#home rule charter

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Hallie Lauer

City of Pittsburgh operations could come grinding to a halt — buildings dark, public transport riders stranded, firefighters unable to enter burning buildings and paramedics unable to administer life-saving drugs — if a proposed ballot measure seeking to cut all ties to Israel is passed in November, challengers to the provision said in legal documents Tuesday.

City Controller Rachael Heisler and the Jewish Federation of Greater Pittsburgh filed separate challenges to a petition that seeks to change Pittsburgh’s Home Rule Charter to ensure that the city cannot invest in or buy services from any entity doing business with or in Israel.

The petition — submitted with more than 12,800 apparently valid signatures — seeks to put the issue before voters as a ballot referendum in November.

While the petition lists neither the name nor address of a submitting entity, it is believed to be the product of the pro-Palestinian “No War Crimes on our Dime” group. The group’s website outlines the reasoning behind the ballot initiative and says it’s backed by the Pittsburgh Democratic Socialists of America, although as recently as Monday the website had claimed backing from a group identified as Keystone Progress.

Hallie Lauer

Staffers for prominent local officials signed on to ballot referendum to end Pittsburgh’s ties to Israel

Keystone Progress reached out to the Post-Gazette after the initial publication and said that their organization name was used in error and that the group is not financially backing the ballot referendum efforts.

Both challenges submitted Tuesday claim the referendum violates state law and certain business provisions of the Home Rule Charter and could create undue strain on city operations.

If the petitions make it past the challenge phase, a referendum will be included on the November ballot, asking Pittsburgh voters to decide whether the charter should be amended to prohibit “investment or allocation of public funds, including tax exemptions, to entities that conduct business operations with or in the state of Israel.”

If approved by voters, the prohibition would be in effect until “Israel ends its military action in Gaza,” allows humanitarian aid to reach the people of Gaza, and grants “equal rights to every person living in the territories under Israeli control,” according to the language of the referendum.

The No War Crimes on our Dime website argues that even making a change in one city, such as Pittsburgh, could send a message about the management and allocation of public resources. “Israel’s war machine is dependent on American weapons and money. … That means we have the capacity, right, and responsibility to stop the violence today by making our government impose a ceasefire and push for equal rights.”

Organizers of the initiative could not be reached directly for comment.

[sapphia]

USA please listen to me: the price of “teaching them a lesson” is too high. take it from New Zealand, who voted our Labour government out in the last election because they weren’t doing exactly what we wanted and got facism instead.

Trans rights are being attacked, public transport has been defunded, tax cuts issued for the wealthy, they've mass-defunded public services, cut and attacked the disability funding model, cut benefits, diverted transport funding to roads, cut all recent public transport subsidies, cancelled massive important infrastructure projects like damns and ferries (we are three ISLANDS), fast tracked mining, oil, and other massive environmentally detrimental projects and gave the power the to approve these projects singularly to three ministers who have been wined and dined by lobbyists of the companies that have put the bids in to approve them while one of the main minister infers he will not prioritise the protection of endangered species like the archeys frog over mining projects that do massive environmental harm. They have attacked indigenous rights in an attempt to negate the Treaty of Waitangi by “redefining it”; as a backup, they are also trying to remove all mentions of the treaty from legislation starting with our Child Protection laws no longer requiring social workers to consider the importance of Maori children’s culture when placing those children; when the Waitangi Tribunal who oversees indigenous matters sought to enquire about this, the Minister for Children blocked their enquiry in a breach of comity that was condemned in a ruling — too late to do anything — by our Supreme Court. They have repealed labour protections around pay and 90 day trials, reversed our smoking ban, cancelled our EV subsidy, cancelled our water infrastructure scheme that would have given Maori iwi a say in water asset management, cancelled our biggest city’s fuel tax, made our treasury and inland revenue departments less accountable, dispensed of our Productivity Commission, begun work on charter schools and military boot camps in an obvious push towards privatisation, cancelled grants for first home buyers, reduced access to emergency housing, allowed no cause evictions, cancelled our Maori health system that would have given Maori control over their own public medical care and funding, cut funding of services like budgeting advice and food banks, cancelled the consumer advocacy council, cancelled our medicine regulations, repealed free prescriptions, deferred multiple hospital builds, failed to deliver on pre-election medical promises, reversed a gun ban created in response to the mosque shootings, brought back three strikes = life sentence policy, increased minimum wage by half the recommended amount, cancelled fair pay for disabled workers, reduced wheelchair services, reversed our oil and gas exploration ban, cancelled our climate emergency fund, cut science research funding including climate research, removed limits on killing sea lions, cut funding for the climate change commission, weakened our methane targets, cancelled Significant National Areas protections, have begun reversing our ban on live exports. Much of this was passed under urgency.

It’s been six months.

[marvelmusing]

Can I Ask You A Question?

Part of The Darkling Wears Prada AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Alina has lots of questions about her new job and your boss. Meanwhile, Aleksander has an important question for you - it just takes him some time to realise it.

Warnings [18+]: brief smut, fingering, references to sex, CEO x assistant trope, praise kink

Read part one -> HERE

My Masterlist

“Why is he so nice to you?”

“Who?”

“Aleksander.” When you breathe out a soft laugh, shaking your head at Alina’s question, she leans closer, as if she’s willing you to understand. “Today, he obliterated a designer for picking out the wrong purse.”

“That wrong purse delayed the photoshoot by almost an hour,” you reason.

She tilts her head, clearly waiting for an explanation - why does the infamously fierce Aleksander Morozov have a soft spot for you?

Sighing quietly, you look down at your drink, fidgeting with the stem of your glass.

“I’ve worked for Aleksander for a long time.”

She waits for more.

“I started off in your position - his second assistant. Nina was his first assistant at the time, and I felt like I would never be able to impress him. The first time he really noticed me was the night before his and Luda’s third wedding anniversary.”

“He’s married?”

A frown creases at your brows.

“Not anymore. The divorce was years ago. It made the headlines for days. How do you not-” You shake your head. Just because you know everything that goes on in Aleksander’s life doesn’t mean everyone else does. “Never mind. Nina had taken the night off for a date. I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s no such thing as a night off when you work for Aleksander.”

Alina nods in agreement.

“A storm came in while he was in Ketterdam, which stopped him from getting on his flight home. No planes were flying in or out of the city.”

“What did you do?”

“Everything I could. I called in a favour with Nikolai, to borrow one of his private jets. Paid for it to land at a private airfield in the Kerch countryside. They managed to charter his flight to Balakriev and I drove two hours to pick him up myself when his usual driver didn’t respond to my calls.”

“And?”

You smile softly.

“He made it home for their anniversary. The last anniversary they had before the divorce.”

“Why did they split up?”

“There was always love in their marriage, but they didn’t understand each other. Aleksander loves his job. He always will. If his partner can’t understand that, the relationship won’t last.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What’s the Morozov rule?” The sound of Alina’s question draws your attention away from the email you’re in the midst of writing. She looks away shyly when you meet her eyes. “Some girls were talking about it in the bathroom earlier.”

Gaze skimming back over the screen of your laptop, you breathe out a quiet scoff.

“Let me guess, the heart-eyed interns?”

She nods.

“A lot of the fashion elites have a specific rule,” you explain. “It’s partially fashion advice, partially PR to make them more memorable.” You click send on your email, changing window to examine Aleksander’s schedule for tomorrow. “Like the Chanel rule - take a look at yourself before you leave the house and remove one item of your outfit.”

Alina listens intently.

“The Morozov rule is to always make sure your underwear matches your shoes. Because at the end of the day, when you take off your dress or your suit that’s all you’ll be wearing.”

A smirk twists at your lips.

“So, if you’re ever wondering what colour underwear Aleksander is wearing, just take a look at his shoes.”

Alina blushes.

“Really?”

“Of course. What kind of a man is he if he doesn’t follow his own rule?”

“How do you know he-”

The sound of Aleksander’s voice rings out from the door to his office, cutting through your conversation with Alina.

“Milaya.”

Responding immediately to your summons, you stand from your desk and make your way into his office. He glances up at you from his papers momentarily, a frown creasing between his brows as his gaze returns to the words in front of him.

“I don’t have anything to wear for my trip to Novyi Zem.” He holds out his credit card, balanced between two of his slim fingers. “I will need enough for six nights. Look at the itinerary for the trip and purchase anything you deem necessary. You know what I like.”

After taking the card from him, you nod.

“Yes, sir. I will be back before your meeting with Nikolai.”

Turning on your heel, you move back towards the door, only for his voice to stop you.

“And milaya?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take Miss Starkova. If she’s going to gain any sense of style for herself she needs to see someone competent at work.”

“I’ll do my best,” you assure him. Like everyone in the fashion industry, you live for Aleksander’s praise.

The hint of a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“As you always do.”

His remark makes your stomach flip.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What’s this?”

Alina peers into the black garment bag curiously.

“A dress. For you. It’s Valentino. One of Aleksander’s picks for the gala.”

She blinks at you in surprise.

“I’m going to the gala?”

You nod.

“Genya will help you get ready. We leave at seven.”

It isn’t long before Aleksander is settling his hand on your lower back, steering the two of you through the crowd at the entrance. Alina looks relieved at the sight of your arrival - you can only imagine how worried she was being surrounded by the flurry of photographers.

As the gala begins, Aleksander claims a corner of the room for himself, waiting for the designers and reporters and politicians to come to him.

Whenever someone approaches your group, you turn your face towards Aleksander, hiding your words in the crook of his neck as you inform him of the names of the people heading his way. His fingers play with the seam of your dress, dancing distractedly down your spine.

Occasionally, you find yourself adjusting the collar of his shirt, fixing the position of his tie, or smoothing down the lapels of his jacket. Just to keep your hands occupied. Unlike a usual gala, where you would be standing one pace behind him, Aleksander keeps you on his arm tonight. Deep down, you know it’s because he doesn’t have a plus one, but it makes you feel special nonetheless.

It’s only once you step out of the little bubble Aleksander always creates, that you stop enjoying yourself. As you place your drinks order at the bar, you attract the attention of Malyen Oretsev - a mediocre journalist - and his friends.

“There she is,” he remarks. “Morozov’s favourite pet.”

Mikhael smirks.

“I don’t know about that, Mal.” He jerks his head towards Aleksander. “Looks like he’s got a shiny new toy to play with.”

Glancing over, you see Alina looking at Aleksander rather bashfully as they seem to be engaged in a somewhat stilted conversation. The sight makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Have a nice evening,” you state casually, collecting your drinks before you head back in the direction of Aleksander and Alina.

All night, you try your best to ignore Mikhael’s words, but it seems they’ve burrowed their way into your psyche.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Why can’t I give him the book?”

Alina peers curiously at the book, as you turn the pages slowly to show her the magazine mockups for next month’s issue.

“Aleksander is very selective about who he allows into his house.” Alina seems mildly offended and you decide to soften the blow slightly by adding, “Besides, he usually likes to do a final run through so that he can brief me on tomorrow’s agenda.”

Towards the end of the month, during the final stages of development for the next publication, you usually find yourself working late at Aleksander’s house. Over the years, there’s been countless times when you’ve helped him rework an entire issue in a matter of hours, pouring your ideas together over his kitchen table.

Luckily, this month has been somewhat smooth sailing. Though that doesn’t mean your to-do list isn’t still a mile long. When you’re alone with Aleksander like this, the persona he’s created for himself loosens and he’s patient as you ask him enough questions to be prepared for the day ahead of you tomorrow.

“Anything else?” he asks.

You shake your head, remarking as you bend your neck from side to side,

“All I need now is a hot bath.”

“Use mine,” he states, not even looking up at you as he finishes filing away the pages into the book. “Stay the night.”

“What?”

He raises a brow at you.

“You ought to know by now that I don’t like repeating myself.”

“I- Are you sure?” He gives you a firm look and heat rushes to your cheeks. “Sorry, stupid question. Thank you.”

He shows you into his personal bathroom, a lavish en-suite connected to his bedroom by a wooden folding door. He’s blasé about his toiletries, opening a cupboard to show you before he retreats back into his bedroom.

Once the bath is full of water and a copious amount of bubbles, you slip out of your clothing and into the tub with your hair and makeup still intact. The warmth makes you sigh softly, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back against the rim of the bath. It’s only the sound of the door opening that makes you open your eyes again.

Aleksander stands in the open doorway, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up haphazardly and the buttons undone down to the centre of his chest. His gaze is heated as his eyes remain locked on yours, and despite the intensity you don’t shy away from him.

He circles around the bath tub slowly, his knuckles tracing the curve of your neck when he finally stands behind you.

His thumbs press into the centre of your back, working on the tension in the muscles that no amount of stretching can ease. He moves his hands knowingly, finding the areas that give you the most discomfort after long hours at the office. When he presses the right spot, your back arches, your body pliant in his hold as you breathe out a soft moan.

He smirks, cocky in the fact that he knows only his touch can bring you this sort of relief. His smirk fades slightly, as his focus shifts and he traces his fingers up your back, stroking over your shoulders.

He presses his face against your cheek, his lips brushing over your skin as he breathes in the scent of his soap. Tantalisingly close to a kiss. Then he sinks onto his knees, his hands descending beneath the water.

Turning your head, you’re face to face with Aleksander, your nose brushing against his as he draws a slow line down your body, between the valley of your breasts before he circles your navel.

“May I?” he murmurs.

“Please, Aleksander.”

With one hand, he grasps the back of your neck to limit your squirming, while the other descends downwards to play with your cunt. It’s slow and deliberate, the way he works you up towards your orgasm. The only sound in the room is your breathy gasps and the subtle splash of bath water against the sides of the tub.

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined what Aleksander might be like in bed. You know you aren’t alone in that. The rumours all paint him in the same light. Dominant. Controlling. Mildly sadistic. That’s what makes the praises that fall from his lips all the more effective.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmurs directly into the crook of your neck. His voice is a soft and soothing rasp. “You’re doing so well for me.” He smiles when you gasp loudly, writhing with unabashed pleasure. “Utterly perfect.”

His words fade away, until all you can hear is the hurried beat of your heart hammering away in your chest as you come astonishingly close to your release.

“Please, Aleksander. I need it. Need you, oh, fuck-”

He rests his hand on the rim of the tub, palm upwards as he anticipates the sudden backwards motion of your head when you reach your climax. As pleasure courses through your body, his hand curls around to cradle the back of your head. He’s silent, eyeing you attentively as the aftereffects slowly wind down.

