#taken by British forces

[rabbitcruiser]

American Revolutionary War: In the largest defeat of the Continental Army, Charleston is taken by British forces on May 12, 1780.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Rishi Sunak really did just tweet you don't need uni to be successful in life, clearly trying to defend his plans to fuck up uni degrees. Like Rishi you can't talk, you literally only got to be rich and successful because you married a rich man's daughter.

[quatregats]

I was kind of getting into this with the tags on the other post but it's interesting to have the comparison of having watched Lawrence of Arabia before knowing things about him (and also being 12) and after knowing a bit more, because I think that the movie does fundamentally touch on the theme that he's not a hero, even as he is at times - and he's a not-hero in a very interesting and particular way. I do think that the way that his story is told in it does inherently become a bit of a tale, in which he becomes a character, and so loses some of his complexity, but I do think that he manages to resist a lot of things by the inherent nature of what he did. Personal myth-making in The Seven Pillars of Wisdom (which I have not read but do know things about) aside, I think things about him are in fact very hard to redefine, such as some of his more masochistic tendencies, his queerness, his uncomfortable place within the British Empire, his own self-aggrandizing, his relationships with the historical figures contained therein, his cycles of burnout, and a whole bunch of other traits which make him not what people want to see as a hero, inhuman and too human by turns. What I mean to say is that while the film certainly takes a particular stance on him, he still resists easy categorization, especially in moments drawn from primary sources, and I think that knowing how complex he was and wanting to see him complicated, the movie does a good job allowing for that reading as well.

[robbed-ghost]

On thinking on it for far too long, I’ve come to the realization that the common factor between bat people is Alfred. Kate Kane, Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne—all the universes where they become Bats has the common denominator of Alfred being there…so maybe it was his idea. And sure he comes to regret it, but it’s a bit of a coincidence otherwise.

Thomas: what do I do…I’ve lost everyone…everything…

Alfred, testing out an idea: Well-

[mariocki]

Playwright, director, poet (and actor) Steven Berkoff makes an uncredited appearance as a mafia assassin, Bertoli, in The Saint: Vendetta for the Saint - Part 2 (6.16, ITC, 1969)

[bi-writes]

hi! i was thinking if you could write an older!boyfriend simon x reader BUT reader is john price's daughter so is kinda of a forbidden and secret relationship !!!! they've been dating for a long time now until john finds out !!!!!

18+

"how is she?"

"doing well, john. but you don't have to worry about her anymore, you know that right? she's not yours to worry about."

"she is mine. i know she's not..." john huffs. "she may not be blood, but she's mine, yeah? so when i ask 'ow she is, you tell me, kate. can we agree on that?"

"sure, john. she's in georgia. her russian got very good. if you want to know my honest opinion, i think she'll be one of my best."

"well...i wouldn't stand for anythin' less."

"john?"

that voice is music to him. he turns, taking his hat off, and he laughs, genuinely, when he sees you. his whole face lights up, and you make your way to him. it's been months since you've seen him in person--even though he makes you send him constant updates about what you're doing and where you are, you find yourself missing this man and the warmth he gives off whenever you are in his proximity.

he's always looked at you so kindly. he's always taken care of you. whenever you pick up the phone, he's always answered.

"'ello, bug."

he crushes you in a warm hug. he puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds you to his chest, and the tension in his shoulders deflates now that he has you with him.

"hi, john. miss me?"

"well...you were the only one with sense in my house."

"you live alone, john."

"aye."

he pours you a hot cup of tea before he makes you tell him all about your new posting. most of it is classified, and you tell him that, but his face lights up when you talk about the new skills you're learning and all the opportunities that kate is giving you. his face scrunches a little when you talk about the more dangerous ops, but john never has the same regard for his own life.

the mess hall gets busy once dinner time rolls around. his men were not expecting you, and that much is clear when they see their captain even enjoying a meal in public and not secluded in his office. you smile at his sergeants, but when your gaze lingers a little longer on the doors, johnny just nudges you with his elbow.

"miss the big guy?"

"what? no."

"he had a long night last night," he wiggles his eyebrows at gaz, who just laughs a little. "i might need to try the whole brooding, scary look LT has got on. attracts the most bonnie things, fuckin' christ."

your plate flies when you stab at your food too hard. the cutlery clatters as it hits the floor, and you jump a little, swallowing.

"are you alright, bug?"

"huh? yeah, oh...yeah, just...fucking clumsy. i...i'm gonna...find the toilet."

the blood is rushing in your ears as you make your way out. you're vibrating, hot inside, and you feel him before you see him, even in your anger.

when he pulls you into the shadow of a nearby supply closet, you swipe the blade out of your boot and hold it up against his throat. even through the mask, the blade bites, and he hisses as you hold him up against the wall there.

"don't fucking touch me," you snarl, and ghost's eyes are bright and alive as he holds his hands up defensively.

