach was made of lead, like he was physically sick.

It made him hypersensitive to all the sensations in his body--this anxiety. The way his t-shirt was scratching at his chest. The way it was too tight on his shoulders. His neck seemed to itch, but it wasn't an itch, more of an oversensitivity.

He suddenly got up, the chair scraping against the linoleum.

Laswell looked up suddenly.

With two feet planted on the ground, Ghost faced his team. Price stopped pacing near the wall. Alejandro right near Simon.

"We know exactly who did this," Ghost said. "We know exactly who ordered this hit on Laura, on us."

Everyone remained quiet. Ghost was stating the obvious.

"And we know where his safe houses are. We know where his businesses are. We can hit him where it hurts, draw him out like venom in a snake bite. We can track his convoys, his trade offs, and show him we're watching him."

Laswell breathed in through her nose, then sighed loudly, shaking her head. "I like the enthusiasm, Ghost, but Alvarez will just go underground. Right now, he thinks we don't know where he keeps his guns, his drugs, his women. He thinks we have no idea where his men lay their heads at night, where they shit, eat, shower." She got up, putting her palms down on her desk.

Ghost could see her visibly tense.

"That's how we can track him. Because if he knows we have the coordinates to eight of his safe houses, hell, if he knew we even had intel on his next run--he'd vanish right under our noses."

Ghost bit his tongue.

Price put up his hands like he was stopping two bulls from butting heads.

"I understand there's a...good reason why you want to jump right on the gun, Ghost." He could've just said her name. "But there's a reason why we do these operations covertly. Because it works. And guys like Alvarez are slimy. He's making good money here, and that's why he's still here. But if he gets a whiff of us anywhere near his shit, he'll pack up. He's the kinda guy who would rather risk losing some money and build a new operation elsewhere than get caught."

Ghost wanted to scream. None of this was helping him--or helping the angry soup spaghetti in his belly.

"So what's next?" he asked. His eyes met Laswell's. "What are our orders?"

She sighed, the tendons in her neck visible ridges under her pale skin.

She looked at Price with a cautionary glance.

"What?" Ghost asked, his voice tense, brimming on the edges of a scream.

"We have one of them in custody," Price answered, tucking his chin to his chest.

Ghost's eyebrows shot up under the mask.

"You have one of Alvarez's men in custody!?" His voice all but bounced off the walls of the room. "What are our orders, Laswell!?"

"Alejandro and Price will interrogate the prisoner," Laswell said, eyeing Ghost cautiously. "I have Gaz on the dead shadows, trying to piece together their identities. They had some electronics on them, so he'll go through each and every one of them to get any information."

"What about me?" Ghost asked. "Soap?"

Laswell nodded. "This position has been compromised." She looked at him dead on. "Laura's position has been compromised. Alvarez knows she's here, with us. And right now, he thinks he has the upper hand. He thinks we have no idea where he is, where his men are. And he thinks he knows where Laura is, and that he will just come and get her."

"He'll never be able to breach these walls again," Ghost answered.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean he won't try again. And we can't have that."

Ghost shrugged. "So what are my orders, Laswell?"

She straightened, jutted her chin. "You and Sergeant MacTavish will be put on a special, undercover operation, starting in three days. You'll be tasked to transport Laura to Pattaya City, in the Gulf, where we'll have you evacuated to Singapore. You'll be assigned new identities under the guise of employees of the LHA Armada."

A helicarrier?

"I'll be on the boat, as will the boys." Price stepped into Ghost's vision. "We'll be the decoy. Once Alvarez and his men are on our tail, you'll leave with the kid."

Ghost swallowed his worry. "Three days?" he asked.

"You'll have to be prepped and ready to leave Friday, 0700 hours," Laswell confirmed.

Ghost nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Get your team ready as well."

"My team?"

"Sergeant MacTavish and, well, Laura."

Ghost shook his head. "Laura is a civilian. She's not part of any team."

Alejandro snorted. "She's is now, Ghost," he said, crossing his arms. "It will do you and her some good to have her trained in combat, weapons, and tactical."

"She can't possibly be expected to learn and remember all the training we took years to learn in just three days." The spaghetti soup was swirling madly in his belly again.