“Aleksander?” you whisper.

His thumb strokes down the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He regards you seriously, his eyes flickering over your features, then he nods. Before you can lean upwards to kiss him, he adds,

“If you do, I won’t be able to stop myself from climbing into this bath to take this further.”

“And if I don’t want you to stop yourself?”

He grips the nape of your neck, directing your mouth to meet his.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Do I have to?” Alina whines, hiding her face with her hands in embarrassment at the thought of heading a few floors down to the lingerie photoshoot to retrieve the file of images taken today.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure her. “Aleksander wants to look at the photos before the models go home for the day.”

“Can’t the photographers just email them to him?”

You shake your head.

“He likes to look at the printouts.”

She sighs.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

She returns with red cheeks, gripping the paper folder tightly in her hands. She doesn’t make eye contact with you as she walks by your desk to give the folder to Aleksander. Almost as soon as she sits down at her desk opposite you, Aleksander calls for you.

“Milaya.”

Alina busies herself with typing as you walk by her, into Aleksander’s office.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’d like your opinion on something.” He selects a page, turning it over in his hand so that he’s offering it to you. “What do you think of this?”

Taking the page in hand, you look down at the two images, side by side. The first is a close up of a model wearing an unbelievably expensive bralette.

Pale blue boning, covered in a soft mesh a few shades lighter. The entire garment has been decorated with intricate embroidery, adorned in pearls and tiny gems that create the illusion of flowers. The image beside it shows off the matching thong - a tiny triangle of fabric embellished with the same exquisite details.

“The photos?”

He shakes his head.

“The outfit. Would you wear something like this?”

Heat spreads over your cheeks at his question.

“I would. It’s very pretty.”

“Do you like the colour?” he asks, selecting another page to show you. “Or do you prefer the pink?”

After considering both pieces, you admit quietly,

“I like the blue.”

He hums.

“Very well.” He holds out his hand expectingly and you place the pages back in his palm. “Your measurements haven’t changed have they?”

His question makes your brows scrunch together in confusion.

“No, sir.”

“The designer is creating a custom piece as a gift for me. Offering it to anyone else in this building but you would be a waste.”

“A waste?”

He nods, not looking up at you.

“That’s all.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What’s wrong?” Alina asks you.

She must have noticed your anxious fidgeting; you’ve straightened the same pen on your desk four times already. But you can’t tell her what is actually on your mind.

“Nothing. I’m just keeping an eye on the time. Aleksander’s driver should be arriving soon.”

Sure enough, your phone rings and Aleksander’s driver is on the line, informing you that he’s parked outside the building. Once you’ve retrieved Aleksander, you accompany him down in the elevator.

He lists a few tasks for you to complete while he is out at his meeting and you distractedly make a note of them all. It’s only once the two of you are out in the fresh air, that you’re able to speak.

“I need to talk to you.” He doesn’t turn, ignoring you until you grasp at his sleeve, just as he reaches his car. “Aleksander.”

He turns to face you.

“What is it?”

Instantly, the weight of his eyes makes you nervous. Of course, you’ve thought about what you want to say to him but now the words fail you. The Aleksander in front of you now is different from the one you were with the other night.

“It’s about that night at your house,” you clarify. “I don’t want any special treatment because of what happened between us.”

He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

“Special treatment?” he repeats.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the set you offered me, but I don’t want anyone to think you’re favouring me.”

“Tell me about the designer of that piece.”

“She’s a Ravkan designer. All her work is couture, with hand stitched embroidery and embellishments. The pearls and gems are all sourced sustainably; she limits her collection to only forty pieces per style to minimise the environmental impact…”

When you realise how much you’re talking - about things that Aleksander most likely knows already - your words trail off into nothing. His mouth quirks into a half-smile that he quickly smoothes out into a more neutral expression.

“You are the one of the few people who understand the value of that design,” he says in a low voice. “And that is the only reason I wanted you to have it.”

“The only reason?” you repeat, hoping that he might have wanted you to have the lingerie because you would look good in it.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he glances down at the front of your top, eyeing the skin on show there briefly before he turns away, leaving you in shock as he climbs into his car. Did Aleksander just eye up your cleavage?

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Are those new?”

Alina’s question makes you peer down at your shoes - the object of her attention - and you smile.

“Yes. They are.”

The pale blue of your shoes are an almost perfect match to the lingerie set Aleksander had gifted to you - not to mention the heels are adorned in shimmering gems and pearls.

Alina takes the time to admire them, as the two of you stand beside the printer.

“Miss Starkova,” Aleksander calls out, standing in the doorway between his office and the one you share with Alina. “I need ten scarves from Gucci, and fetch my coffee on your way back in.”

Alina glances at you momentarily, wide eyed, before she nods resolutely.

“Yes, sir.”

There’s an anxious edge to her movements as she grabs her phone and bag, but she seems determined to adhere to Aleksander’s demands on her own this time. Both you and Aleksander watch her leave.

When you turn back to face him, Aleksander’s gaze is sweeping down your body, assessing your outfit as he always does, yet he lingers on your shoes for a moment. His throat bobs lightly as he swallows, his eyes darkening as they meet yours.

“A perfect match,” he observes.

Before you can respond, he turns and walks back into his office.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Where have you been?” Alina asks, shifting her weight anxiously on the pavement.

Cheeks flushing with warmth, you wipe at your lower lip with your thumb to ensure your makeup is still intact. The two of you head up the steps, into the entrance of Cartier.

“The car got caught in traffic.”

“Aleksander must have been furious.” You hum rather distractedly in agreement, smoothing down your skirt.

“He’s waiting in the car now, so we’ll have to make this quick.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Where are you going?” Alina asks, turning to watch as you back away down the pavement. “I thought we were celebrating.” The last night of fashion week, the pinnacle of all your hard work over the last year has been finally reached.

It’s been almost a year since Alina first started working alongside you, but you don’t yet trust her with the full truth when you answer.

“I’m going to head back to the hotel,” you tell her before adding, “I’m exhausted.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?”

Shaking your head, you tuck your coat tighter around your body.

“I’ll be fine, thanks. Go enjoy yourself.”

When you finally reach your hotel bed, you collapse onto the mattress, still wearing your coat and shoes. It’s completely unintentional, the way you fall asleep draped over the bed.

After an indeterminable amount of time passes, a kiss is pressed to your cheek, rousing you from your slumber as someone nestles themselves over your body.

“Hello there, sleeping beauty,” a familiar voice coos playfully. Blinking the drowsiness from your eyes, you murmur a mildly bemused response,

“Sasha?”

He laughs softly.

“Who else, milaya?” He presses another kiss to your cheek, his lips moving toward your ear. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I stuck my head in the study,” you explain sleepily. “You were working… didn’t want to disturb you.”

He slips your coat off your shoulders, lowering kisses across your neck and collarbones as he reaches for the zipper on the back of your dress.

“You should have. I would have come to bed hours ago had I known you were back.”

“I’m so tired,” you murmur as your eyelids droop. Aleksander smiles fondly, pulling your dress down your body.

“You outdid yourself this year.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of your mouth. Aleksander lifts himself off the bed, crossing the room towards the en-suite. “The Starkova girl has improved,” he states, wringing out a cloth. “You seem to like this one.”

“I do,” you confirm, kicking your shoes off onto the floor. “She’s nice, though she’s been asking a lot of questions lately.”

“About us?”

“About you, mostly. I think she has a crush.”

“Poor girl,” he remarks drily as he sits down beside you and begins to wipe the makeup from your face. “Have you told her about us?”

“I thought you wanted this to be a secret?”

He shakes his head.

“I want to keep you safe. From the press and the gossip that follows me. Besides, I know how much you love working for the magazine. I would hate to jeopardise that.”

“Well, I might find something that I enjoy more than working as your assistant.”

“Such as?”

The smile you give him is soft as you fidget with the creases in his trousers.

“Your wife.”

His own smile is boyish as he teases,

“That is quite the promotion you’re offering yourself.” Then his expression grows more serious. “Even as my wife, I wouldn’t expect you to give up your job - not unless you wanted to.”

That makes your smile widen, your cheeks warming at the casual tone his voice adopts when considering you as his wife.

“Besides,” he adds. “Where would I find someone as capable as you?”

“I could mentor Alina.”

He hums, unconvinced, and you laugh at the sight of his apprehension. It’s sweet, knowing you’ve taken such a root in Aleksander’s life. He trusts you, unconditionally.

“I’m not handing my notice in yet,” you tease him, before adding with a small laugh, “Unless you’re planning on proposing tonight.”

Aleksander doesn’t laugh.

“Sasha?”

The corner of his lips quirk with the hint of a laugh, embarrassment touching at his features.

“I-” He sighs, shaking his head as his smile widens. “You’ve ruined the surprise.”

“Sasha,” you repeat, thoroughly caught off guard. “You’re not serious.”

“Of course I am.”

“Aleksander, I’m not wearing any makeup. I’m in my underwear.”

He doesn’t look impressed by your protests.

“Milaya, if you’re finished making rather obvious statements, I’d like to propose to you.”

The look he gives you has your lips pressing closed, giving him the chance to speak. Almost immediately, your excitement spills over your expression - a giddy smile tugging at your lips. Aleksander smiles fondly, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he admires you.

“I can’t believe you used to hide this from me. My pretty girl.”

“Well, dating the Aleksander Morozov was rather daunting at first,” you admit bashfully. He tilts his head at you.

“And do you think you can marry the Aleksander Morozov?”

Being married to Aleksander will attract attention - the kind that you’re unused to. The entire world will have something to say about you - what you wear, how you act - it will all be scrutinised by the tabloids and the social media comments. But he’s worth it, a million times over.

“I will if he actually asks me,” you remark teasingly.

He breathes out a laugh, kissing your cheek.

“Let me fetch the ring.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird

[team-118]

don't wanna ruin the moment

790 words, buddie, pre-relationship/gen, 4×12 Treasure Hunt missing scene

Just Eddie, next to Buck on the freeway, windows down to let the night in. Just Eddie with a lot to smile about.

read it on ao3.

the lovely @queerweewoo and @userbuddie had tagged me for snippets in the past couple weeks and I'd had nothing to show, so this one's for y'all.

"Five hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty-five point five," Eddie says as he climbs into the jeep.

"Hm?" Buck backs out of the dark road they parked on, hand rested on the familiar spot behind the neck of the passenger seat. Eddie leans into it out of habit.

"The treasure. Five million divided by nine; it's five hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty-five point five."

Buck whistles lowly. "Well, it's not a million something-something, but it's better than nothing." He pulls the jeep into line behind Athena's car, waving at Hen and Chimney in his rearview.

"Mm. If we find it," Eddie sighs.

"We'll find it," Buck grins, confident, bordering cocky. "With the 118 on the job? Better watch out, Hollis Harcourt."

Eddie laughs. He rolls the window down, letting the cool night air rush into the car. Things have been heavy, lately - good, but heavy: getting Chris on board with Ana, Chris chartering an Uber and running off, but at least it was to Buck. This feels like home, wind against his cheeks and Buck next to him, sandwiched in the middle of the rest of the 118. Whatever else they find tonight, God, he's grateful to have this.

They drive in silence for a while, until Eddie starts fiddling with the bluetooth and Buck busts into laughter when he plays the Mission: Impossible theme. It's so stupid. Eddie's cheeks kind of ache from smiling.

"How'd you know that?" Buck asks, once he's calmed down.

"Know what?"

"That math thing."

"I know math," Eddie defends.

"Yeah, but five million divided by nine?"

"Mm. There's, like, a rule," Eddie muses. "Something like, if the number is divisible by 10, then dividing it by 9 is the first digit of that number a bunch of times, with one less place value."

Buck furrows his brows, like he’s trying to do it in his head.

"300 divided by 9 is 33.3. 400 divided by 4 is 44.4," Eddie shrugs. "I don't know, it was in Chris's math homework."

What Eddie doesn't bring up is that it was Ana who taught him that. That he'd kissed her on her couch, in between fourth grade math problems and bites of the dinner she'd made, and it had felt...nice, he guesses. Good. It's been a while since he's kissed anyone, and Shannon was only his second or third kiss, and Ana tasted so different but felt just the same. Cherry lips instead of strawberry, but still soft and warm. He still resisted the teenage urge to wipe his mouth on his hand afterwards.

But he doesn't mention it, because Buck would ask, and then his stupid lie about construction on Sunset would fall apart and Buck would know he's kissed someone and God, wouldn't that be weird? And anyway, that's not who he wants to be right now.

Not Eddie, maybe betraying Shannon's memory and maybe hurting his son and maybe not being the greatest boyfriend, after all this time. Just Eddie, next to Buck on the freeway, windows down to let the night in. Just Eddie with a lot to smile about.

"Almost there," Buck says finally, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts. "I think we beat the others by a bit. See, aren't you glad I drove?"

"I'm always glad when you drive," Eddie grins. "Saves me so much gas."

Buck reaches over the dash and flicks his temple. "Just for that, I'm taking half your cut."

"You wouldn't," Eddie gasps, mocking.

"Oh, yeah, freeloader," Buck teases. "And I'll use it to bribe Chris into teaching me your secret, mathematical ways."

"They're really not a secret. I could teach you, if you really wanted."

"Ah, but if my calculations are correct, your numbers are wrong," Buck says, swinging the Jeep through a sharp left into Harcourt's quiet neighborhood. He taps his nose knowingly, looks at Eddie, and smirks. "Five and above, you gotta round up. It should be point six."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Semantics."

"Details! They're important," Buck insists as they pull into the driveway. "Math teachers can't tell you everything, you know. You'll still need me around."

Buck doesn’t know about that night, but he knows about Ana. Of course he does.

"I'll always need you around," Eddie tells him, probably a little more honestly than warranted. But then Buck is smiling over the parking brake, and that makes it worth it. Eddie holds eye contact until Hen's headlights appear in the rearview, and then he hops out.

"I mean," he says, grinning over the hood. "Who else is gonna drive me to the treasure?"

Then Eddie's own laughter is drowning out Buck's groan, and he grabs his best friend’s hand and pulls him to Hollis Harcourt's gate.

[chelseachilly]

when i'm feeling alone, you remind me of home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you're stranded at uni by yourself for christmas with no flights going to london, but your boyfriend has other ideas warnings: nothing but fluff ❄️🫶🏼 word count: 2.5k

author’s note: here's another holiday one-shot! hoping to write at least one more before christmas. also btw there is no regard for the actual chelsea december fixtures or club rules in this story lol. title from christmas tree farm by taylor 🎄

-

You’ve always loved snow.