"wot--"

"and don't what me," you snap. "actually, don't fucking talk at all, you cheating, manipulative, british piece of shit--"

"look so pretty," he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. "did you do y'r hair, baby?"

"i will kill you."

"'s olright. last thing i see'll be you."

"i'm not fucking kidding, simon!"

he bends a little, tilting his head, and you breathe out through your nose as he leans his forehead against yours.

"reckon ya spoke t'johnny."

you scoff. "told me all about your winnings last night, lieutenant."

"was no winnings, love, don't be so fuckin' naïve." simon swipes at the handle of the blade, curling his gloved fingers around your wrist and forcing it away from him. "y'r just mad cause y'r cunt missed me."

"don't flatter yourself, asshole."

"so if i pull your knickers down right now, y'won't be drippin', swee'eart?"

"that's irrelevant."

"'s not. turn around and bend over."

simon's sorry, so he eats your pussy from behind. he gets down on his knees, and the crack of them satisfies you immensely, up until you feel his mouth between your cheeks, tongue slicking up your folds. you brace yourself against the wall, palms flat against the concrete as he puts two gloved hands against your ass and spreads you wide to fit himself nicely there. he hums, groans, makes you whine as he slurps obscenely into your cunt, laving at the drip of you until the taste of you floods his mouth.

"simon..." you whimper. "tell me i-it's not true."

he presses a wet kiss to your ass, biting it firm.

"'s not true, love. promise."

"fuck your promises," you sniffle. "you're a professional liar."

"tha' 'ow it's gonna be, innit? not gonna trust me? believe me?"

you rest your forehead against the cool wall, and the shadow of him envelopes you when he stands. he grunts a little as he gets to his feet. his big hands squeeze at the curve of your waist, and you close your eyes when you feel his breath against your neck.

"i'm sorry, simon."

"for wot?"

"i just...i like you so much. so much."

"come 'ere," he murmurs in your ear. he pulls your hips back, pressing your ass against his pelvis, and you dig your nails into the wall when you hear his belt buckle and zipper. "my pretty girl. my pretty, pretty girl."

"i missed you s-so much, simon."

"i know, love. quiet now. someone'll hear."

it's not the worst place you've fucked. you've snuck quickies in the rec room. behind the mess hall. met up in filthy gas station toilets, fallen into the backseat of a car in the parking lot of numerous military bases. even once, you deigned to suck his dick in his office, and you had to hide behind his couch when john came in to ask about an op.

john had a rule. his men were off-limits. he should've thought about that before he hired a man straight out of your wet dreams for his stupid fucking task force.

you're weak. and simon is a man.

inevitable.

you're a mile into pound-town when someone interrupts. simon is cock-deep inside of you, pelvis up against your ass, one hand braced around your throat and the other squeezing your ass. your eyes are rolled back into your head, and there's drooling coming out of your mouth. it's hot, disgusting, filthy to let him have you like this, but it's been weeks since you've seen him, and the phone calls aren't enough.

you love talking to him. you love when he talks to you. he'll never be annoying to you, you'll never get tired of him, but the distances hurts. you want simon to be all around you--inside of you, against you, his voice in your ear and his mouth against yours and his warmth your only sheet, but you can't bring yourself to do more than this.

you're too afraid of disappointing people. you're too scared of simon's rejection. if your relationship is nothing but fun, nothing but sex, you can pretend it isn't real, but you're just lying to yourself now.

you babble, and it sounds like love, but then the hallway light blinds you, and familiar blue eyes nearly kill you.

"jesus christ!"

simon puts his body in front of yours to cover you, using a harsh boot to kick the door closed. you squeak, covering your face with your hands, and you groan audibly as simon pants against your back.

"fuck--" you gasp. "oh...fuck, fuck, fuck!"

simon buries his face into the crook of your neck, laughing a little.

"bloody hell," he breathes. "reckon we're fucked, huh, love?"

"it's not funny, simon! we're in so much trouble!"

"well..." he squeezes your throat gently, tilting your head back. "could still finish. no sense in pretendin' now."

"you are not going to come when he's probably waiting for us outside."

"i'm balls deep in my favorite girl," simon mutters. "could come just fine. just say the word."

"you're disgusting."

"mmm..." simon squeezes your hips. "keep talkin'. i like when y'talk t'me like tha'."

"fucking asshole."

"yeah...yeah."

"you stupid, immature, unhinged pain in my ass--"

"fuck."

well.

you're definitely never leaving this room.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

It’s canon that Jason Todd had a brother named Danny Todd. All we know is he died being a look out for a local gang. Who’s to say he didn’t die at the age of fourteen and come back? Maybe the Fentons were investigating the levels of ectoplasm in the area and somehow got their hands on an amnesic kid who died and didn’t quite stay dead? Perhaps they wanted to make him their side experiment, or they wanted to see if they can teach it to be good and not evil. Who knows. But as soon at Danny steps foot in Gotham, the entity of Gotham is there to greet him, welcome him home and remind him of who he was. And does he remember.