"Three days is better than no days, hermano," Alejandro sighed.

"And she has some hand-to-hand training, as I've been told," Price added.

"And she's smart," Alejandro continued, his voice lower. "We're lucky we got a target whose got a head on her shoulders and knows how to use it."

Ghost felt the spaghetti in his insides melt. "I'll go warn my...team," he said, and headed for the door.

Everything on base was different now. There were security checkpoints everywhere, and Ghost had to give his DoD numbers eight times before he made it back to the RV.

When he saw the lights on, he could physically feel the angry, churning mess inside him seep out of his intestines, pool down his legs, and collect in a puddle beneath his feet.

He saw her shadow in the kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, directly in front of another shadow with a mohawk.

The hinges on the RV door squealed to life when Ghost entered.

Laura perked up, her cheeks reddening when she watched him come in, closing the door behind him. Ghost wanted to drink that in, the look on her face, that innocent, round, doe-eyed look.

Her dark ponytail, the sweet roundness of her cheeks, the way her t-shirt clung to her shoulders.

But he only had three days.

"We leave in three days," he said.

Soap's face hardened. "L.T?"

"We're evacuating Laura to Pattaya. And then we're waterbound to Singapore."

Laura frowned, looking between the two men. "Wait what?"

Soap sighed. "You heard him, lass," he muttered. "We have three days to get you ready. And then we're walking all the way to Pattaya."

Laura looked up at Ghost with those big brown eyes of hers. Ghost felt his insides harden, and suddenly, overwhelmingly, the need to protect her climbed up and took residence between his ribs.

#simon riley #ghost cod #ghost #ghost smut #simon riley smut #ghost x oc #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x female reader #ghost simon riley #ghost x innocent!reader

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dysperdis · 1 year ago

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There was an anti-SOGI convoy from Chilliwack to Vancouver yesterday by the local anti-LGBTQIA2S hate brigade, and normally I'd be pissed off for the next week, but I'm currently running on a cloud of pure Schadenfreude.

You see, one of the absolute geniuses involved decided to bring his big, expensive tractor as a pace vehicle (not legal on hwy 1)...

And then, instead of pulling over, dude decides to go all Tilldozer on the highway patrol in Surrey:

So, after driving to the next exit (2km past the spot in video one, at a max speed of 50km/h) and driving onto the OTHER highway, buddy decides to head back to the freeway, bouncing off of the cop cars the whole while...

...except, he hit the edge of the median while attempting to push his way in front of the cop car onto the freeway and basically fuckin' PITT'ed himself.

He lived, word is he broke his back, but frankly that's getting away light if you watch the full footage of the roll-over

Meanwhile, the local groups/servers I'm in are like:

(here's the cop car he was bouncing off of by the way- one of the videos floating around from other drivers specifically mentioned the door coming open after one of the hits)

Oh, and he fucking bragged about it on FB from a couple of cities earlier and named his farm. You know, the farm that's now down a $250k+ tractor because of his stunt.

And the absolute cherry on top?

These are the same people who just started collecting signatures to recall the BC Education Minister in order to intimidate the province into removing queer-inclusive books from the library. They need to collect signatures from 40% of the riding she was elected in to succeed.

So, guess what city they need to collect those signatures in?

Anyways, nvr4get the Great Surrey Tractor Chase of '23 😉

#queer #sogi123 #canpoli #video #autoplay #accident photo #the great surrey tractor chase of '23 #lgbtqia #schadenfreude

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katakaluptastrophy · 2 years ago

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You know what can't have been a fun experience for anyone involved? Merv Wing's mega truck convoy on Varun day.

Like, you're a regular guy in Blood of Eden. You've probably got an unfortunate name like Tis Pity She's a Whore Flower of Scotland Mmmbop Ba Duba Dop and you've somehow pissed off Unjust Hope enough that you've been put on zombie babysitting duty. This is extremely boring, as the zombies in question just sit in the truck and have very long arguments about - according to your friend, who speaks some House - maths. At one point you had to separate two of them when a discussion about methodology got heated, but no one's done anything disgustingly necromantic, and you're both disappointed and relieved. Then, one day, a ghost planet appears in the sky. It is alarmingly blue, and like everything else, it is John Gaius' fault. It also makes the zombies go insane. Half of them are writhing on the floor, screaming, gibbering, and sobbing. The other half look as alarmed as you do. There is a brief and urgent discussion about whether shooting them is going to cause a diplomatic incident, during which it suddenly goes very quiet, followed by more awful screaming, and then silence. The zombies that were mad are now very calm. And blind. And sweating blood. And bleeding from places that you know should not, under ideal circumstances, be bleeding. And as if this isn't bad enough, this barely stops them from arguing about maths.