You loved playing in it as a little kid, making snowmen with your parents and going sledding with friends. You loved watching it from your window your first year of uni, seeing the blanket of white make Edinburgh look even more magical. You love bundling up to go ice skating and drinking hot chocolate as the snow falls around you.

But right now, you absolutely hate it. 

A massive snowstorm rolling through the UK has caused the cancellation all flights, including the one you were supposed to take from Edinburgh to London tonight. It’s your last year of university there, but you’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and your boyfriend.

Now, it’s two days until Christmas and you’re stranded alone in your little flat with absolutely no way of making it home.

“What? You can’t get a train?” Ben asks after you’ve explained your predicament to him sadly. 

As much as you feel bad about missing the holiday with your parents, you feel really bad about not being able to see Ben. With your busy schedules, you’ve hardly seen him in months, and you even missed his birthday a couple days ago because you had an exam. Now, you were supposed to finally have an entire week with him in London. 

You were going to go to Winter Wonderland and complain about tourists and end up going back to his to snuggle by the fireplace. You were going to have Christmas morning with your family and dinner with his, spending the whole day exchanging gifts and fond memories. You were going to watch his game on the 27th and bundle up in your warmest Chelsea gear to cheer your heart out for your man, which you’ve really missed doing lately. 

You miss everything about him, really. 

But instead, you’re going to be eating Indian takeaway leftovers and watching Love Actually to try to make yourself feel better.

“The trains are all full, I checked,” you sigh. 

“Well, let me see if I can charter a plane-“

“Ben,” you cut him off before he gets ahead of myself. Although it’s quite extravagant for him to spend tens of thousands of dollars getting you there, you know he would do it in a heartbeat. “All flights are grounded, not just mine. It’s not possible.”

“But…there must be something.”

You can picture his disappointed face right now, and it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you reply, sinking into your couch. “You know I would do anything to be there with you right now.”

“Don’t apologize to me, love, I can’t believe you’re going to spend Christmas alone,” Ben sighs. “This is so shit. I just wanna see you and hold you.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I miss you so much. The only thing that got me through exams was thinking about being home with you and playing with Oscar in the snow and baking cookies…”

You can feel yourself getting choked up, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you think about all you’ll be missing out on. You feel a bit silly, knowing there are people with far bigger problems in the world, but you’ve been working yourself to death for the past month to ace your finals and this trip home was the shining light at the end of the tunnel. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ben says sadly. “I miss you so much too. I wish there was something we could do.”

“Like control the weather?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite the tears running down your face.

“You know I would do it if I could,” he replies seriously. “I’m sorry this is happening, babe. Maybe the weather will clear up in a day or two and you’ll still be able to make it out for a few days, yeah?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you breathe - some time with Ben and your family is better than nothing, but you’re still going to be alone for Christmas morning. “I should let you go, I don’t want to stop you from having a nice holiday too. Say hi to your mum and Alex for me when they get there, alright?”

“I will, baby,” Ben says. “I’ll text you later and call you in the morning, alright?”

“Alright,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, love.”

The moment Ben hangs up, you toss your cell onto the cushion beside you and bury your face in the pillow, groaning in frustration. 

After feeling sorry for yourself for a bit, you reluctantly get up and go to turn up the heat and change into something warmer, as the temperatures outside continue to drop. You grab Ben’s hoodie from your closet, a cozy grey one you stole last time you were in London. It barely smells like him anymore, since that was over a month ago and you’ve worn and washed it several times, but it’s still a small comfort to wear something of his.

You heat up your dinner and put on the film, although the romantic scenes and the shots of London only seem to make you more homesick. 

You text Ben during his favourite part, which is naturally Hugh Grant dancing around 10 Downing Street. 

The annual Love Actually rewatch isn’t the same without you babe. Hope you’re having fun with the fam ❤️

He takes a while to respond, which you hope means he’s having a better time than you are and enjoying being with his family. 

You’re just drifting off to sleep when his text finally comes in.

It’s not the same here without you either. Goodnight baby, talk in the morning 😘

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing.

You briefly think it’s your alarm, but you don’t remember setting one, certainly not for 7AM, which is the current time according to your watch.

You blearily stretch your arms, a bit of a crick in your neck from falling asleep on the couch, and reach around haphazardly for your phone.

You see Ben’s name and contact photo on the screen and you quickly answer, worried something is wrong if he’s calling you at this time. 

“Ben? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he assures you. “Can you go downstairs? There’s a delivery for you.”

“What?” you yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What on earth have you sent me at seven in the morning?”

“Just go check, I think you’ll like it,” Ben promises, and you can hear the smile tugging at his lips. “Quickly, babe. This is time sensitive.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you throw the blanket off yourself and slide on your slippers, leaving the warmth of your flat to go down the stairs and see what’s waiting for you outside the main doors. You can only imagine what ridiculous present your boyfriend had shipped to you overnight to try to make up for your failed Christmas. 

You tighten Ben’s hoodie around your body to brace yourself for the cold before opening the door, your eyes on the ground where you’re expecting the package to be.

Instead, you see a familiar pair of Nikes - and your eyes trail up to see the very familiar man wearing them. 

You’re not sure if you’re dreaming, so you blink a few times, only to be greeted with the same sight - your perfect, adorable boyfriend standing in front of you in his puffer jacket and hat, his cheeks red from the cold and his smile absolutely blinding. 

“Ben?” you gasp. “Why are you - how are you here?”

“I couldn’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

You meet him halfway as he drops his bags to the ground and opens his arms for you to throw yourself at him. You hug him as tight as you can, burying your nose in his neck and inhaling his scent. You can’t believe this is really happening.

“How the hell did you get here?” you ask as he squeezes your waist tightly and kisses the top of your head. 

“I drove,” Ben murmurs. 

You pull back to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“You drove? It’s, like, eight hours-“

“Twelve in a snowstorm, apparently,” Ben chuckles. “But definitely worth it for this.”

“You drove all night through a snowstorm for me?”

You can feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes once again, though these are tears of joy. You can’t believe how insanely lucky you are to have a man who loves you this much. 

“Of course I did, I would do anything for you,” Ben says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, brushing his nose against yours. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long night and I would really love a kiss.”

Without hesitation, you grab his face and kiss him passionately, sighing with joy at the feeling of being reunited with your boyfriend. You’re certain that this is the most romantic and wonderful thing anyone has ever done for you, and although you never expected the best kiss of your life to happen on your doorstep at 7am in a blizzard, this just might take the top spot.

“I love you so damn much,” you whisper against his lips when you finally pull away. “But I am also slightly mad at you for driving at night in poor conditions.”

Ben laughs and rolls his eyes a bit. “I promise I was safe, but can we go inside where it’s warmer before we argue about it?”

“Hmm, okay,” you grin, pecking his lips a few more times before helping him lug his bags up the stairs to your flat.

Once you’re inside and Ben’s taken off his shoes and coat, you waste no time in wrapping your arms around him and kissing him again. 

“You’re freezing, sweetheart,” you murmur as his cold hands slide under your - his - hoodie to feel your skin. “Want a tea? Or do you want to go straight to bed? You must be exhausted.”

“A tea and a cuddle would be perfect,” Ben smiles, pecking your forehead.

You tell him to go get comfy on the couch while you make tea for both of you, and when you return, he’s waiting for you with open arms and a sleepy grin on his face. 

You place both mugs on the coffee table and curl up next to him, your face in the crook of his neck and your arms and legs tangled. 

You let out a content sigh as your bodies recalibrate after so much time apart. You knew you needed this, but you didn’t know quite how much until right now. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “What about your mum and Alex, though?”

“I told them how sad you sounded on the phone and they encouraged me to go, though my mum was slightly nervous about me making the drive-“

“As she should be,” you scold gently.

“I told you, I was very careful, and there were hardly any cars on the roads,” Ben promises once again. “Anyways, they were all for it. They knew I would’ve been miserable without you there.”

You hug him a bit tighter, hooking your leg around his. “Wait, you have a game in three days. Did the club really sign off on this?”

“I managed to persuade Poch to give me today off to go see my girl, I think he’s a bit of a softie at heart,” Ben jokes. “And we have tomorrow and the day after off for Christmas anyways. We’ll just have to drive back on the 26th, the roads are supposed to clear by then. I know it’s not the same as Christmas in London with both our families, but this is better than being apart, right?”

“Ben,” you say sincerely, cupping his cheek with one hand. “This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. A cozy Christmas with just the two of us sounds absolutely perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Your lips meet in another sweet kiss, one that quickly escalates as you feel your boyfriend’s hands on your hips and thighs for the first time in a month. You moan into his mouth as he tugs you into his lap. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathe between kisses, tugging his hat off to run your hands through his messy hair. 

“I can tell, hoodie thief,” Ben teases, fiddling with the soft material. “You look unreal in that, by the way. And I missed you more.”

You smile into another kiss, getting completely lost in him and his scent and his touch. Even after years together, you’re completely addicted to him. 

You’re ready to take it further and move to your bedroom, but you’re interrupted by a yawn from Ben. He tries to kiss you again afterward, but you laugh softly and hold his face. 

“You need sleep, Benjamin.”

He pouts slightly in protest, but you kiss him again quickly and it goes away.

“Babe, you’re exhausted,” you murmur softly. “We can go cuddle in my bed and continue this later.”

Ben sighs and nods as you climb off him and extend your hand to help him up. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though, instead pulling you into another warm hug. He’s so sleepy and adorable that you could nearly cry as he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

He’s always been a very tactile person, and you know that for every time you tell him how much you missed and love him, he will hold you a little bit longer or kiss your forehead to say the exact same thing.

When you finally pull apart, you take him by the hand and lead him into your bedroom. He strips down to his boxers, which is how he prefers to sleep even in the dead of winter. He says you run hot enough to keep him warm, though you’re not sure if that’s true or he just likes to maximize your skin-on-skin contact.

He’s much warmer now than when you found him on your doorstep, so it’s not a shock to your system when you climb into bed with him and he immediately pulls you into his chest.

“I promise once you’ve had a proper rest I’ll make the drive worth your while, baby,” you say with a slight smirk as you wrap your arm around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

Ben just tightens his grip on you and closes his eyes, a content smile on his face. 

“It was worth it the second you opened the door.”

As you watch your boyfriend drift off to sleep, feeling so full of love for him that you might burst, you make a mental note to make it extra worth it for him later just for that adorable comment. 

After you’ve both slept a few hours and spent another few making up for lost time, you spend the rest of Christmas Eve watching films and baking cookies. 

The next morning, you both wake up early and exchange presents in your festive pyjamas. It’s not the same as if you were in London with both your families, but it’s still perfect because you’re together. 

And a year later, when you’ve graduated and you’re celebrating your first Christmas in your new home with a diamond ring on your finger, it’s even better. 

i hope you enjoyed this story! and thank you for all your lovely comments on my last fic. if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for my ben fics in the future, please let me know! ❤️💚

[rabbiaharon]

On the anniversary of the vicious attack against innocent Israeli civilians on October 7th, I would like to go over what I’ve seen to be the feelings of most Jews I’ve met concerning the attack, and also talk about the experience that Jews in the United States (and perhaps worldwide) have had in the time after October 7th.

When you look in the grand scheme of things, there aren’t very many Jews in the world. In fact, we make up just under 0.2% of the world’s population. Statistically speaking, this means that the entire Jewish people could be lost by the margin of error of any given data set. There are nearly twice as many people in the United States who openly identify as LGBT than there are Jews on the planet. As a result, we tend to be tightly connected one with another, and running into a fellow Jew on the street can feel more like running into a long lost cousin, than being introduced to a complete stranger. Most Jews in the world either have at least some extended family or friends living in Israel. Israel is not a jewish state - it’s a secular representative-democracy with a loose Jewish identity due to the majority of the voting pubic being Jewish, but it is occupying our ancestral land, and we pretty much all know someone who knows someone (if we don’t have a personal connection). Gaza, on the other hand, is a terrorist enclave. It is ruled by an internationally recognized terrorist organization (recognized by the UN, the same organization for they brag that they’ve had their statehood “recognized”) who was democratically elected in 2006 by residents of the enclave, and assumed military control afterwards, and has not held a single election since then. This organization glorifies the murder of Jews - not just Israelis - and their charter calls for the total elimination of all the world’s jewry, and the downfall of the western world (including the US and Western Europe), replaced with muslim caliphates. They house military hardware in the basements of schools, and launch rockets indiscriminately from atop UN-funded hospitals. They are known for using human shields, and when their military structures are destroyed by the people they are shooting at, they use the bodies of all the innocent people gathered inside to wage a PR campaign in the news and social media, claiming that they’re the only victims in this conflict. This isn’t my personal opinion, this is well-established fact, and a quick google search or use of a meta-news search tool like Ground News can confirm that.

Last year on one of our most joyous holidays, a group of armed terrorists from that organization breached the border of that secular state and attacked innocent people. Some were teenagers and young adults who were just enjoying themselves at a concert. Some were babies or the elderly, who were killed in their homes, or violated and then killed or taken hostage. The next day, another terrorist organization that had taken control of another terrorist enclave on the north side of that secular state opened fire on that secular state, raining rockets down daily on the cities in the north, killing some, and forcing thousands to evacuate their homes and live in bomb shelters.

Many of us were personally affected by the attack on innocent jews in Israel. There was anger that so many of our own people were killed while just trying to enjoy themselves, or living in their home. Our friends or family who were being held hostage by that savage terrorist organization known for indiscriminate violence and the use of human shields? We wanted them back. Those of us who were paying attention were asking why Israel, which supposedly has one of the best intelligence gathering operations in the world, was blindsided? Why was there - in a country known for its military readiness - was such delay in their response, where it took them as long as 7 hours to begin their response. We wanted to see accountability from Netanyahu and his government, and we wanted to know why Israel seemingly let it happen.