Danny is just a year or two younger than Dick and he was supposed to be starting a new job in the R&D department of WE. Instead he’s pushed back his start date to do research.

Of course, the first thing he looks up is his family, his original family that he can’t believe he forgot, to find out his mother, his father, and his little baby brother are all dead and buried. He has to take a break to sob uncontrollably on the kitchen floor for a while before gathering himself back up to find out what happened. He is unimpressed with the lack of information on Jason’s death, but he did find lots on his adoption to mister rich guy Brucie Wayne.

So it’s with almost no hesitation that after finding every single article and snippet he can on his brother and still find it lacking, he drives his motorcycle, that he built himself thank you, to Wayne Manor where he rang the buzzer repeatedly with a little too much force.

It takes him a while to finally bully his way through the gates, arguing with the butler and telling little white lies of ‘of course I don’t want to harm Mr. Wayne, I just need to ask him some questions’.

Sure he could have waited and got close to him through his new job or had some other cunning plan, but Danny has always been a straightforward kind of person and that didn’t change after his death. No, he prefers to get what he wants straight from the source.

That’s how he ends up pacing the length of the sitting room the British guy left him in with a deep glare and tense shoulders.

It was a nice place. Clean. Taken care of. Expensive. Jason lived here once upon a time. Too bad it didn’t last.

Mr. Wayne does show, surprisingly, and takes the time to assess him like a threat as he BS’s him with a ditzy expression.

Danny walks right up to him and sticks out his hand to shake because Jazz raised him with manners.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greets with a stiff nod.

Mr. Wayne hesitantly takes the offered hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you, I’m sorry, Alfred didn’t tell me your-“

As soon as the handshake is over Danny socks him with a right hook straight to the face. The force throws him back a few steps but he recovers quickly. Danny shakes out his hand.

“My name is Danny Fenton. Before that though my name was Danny Todd.” He sees Wayne’s eyes widen a bit in recognition. The next part didn’t really need to be said but he did it anyway. “My little brother was Jason and no I don’t have proof so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You are going to tell me exactly how he died and I’m not leaving here until you do.”

His words had fallen back into his Gotham Crime Alley accent with how emotional he was. He forgot how he even used to talk. How does that even happen?

He walks back to sit on the couch, getting comfortable because he has a feeling this guy will drag this out like pulling teeth.

“I’ll ask Alfred to get some refreshments,” Wayne says after several minutes of silence.

“You do that.”

[menderash]

did you guys know that the mother fucking UN's humanitarian and legal experts have been saying israel's occupation of palestine territories is and has always been illegal, as it violates the FUCKING GENEVA CONVENTION? did you know it was britain that 'gave' the land that wasn't theirs to give to found the state of israel as a tactic to get more jews to join the british army in their already-active war against the ottoman empire? did you know that just between 2008 and 2022 the idf killed almost SEVEN THOUSAND palestinians, as opposed to the 308 israelis by palestinians in the same time period? did you know that israel itself admits to 'forcefully evacuating' palestinians from their homes over the course of their annexation of the country? did you know the british army helped them? did you know that any palestinian who didn't want to have their house taken from them and given to american immigrants being shipped in to populate britain's pet project was killed on their spot? did you know that back in 2018 palestinians did nothing but MARCH in protest of their occupation and in response, the idf is CONFIRMED to have killed almost 400 of them, including FIFTY FIVE CHILDREN? did you know palestinians are not allowed to build anything on the land they have left? did you know they aren't ALLOWED TO LEAVE?? did you know over HALF of christian evangelicals support israel solely because the bible says israel has to exist in order to bring about the second coming? did you know that in 2021, over 88% of us congress were evangelical christians? did you know israel is confirmed to have knowingly bombed palestinian hospitals and the idf had been caught targeting journalists? did you know israel is committing another war crime at this very moment by dropping white phosphorus on gaza civilians? did you know the israeli press was just confirmed to have completely fabricated an account of palestinian war crime right after their own got caught on film? did you know the defense minister of israel openly called all palestinians 'animals' to justify the deaths of their civilians? did you know holocaust survivors are presently speaking out against the israeli state's ethnic cleansing of arabs?

why, in the united states, is criticizing a settler colony's active attempts at extermination labeled antisemitic because of the religion the settlers happen to practice, but rooting for the complete eradication of a muslim country that was already there and is barely still there not islamophobia?? why is religion being used as a shield to justify genocide?

when a sudden act of politically charged violence occurs, like the hamas attack a few days ago, i ask WHY? i ask WHY until i get as far back as i can. i read accounts written by all sides. i try to find out why this is happening in the first place. half of these facts have come from the israeli government itself. all of them are easily found and easily confirmed by reputable sources. a lot of them are caught on film. all of these facts lead me to know that the state of israel was created by britain in order to gain an advantage in an unrelated war. i know the state of israel has caused unimaginable harm to the country it's slowly eating, and has suffered just a fraction in return. i know religion justifies none of it.

palestinians deserve to live in their own country. palestinians deserve to not be forced to give their homes to americans. palestinians deserve to live, to leave, to stay, to wave their own fucking flag. they do not deserve to have another country plopped on top of them and then have their settlers ask 'don't WE have a right to exist?' as their own right to exist is being extinguished.

fuck the idf, fuck israel, fuck manifest destiny, fuck all settlers who think they deserve someone else's home enough to kick them out of it. literally, in israel's case. indigenous americans, indigenous canadians, chicanos, pacific islanders, filipinos, mestizos, we should all be standing with palestine, because we KNOW how colonial violence goes and what it looks like. solidarity between all colonised peoples. free palestine.