You're a member of the Oversight Body of the House formerly known as Sixth. You've probably got an unfortunate name like Pupienus Sex and shockingly your attempt to negotiate with terrorists has gone badly wrong. You are dehydrated and underfed, and Unjust Hope is mostly sticking to the no torture clause, so you're passing the time by getting into extremely baroque arguments about archaeology. Then, without warning, you are delirious with mental agony. You are scratching at the walls. Someone is waving a gun at you and yelling and it barely registers. You are foaming at the mouth. Your colleague from Physics is very earnestly trying to explain something about spectroscopy. Eventually, at enormous thanergetic cost, you blind yourself and given the alternative, you're oddly relieved. Now as long as the contingent from archives don't start doing quadratics again, and no one gets waterboarded, you can get back to arguing about archaeology.

Everyone tries to pretend that nothing weird happened.

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #tlt meta

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freetheshit-outofyou · 5 months ago

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I’ve had a flashback 4 times since exiting the service (16 years ago.). Twice when getting into a shower that was cold when I jumped in, I was immediately back in Iraq at Patrol Base 2 in the crappy shower made out of pallets. I could feel the pallets under my feet, smell the stagnant water and piss tubes right outside the shower. It was staggering how fast I went from my shower in the US to a show in Iraq.

Once while driving from Fernley to Reno, I was behind a National Guard convoy and all of a sudden, I was in my gun truck in Iraq driving down MSR Tampa. This time it was truly dangerous because I was driving my Jeep. I was so confused, of course, but it did not last more than a few moments because the jeeps radio was playing and it was something that could not have possibly been in Iraq so it broke the combination of events that brought on the flashback.

Today, I had another one that had an opportunity to be equally as dangerous. I was at Lowe’s and had just walked outside where it was a little over 100 degrees outside. I had a thought about an Army buddy in my head as I stepped into the roadway headed to the Jeep. Before I stepped off the curb an old Ford truck drove by kicking up the dust and smelling of hot diesel fuel, that combines with what I was thinking of and the sunset and heat POW, I was right back in Iraq. Aware that my brain is showing me someplace I could not possibly be I took a heavy step and I was dragging my boot through the moon dust of Patrol Base 2, I took another step and said out loud “This is not real.” I took a third labored step in the moon dust and though “Shit, I am in the roadway”. As I took the 4th step it was like I stepped though a doorway and pow I was back in the Lowe’s parking lot about 10 steps further in the road than I was before going back to Iraq.

It is so crazy, I could feel it all, smell it all and see that all too familiar Iraqi sunset.

I took a photo of the sunset at Lowe’s; all the rest are from Iraq in 2006.

I must have looked crazy to any outside observer in the Lowe’s parking lot.

#me

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scaryscarecrows · 7 months ago

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Hostile Takeover

Charles ‘ChiChi’ Smith woke up six hours ago to pandemonium.

Poisonings. Seven of them, the big boss and his lieutenants. Nobody knows what the fuck happened apart from, well, ‘poisoned’. Somebody had gone to find them and they’d been stone dead, vomit drying around them. Nasty business.

Nobody will cop to it, either. That’s the weird thing. Somebody’s clearly making a grab for power, so own it, right? But nobody is. Everyone’s spooked, and pissed, but nobody’s owning up. It’s not like Sionis was beloved by any stretch, and neither were the bastards he kept close, so why won’t the new boss step up?

Well, ChiChi figures, it may as well be him. He’s been here long enough.

First order of business is to find the responsible party. He loves the opening, but they’re a liability. So he’d gathered a handful of their better foot soldiers, big idiots that shoot first and ask questions later. Sent ‘em out. Grabbed more people to burn the bodies–can’t be too careful–and wondered if it’s too soon to start redecorating the main office.