In the midst of our mourning, most of the non-jews who seemed like they were somewhat supportive and open to us - especially in the wake of antisemitism on the right spurred by insane rhetoric by a certain president of the United States - suddenly lost their minds. They showed up to protest at holiday celebrations screaming "from the river to the sea, Palestine must be free" over our prayers. Pro-palestinian protestors have shown up to our places of worship brandishing knives, or baseball bats, or threatening with guns until the police are called. They harass jews on the streets who are minding their own business and threatening Jewish kids on their way to school. They have threatened violence to totally innocent jewry who are unrelated to the entire conflict, and followed through, not unlike the people who first attacked us. This is only the tip of the iceberg - as I have only mentioned the things that have so far happened in my community, and this is not the place or time to delve into it in all the gruesome detail. Suffice to say, my personal experience has been mirrored by jews all around the world who have been at best abandoned by their non-jewish neighbors, and at worst attacked by them, verbally, or physically. This trend has been reflected, of course, onto this website, and antisemitic behavior has long since spiraled out of control. Even as I type this, I am sure that some non-jew will jump onto this post, calling me out for not supporting the people who would be happy to see me dead. The one who does so will be no better than a member of that terrorist organization.

I am not minimizing the tragedy of innocent Palestinian children and parents who have tried to take their families and leave, but have been prevented by their government - or even prevented from emigrating by Israel. They are true victims, held captive by the same terrorists holding our own family and friends as hostages. But for those who voted that terrorist organization into power and have opted to stay and continue to support them? Those who have endangered their children by volunteering them to be human shields, and by teaching them the ways of violence and hatred? They are my enemies, and you should see them as yours too.

[vals-sims-world]

Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the love you've given to my Sims versions of Merlin and the knights!

Since there's interest in my Merlin save I will be sharing some stories about what's been happening in that world. However, before I do I feel I need to explain the way I play this save since it's not your standard Sims 3 fashion. I typically play rotationally, spending a week with each family before moving on and using nraas story progression mod to keep everyone from aging while I'm not there. My nraas setup also keeps sims from changing their relationship status or progressing in their careers when I'm not playing them but they can meet new sims, make friends, declare enemies, and start up a bit of a flirtation on their own. I like coming back to a household and seeing what dynamics have formed when I leave them to their own devices, though I get the final say on what romantic interests they end up pursuing.

Now that's just my standard setup for most of my games. For my Merlin save I decided to add some interest by using Merlin characters for my own version of The Medieval Charter Challenge! For those unfamiliar The Medieval Charter Challenge is basically a sims 2 build-a-kingdom challenge where you start with a small settlement and slowly build your world up until you have a medieval city. There are a lot of rules including a tax system and class structures that I'm not going to go over but if you're interested you can check out the original rules here For those of you who are familiar with the challenge just know that I've tweaked some of the rules to fit better with the sims 3 and I don't always follow them strictly. I treat them more like guidelines than actual rules, especially since I'm using pre-established characters, some of which have magic which opens up excuses for all sorts of shenanigans. So if you see me doing something that doesn't follow the rules don't worry about it.

Mainly what you need to know is that I started with an empty world, 3 households who are not part of my rotation but are there to help populate the town (druid camp, knights barracks, and the Ladies' manor), 5 peasant families (du Lac, Smith, Hopper, Emrys, and Ealdor), 2 Yeomen families (Macken and De Grance), and the royal Pendragon family. As my save is currently I have 9 community lots, 3 peasant families (Hopper, Ealdor, Oliver), 1 yeoman family (Emrys), 1 Merchant family (du Lac), 1 Gentry family (Macken), 1 Noble family (De Grance), and the royal Pendragon family that have all dramatically changed as they intermarried, had kids, built up their businesses, and rose in the ranks.

My plan is to make a post on each of these families explaining their story. This will take time though as I plan to give you guys family portraits, before and after tours of their homes, any screenshots I happened to have taken while playing, as well as writing out the twists and turns of their tales. So please bear with me while I sort that out.

In the meantime here's some screenshots of some shippy poses I did with my sims that aren't part of the save

Tagging those who expressed interest in knowing more about my save (let me know if you want me to tag you in future posts about this): @tansyuduri @building-camelot @chairwiththreelegs

[secular-jew]

A Dose of Clarity on the Palestinian Storyline

~~ By Valerie Sobel

Whenever Western media, Western governments, Israel, or anyone draws an intentional disconnect between the Palestinians and Hamas, a myriad of lies and warped presumptions are activated.

The political correctness machine, invented by liberals but operated by everyone today with respect to the current war in the Middle East guarantees 100% detachment of the poor Palestinian and his cause from terrorist Hamas. But the cost of this on-going theatre is egregious intellectual corruption; a complete reversal of truth and entire revision of Middle East history.

If Hamas is, indeed, a rogue terrorist regime under which the poor Palestinian is suffering, are we to erase all irrefutable knowledge and evidence of the following?

1. Palestinians elected Hamas as their ruling government in the year 2007 by an overwhelming majority. In their charter, Hamas boldly states aspirations to wipe Israel of the face of the earth in not one but 36 separate articles.

2. Before Hamas, Palestinians produced one Yasser Arafat who founded the art of terrorism and airplane highjacking. No amount of concessions and negotiation with this father of terrorism, for decades, convinced the Palestinians to adopt a two-state solution for peaceful co-existence.

3. Before Yasser Arafat, Palestinians produced another leader, Mohammed Amin al-Husseini, the Mufti of Jerusalem who actively worked against the UN’s two-state solution platform of 1948, led the 1920 Nebi Musa riots against the Jews in the very Jewish Palestine, and established himself as an ally in Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany. During World War II he collaborated with both Italy and Germany by making propagandistic radio broadcasts and by aiding the Nazis recruit 25,000 Bosnian Muslims for the Waffen-SS. The more Jews killed the better for this Palestinian also. On meeting Adolf Hitler, he demanded Hitler opposes the establishment of a Jewish national home in Jewish Palestine.

4. Since the failed Oslo Accords of the 1990s, more 2400 Israelis have been killed or wounded in terror attacks by the Palestinians.

5. Beside popular Hamas membership, Islamic Jihad, The Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), Fatah, Tanzim and Muslim Brotherhood -all made up of “innocent” Palestinian citizenry.

6. Palestinian children, from nursery age are systematically taught to regard Jews as the infidel enemy who took their land. Schools employ maps where Israel doesn’t exist. Children are instructed to kill Jews, join ISIS and Hamas for the glory of Islam. This is proudly exhibited to the world as a moral duty for young Palestinians.

7. Palestinian children are also reared for martyrdom by their parents and families. Islam’s promise of eternal life with 72 virgins and the favour of Allah is the goal of life, not life itself. Highest honor is given to families of martyrs who execute Jews.

8. Palestinian families are paid a monthly stipend for life by the Palestinian Authority when a family member is martyred in the duty of slaughtering Jews. It is estimated out of 2000 Gazan terrorists who came into Israel on October 7th to behead, burn alive and kidnap - one half (1000!) were Palestinian citizens who were promised 17,000 shekels and up for broken limbs, rapes and savage killings. For every person kidnapped, they were promised an apartment.

9. Kibbutz Kfar Azza was entirely penetrated and terrorized by scores of Palestinians on foot, on bicycle and motorcycle for the job of massacring babies, children and anything that moved. This was documented in vivid color by a CNN reporter, Hassan Eslaiah.

10. Maps of Sderot police station (first venue of slaughter), homes, businesses and everything inside, including what the family dog looks like and where the safe rooms are….information all meticulously collected by 20,000 regular Palestinians entering Israel on permits to work daily. Without these details provided by everyday Palestinians allowed to enter Israel on goodwill, Hamas had no way to execute the massacres.

11. For as long as the Palestinians have invented themselves as Palestinians to illegitimately lay claim to Jewish ancestral land Romans called Philistine…they have publicly cheered and celebrated every Jewish death. Whether it’s candy distribution or singing and dancing or setting the Israeli flags on fire. The elation at Jewish suffering is generational and feverish and has nothing to do with Hamas origins.

12. Palestinians are first and foremost Sharia Law Muslims of the Quaran. They are no different than the 22 Arab states surrounding Israel that share no love loss for Israel simply because it exists. For Islamic law, the very existence of Israel is diametrically opposite to Quran’s instruction of slaying Jews “wherever you can find them”. Or Qurans’s 177 instructional statements that Jews are “descendants of apes and pigs” and must be slayed.

13. Every sign of millions of Palestinians on the streets of Europe and America today that reads “from the river to the sea” is from the Palestinian charter of driving Israel into annihilation. Every mouth that utters it is calling for the explicit desire for Jewish extermination.

What’s happening today is simple; this is a religious war. It is NOT terrorism. It is certainly no land dispute. It is Jihad in the name of Allah. And every government of the western world knows it.

So why the continued farce of separating and detaching the Palestinians and their “cause” from known history, from Hamas, from Islamic Jihad, from Fatah, from PLO, from Tanzim and PFLP, all Palestinian groups aiming at Israel’s annhialation?

Because an admission of truth will, perish the thought:

a) Delegitimize the UN at its core

b) Force European nations and the US to admit utter failure of decades of foreign policies

c) Force a myriad of civilized countries to quit financial aid to the Palestinians, hence admitting billions of dollars of taxpayer theft.

d) Elucidate the fallacy and fraud of that two-state solution, which was invented by the west (prior to the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948) in order to appease the 22 Arab states. But more importantly…

e) Will immediately unite the Arab world, including nuclear Iran, in a war against the west. This very real and justified fear of Islam and its 2 billion followers who believe in the supremacy of the sword, in beheadings, rapes, massacres and annihilation of western civilization in the name of Allah is palpable. This very basic of human emotions, fear, is the catalyst for every lie, for all the theatre, for all the fraud around the fabricated Palestinian victimhood. It will continue to the end of time until Islam’s demographical strength reaches a critical mass for the destruction of an entire society of Judeo-Christian culture. And then, and only then, truth will be allowed, Islamophobia will be understood not as racial discrimination but as a rational fear rooted in evidence and posing an immediate threat to our existence. And finally, that survival-of-the-fittest meter will begin ticking.

As for Israel and the Jewish plight - the sacrificial lamb, the Jews will continue to repeat “Never Again!”through every atrocity, every raging antisemitic-crime statistic, every American campus pro-Hamas rally with “Kill The Jews” signs, every Jihad war, every Palestinian stabbing and every missile launched at Tel Aviv…until the end of time. Mindlessly parroting something that has never been true, because there is simply no other hope.

Until the west finds its balls against Islam, nothing changes. Western governments’ and media’s established theatre of lies and fraud narratives for the Palestinians and their cause …IS the very manifestation of real justified Islamophobia. Until the west feels an immediate threat to its survival, no matter how many times Israel screams “You’re next!”, nothing changes.

[sterina-sims]

Sul sul! I'm living for your medieval charter posts. Could you please explain how the challenge works? And possibly how to set up such a flawless medieval style neighborhood? Thank you 😃

Sul sul! 😊 Thank you so much! I'm thrilled that you're enjoying my medieval charter posts. Ok, this is a daunting question, but I'll do my best to explain how the challenge works!

How the Challenge Works

First off, here's the MTS thread from the original creator of the challenge. I've also re-uploaded the document here for convenience/easy reading.

The Medieval Charter Challenge is all about building a medieval-style community from the ground up. You start with a small group of sims and gradually expand your neighborhood, adding different types of lots and families as you meet specific goals. Here's a quick rundown:

Create Your Founders: In CAS, create a Royal Steward (single Sim; they won't be played until a monarch is crowned), 4 peasant families, 2 yeoman families, and 1 gentry family (the head of this household will be the Squire). Move any secondary adult males into their own homes within the same social station, and assign farming and artisan trades accordingly. Create 1 group of 4-8 adult males (military barracks) and another of 4-8 adult females (almshouse), as a pool of eligible sims for marriage.

Seasonal Play and Taxes: Play each family for one season, stopping at the first Quarter Day (this is the first day of a season) to assess and pay taxes, tithes, rent, fees, and fines to the Royal Steward using Christianlov’s Wallet Controller.

Growing Your Settlement: Track the Treasury Funds. When the total reaches $5000, add a communal well, village green, and hedge tavern. At $8000, add a church with a cemetery and a weekly market.

Leveling Up: The levels are as follows: settlement (starting point) -> hamlet -> village -> town -> charter city. Each level has fiscal and infrastructural requirements, as seen above. As you continue through the challenge, you collect enough taxes to build the necessary lots and add more families, thereby growing the settlement. The challenge is completed once you reach the level of charter city and crown a monarch.

Setting up Your Medieval Hood

Use the Lot Bin: With regards to building, create 1 peasant hovel, 1 yeoman house/farm, 1 gentry manor, and so on. Save these residential lots to the Lot Bin for future instances when you'll need the required type of home. There is A LOT of building that goes with the challenge, so save yourself the trouble by doing this. The lots can be personalized for each household afterwards.

Communal Spaces (pro tip!): This is my nth time doing this challenge, and so, I suggest staring off with a village green or communal well (or both). It goes against the original MCC rules, but I say this because it gives your sims can have a place to meet and mingle with other settlers, and a break from monotony of staring at the same four walls.

Hood Decor: Hood decor is truly fabulous and can completely change the look of your neighborhood. I would suggest deco grass, deco rocks and cliffs, deco fields and/or flower fields, especially if excessive tree use slows down your game.

Custom Content: Invest in some good medieval custom content, including clothing, furniture, and architecture. Sites like Plumb Bob Keep, Mod The Sims, and Tumblr creators have lots of medieval-themed downloads. I have listed the majority of the mods, hacks, and custom content on my side blog's resource page.

I hope this helps you get started! Feel free to ask if you have more questions, and I'd love to see your progress if you decide to give it a try. Happy simming! 😃

[vivalas-vega]

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part three

things are happening !!!! jupiter meets the gang !!! things are starting to line up but I just hope they can make it work...

drops of jupiter is literally her and jake’s song, I don’t make the rules I just enforce ‘em. as always lmk what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist!

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part three

add yourself to my taglist

prologue - one - two

word count: 4.4k

warnings: language, drinking, a smidge of jealousy, a very cheesy moment at the piano but I could not help myself

The days were passing by in a blur, a monotonous blend of the same thing day after day… You were fighting to stay focused but a few days of mild cases and routine patients had you double and triple checking each chart before entering a room to make sure you were keeping everybody straight. You were officially entering the lull period of your residency where attendings gave you a long leash and let you take the lead, and you were even getting out of work at a decent hour which allowed you to start up a workplace romance with the hospital's forensic pathologist. You’d met him in the bar a few weeks ago and he didn’t take offense to the fact that you didn’t call him by his name, which was Blake, but rather Dr. Death, and he simply thought it was cute when you said he was the reaper and forced him back down to the basement anytime he tried to visit you during the day for fear his energy would affect your patients and send them circling down the drain. At first you’d tried to find something wrong with him, like really truly searched for red flags but there just weren’t any. 