[lov-3-rs]

“Show me some fuckin respect”

ghost and you have been at each other’s throats all day because apparently you don’t give him “enough” respect.

He walked up closer to you having you back up into a wall and even only inches away from your face, under the mask you could hear the grinding of his teeth and feel his hot breath seething out of it.

damn you really pissed him off

“give respect get respect” you say in a tone that would most definitely get your own ass whooped by your parents.

his eyes darkened and his hand moved so fast to grab your jaw you didn’t have time to react, “I am YOUR lieutenant, YOU listen to ME and YOU will do what I say without any questions or backtalk, do YOU understand private?” you were still so caught off guard by the grip he had on your jaw you couldn’t speak and…

and.

oh fuck this turned you on.

you couldn’t help but smirk in his grip which only became tighter “Answer me now” he shook you a little causing you to come back into reality “yes sir i’m sorry it won’t happen again” you groaned, Ghost tilted his head looking at you and even with the mask on you could see he was wearing a smirk through his eyes “you like this shit? huh? you like me grabbin you like this?” you moaned nodding your head yes and squeezing your thighs together.

god this really turned you on.

Ghost slowly let go of your jaw and his deep british accent “get on your knees private” you stand taken back a little.

my knees? why would he wan-

oh

oh

You slowly get on your knees still looking up at him, “go on then show me how sorry you really are” your heart is beating so fast right now “sir are we even allow-“ ghost grabs the back of head grabbing a handful of hair and forcing you to look up at him fully “what the fuck did i just say about questioning what i tell you?” you can feel yourself dripping through your fucking pants by now “not to do it” he loosens the grip on your hair “look at you listening for once” you tilt your head back down to the massive bulge in his pants that’s in desperate need for attention and release, you unzip his pants for his fat cock to slip out.

will this even fit in your mouth?

His dick is hard and veiny with pre cum leaking out of it, you grab the base of his shaft and start stroking it while you put your mouth on his pink tip and lick up the pre cum “Fuckin hell” his grip on your hair gets tighter once again as he pushes your head further down his cock “Fuckin look at ya, you’re a fuckin minx” drool was dripping from your chin down your neck and on his cock, you could feel the tears running down your face from the gagging you were doing, Ghost groaned and face fucked you till your lips were nice a swollen “sh-shit i’m gonna fuck that little hole of yours after I cum in this bratty fuckin mouth you got” your jaw was sore and your panties were soaked but you kept sucking and swirling your tongue around his dick “shit i’m gonna cum” he pushed your head all the way down to the bottom of his cock and painted your throat with his warm cum, after a couple of second sitting like that you finally pushed yourself back so you could finally breath. You were a mess with your hair knotted, drool and tears streaming down your face but god he loved it, Ghost zipped himself up kneeled down to you “come on It’s my turn to show you how sorry I am”.

and oh boy.

did he have a way of showing it.

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

[rabbitcruiser]

American Revolutionary War: In the largest defeat of the Continental Army, Charleston was taken by British forces on May 12, 1780.

[feralforfrank]

simon riley x fem!reader

simon gets hit by an umbrella like three times, sorry for not knowing proper british and scottish slang, i'm greek and trying my best 👍🏻 implied age gap (reader is in uni)

holidays in Edinburgh, part 1/?

the 141 is home for the holidays. home being all over the uk, with gaz and price spending their time somwhere in the country with their partners and simon accompanying johnny and his partner in Edinburgh. johnny insisted he come along, Edinburgh is full of bonnie birds, you never know, you might meet your match, lt.

you're miserable. spending yet another holiday in a foreign country, isolated in your flat with only your cat, warm tea, and a book to pass the time. you couldn't go back home due to finals starting soon, and your parents decided to spend Christmas in warm weather down under (Australia).

it's not half as bad, you try to convince yourself. your flat is quiet, as are the neighboring ones and the building in general. your bedroom window overlooks a busy street, and you envy those who flood them with shopping bags and smiles. you haven't made that many friends, and the ones you have are already visiting their hometowns. the upside is that you're in a warm, comfortable space while others are freezing their pinkies off.

even johnny is gone. the loud scot from next door, a guy you had disliked at first without having officially met him - thin walls was the only bad thing this building has, and you were forced to listen to him do everything, from weight lifting, to watching tv, to having sex - but when you bumped into each other your opinion changed drastically. a gentleman, funny and light-hearted. he hadn't taken to heart your complaints about the noise, only promising to take it down a notch.