A few hours later, he decided it’d been long enough and headed in, only to be met with a little fucker.

Jason Todd has been here about three months. He’s eighteen, a mouthy little bastard. It’s been ChiChi’s dream to shut his ass up one way or the other, but so far no luck. And he’s sitting in the leather chair with his boots thrown up on the desk, toying with some expensive glass doodad.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” he demands. Todd grins up at him.

“Checkin’ out my new office. What are you doing here?”

He laughs.

“This ain’t your office, kid. Get out.”

“Well, you sure as hell didn’t poison the old man.” Todd’s eyes flash. “Seems I’ve got more right to it than you.”

ChiChi stares.

“You did that.”

“Uh-huh.” Todd stretches back, chair creaking. “Spiked their beer, sat back, and laughed.”

“Bullshit,” ChiChi spits. “Get the hell outta here.”

Outside, there’s shouting and Todd rolls to his feet.

“Sounds fun. Let’s go see.”

Before ChiChi can grab him, he’s breezed by and gone out into the heat.

There’s strangers in the compound. ChiChi doesn’t recognize most of them, but the big guy, Trent Ages, has done business with them before. Not often, and he’s fucked ‘em over a few times, but it’s happened. He’s holding a big duffle bag. The others, guys ChiChi doesn’t know, are armed but standing loosely despite the sheer number of guns trained on them.

“You got ‘em!” Todd crows, striding over. “Nice.”

What.

He turns to the assembly, spreads his hands, and intones, “Last night, I gave our former boss and his cronies a case of strychnine-spiked beer. To put it bluntly, I’m in charge now. Before anybody tries to argue–Ages, throw me that, would ya?”

Ages obliges. Todd catches the bag, staggers a bit, and tosses it towards ChiChi. Keeping one wary eye on Todd, he crouches down and opens it up.

Glassy eyes stare up at him and he scrambles back when it clicks that those are heads, that he knows those heads, he sent ‘em out this morning what the fuck–

“Recognize ‘em?” Todd’s smile is cold. “They had to go.”

“You’re a fucking psycho!”

“No, I’m pragmatic. They were too quick to jump for you.” He raises his voice. “Sionis was small-time. I’m not. We’re not gonna keep wasting our time fucking with the Garage. They don’t have anything better than we do.” He pauses. “Luthor’s got a supply convoy heading this way next week. We’re going to take it from him.”

There’s a wave of murmuring. ChiChi stands up. Todd’s going to get them all killed, which he doesn’t give a shit about. He’s been here too long, put up with too much shit, to let this little cocksucker just roll in here and ruin everything.

“That’s crazy,” he says, marching over. Todd studies him, eyebrow raised. “You think, because you found some nuts willing to humor you, that you can just take over? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Bullshit. Somebody fucking shoot–hurgh!”

Todd’s suddenly a lot closer, one hand fisted in ChiChi’s shirt and the other down low, where a burning pain is suddenly spreading through his gut. His knees start to buckle and Todd’s grip tightens, forcing him to stay on his feet.

“You were always a sick fuck,” he breathes. “And a liability. But don’t die on me just yet, I’m not done here.”

He scrambles for something, anything; a gun, a knife, even a grenade, at this point, but Todd kicks his feet out from under him and the burning pain shoots upwards before Todd draws his knife back out and lets him fall.

“I will warn you,” he continues, “anyone who gets in my way will regret it. If you want to end your miserable life choking on your own blood in the middle of the desert, that’s your business. I can’t promise you your death will be as merciful as ChiChi’s here.”

BLAM!

Jason Todd holsters his gun and turns from the corpse without a backwards glance.

“Somebody burn this,” he says carelessly. “That bag, too. Then I want everybody in the Big Building. We’ve got things to discuss.”

He starts back towards the office. One of the new men, a redhead, says something in a low voice and he laughs.

“Oh, yeah, the bodies those heads came from are about a mile east. Might wanna do somethin’ about those, too.”