He was supportive and encouraging, definitely wasn’t hard on the eyes, and was endlessly understanding of your work schedule because he endured the same difficulties. You’d sneak out of the hospital late at night and go to that 24 hour diner a few blocks away where you would load up on fries and milkshakes, meet for lunch over soggy cafeteria pizza and surprise each other with a cup of coffee when you could. He waited until the third date to take you home and for some reason you’d hoped he would be terrible in bed because then at least you would have a reason to call the whole thing off but he wasn’t and all of your friends got along with him if they overlooked the fact that you were slumming it with a basement dweller… a fact that never went unchecked by either of you with the reminder that he did in fact go to medical school like the rest of you. 

He was good, and you were seemingly happy yet you couldn’t really figure out why you hadn’t told Jake about him… you’d been seeing each other for two months now (you wouldn’t go far as to say you were in a relationship yet) and it was something you had chosen to leave out of every facetime or phone call. It just never felt like the right moment, talking about your dating lives was really the only thing you two struggled with, it always felt awkward and in a way you felt like you were cheating on Jake. Logically you knew you weren’t, logically you knew (through Coyote) that he was a bit of a ladies man and made his rounds wherever he was stationed that month but it just wasn’t something you ever talked about. Which was why as you sat in the Chief of Surgery’s office early one morning you felt a pit develop in your stomach when he let you know you’d be headed to San Diego for the day.

“UCSD got your fellowship application and they were very impressed… I spoke with their Chief and they’re requesting you for the day, I reckon they’re about to woo you,” he chuckled. “You’ll take the hospital’s charter and return tomorrow evening, you leave in an hour,” he said and you just stared at him in shock.

“Woo me, sir?” you asked and he nodded.

“You’ll spend the day in their facilities, get the lay of the land and meet the Head of Trauma, they’ll likely let you scrub in on something cool… they’re putting you up in a nice hotel in Coronado on the beach and giving you tomorrow to explore the city, likely in hopes of you falling in love with the San Diego lifestyle,” he said and you were still looking at him skeptically. “This is the part where all of your hard work starts paying off, Jupiter. This isn’t going to be the first hospital that tries to get your attention but they’re certainly hoping to be the last,” he said.

“But sir, I have patients… I’m supposed to take Mrs. Murphy in for her-”

“You’ll still have patients when you get back, go… maybe have a little bit of fun,” he said with a smile and you nodded as you left his office. Having fun wasn’t something you really did often, your life existed within the walls of this hospital. For you, fun was cutting people open and maybe you could constitute what you were doing with Blake as fun but you really thought of it as more of a time filler.

And they’d done exactly what he said they would… you were given a tour of the hospital by an overly eager resident (who had a million questions for you about the clinical trial you’d worked on with your Head of Neuro during your second year) and you learned cutting edge trauma techniques during a GSW surgery that you’d only read about in medical journals all before they sent you packing while the sun was still out to get settled in your hotel and see everything San Diego had to offer you. Jake was still here, he’d returned from his mission a few weeks ago and there was talk about keeping him and all the other pilots that were recalled for the detachment here permanently as a squadron while teaching new recruits at Top Gun. You changed out of the scrubs you’d been wearing since Boston and showered, throwing on a sundress and sandals before walking out of your hotel and strolling along the beach… Following your phone's maps you knew you were only a few minutes away from the bar where Jake told you he spent most of his time nowadays and you dialed his contact, hoping he was around and not up in the air somewhere.

“Hey angel, perfect timing. I just got to the bar, man it was a crazy day at work today,” he said and you could hear the chatter in the background as he greeted Penny and ordered a beer.

“Yeah? Tell me all about it,” you said and you listened as he went on about a new recruit who reminded him a lot of himself but not in a good way, mentioning something about almost losing total control of his jet and taking Phoenix out and you shuddered as you imagined it, stopping right in front of the entrance and taking a deep breath. “Hey, what was the name of that bar you’re always at?” you asked, a soft smirk playing on your lips as you walked in and recognized the group of pilots around the pool table from the photos he sent you.

“The Hard Deck, why?” he asked as you made your way through while praying you weren’t in his line of sight and you saw him leaning against the bar with his back to you and you leaned against a beam a few feet away.

“Huh, that’s weird… I just walked into a bar called the Hard Deck, must be a coincidence,” you said, doing your best to sound nonchalant.

“The Hard Deck? In Boston? That doesn’t make any… are you fucking with me?” he asked and you stifled a laugh.

“I don’t think so? Yeah, there’s this red neon sign out front, a lot of coffee cups hanging from the ceiling which is an interesting design choice,” you said as you watched his head tilt upwards, “a lot of people in khaki. Actually… there’s this guy at the bar wearing the hell out of a khaki uniform that I think might be cute but I can’t really tell, he’s got his back to me… do you think I should make a move?” you asked and he turned around slowly as if he was in a horror movie expecting the killer to be right behind him and you were worried his face was going to split in half from how wide he smiled when he spotted you. He was crossing the distance in an instant, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground as you giggled.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, squeezing you tight. 

“I was at UCSD for the day getting the star treatment,” you said a touch dramatically as you threw your hair over your shoulder. “Thought I’d surprise you.” 

“Well I am certainly surprised, what do you want to drink?” he asked and you shook your head.

“In a minute, I’m quite liking this surprising people thing…” you said, walking over to the pool table where Coyote was so thoroughly invested in the shot he was lining up he didn’t even notice you.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?” you sighed, leaning against the edge of the table and ignoring the confused looks from the other pilots… 

“Well, give me a moment here darling… I’d be happy to oblige once I win this game,” he replied and you chuckled at the suave voice he’d put on to try and impress you, still not realizing who you were. “Holy shit, Jupiter?” he said after he sank his shot and you laughed as he pulled you in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come see what all this Top Gun nonsense was about,” you replied and he brought his hands up to cup your face and squish your cheeks.

“It’s been far too long, what are you drinking?” he asked, already halfway to the bar and you called out beer after him. 

“The Jupiter?” the dark haired woman you recognized as Phoenix said, sticking out her hand and introducing herself. “Those two talk about you so often I honestly thought you were a myth at this point.” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you too… thank you for keeping this one’s ego in check,” you said with a laugh as you gestured to Jake and he just rolled his eyes at you.

“Someone has to,” she muttered before going around and introducing you to everyone else and you smiled as they all eagerly hugged you, seemingly you were already a part of the family with how often Jake and Coyote mentioned you. “Rooster’s around here somewhere, you’ll meet him eventually.” 

“Okay, tell me all about UCSD,” Jake said, directing you to a chair and you filled him in on all the details… maybe leaving out a few about the surgery at first but Bob had appeared out of nowhere and expressed an interest in the gory details which you were happy to share, and Jake took that opportunity to excuse himself when Coyote brought you your drink and challenged him to a round of pool. His friends were great, they asked a lot of questions and hung onto your every word when you answered and they were thrilled to tell you all about their lives as pilots.

“This could be good for you two,” Phoenix said when the two of you found yourselves alone standing by the window overlooking the beach, “did Hangman tell you we might be getting permanent stations?”

“He mentioned it, but definitely downplayed it,” you answered and she nodded.

“It’s looking more like a serious possibility now,” she said and your eyes brightened, “this is the best squad I’ve ever been a part of… if you overlook half of what Hangman says,” she said and you chuckled. “Turns out the bigwigs feel the same and want us to instruct at Top Gun permanently in between deployments.” You tried to temper your excitement.

“I’m sure you’re all loving that idea… might be nice to officially call someplace home,” you mused.

“We’re all excited… besides, the last mission really bonded us, I don’t know if I could just go back to my old squad after that.”

“He didn’t tell me much, assumed he couldn’t, but from what I hear it looked like a few of you weren’t going to make it back for a minute?” 

She nodded, “Rooster and Maverick, Hangman is actually the one who went after them and saved them,” she said and you turned to look at her with wide eyes. “Disobeyed orders too, surprised the hell out of all of us. He’s a jackass but if you ignore all the bravado he’s kind of a good guy,” she said, “but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Your secrets safe with me,” you chuckled before excusing yourself to grab another drink. You knew from Coyote that Jake had a bit of a rough exterior when it came to work and was often off putting to a lot of other pilots and you were happy to see that he was finding a place here, dropping some of the ego and making real connections. You met Penny who gave you your next round on the house despite how you tried to protest and just as you were about to rejoin the group you came face-to-face with a tall redhead who had an annoyed expression on her face.

“You’re Jupiter?” she asked and when you nodded tentatively you could have sworn she scoffed. “Look, I’m just going to be blunt… Do I need to be worried about you and Hangman?” she asked and you were truthfully stunned and glanced at Penny who gave you a look that seemed to say tread lightly. 

“I’m sorry, you are?” you asked.

“Hannah, he and I are kinda…” she trailed off and you nodded in understanding. You looked her over once more and felt your heart twist as you did, if you looked past her somewhat aggressive disposition she was absolutely stunning. 

“Got it, no you have nothing to worry about… just childhood friends, I’m actually seeing someone back home,” you offered, hoping it would appease her and it seemed to because she disappeared back to her friends and you shook your head in disbelief, tossing back the tequila and smiling at Penny who was already pouring you another. “Thank you,” you said.

“No problem… that happens all the time, there’s always some kind of turf war happening in this bar over the pilots… especially Hangman,” she said and you nodded softly as she went to serve other customers. This shouldn’t hurt, you knew this already but it didn’t do anything to ease the sting or stop the nauseous feeling that took hold in your stomach.

“You’re seeing someone?” You heard Jake ask from behind you and you turned to meet his eyes, letting out a sigh as you did so.

“Kind of? It’s not serious,” you shrugged and really it wasn’t a lie… you weren’t exclusive with Blake, you knew he might want to get there eventually but you weren’t yet. “Didn’t know you were seeing someone,” you added.

“Kind of… it’s not serious,” he repeated your words and you nodded, taking your next shot and looking over to Coyote.

“Your pool partner is beckoning you,” you said and he looked you over, trying to decipher if you were mad or not but he couldn’t tell and honestly neither could you. You had no room to be jealous, you were doing the exact same thing he was. Maybe you were jealous that he wasn’t confronted with it, Blake was just an idea all the way across the country while Hannah was just a few yards away shooting daggers in your direction… you nodded encouragingly, silently telling him to go back to his pool game and you watched as he did so as you leaned against the bar. 

The rest of the group was smiling and laughing, playing darts or engaged in conversation and you thought about how easy it would be if you could just slip in here… you knew you still had to entertain the offers from other hospitals but choosing San Diego just seemed natural and obvious. Your ears perked up as you heard the jukebox suddenly cut out and the sounds of someone tinkering with the keys of the piano and you followed the noise to the end of the bar where you saw a man with a questionable mustache and a rather loud Hawaiian shirt sitting. “You must be Rooster,” you observed and he looked up at you slightly.

“You must be Jupiter,” he shot back, “the girl who has captured everyone’s attention tonight,” he said as you smiled and leaned against the piano.

“I have a tendency to do that,” you chuckled, listening as he switched gears and you recognized the opening notes of Drops of Jupiter, and you let out a loud laugh. “Oh, don’t do it...” you said, trailing off and he just smirked at you, one that you were sure had reeled in a lot of girls before, and it even would have worked on you if you didn’t have Jake to worry about on the other side of the bar.

“Now that she’s back in the atmosphere with drops of Jupiter in her hair,” he started singing and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as he looked up at you with mischief in his eyes, nudging your leg with his and encouraging you to join in but you just shook your head. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” he said before starting the chorus and you begrudgingly sang along with him, maybe a little out of key but it didn’t seem to matter. The rest of the bar had started to move towards the piano and you had an inkling that this was a regular occurrence in this bar. Rooster seemed to have this natural pull to him, almost like gravity as your new friends circled around you and joined in.

But tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded, and that heaven is overrated? And tell me, did you fall for a shooting star? One without a permanent scar and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

Across the bar Jake was watching you with an unreadable expression on his face as you danced and sang with his friends, and while you were lost in the moment as you lead the bar in song with Rooster he was abandoning his conversation with Hannah mid-sentence and walking towards you on no accord of his own… you had your own gravitational pull, and when you met his eyes he felt like nothing else in the world truly mattered. Not when you looked that beautiful, not when you and Rooster had the whole bar eating out of the palms of your hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he leaned against a beam and smiled that classically Jake smile at you. When you looked away it was to laugh with Phoenix as Rooster really played up the moment and put his whole heart and soul into it and you thought to yourself that this was what you wanted.

Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken? Your best friend always sticking up for you, even when I know you’re wrong? Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance, five hour phone conversation, the best soy latte that you ever had and me?

These were the moments that you were missing… and it wasn’t because you didn’t have the time back home, you could make it if you wanted to. It was because you never felt like you could truly let go of yourself until Jake was around, you didn’t know how to relinquish control and go with the flow unless you were in his orbit, knowing that he was watching over you and these were the moments you craved. You wanted more nights in this bar, with these friends and with those green eyes watching you.

But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day, and head back toward the Milky Way? And tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded, and that heaven is overrated? And tell me, did you fall for a shooting star? One without a permanent scar and then you miss me while you were looking for yourself?

The bar was trying to stay in time with Rooster as he ad-libbed the ending but truthfully it was just chaos as you danced with Phoenix and laughed with Coyote as somewhere Bob was recording the whole thing. You wrapped your arms around Rooster’s shoulders as he finished and placed a kiss to his cheek, “thank you,” you whispered into his ear and he nodded after giving your arm a squeeze. You lifted your head to see Jake still looking at you and you made your way through the throng of people, giving him a look that said are you coming? as you slipped out the doors. You kicked your shoes off and set them beside one of the picnic benches before walking out into the sand and you heard the bar doors open and shut behind you… you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked and you chuckled.

“I didn’t fly all the way across the country to not get my feet wet,” you answered, turning around to face him as you continued walking backwards. “Gonna join me?” you asked before running towards the water and he just watched for a moment.

“Ah, hell,” he muttered, pulling his boots off and abandoning them in the sand as he rolled his khakis up as high as they would go and chased after you. The water was biting on your ankles and you laughed as Jake caught up and wrapped your arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground.

Inside the bar the jukebox had been turned back on and the group had gone back to their usual spots before catching a glimpse of the two of you out there splashing around in the water and laughing under the moonlight and soon they were crowded around the window to watch.