without the muffled sounds of his tv to annoy you - his partner had apologised for the volume, saying he's partially deaf in one ear from having been too close to explosions way too many times - you were left reading your book in silence. maybe you'd go to the grocery store later, stock up so you won't need to leave your house - the weatherman said it's going to get colder, heavy snow expected.

johnny hands simon the keys to his flat. him and his bird are going to the supermarket, there's nothing in the fridge or the cupboards for the next few days. the scot told him to take a shower, relax and make himself at home until they come back, and he didn't have to be told twice with the biting cold making his nose stuffy.

johnny's building is freshly painted to look new on the outside but old on the inside. he's been here before, and he remembers mactavish struggling to open his front door sometimes, for the lock got stuck.

he tries to reenact the technique his best friend uses to get in, trying his hardest to open the door gently instead of pushing with his shoulder like he does back at his own flat. he turns the key one, two, three times and pulls forward softly, trying to turn the key for the fourth and final time.

fuck. you gotta be fucking joking.

"fuckin' hell."

he tries again. and again, this time throwing his bag on the floor. the door rattles as he uses a bit more force, frustration building steadily and quickly.

you press play on spotify, the familiar voices of joe and frank from the basement yard podcast filling your ears. your headphones are pushing the hair out of your face and also act as ear muffs. you check your coat pockets for your phone and keys, nodding to yourself before kissing your cat goodbye. you promise her treats from the grocery store.

at first, you don't notice the hunk of a man at the door next to yours. the podcast is on full volume and your securing your scarf around your shoulder. it's when you turn to shut your door that you freeze mid-step.

in front of you, with is back turned to you, there's a giant guy pressing all his weight to johnny's door. he's wearing all black, hood drawn up, which makes this situation much much scarier.

fuck fuck fuck fuck. what the fuck. he's tryinf to break in the flat. oh fuck fuck fuck, what do i do? has he noticed me? he hasn't turned around yet. what the fuck. shit fuck. FUCK. what the fuck?!

your body reacts a few seconds later. with wide eyes and pursed lips, you hold your breath, and take a step inside your home. half your body is outside, facing him incase he decides to turn around and your arm is blindly reaching for your big umbrella.

once you have a stready hold on it, you don't hesitate to take two big steps forward and hurl it on the intruder's neck. your headphones for on your shoulders, and you hit him again, and this time he physically recoils.

you hit him another time, not quite as hard, and flinch at the sound the plastic makes against his jacket but you're gaining confidence as he grunts in pain. you shout something at him, something about this being karma for trying to break into somebody else's house, and he yelps something in response, but the blood rushing in your ears is louder than your voices.

you swing the umbrella back to hit him again, gathering all the courage you can muster for a final blow. you take a millisecond more to do so and he has time to move before it can connect with his back. unfortunately for the guy, the umbrella hits the side of his face.

he yelps and you drop it with a gasp, hands covering your mouth in shock.

his face is still hidden under his hood, but his ungloved fingers reach for his cheek, where the tip of the umbrella connected.

there's a moment of silence. your eyes are wider than before, as wide as saucers, and you're breathing heavily like him. you're scared beyond your mind, the fear having paralysed you once again. you stand there watching him rub his face witha grunt.

"you fuckin' crazy or wha', lady?!" he finally speaks with gritted teeth. his accent is hot. "'m not a fucking intruder."

oh shit.

"...you're not?"

"no, the fuck 'm not," he says calmly, and your heart rate picks up. "would an intruder have keys to the bloody flat?" he shows you the keys and you gasp softly, recognising johnny's scottish flag keychain.

"i'm—oh," your hands reach out as you try to approach him. "i'm so terribly sorry, i just—mactavish isn't home and you're huge and you were throwing yourself at the door and you have your hood up and you're so. fucking. big, i thought you were trying to rob the place—" you take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts - you just beat a guy with an umbrella for no fucking reason!!!!!! ‐ "here, let me help you." you signal for him to enter your flat.

simon watches you for a moment. flushed cheeks, eyes glassy and overflowing emotions, hands waving frantically as you open your own door wider for him to walk in.

he should refuse. flat out say no. you just attacked him with an umbrella for fucks sake. it's still in your trembling hands. he should refuse. but you said mactavish. you know johnny. and he knows himself. he must've looked terrifying to you, back hunched over the lock, shoulder pushing on the old wooden door.

you look genuinely sorry and worried, very willing to let him into your home, even though he hasn't given you any information about himself. for all you know, he could've stolen the keys from johnny or his bird, he could be a proper burglar.

he should shake his head and turn your back on you. it doesn't even hurt. he's had worse. he thinks his cheekbone might have a scratch, but he's fine. ghost has been through torture before - your hits are nothing compared to that.

but you're pretty. extremely so.

so, he nods slowly, removing his hand from his cheek and grabbing his duffel bag from the ground. you wait by the door, watching his every move as he walks in.

you point to your kitchen chair, he sits - he's so imposing, your kitchen seems smaller with him in it - and you immediately rush for a pack of beans from the freezer and a towel.