THE END

#garage tapes 'verse #jason todd #jason ended up with his own mc somehow and i doubt it was by vote

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lookingforhappy · 6 months ago

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another of Five's cases while working as management for the Commission was the execution of Benito Mussolini and his mistress Claretta Petacci - Mussolini was the dictator of Italy in the 1940s and entered Italy into WWII on the side of the Nazi's. Italy was pretty pissed about this and started a resistance against him.

transcript:

MEMORANDUM ON INTENDED EVENTS RE: THE DEATH OF BENITO MUSSOLINI AND CLARETTA PETACCI April 28, 1945 Event to Occur: On 27 April 1945, Mussolini and his mistress Claretta Petacci, together with other fascist leaders, will be travelling in a German convoy near the village of Dongo on the north westen shore of Lake Como. A group of local communist partisans led by Pier Luigi Bellini delle Stelle and Urbano Lazzaro will the convoy and forced it to halt. The partisans will recognise one Italian fascist leader in the convoy, but not Mussolini at this stage, and make the Germans hand over all the Italians in exchange for allowing the Germands to proceed. Mussolini will later be recognized among the convoy passengers. The partisans will arrest Mussolini and take him to Dongo, where he will spend part of the night in the local barracks. Over fifty fascist leaders and their families will be found in the convoy and arrested by the partisans. Aside from Mussolini and Petacci, sixteen of the most prominent of them will be summarily shot in Dongo the following day and a further ten will be killed over two successive nights. Claretta Petacci, Mussolini's mistress, will be captured and executed with him. Fighting will still be going on in the area around Dongo. Fearing that Mussolini and Petacci might be rescued by fascist supporters, the partisans will drive them, in the middle of the night, to a nearby farm of a peasant family named De Maria; this will be a safe place to hold them. Although several conflicting versions and theories of how Mussolini and Petacci died were put forward after the wat, the account of Walter Audisio, or at least is essential components, remains the most credible and id sometimes referred to in Italy as the "official" version. It was largely confirmed by an account provided by Aldo Lampredi and the "classical" narrative of the story was set out in books written in the 1960s by Bellini delle Stelle and Urbano Lazzaro, and the journalist Franco Bandini. Although each of thses accounts vary in detail, they are consistent on the main facts. Audisio and Lampredi left Milan for Dongo early on the morning of 28 April to carry out the orders Audisio had been given by Longo. On arrival in Dongo, they met Bellini delle Stelle, who was the local partisan commander, to arrange for Mussolini to be handed over to them. Audisio used the nom de guerre of "Colonnello Valerio" during his mission. In the evening of 28 April, the bodies of Mussolini, Petacci, and the other executed fascists were loaded onto a van and trucked south to Milan. On arriving in the city in the early hours of 29 April, they were dumped on the ground in the Piazzale Loreto, a suburban square near the main railway station. The choice of location was deliberate. Fifteen partisans had been shot there in August 1944 in retaliation for partisan attacks and Allied bombing raids, and their bodies had then been left on public display. At the time Mussolini is said to have remarked "for the blood of Piazzale Loreto, we shall pay dearly".

MUSSOLINI AND PETACCI ASSASSINATION INTELLIGENCE SUMMARY Place | Date | Hour | Summary of Events and Information | Remarks MILAN, ITALY April | 20. | Mussolini and Petacci will convene with several dozen Fascist party leaders and a brigade of German Wermacht to travel by convoy north to attempt to reach safety in Germany | EF LAKE COMO REGION ITaly April | 24. | Progress will be hindered by poor roads, as well as continued war-time and partisan civil war fighting in the region | SB 25. | Palmiro Togliatti of The Communist Party of Italy will declare the fascist leaders of Italy as fugitives and sentence them to be executed upon capture. This order will be of conflicted authority. | - 26. | Walter Audisio is to be given the order to execute Mussolini and the other leaders and is sent to Dongo to carry out these orders. Aldo Lampredi is to be sent to assist Audisio in the event that Audisio's temperament becomes a hinderance. | EF 26. | The mission objective will be carried out, after which time the parameters of expected history will be reset to their correct trajectories. The TA agent will ensure success. | TD Instructions regarding Intelligence Summaries are contained in Regula II and the Management Manual. Title pafes will be prepared in manuscript.