“You mean to tell me that’s Hangman out there?” Payback asked in disbelief.

“Can you blame him?” Rooster asked, “if she wasn’t the Jupiter I’d be doing anything I could to get her to look at me like that,” he said, overlooking you beam up at Jake.

“The real question here is how are they not together?” Phoenix asked and Coyote shrugged.

“They were a long time ago… They broke up before college because they knew it was going to be impossible to stay together.”

“What a load of shit, they are so in love,” she replied with a faux-gag and Hannah scoffed behind them, coming to see what they were all looking at.

“I knew it,” she muttered and Phoenix shot her a glare.

“Just go home already,” she said exasperatedly and the boys all stifled their laughter.

“Oh come on, you guys are shameless,” Bob said as he returned from the bathroom. “Let them have their moment.” 

“I’m sorry about Hannah,” Jake said as you settled in the sand and you just shrugged.

“It’s okay… I’m sorry about Blake,” you replied and he shook his head.

“I want you to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy, too,” you said, turning your head to face him.

“Are you?” he asked and you pondered this for a moment. 

“I don’t know… I’m happy right now,” you offered and he nodded. “I really like it here… and you might be stationed here permanently?” 

He sighed, “maybe… I don’t want you making any career decisions on my behalf,” he said and you looked back to the water.

“I know.” It fell silent between you two as you both watched the waves. You really were happy right now, you’d known the other pilots officially for a handful of hours but you felt like you were better friends with them than Holly or anyone else back in Boston… you’d come out of your shell and you felt like you were at home. You knew he was going to encourage you to at least hear out any other offers from other hospitals, and you knew that you should but you just didn’t want to. Even if Hannah was someone permanent and even if you didn’t really know where the two of you stood you wanted to be here. “Would it be such a bad thing if I did choose San Diego because of you?” you finally asked.

“I don’t know… I just don’t want you missing out on other opportunities,” he answered.

“They made me a really good offer,” you said, turning to look at him and he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “The salary is way above a standard fellows, they basically greenlit my rural health initiative, and offered to cover my relocation costs, a mortgage allowance and to absorb all of my loans,” you said and his eyes widened. “Even if I consider other hospitals all they’ll be able to do is try and match that, and it’s a really good hospital… you being here is just kind of the final thing that makes it perfect.”

“If you took me out of the equation and another hospital offered you the same, would you take it?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. San Diego was my number one before I even knew you might be here permanently.” 

He nodded, “don’t get me wrong, I want nothing more than for you to be here but I just want you to consider all of your options.”

“I know,” you said, refocusing on the water. “But I just don’t think making a decision because of you would be a bad thing.”

“I didn’t say-”

“You kind of did.” you cut him off, “and I get it… I wouldn’t want you doing the same for me but… Hannah? That sucked, and I know it didn’t feel good hearing me say I was seeing someone,” you said. “I just… I’m tired, Jake. I had more fun tonight than I’ve probably ever had, I can see myself living here and I just don’t want to have to justify that to you because you think I should keep my options open.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him. 

“Everything has been hard… the last ten years of my life have just been hard and I’m finally in a position where I can do something that would make everything so much easier so if that’s what I decide to do just… let me, okay?” 

“Okay,” he said, holding you tight as you let your eyes drift closed. “I’m really proud of you, Jupiter.”

“I know…” you said, twisting your neck to look up at him. “I’m really proud of you too...”

previous part / next part

taglist: @mamaskillerqueen @clancycucumber230 @the-romanian-is-bae @dempy @alldaysdreamers @zzsloth @emma8895eb @novagreen04 @classyunknownlover @olliepig @purplevortexx​ (if your username is struck through, it wouldn’t let me tag you -- sorry!)

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 9

Summary: The trio have arrived in Russia, it's the last bit of quiet they'll get before they strike out to find Hadir and the gas. AKA a little aside chapter that's mostly there for me to play with the characters like they are barbies. Warnings/Tags: drinking, smoking, swearing, gambling, sexual tension.

A/N: Author is terrible at playing poker and had to borrow from famous movie poker scenes to understand the rules in play, also used google translate for the Russian that appears in this chapter

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.2 K

[AO3]

October 30, 2019 16:35 - Undisclosed airstrip, Russia

One five and a half hour flight later, arriving to a relatively “balmy” six degree celsius afternoon, gray clouds streaked across the sky in long, loose fluffy tendrils. Not entirely abandoned, the old Soviet era hangars worn with weather and age circled the dying, brown grass and cracked cement where the small private plane had landed. As the door swung open, a staircase was brought over for the passengers to exit. The trio of Brits, no longer dressed in tac gear and camouflage, but rather civilian wear in drab grays, black, and navy – anything not to stand out in a crowd, blending in with the masses – descended, their feet hitting ‘The Motherland's’ earth.

Rory's long coat flapped in the breeze behind her as she adjusted her turtleneck. The appearance of a jetsetter was one that seemed to work for her, a small hint at her life beyond that of the military, one that consisted of wealth and refinement, glamor and grace wielded the same way she carried a rifle. 

“Have to say, I was not expecting Kate to charter us a flight,” she said over her shoulder. “CIA travel expenditure budget must have gotten quite the boost this last quarter.” 

Price chuckled low. “Might've been all she could get on short notice. Either way, I'm not complainin’,” he rumbled, wetting his lips before slipping the cigar between them. “Nice to ride in something more akin to a limo rather than the bloody boot of a Volkswagen.” 

Flicking the lighter on, the flame a dancing blue ghost against the cherry as it began to burn, Price’s gaze traveled over the flat expanse of the tarmac, noting the movement inside the traffic control tower overhead – always alert, always at the ready.

“A touch of the good life before we're about to be knee deep in shit again. I'll take it.” Her hands slipped into the deep pockets of her coat, boots clunking against the asphalt as she strode forward with purpose. 

As they made their way from the plane, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time she had arrived undercover in Russia. That mission with Price – the first they had worked together – had taken place two years ago now. Rubbing absentmindedly at the scar hidden in her hairline as she combed her fingers through fluttering strands caught in the breeze. A passing reminder of how close she came to never coming back home, a fateful moment that brought her and Price to where they were together.

Glancing over at Garrick, she called over her shoulder to him. “I trust you enjoyed the flight, Sergeant?” She asked, brow lifting, her curiosity genuine. “First time in Russia?”

He nodded, fixing the baseball cap on his head, adjusting the brim of it. “Never been in a private plane before. Hell, never even flown first class,” he said with a little shrug. “Well, I would say ‘welcome to the Special Forces’, but quite frankly, we don’t usually get that sort of treatment either,” Rory joked, a cheeky grin spreading across her face as she laughed. A large cloud of smoke coiled past Price’s lips as he exhaled, leading the other two members of his team towards a waiting vehicle, the exhaust pumping out of the tailpipe with the same fervor as the chimney-like stream from the captain. “Heads up, our ride’s waiting.” He nodded towards the driver with a lift of his chin. 

Drawing closer, the smirk on Price’s face grew more evident at the sight of one of his ‘old comrades’. A tall Russian with slicked-back, dark hair – Nikolai – had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, resting nonchalantly against the hood of his SUV.

“Nik,” Price called out, “Always a pleasure.”

With a quick shake of hands, the dark eyes of Nikolai darted to meet Rory. “Sinclair,” he boomed, becoming slightly more animated upon seeing her, “Good to see you again.”

“You as well, Nik,” she said, holding out a hand to shake before being pulled into a much friendlier greeting. With his hands resting on her shoulders, the smoke of the cigarette held between his fingers coiling around her head, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to each cheek, making her laugh. “Bloody hell. You weren’t lying, were you?” she teased, her giggle bright and warm on the cool autumn wind.

“Never,” Nik said with a smirk. Looking past her, he noticed the other member of the crew. “Picking up more strays, Captain?”

Price puffed on his cigar. “You know me, got an eye for picking out the talented ones worth keepin’ about,” he said before nodding his head in Garrick’s direction. “Sgt. Garrick, meet Nikolai. An old acquaintance of mine.”

More like an accomplice.

“Sgt. Garrick.” Nikolai stuck out his hand towards the younger man. “Welcome to Russia.”

The sergeant was quick to stick out his hand, taking part in the formalities. “Good to meet you.”

“Well with the introductions over, let’s say we get the hell out of dodge, eh?” Price pushed, ready to focus on the next part of the operation. 

The safehouse was a different experience this time around. No longer in the heart of Moscow, instead in the urban sprawl of St. Petersburg. One that included a few more of the comforts of home while still maintaining that derelict-chic look Rory had come to acquaint with places of this nature. Flying under the radar in a place that would barely be considered a two star accommodation – but it was more than a couple of beds and a bathroom, so an upgrade nonetheless. She was delighted to also find that the awkward tension from the last stay no longer plagued the group, despite having little to do and too many bodies in a confined space, their heads were all firmly focused on the job. Consummate professionals.

Under the yellowed light of an incandescent bulb hanging above them, they sat in mismatched chairs around the circular scope of a laminate kitchen table made to look like wood. Any talk of plans had been held off, Nikolai refusing to talk shop and preferring to act as host on the eve of the operation. A pack of cards and containers of pirozhki and chebureki from a nearby street food vendor were pulled out to keep the group entertained and well fed. 

A half-burned cigarette hung from the corner of Rory's mouth as she looked over the five cards in her hand, changing the order of them, as if that would improve the luck of her current draw. Tapping the end of her fag into the empty styrofoam box on the table beside her to rid it of the ash, she slipped it back between her lips. 

“Call and raise,” she said, placing five cigarettes down onto the table before her and sliding them into the pot at the center, joining the collection that had already begun to amass there.

She had to admit, playing poker with a Russian with criminal, intelligence, and military ties was an interesting experience. If anyone had a poker face that could hold up against her scrutiny it was likely him. There would actually be a challenge when it came to the bluff, especially since Price had decided to sit this round out, relaxing back in his seat with a cigar clenched between his teeth. 

The smoke coalesced in a foggy haze around them, obscuring faces and the small tics that could give a person away. The perfect habitat for card sharks. 

Her warm eyes glanced over to Garrick who placed his cards down on the table. “Fold. Anyone want another beer?” he said, standing up and heading towards the kitchenette.

“Not for me, thanks.” Rory combed her fingers through her hair, folding her arms on the tabletop, sitting forward in her seat as the cigarette maintained its precarious position dangling from her full bottom lip. 

Drumming his fingers on the table, Price leaned back into his seat and watched the game unfold, his mouth curled into a half grin. There was a sparkle in his eyes that usually didn’t appear while in the field, deciding to allow himself to loosen up just a tad for the night. Nikolai smirked at her from the other side of the table, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke through his nostrils. “Captain’s rubbing off on you, Принцесса.”

“Is that so?” 

Sitting there, still as a statue, except for the lift of her brow. Waiting, watching, for his next move. This was no high stakes game of poker, only harmless fun amongst allies and yet she made sure to give nothing away. An unreadable mask to match the one of the man sitting beside her. 

“Certainly. Make for a good student.” His gaze dropped to the cards in his hand, while his other started tapping one of the cigarettes in the pile beside him. “A student?” A smile finally broke through the barrier she had erected to maintain her poker face. “Is that all I am still?” 

Her ears began to burn, the instinct that told her she was being observed kicking in. Glancing over to the side, she noticed Price ogling her, the impish grin remaining on his face as he twisted the cigar between his fingers. She rolled her eyes, watching him stiffen and his stare fall away from her as Garrick returned to his seat with a fresh drink. Kyle, sipping his beer, glanced over at the Russian and then his pile of cigarettes, a mix of brands. “You gonna smoke all those or place a bet?”

Pouring himself another glass of vodka, Price’s lip curled into a barely perceptible half grin, filling Rory’s empty one while he was at it and sliding it back towards her with a nod as their gazes briefly met and their fingers brushed against each other. 

��He has a point, Nik. This isn’t Casino Royale, darling.” Her smile grew wider, her laugh bubbling out of her and carving dimples into her cheeks as she nodded her head to his pile. “We’re playing with fags like we’re in bloody prison.” 

Nik lifted his brow, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he threw down five cigarettes into the pile. “Call,” he said before tossing another ten in, “And raise.”

“Oh, we’ve got a real round goin’ now, haven’t we?” Garrick said, sitting forward, placing his beer bottle down on the table. 

She put out the burned down butt of her cigarette in the container, singeing a small hole into the bottom of it with a squeak of melting plastic. Her hazel eyes, ones that she had trained to be ever-perceptive both as a sniper and an interrogator burned, scouring the man before her, reading him like he was another target. “Now, Nik, you wouldn’t be bluffing, would you?” 

“What makes you say that, Sinclair?”

“Spent an awful long time debating putting down that bet to begin with. And then to double my amount?” She asked skeptically, her brow arching. “It’s a tad fishy.”

His mouth drew into a straight line, placing his cards down on the table in front of him, and resting his hands folded on top. “Could be. Suppose you’ll find out soon enough, Принцесса.”

“Princess? Ты же знаешь, что я подтягиваю свой русский, да?” She replied with a smirk. (Russian: You do know I’ve been brushing up on my Russian, yes?)

He hummed. “See? Captain’s taught you well. Good student.”

Rory’s cheeks warmed and the mask dropped as a rosy blush bloomed on her apples causing her to lower her head and glance over the top of her cards, shooting daggers towards the Russian sitting across from her. 

“I’m going to get you back for that, mark my words,” she muttered under her breath.

The low chuckles of Nik and Price met in sync with one another and drifted over to her, making her all the more aware of the flush on her face. Rolling her eyes, she kicked out at Price’s foot under the table, offering him a scathing look as well.  

“Cards?” Garrick asked, grabbing the deck, breaking the stream of the obvious inside joke he was being kept apart from. 

“Two.” 

“One,” Nik taunted, his brown eyes glancing up at her. 

“Someone’s confident.” Kyle passed the two players their cards so the round could continue. 

“Call and raise.” Sliding twenty-five cigarettes towards the pile, Rory sat back in her seat and crossed her legs, returning to her perfectly still position.

Nikolai slid an entire pack of cigarettes into the pot.

Rory’s brow lifted. “I’ll call.”

“Four nines,” he said, laying them out flat on the table for all to see. 

Her eyes dropped, raking over the cards set down on the table, clenching her jaw and running her tongue along her teeth, then sucking them. “Good hand,” she said with a little bob of her head before her eyes narrowed into the sharp stare of the combat ready veteran she was. “Not good enough, however.” 