"put this on your cherk," you instruct and disappear somwhere further inside the flat. he watches you.

when you come back you have rubbing alcohol, cotton pads and a packet of band-aids. simon begins to stand.

"'s not necessary. 's barely a scratch, ma'am."

you don't even look at him as you set the stuff down. he stares at you. "no, no, i feel terrible - the least i can do is fix your face."

"you sayin' my mug is ugly?"

you pause, head snapping to the side to meet the stranger's eyes. you frown, another apology ready to escape your lips.

he's smirking. right corner of his lips tilted up. he's joking. your shoulders sag and you exhale with a smile.

"no, your face is quite nice, stranger."

it is. strong features, long nose - looks to have been broken a hundred times - some scars here and there, long eyelashes and pretty brown eyes.

"simon. simon riley."

simon. nice name - suits him. friend of johnny's, you remember. probably military, judging by the width of his back. and the unintenional scrutinising and intimidating gaze.

you introduce yourself, breath hitching when he repeats your first name slowly.

"pretty name." you shrug, grabbing a wet cotton pad and slowly moving it towards him. he doesn't pull away, and you press it against the small scratch on his cheek as he speaks. "suppose a pretty girl deserves a pretty name."

you chuckle, heat rising up your neck and spreading to your cheeks as you move on to the pack of band-aids.

"so, you know johnny?" you ask.

"saved his ugly mug a coupl'a times. we're spending christmas here."

your smile falters as you stick the small band-aid on his cheek (only now realising it has anakin skywalker printed on it). you're once again reminded of how lonely you'll be during christmas. simon notices it, but hesitates asking if you're okay.

"sorry for the uh, band-aid. uh, i don't have any normal ones." he brushes it off with a shake of his head. "you're good to go, now. i'm sure you have things to do."

simon silently gets up and grabs his things, all while watching you put your coat and scarf back on. whatever light you had on your face moments before is gone, and he's trying to figure out what he said wrong to cause this.

he follows you out of the flat, mind forming different ways to ask if something's wrong. he can't help but ask when he hears you sigh heavily, almost defeated.

"you okay, love?"

"huh—what?" you look at him once and then continue locking your door.

"you alright? did i say something that upset you?"

your smile returns with his words, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"no, i'm all good, don't worry. just don't want to go for groceries in the freezing cold, ya know?" he nods, jiggling johnny's keys in his hands. "anyway, it was nice meeting you, simon. and i'm really sorry for thinking you're an intruder and hitting you with my umbrella and whatnot. i hope to see you around - have fun!"

and before he can ask where you're spending your christmas, or why you're going to the supermarket instead of packing to go back to wherever your home is - your accent clearly indicates you're not from edinburgh, as if the books, pens, and scattered notebooks at your home were not enough - you're walking down the stairs and dissappear from his eyesight.

simon stands for a moment before turning to the door again. you're interesting, to say the least, and you said his face was...nice - he doesn't get that often. and you have band-aids with Star Wars characters, and you laughed at his joke. and you were brave enough to attack him when you thought he was a burglar.

yeah, he hopes to see you around too.

[esyra]

Killing 1300+ Jews in barbaric ways does not make you the good guys. Israel retaliating is Hamas’ fault. Hamas surrendering would mean peace. Israel surrendering would have more dead Jews. But i guess that’s the end goal.

No, we're always the barbaric terrorists. Israel is the good guy for killing 9,000+ Gazans the past 25 days, and trapping 1,000+ under the rubble which will definitely turn out dead if they ever get the proper equipment to lift it off them. Israel is the good guy for killing Shireen Abu Akleh. Israel is the good guy for killing Ahmed Erekat. Israel is the good guy for killing Nadim Nuwarah and Mohammed Salameh. Israel is the good guy for opening fire on 2,400 protesters and killing 52. Israel is the good guy for holding over 1,000 Palestinians as "administrative detainees," meaning they are held indefinitely without charges.

In fact, Israel has been the good guy ever since they got the British to help them colonize Palestine and get rid of the Arabs, as they admitted to wanting it themselves. After all, as Winston Churchill said himself, the colonization of Palestine was righteous because as the Red Indians of America, and the black people of Australia, "a stronger race, a higher grade race, or, at any rate, a more worldly-wise race, to put it that way, has come in and taken their place."

Palestinians, be it on Gaza or the West Bank, can never retaliate or defend themselves. We're to either die and be violated quietly or we are terrorists which will be gleefully eradicated with the help of every colony-based State in the world. Otherwise, we'll disturb the comfortable privilege your racism and religious intolerance ensures.