To CASE MANAGER 0043 From FIELD AGENT 00293 Subject Mussolini and Petacci Assassination Pneumatic Transit Code [multiple strongs of number as seen in the image above] My recommendation is to reconsider our current outlook concerning the viability of the subject's tool of action, a submachine gun, in light of recent events. The project has stalled at numerous points over the past months and contines to progress at a menial pace. Should the current iteration of the device be completed as is it will fail to provide enough force to puncture the fuel tank given the density of the aluminum alloy used in the manufacturing of the encasement. I expect that the subject will proceed as required.

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #the commission

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howlingday · 7 months ago

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Do you think Blake and Yang had nightmares about Adam and the fact they killed him while they stayed in Atlas?

So, believe it or not, and I may have mentioned this before, but I absolutely HATE how they wrote off Adam. Don't get me wrong, everything about Blake and Yang VS Adam was perfectly fine, even the killing the blow is just the perfect amount of desperation and equality of blame. This would have been a solid reason for BMBLB to get some canon to their name...

BUT THEY FUMBLED IT SO BAAAAAD!

What do I mean? I'll put it as simply as I can; you remember how Ruby had her whole thing in V9 where she was freaking out because of her trauma? That made sense! Blake and Yang DON'T HAVE THAT! There's no weight to their actions! There's no consequence!

Maybe if CRWBY had some content with Blake and Yang comforting and talking to each other about what they did, or even to other people, I'd be fine with it. But they didn't...

Except they did. And this... Oh, this just pisses me off the most about this whole Adam thing because OOOOOOHOOOHOO! ARGH!

Anyway, they do reference Adam's death in V7. Yup, they did. Don't remember? I didn't, and finding out that it was in yet ANOTHER BMBLB fumble- Ooh, FMBLB, I like that -when Yang and Blake decide to team up with Robyn behind everyone's backs! In V7E7, "Worst Case Scenario," the scene goes, and I quote...

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Did you catch that? This is such a vague line that NOBODY would know without further context! Are they talking about not telling Ironwood? Are they talking about a separate adventure that we didn't see? Are they talking about their plan already made to ambush Robyn? Sure, I might be nitpicking, BUT IT'S SOMETHING THAT I CAN'T IGNORE IS JUST BAD WRITING!

Hell, I'll write a better scene right fucking now to prove it!

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Yang: Do you… (loud exhale) Do you think we should've told Ironwood about Salem, before he put so much on the line for Amity? Blake: Sounds like you do. Yang: (sighs) I trust Ruby, but I think he deserves to know what he's stepping into. We all did. Blake remains quiet, her cat ears folding over a little. Yang turns and looks at her. Yang: You don't agree. Blake collapses her Scroll and puts it away. Blake: Look around. The embargo, the military presence, the restrictions on assembly. He's a bit prone to overreacting. Yang: Yeah, hard to argue with that. Still, he didn't have a lot of good options. Blake looks out the window, remorse on her face. As the convoy moves, a propaganda poster of the White Fang symbol with red X over is seen with the caption, "See Something, Say Something". Blake: I'm not sure there are many good options left for any of us anymore. Keeping secrets, taking lives? It makes you wonder how far we're gonna have to go to keep doing the right thing. Yang: Blake. Blake looks at Yang, who has a saddened expression with her eyes glimmering from emotion. Yang: We did... what we had to do... back at Argus. Blake's eyes glimmer a little, and she looks away. Blake: I know. But next time, I wanna make sure we don't have to, and I can tell you, ambushing a Huntress who's just trying to help isn't an option I'm thrilled about choosing. Yang: Neither am I, but... Hey, at least we'll be the ones doing the ambushing this time, right? Blake groans as her ears flatten. Blake: That's not funny. Yang looks down. Yang: I know. I'm sorry. I'm just... trying to lighten the mood. Blake places a hand over Yang's. Yang looks up to see Blake give a small smile. Blake: I know you are. Yang gives a smile in return.

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So, uh, yeah. If a bit more effort was put in, maybe V7 wouldn't have been such a shitshow, and BMBLB might have looked a lot better.

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #adam taurus #bmblb #heehee #fmblb #my thoughts #my answer #my answers #my criticisms

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