Placing down her hand of a straight flush: the 7, 8, 9, 10, and Jack of hearts. 

With a smile, Rory stood up, coiling her arms around the hoard of cigarettes in the pot and dragged them towards herself. “Spasiba,” she said before leaning back and checking the clock on the wall in the kitchen, feeling the heady buzz of the vodka taking effect on her. “Right, it’s nearly one in the morning. Perhaps we should all think about turning in for the night? Let’s hope the springs in the couch aren’t too worn down for me, eh?”

When it came to sleep, Rory was at best a light sleeper. That only became more apparent when on a mission, practically sleeping with one eye open. Her subconscious mind was stuck half clinging to the lucidity of consciousness. Roused by the sound of quiet footsteps moving around her, disturbing her dreams, she was pulled into a state of wakefulness. Rubbing at her eyes, she pushed her hand back through her mussed up hair with a yawn, and sat up with a jerk from her spot on the sunken couch. 

Across from her, sat on the old, worn recliner, a form resided in the shadows. Not moving, not breathing. Still. A stalker in the night. 

Her hand slipped under her pillow, reaching for the gun stashed there on first impulse. Narrowing her eyes, not entirely sure what she was seeing was real, or the half-awake remnant of a dream. “John?” Rory’s voice was a rough whisper, still thick with sleep.

The curtains by the window fluttered softly in the night breeze, carrying the smell of cigar smoke and the musk of spicy cologne over to her, suffusing the room – scents she knew all too well – causing her finger to ease off the trigger.

“Yeah, love,” he husked in the dark, “Couldn't sleep.”

She chuckled quietly, shaking her head in mild disbelief. “So you decided to come out here and watch me do so instead?”

The dark mass across from her shifted slightly, broad shoulders twisting against the back of the chair as he stretched out his lower back. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

“You've watched me sleep?” Her brows furrowed, confusion settling in the lines there.

Sitting forward, he was washed in the dim light from outside cutting through the room. His steely eyes never steering away, locked onto her with the stare of a trained killer. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She shrugged, angling her head. “Just not what I expected to hear, is all. You're not exactly a romantic, my darling.” A little smirk curled at the corners of her mouth. “It is a good way of getting yourself shot though.”

“I might not read you bloody poetry, but I remember the important stuff.” He sat back, arms crossed over his chest. “Actions speak louder than words, after all. Isn't that right, my girl?” His gaze roamed over her tangled hair and rumpled clothes before a half smile curled at the corner of his mouth, turning downright Cheshire. “Do you have any idea how much effort it takes when you're with me to not find some secluded hallway to pull you down?”

Rory laughed. “Christ, you must be desperate if that's your first thought when I'm in this state.” Her cheeks turned rosy, an alluringly bashful grin on her face. “But you're far too professional for that, yeah? It has to wait until the mission's over.”

“Especially when there's someone else in the other room.” Price nodded his head toward the bedroom door where Garrick was fast asleep. “Could walk in on us at any moment. Can't have that, can we?”

“Never,” she whispered.

Price lifted out of his seat, circling the coffee table to sit down on it, the furniture creaking slightly under the weight. Leaning forward, he cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing over the soft flesh below it. 

In the dark of the room she could just make out the flicker of his gimlet eyes, shifting from the depths of her hazel gaze to the pout of her lips.

“Careful, John,” she cautioned.

He drew back, looking her right in the eyes. “Always.” His hoarse whisper was a quiet murmur in the room. 

Watching one another in the dark, the tension of having to pretend to be nothing more than soldiers carrying out their duty together held them like a tether, a magnetic pull neither could retreat from. The ache to touch too hard to ignore at times, hiding away in the shadows to feel anything. Unseen. Their love had to be left unspoken.

The way he looked at her was near reverent, as if he were committing every detail of her to memory. “Christ, you are so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” he rumbled. 

“Certainly hope I’m more than just my looks.” A warning disguised as a jest. “‘Course. You’re the whole goddamn package, Ror,” he said, his tone sharp, if anyone ever tried to suggest the opposite it would result in him breaking their legs. 

The distance between them closed once more, an attraction too impossible to ignore. Warm breath mingled and fanned over one another, their lips nearly touching, his whiskers prickled against her, tickling her skin and making her smile. 

“Care to join me for a break?”

“Indulging me in my vices?” she asked with a lift of her brows.

“Won't deny, there is something incredibly sexy about watching you smoke, love.”

Rory hummed. “I think that's the oral fixation talking, you dirty bugger.”

Price chuckled darkly. “Could be. That mouth of yours is somethin’ special though, darlin’.”

“Well, perhaps I need to give you something to tide you over until we're in the clear, yeah?” 

Tilting her head to just the right angle, she curled a finger under his chin and brushed her lips against his, grazing against them before wrapping her lips around his lower one, sucking softly.

Parting from her, he growled quietly. “Fucking hell, woman. You're gonna be the death of me.”

“Not before the lung cancer or a bullet,” she said with a smirk, patting his shoulder as she grabbed her cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table beside him and rising to stand, making her way over to the open window.

Slipping one of the cigarettes from her pack, she placed it to her lips and before she could reach her lighter, the flame was swiftly lifted to the end for her, the golden light producing shadows and highlights on her and Price's features. 

“Cheers,” she murmured around the cigarette, muffling her thanks. 

Responding in a low grunt before he flicked the lid of the zippo closed with the quiet chiming clink of metal.

She took a long drag, glancing sideways at him before exhaling the smoke in a stream out the window, blowing little smoke rings – one of the few party tricks she had up her sleeve – and passed the cigarette to him. 

"Bloody hell," he drawled, a hand reaching out to brush a stray chestnut strand from her forehead. "I'll say this for you, darlin’. When you're not busy bein’ a lethal soldier, you've got a talent for showing off." Price placed the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and sighed quietly. “Still prefer my cigars though.”

“Yes, I'm well aware. But I think you've had quite enough of those for one day, yeah?”

He growled quietly and passed the cigarette back to her before releasing the coil of smoke from past his lips. “So, whatcha gonna get me with all those winnings of yours, darlin’?”

Rory giggled and nuzzled up against him teasingly. “For you, love,” she said, caressing the underside of his jaw, the stubble there grazing against her fingertips. “The world.”

He did his best to suppress his chuckle, resulting in a quietly huffed snort. “Bloody trouble you are.” 

“Trouble you chose not to live without.”

He hummed, “Trouble I can't live without, sweetheart.” 

“Semantics.”

His hand lifted, gripping the back of her neck in that possessive hold of his, thumb softly stroking the tender flesh of her nape. “The truth.”

She smiled softly, contentment clear on her face. “So,” Rory said, changing the subject, “We get Hadir, find the gas, prevent all out war between the West and Russia, and then what? Go for pints?” Sighing, she looked out the window, her gaze far off but not looking at anything in particular, taking a drag of the shared cigarette. “Whether he uses that gas again or not, Russia’s going to want him. And our allies will readily hand him over.” Her gaze returned to him, her brow furrowed. “You know that, yeah? Despite knowing full well what they’ll do to him.” 

“Far as they’re concerned, he’s a criminal.”

“Who will be put in the hands of a nation with a terrible record for human rights violations especially for political prisoners.” Rory rubbed her hand down her face and inhaled sharply before releasing a heavy breath. “I fucking hate this part. All the backdoor bureaucracy and political bullshit. Shaking hands and making dirty deals. There’s never any bloody nuance. It’s all well and good when someone at the top decides to bandy their missiles about, but one person decides they’re done being bullied and, well, suddenly the ULF is a terrorist organization.”

“I sometimes forget you’re not quite as cynical as I am.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Still got that soft part of you that thinks the world’ll ever change.”

“I’m not so naive that I don’t already know I’m a cog in the machine, but if I don’t believe that things can change it makes all the sacrifices I've made sort of useless, love.” She sighed and raked her hand through her hair before passing Price the cigarette. “A man’s life hangs in the balance, and I’m sure some would say its for the greater good, but Christ… it’s such a fucking clinical way of looking at it.”

“Same could be said about what we have to do,” he said with a shrug. “The greater good. It’s not pretty though, is it? Never is.” Taking a drag from the cigarette, his eyes scanned her. “But we manage to sleep at night, don’t we?”

“You say to the woman who wakes up screaming with night terrors,” Rory scoffed, “Speak for yourself, my darling.”

“You know this is how things work, Rory.”

“Yes, yes, I know. The world is a terrible place and according to one Captain John Price there’s only one way to fix that, yeah?”

He huffed out a stubborn laugh and shook his head. “As gentle as a bloody lamb, you are. You know that?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said with a little sneer, scrunching up her nose as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, stroking her fingers along his spine as she rested her head against him.

Price’s arms coiled around her, holding her firmly against him, fingers carding through her hair, wrapping sections of it around his calloused digits. “That’s why I won’t let anything ever hurt you, my girl.” His voice low and hoarse as he rested his chin on top of her head. “I like you that way, all soft and sweet for me, darlin’.” His thumb brushed over the soft skin of her cheek, the smell of tobacco smoke clinging to them both. “Don’t know if I deserve ya sometimes, but you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Her head lifted and she gazed up at him, the lights of the street lamps outside glowing on her skin. “You know I am,” she whispered softly. Her warm doe eyes twinkled with fondness, loyalty, devotion. 

His chest puffed out, a sense of accomplishment and ownership that overtook him each time he claimed her. A fierce protectiveness that was never far, but particularly sharp in the quiet, intimate moments they shared. Nuzzling into her hair, he gave a low chuckle. "Well, you're stuck with me then, love. There's naught I'd change about that. You're mine, Rory. And I'll take care of you, no matter the cost." It wasn't just a line, not with Price, she already knew he would do anything for her. 

Trailing kisses down her neck, a soft growl rumbled in his chest. "And I'll be damned before I let you go, Rory. Can't bear the thought of it, not ever."

“Well, there’s no need to worry about that,” she said softly, her fingers combing through the short, cropped hair at his nape. “I’m your girl, remember? That’s never going to change. Not ever.”

[taylovelinus]

every single time i see some goober on instagram (or here on tumblr for that matter) demonizing jews and israel, all I want to ask is:

1) what is your opinion on indigenous rights?

2) are jews white?

3) have you read hamas’ founding document (their 1988 charter)?

because these really get to the root of their hypocrisy. these so-called leftists always claim to support indigenous rights and land back movements until it comes to jewish people, because they have a fundamental lack of understanding of jewish history, jewish ethnic and racial ancestry and identity, and the relationship between jews and that land. (also it shows how American-centric their worldview is that they see this conflict almost exclusively through an overly-simplistic lens of color, wherein they see jews as white/white europeans and palestinians as a generalized, vague group of people of color who are only ever victims instead of as a complex group of people with their own history, culture, and identity). and you KNOW they haven’t read the charter because they sincerely believe this is all solely about “liberation from oppression” and have no idea about the very real and very violent direct, explicit antisemitism that is the very basis for Hamas’ ideology. their original charter completely denies that jewish people originate from the very same land they claim to originate from; they say that they only way for the three abrahamic faiths to coexist peacefully is under islamic rule and regulation (which if you know literally anything about how jews and christians were treated under dhimmi status you’d know that they were treated as second class citizens at best); They directly cite this verse from the quran as justification for a holy war against the jews — "The Day of Judgement will not come about until Moslems fight the Jews (killing the Jews), when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Moslems, O Abdulla, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him.” (and don’t even get me started that the charter also explicitly states that women are valuable to the movement... but only “because they are makers of men” and because they stay home and rear the children.) I’ll concede that their 2017 revised charter states that they have “no problem with the Jews”, however this is moot when you can easily find video after video of young children saying explicitly that they want to kill Jews (yahood) and eradicate them from the land. these kids aren’t being taught to separate Jews and Israel/Zionism like Hamas leads people to believe (like they have convinced you westerners to believe); make no mistake, it’s not about cleansing the land of only "zionists", it is about eliminating all jewish people, denying their equal claim to the land, and denying their autonomy and right to self-determination.

i strongly, STRONGLY disagree with israel’s policies towards palestinians. i fucking hate Netanyahu, i hate his cronies, i hate that they court the far right in israel, i hate everything regarding how they have handled and continue to handle this entire conflict. and EVERY single other jew i know feels the same way. but jews have been stepped on and abused and slaughtered by their muslim/christian/pagan neighbors for literally thousands of years at this point. they were murdered en masse within living memory (and updated estimates put the death toll of the Holocaust at somewhere between 10-12 million, by the way. we are still finding mass graves in eastern europe all the time). jews deserve to govern themselves and live in their historical ancestral homeland. palestinians also deserve to live in peace and security, and israel has a responsibility to ensure that. but i will never ever support the complete erasure of the state of israel because i fundamentally believe in jewish sovereignty and indigenous rights, regardless of how much time they’ve been away, especially considering they were forced out and into a diaspora -- their leaving the land was not their choice. if the notion of jews standing up and making a space for themselves and ensuring their security upsets you, then perhaps the world should have actually treated them as human beings instead of slaughtering them. if we say that antisemitism is part of this conversation, and that the antisemitism should be condemned, and your first instinct is to either deny or deflect, you really need to examine your own antisemitism and how you have been thinking about this.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Louisiana Rain

Day #20 - Under the Covers | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex, Brief Mentions of Past Trauma/Loss | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC) | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Marriage, Post-Corroded Coffin, Gareth & Eddie are BFFs, Traveling Sucks, Delayed Flights, Coming Home, That Middle of the Night Quiet

This is set in the same 'verse as Tuesday's/Wildflowers, but is standalone.

He drops his bag at the front door and toes off his shoes, first one, then the other. Nudging them under the bench so they're out of the way. It's late. Way later than he should be tonight, but flight delay after flight delay has made this damn day hours longer than it was supposed to be.

That cut into his days off, which fucking sucks. He loves touring, loves being on the road, but that's only because he can balance it with time at home. Because there's nothing more important, definitely not the music industry. It'll chew you up and spit you out, in the blink of an eye. 

He's still learning, still growing up, but that? That he knows. He learned it hard and fast in the woods of Louisiana at twenty-five. Plane crashed, friends and band, gone. He learned it at twenty-three, car being searched, drugs seized, sitting in the back of a podunk cop car. 

He's thirty now, but feels somehow both older and younger at the same time.

It's pretty late, but Gareth dials Eddie's number, intending to let it ring once, and then hang up. That's their signal that he's home, that his plane landed, that he's fine.