When Hamas didn't existed the occupation began and the British violently suppressed anyone who opposed. When Hamas didn't exist the Nakba happened. When Hamas didn't exist the Deir Yassin massacre happened. But, you know, that one's fine because it happened after Israel had made Palestine agree to a peace pact, and they would never act unfairly so the brutal murder of over 100 Palestinians is obviously being misunderstood. Hamas doesn't operate in the West Bank, but they're still expelled from their homes, brutalized and murdered. Since October 7, West Bank had 115 killed, more than 2,000 injured and nearly 1,000 others forcibly displaced from their homes because of violence and intimidation by Israeli forces and settlers. They'll bomb mosques with exit points created to save people from settlers' violence, then claim they were used for terrorism. Proof? They don't need it. They'll bomb first then ask questions later.

Do people who blindly defend Israel do anything other than victimize yourselves? Do you even read any actual Israeli news that said the IDF "shell[ed] houses on their occupants," because they're too incompetent to do anything other than bombing everything? Do you ever wonder why the people Israel swears were burned and beheaded always came from reports from houses absolutely destroyed by what could only be shelling? Do you ever hear testimonies from survivors of the massacre saying IDF shoot at their own civilians? Do you ever read about past al-Qassam attacks and noticed they've never had mass casualties because IDF never responded like this? Do you even know what al-Qassam is or do you live to regurgitate whatever you're fed and being spoon-fed your information?

If Hamas' militia surrenders, Gaza will be wiped out and Gazans — those who are not murdered — will be exiled into Egypt's Sinai. That's the end goal since 1948, and that's what you're defending. But who cares? Arab blood is cheaper and racism is always fashionable.

[briarscreek]

task force 141 now working with their smart ass american informant in person

after being taken for ransom, laswell decided it was now dangerous for you to return back to the states so you were now staying at the task force’s base instead. yippee.

it did make work a little easier, you didn’t have to stay up during odd hours of the night but the one thing you did miss was coffee. after a few days visiting the break room you realized that these british people preferred tea over espresso and that was not going to fly with you. you had begged laswell to order your own personal coffee bean stash but it might take a few days before it gets through customs. great.

“ugh, im fucking exhausted”

“drink some tea, you’ll feel better”

a heavy sigh came from your nose.

“price, if you say that one more time, i am taking all of these tea bags and reenacting what happened at the boston harbor.”

“you’ll have to get through simon for that”

“that great wall of britain can certainly try.”

<<PREVIOUS

NEXT>>

[psychotrenny]

You'll often hear broadly about the role of Christian Missionaries in Colonial enterprise, but it's rare to see people talk about the specific mechanism by which they operate. While reading about the various ways British rule over Nigeria was consolidated in the early 20th century, I found the section on missionary activity to be very interesting. Especially because missionaries often play similar roles in the Neo-Colonialism of today; providing intelligence to Imperialist institutions, manufacturing consent for Imperialist subjugation among colonised peoples and causing political divisions that weaken anti-Imperialist struggles are all just as important today as they were back then. Much like the broader structure of Colonialism itself, they've just taken different appearances to keep with the times while the core relations of domination and exploitation remain intact

Firstly, the missionaries often came into closer touch with the Nigerian peoples amongst whom they worked, got to know more than the administrator did about the peoples, their customs, traditions and so on and this intimate knowledge the missionaries placed at the disposal of the administration either through direct advice or in the form of published works. Some of the earliest historical, anthropological and linguistic studies of Nigerian peoples were carried out by the missionaries. Various missionaries were examiners in Nigerian languages for the administration which believed that knowledge of Nigerian languages would ease administrative work, make it possible to adjust policies to local susceptibilities and thus make British rule less objectionable to the people. Secondly through their ideological propaganda and schools the missions turned out to be the most effective means of winning " souls " to the western way of life. They were, in short, the cultural imperialists par excellence. Since the missionaries were closely associated in the thinking of Nigerian peoples with the administration, the benefits of literacy and the like which they brought redounded to the advantage of the colonial regime. On the role of the missions as a strong force in establishing colonial rule Sir H. H. Johnston has said : " The missionary is really gaining your experience for you (the colonial administrator) without any cost to yourself… They strengthen our hold over the country, they spread the use of the English language, they induct the natives into the best kind of civilisation, and, in fact, each mission station is an essay in colonisation ". Thirdly missionary work began by converting only a fraction of the community, and however small this fraction, this event meant splitting the community into two ideological camps, a development that weakened indigenous resistance to alien influences which preceded colonial rule in Nigeria and which with the inception of colonial rule strengthened statistically " the occupying force of whites ". At least this must have been the psychological effect on the minds of Nigerians even if militarily the wide dispersal of the missionaries constituted a weakness and an embarrassment to the Administration in cases of general uprising against British rule

Adiele Afigbo (1971), The consolidation of British imperial administration in Nigeria: 1900 - 1918, Civilisations Vol. 21 No.4

[marvelousels]

A BREAK

authors note — honestly this would rlly be a thing to happen so yeah! i dont like this but here we go, i hope yall like it!

pairings — caitlyn x fem!reader 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

nervous —the neighbourhood playing!