But the line connects immediately, "You're late."

Gareth laughs, "Tell me about it. I didn't think I was ever getting out of the airport today."

Eddie makes a sound, a clucking noise with his tongue, so Gareth reassures him, "I'm fine. Just several delays. Nothing else to report."

He could tell him that he was stranded in the airport in Baton Rouge for six hours, but there's no sense in riling him up. Looking down over the trees as they finally took off, he couldn't know if they were actually flying over where their plane went down, their lives permanently changed, but it still felt slightly uncomfortable and if he squeezed the armrests extra tight, nobody would know but him.

"Okay," Eddie finally says, "see you tomorrow, kid."

It's not a question, but it doesn't need to be, because of course he wants to see Eddie.

Eddie doesn't say anything else, and the line goes dead.

Gareth wanted to say it's already tomorrow, turn Eddie's constant refrain back on him, but everybody knows it doesn't count unless you've slept, so Gareth isn't about to argue with him. Not if Eddie's finally come around to Gareth's way of thinking.

Gareth goes into the guest bathroom, not wanting to wake her, but needing to wash the plane off of him, all the same. And when he crawls into bed, under the covers, hair wet, but feeling much more like himself, she slides her arm over his waist. 

"You finally made it," Di says. He'd called from every airport he'd been stuck in, a snowballed disaster of a day. It could have been fixed by chartering a private plane or a smaller aircraft, but there are rules Gareth follows, superstitions, and if he had to wait for the jet, he had to wait for the jet. 

"Eddie called. Twice," Di says around a yawn, and Gareth laughs. Of course he did. Of course Eddie knew he was running late, and why, but still had to pick up and give him shit about it.

"Yeah, he picked up when I called," Gareth says. 

She smiles against his chest, "He was worried. Even if I told him you were fine, just annoyed."

Eddie worries. It's what he does. Gareth can't blame him.

She slides her hand down his stomach, grazing the elastic band of his boxer briefs, "Too tired…or?"

He's never too tired for that, and he laughs, "I think I could be persuaded."

She laughs, and hooks her leg over his thighs, sliding on top of him. Palming him through his underwear. 

"Let me do all the work," she says, and he grinds up into her hand, through the fabric between them. 

He lifts his hips, helping her as she pulls his boxers off, tossing them over the side of the bed.

"Di," he breathes out, and then she lifts up her hips, and sinks down on him. Holy shit. 

He was expecting some foreplay, expecting to go down on her first, and he definitely wasn't expecting her to be this goddamn wet. 

He arches up, tilting his head back on the pillow. 

"Goddamn," he breathes out, and she giggles. 

He slides his hands up under the old t-shirt she's wearing, something he'd stolen from Eddie in another lifetime, and grips both of her hips, and feels his wedding ring pinch and dig into his other fingers as he squeezes. It's been five years, and he still can't believe she actually agreed to marry him. 

She grinds down onto his dick, setting the pace, the angle, and he's really just along for the ride, here. Not that he has any complaints about that. It's not gonna take long, not for either of them, and that's okay. That's not what tonight is, they'll have time for that later, before he catches the next plane.

And he's right, she comes quickly, easily, clenching down on him, squeezing, pulsing and he follows her over the edge. Forcing his hips upwards, taking her up off the bed with him, as he comes.

She stays seated on his cock, leaning forward, laying against him. Her hands find both of his cheeks, holding his face. He trails his fingers up and down her spine, gently as he goes soft in her body. It's gonna be a mess if it all leaks back out onto him, but he really doesn't care. 

She's the best thing that ever happened to him, and he still worries he might be the worst that ever happened to her, sometimes. He knows that's not true, not now. Water under the bridge, but the thought still worries him, poking the sore spots, from time to time, under the cover of night. 

"I love you," he says, and she squeezes him tighter.

He's home.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[lostdrarryfics]

Hello, hello - you'll be getting two [seperate] asks (i know the rules, dont worry) from me today, I'm sorry in advance. I've made a pact to start saving every fic I read that makes me think at this point because I feel bad alway polluting up your ask box.

Thank you so much for all you guys do!

First lost fic:

Ao3 fic, chartered.

Takes place post war, can't remember how long though.

Draco is a bit of a shut in and a famous, though anonymous potioneer. He's a philanthropist but, also, anonymously. He finds a wounded, animagus Harry in an alley. The form is a black cat and he was attacked and got an eye wound (hes an auror w an undercover animagus form). Because of the eye wound he couldn't transform back into human form.

Draco doesn't know he's an animagus nor that it's Harry and takes him home and brews potions to heal him.

Harry stays with Draco and becomes a shoulder perch lol. One time they go to diagon and Hermione spots them and recognizes Harry but doesn't out him to Draco. It's put in the prophet that Harry, previously declared missing, has been found but is resting and to be left alone.

I'm pretty sure Draco plays piano.

Eventually Harry does leave and Draco is bummed. I think narcissa is involved...?

Draco finds out Harry is the animagus by accidentally witnessing Harry meet up with Ron.

Angst with a happy ending.

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[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Hamza Howidy, Palestinian from Gaza City

Published: Apr 25, 2024

Protests are spreading across the United States at college campuses, where university students are gathering in the name of Palestinian rights and occupying campus spaces with tents. Sadly, not everyone who purports to support Palestinians is truly interested in safeguarding our rights.

It pains me to say this as a Palestinian from Gaza. As my home is destroyed and too many killed, I never thought I would find myself criticizing those speaking up. And yet, I cannot be silent about what I am seeing. The truth is that the manner in which many gather to voice their support for Palestinians does more to hurt our cause than help it.

You know what would help the Palestinians in Gaza? Condemning Hamas' atrocities. Instead, the protesters routinely chant their desire to "Globalize the Intifada." Apparently they do not realize that the Intifadas were disastrous for both Palestinians and Israelis, just as October 7 has been devastating for the people of Gaza.

They should be speaking up for the innocent victims of Hamas—both Palestinian and Israeli. Instead, they endorse Hamas's ideology with posters announcing resistance "by any means necessary" and chants of "from the river to the sea," effectively glorifying the Al-Qassam brigades, Hamas' military wing, whose ideology is entirely based on the elimination of more than 6 million Israelis from the land.

I assumed individuals who initiated these slogans were uninformed about what they were advocating for. I saw the LGBTQ flag frequently flown among people chanting lines from Hamas's charter, and I initially wanted to educate them, to warn them that the group they are honoring would most likely toss them from the top of a building or murder them like they did to Mahmoud Ishtiwi, a Hamas commander accused of homosexuality. Hamas harasses women who don't cover their heads. Hamas tortures those who demonstrate against their authoritarian rule, as they did me when I protested.

All of this seems to be lost on the people who have named themselves our allies, to our misfortune.

Hate speech on college campuses starting with the one at Columbia has recently reached a frightening pitch. I've seen people yelling antisemitic things at Jewish students, including "Jews go back to Poland" and other horrible phrases. It has deteriorated to the point that Jews are no longer attending university classes due to the current hostile environment, and they are attending their classes online to avoid the demonstrators.

It's unconscionable. But it's not just the antisemitism that has me despairing. It's the hypocrisy. Where were these caring young people when Hamas took over Gaza and slaughtered hundreds of Gazans, or when Hamas held 2 million Gazans captive for more than 17 years? Why didn't they speak out about the fact that Hamas led Gazans into this conflict, which resulted in more than 30,000 dead and 80,000 injured, according to Gazan municipal authorities? Where were they when Hamas's failed missiles claimed the lives of hundreds of Gazans on October 17, or when Hamas murdered young people in order to steal aid and resell it to Gazans at massively inflated prices?

The only conclusion that can be drawn from these demonstrators' silence concerning Hamas' atrocities and their antisemitic chanting is that they are not concerned with protecting Palestinians. They are out in their tents because of a hatred of Jews and Israelis.

As a Gazan and as a Palestinian, I want the protesters and the organizers of these protests to know that their hateful speech harms us. The Jewish person or Israeli you are intimidating during your rally may be the granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor or a family member of an Israeli slain or abducted by Hamas on October 7. These folks would be your partners if the protests were about achieving lasting peace and justice for Palestinians and Israelis.

I do not accept hateful speech or terrorist chants, and all of these foolish dreams about eradicating Israel are disgusting—and will never be achieved. Both of us—Palestinians and Israelis—are here to stay.

But the protesters aren't interested in peace. Some of the groups have been blocking Palestinian peace activists like me—and I am from Gaza, the very place they claim to care about! Instead of blocking peace activists, they should be inviting us to join these protests and guide them in the right direction—a place without hatred with a focus on calling for the release of the hostages who have been held captive by Hamas for more than 210 days.

If the protesters cared about Palestinians, they would have one central demand: Hamas must surrender, because we have all suffered from Hamas and can no longer live under the rule of a terrorist group. Only then can a ceasefire be achieved.

Hamza Howidy is a Palestinian from Gaza City. He is an accountant and a peace advocate.

==

Told you so.

I've been calling these protestors "pro-Hamas" not "pro-Palestine" for months. I've invited dozens to condemn Hamas and none of them will. The "ceasefire" they want is for Israel to surrender so Hamas can murder them all, as they've consistently promised to.

Imagine people who pretend to want a "ceasefire" not just chanting for "intifada" (violence) and celebrating barbarous Islamic terrorism but blocking actual Palestinian peace activists. This was never about peace. It still isn't. They're useful idiots whose antisemitism is being used by Islamic supremacists to undermine western society.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Amb. Alan Baker

Only in the world of the absurd can a despicable purveyor of terror, Hamas, carry out a brutal massacre, killing over a thousand innocent people, torturing, murdering, and carrying out sadistic mass rape, over a space of just a few hours, and then run-away home to Gaza taking with them hundreds of hostages.

Only in the world of the absurd can the Palestinian representative organization that encourages, finances, supports, and represents such Hamas murderers be feted and upgraded by the majority of member states in the international community.

Only in the world of the absurd can a group of non-democratic, terror-supporting states oblige the United Nations General Assembly by proposing a resolution that indulges in pampering a terror-supporting entity in a misguided and surreal demonstration of naïveté, skewed political correctness, and acute hypocrisy.

Only in the same world of the absurd can 143 states parrot their support for what they blindly proclaim to be a “two-state solution” without really understanding what they are talking about out of ignorance and stupidity.

Only in the world of the absurd can the majority of the international community deliberately ignore the openly declared genocidal intentions of Iran, Hamas, and the Palestinian Liberation Organization in their efforts to eliminate the Jewish state and kill all Jews. And this, while at the same time upgrading the Palestinian representation in the UN.

Lastly, only in the world of the absurd can all this happen at the same time as incited and handsomely financed and organized groups of violent, hysterical, antisemitic demonstrators occupy campuses and town centers in the U.S. and European cities, calling for the elimination of the only Jewish state.

Shooting Blanks for Statehood

Despite the artificial hype surrounding this resolution, the bottom line is that this upgrade does not grant the Palestinians the status of statehood or UN membership that they wished to receive. The UN General Assembly has neither authority nor jurisdiction to establish states and grant membership status without Security Council sanction.

The sad naïveté and hypocrisy of those states that proposed and voted in favor of this abnormal new General Assembly resolution are evident in their stated determination in the body of the resolution to the effect that “the State of Palestine is qualified for membership in the UN in accordance with article 4 of the UN Charter.”

But the UN Charter article 4 requires that United Nations membership be open to “all other peace-loving states which accept the obligations contained in the present Charter.”

One may legitimately ask if the self-respecting states voting in favor of this resolution, including Russia, China, Norway, Japan, South Korea, and Australia, and EU member states Belgium, Denmark, Estonia, France Greece, Ireland, Luxembourg, Portugal, Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, and Spain, genuinely believe that the Palestinians are, or could be a “peace-loving state,” or is this just self-delusion, artificial political correctness, or naive wishful thinking?

International law requires the fulfillment of universally accepted criteria for statehood, including control of a defined population and territory and enforcement of the rule of law, none of which the Palestinian Authority has ever fulfilled. This is in addition to the Charter requirement of being a peace-loving state, assuming responsible governance, and the capability of respecting international obligations. Therefore, it is clear that this resolution is nothing more than a sad and miserable fiction, a sham.

Clearly, no element of the Palestinian political existence – neither the infamous and brutal terror organization Hamas nor the terror-supporting PLO and its Palestinian Authority – can seriously claim to fulfill such criteria.

Like all General Assembly resolutions, the resolution is not binding, only recommendatory. It does not represent international law and only reflects the political views of those states that proposed and supported it.

The various modalities listed in the resolution for improving the seating, establishing a speaking order of the Palestinian delegates in the General Assembly’s chamber and other UN bodies, and upgrading their participation in meetings and conferences are cosmetic, symbolic lip-service.

Despite its call for full Palestinian membership, the resolution distinctly denies and negates any notion of full membership in the UN. As such, the Palestinian delegation remains nothing more than an observer delegation, wherever and however they may be seated.

The resolution stresses that they have no entitlement to vote and have no right to membership in UN organs, including the Security Council.

The Violations Inherent in the Resolutions

However, in the context of the Palestinian obligations set out in the Oslo Accords, this attempted change of status constitutes a serious and fundamental violation of the agreed obligation not to change the status of the territories pending the outcome of the permanent status negotiations.

The Palestinian leadership and Israel agreed that all outstanding issues, including the permanent status of the territories, must be resolved through negotiations and cannot determined by unilateral action, whether in the UN or anywhere else.

Even the UN itself, in several resolutions, has given its endorsement to the Oslo Accords as the only agreed-upon means to resolve the Israel-Palestinian dispute.

Similarly, the EU, Russia, Egypt, and Norway, together with the United States, are signatories to the Oslo Accords as witnesses. A vote in favor of this new resolution by these witnesses undermines the Oslo Accords and is contrary to the accepted obligations of states and organizations that witness international agreements.

Indeed, by supporting this new resolution, they seek to bypass the requirements in the Oslo Accords for the negotiation of the permanent status of the territories and attempt to prejudge the outcome of any such negotiations unilaterally.

Despite this resolution’s artificial and ineffectual symbolic and cosmetic aspects, the overall result of the exercise is nevertheless grave and unfortunate. It will be seen by Hamas and the Palestinian leadership as a green light from the international community for them to continue to support and conduct terrorism.

The regrettable message emanating from this resolution is that the international community is not just ignoring Palestinian terror against a fellow UN member state; it is encouraging it.