Becoming the sheriff of Piltover had certainly taken its toll on Caitlyn. She had anticipated the workload that came with the promotion, but the stress and frustration continued to slowly creep up on her. She barely noticed it, but you did.

She was still the Kiramman you fell for, but you could tell she was starting to get lost in all the cases and pressure. You try not to feel neglected with the long nights of her being lost in work, the soft touches that just weren't enough, and even the conversations were starting to becoming forced instead of natural and playful like usual.

Caitlyn noticed too, but she just couldn't crack it. The confrontation made her feel too guilty, so she decided to avoid it and focus on her work.

She sits at her desk in her excluded office in the station, staring down at all the case files with furrowed eyebrows. Her dark blue hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, stray strands of her hair framing her face perfectly and her uniform feeling too comfortable and worn on her body, almost like a second skin at this point.

She groans as a knock sounds at her door, but the crease between her eyebrows relaxes as you slip into her office. She sighs, dropping the pen in her hand and flexing her fingers, "y/n, baby, what are you doing here?"

Her voice was a little tired, but her British accent was thick and smooth, and still authoritative as ever. "I thought you were saying home today."

You offer Caitlyn a soft smile, stepping further into her office and shutting the door gently behind you. The atmosphere feels heavy, but you’re determined to lighten it, even if only for a moment.

"I was going to," you admit, crossing the room to stand beside her desk. "But I figured the sheriff of Piltover could use a little break." Your tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth to it that makes her lips twitch in what might be the start of a smile.

Caitlyn leans back in her chair, her sharp features softening slightly as she looks up at you. “A break?” she echoes, a faint skepticism in her voice. “Do you know how many cases are piled up here? I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

You reach out, resting a hand gently over hers on the desk. Her fingers are cool against your touch, and you can feel the tension in the way they hesitate before relaxing beneath your palm. “That’s exactly why you need one,” you say softly. “You’re overworking yourself, Caitlyn. I can see it. And if you burn out, what good will that do for Piltover?”

She lets out a quiet sigh, her gaze dropping to where your hands are entwined. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then, her free hand comes up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, and she looks at you with an expression that’s equal parts grateful and conflicted.

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “It’s just... there’s so much to do, and I—”

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” you interrupt gently. “You’ve got people who care about you, Caitlyn. Who want to help.” You pause, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Including me.”

Her lips part as if to respond, but instead, she exhales a long breath, leaning her head back against the chair and closing her eyes. For the first time in what feels like weeks, she allows herself a moment of reprieve.

“Alright,” she finally says, opening her eyes to meet yours. There’s a faint glimmer of something softer there, though her exhaustion is still evident. “You win. But just for a little while.”

You smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her temple. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Caitlyn allows herself to relax, if only for a moment, as you pull her into a brief but comforting embrace. Maybe the cases would wait, just this once. For you, she decides, they could.

Caitlyn lets out a small hum as she buries her face into the crook of your neck, her arms wrapping loosely around your waist. She breathes in your familiar scent, one that has always brought her comfort amidst the chaos. For a moment, it feels like the weight of her responsibilities melts away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet reprieve.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” she murmurs, her voice muffled but still carrying that refined British tone. There’s a hint of guilt laced in her words, but you don’t let it linger.

“Someone has to be,” you reply lightly, your fingers trailing through the messy strands of her ponytail. “Otherwise, I’m afraid you’d work yourself into the ground.”

She chuckles softly against you, a rare sound these days, and you feel a small spark of hope. “You might be right,” she admits, pulling back slightly to look at you. Her tired eyes search your face, as though grounding herself in your presence. “I just don’t know how to... stop. There’s always something, someone, waiting for me to fix it.”

You cup her cheek gently, your thumb brushing over her skin. “I know. And that’s what makes you incredible, Caitlyn. You care so much about everyone else. But you have to let yourself breathe, too. Let me take care of you for a change.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her expression softening as her eyes glisten slightly. She doesn’t cry, but you can tell your words are reaching her. Caitlyn has always been strong, sometimes to a fault, but this moment of vulnerability feels like progress.

She leans into your touch, her cheek warm against your palm. “Alright,” she whispers, her voice almost breaking. “I’ll try. For you.”

You smile, leaning in to kiss her gently, a kiss that holds all the love and reassurance you’ve been waiting to give her. When you pull away, you nod toward the case files on her desk. “But for now, those can wait. Come home with me. We’ll have dinner, something simple, and you can actually rest for once.”

Caitlyn hesitates, glancing back at the mountain of work on her desk, but the pull of your offer is stronger. She nods, her fingers lacing with yours as she stands. “Dinner sounds perfect,” she says, her voice softer now, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

As you leave the station together, hand in hand, you can feel some of the tension leave her frame. Maybe it wouldn’t all be fixed in one night, but it’s a start. And you’re determined to be by her side every step of the way.