#hell maybe even sing it in irish
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oh no don't get me wrong i do love a good slow song, but idk there are just too many of them for me this year😅
Portugal is defo in the top five for me too though!! I really like how it builds up and she has a really nice voice!!
Also i literally cannot believe that Finland made it?!?!?! like what. i was so shocked when they announced them😅
Omg i liked Italy 2020 better than almost any entry this year. The semis was my first time hearing it and i was so captived by it and yeah the crowd was just absolutely incredible with this one😭
Im kinda uncertain about Brividi ngl. like sometimes im like omg this is the best and then when i hear it again and im like meh. But I always thought Mahmood was robbed when he didn't win with Soldi so definitely gonna cheer for him and Blanco!!
omg you're so right! Cyprus was giving me major The Birth of Venus (the painting) vibes and yeah i can totally see the Secret Combination vibes too!!
and omg spaceman and number two????😶 that song wouldn't even be in my top ten if i had to make a list lol like it really is such a generic song... a part of me is always like hope England gets zero again cause that would be kinda funny. like i felt really bad for artists last year but getting literally no points is kinda funny😅
Omg hello again 👀
That was me with Australia in semi final 2 🙈 Didn't like it tbh. Switzerland (Idk if this is an unpopular opinion because it was a ballad but I much preferred Tout l'Univers last year) and Armenia are also pretty meh for me this year (Armenia sounds like a female spin on Mumford & Sons or something). Finland's just okay for me. Like, the comparisons to It (the horror movie) are pretty funny jsjdf But it didn't blow me away or anything 🤔
Yesssss, right? Diodato my beloved <3
Omg I feel you with Brividi though... when I first listened to it after they won Sanremo I didn't like it... then I started listening to it more in the build up to the ESC and started warming to it. So it's definitely a song I've flip-flopped on as well ajsdj I still think Soldi > Brividi but eh. Though - and I feel like this is ~controversial but - I am an Arcade truther 🙈😭 It got overplayed to hell since then but I did like it.
Right??? Justice for Cyprus tbh 😭
THIS!! Like it's good but it's also so generic mainstream radio-ish that I was honestly shocked to see it rated so highly and predicted to podium. Especially considering UK's string of low-point finishes over the last few years...🤭 Apparently the guy became like a TikTok sensation after singing cover songs in lockdown or something? Can't believe we're living in an era where there's a TikTok to ESC pipeline but I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later 😭 Anyway it's a decent entry, better than some of the other stuff they've competed with recently, but 2nd place? Idk :/
Also, someone else pointed this out to me, but there's a lot of English-language songs in the running this year. Which I guess is an interesting ~trend shift considering all top 3 songs last year were non-English.
I generally tend to at least kind of like the winning song in the end, even if it wasn't my favourite. I think the only exception in recent years is Portugal in 2017. I literally never listened to that song again once the final was over which is rare for me jsdfj 🙈
I think countries like Ukraine and Italy have shined the most when they lean into their own culture and language. Like, Ukraine's English-language entries (2018, 2019) have been very meh pop mainstream BUT whenever they send something more folksy with actual Ukrainian roots they tend to shine - Jamala in 2016, GO_A last year. I think all of Italy's entries for almost a decade have been in Italian and good for them!!!! (2016's entry was like 90% in Italian and I really loved that song too). Italy's entries in general have been consistently so high-quality recently and I'm glad it finally paid dividends last year!!
#replies#anonymous#so glad you're back eurovision anon!!! ❤️❤️#also in a similar vein i absolutely believe for example ireland would break their string of non-success#if they just leaned into their roots and sent something folksy with a modern twist#hell maybe even sing it in irish#i mean riverdance exploded in popularity after they performed during the interval in 1994#generic pop songs are not it :/#eurovision#music tag#.longpost
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i got to see hadestown on the west end and all i have to say is AAAA. i liked the original broadway cast so much i didn't think anything else could compare to me, but omg they were all amazing and maybe it's a bias from seeing it live vs seeing broadway through recordings, but i actually enjoyed them so much more. i think what helped is i felt a lot more for donal's orpheus, whereas reeve's never managed to really put at my heartstrings.
okayokay what i have to list out loved (going to try and go through the show chronologically):
la barrie's hermes using no titles and they/them pronouns. the lyrics were changed to reflect this eg "excuse me, hermes" instead of "mister hermes" at the beginning of 'wait for me', and "feathers on their feet" instead of "feathers on his feet" in 'road to hell'.
the cast keeping their own accents. it's not often in uk theatre to hear british regional accents, even if the actor has or had that accent. so hearing a nothern accent from eurydice was aaaa. as a northerner it made me really happy. i'm not sure if that's grace's real accent or not but aa it just made .
donál keeping his irish accent too. and the chemistry between his orpheus and grace's eurydice was adorable.
hermes slowly kissing persephone hand during 'our lady of the underground'.
PERSEPHONE didn't think I could love anyone more than grey but omg. i've never loved "our lady of the underground" but I do now, the way gloria performed it and this one long belting note she did while bending over crazy far backwards aaa. and at one point while dancing she acted like she'd gone too hard and pulled her back and got stuck, but then very smoothly went into leaning down towards the audience and singing directly at people in the front rows.
wasn't 100% sold on hades at first since his voice isn't as deep as what I'm used too (used to listening to page as hades), but after "i conduct the electric city" and the lights went out and when they came back on there was a single silly spotlight on hades was stood leaning against the door checking his nails all sultry like. his acting was so different from what I'm used too, more energetic and more... playful? i'm not sure if that's the right word but i can't think of anything else. and less cold and stern than page but I ended up really enjoying him. i've got two very different versions of hades i love now.
new lyrics in epic three, "what has become of the heart of that man" has been replaced with new lyrics. i think "man with his arms outreached" has reverted back to pre-broadway "man with his hat in his hands" but i'll be honest me memory of what the new lyrics are is not great.
i cried when hades and persephone danced. both of them were crying. and when they finished dancing he sobbed and crumpled into her arms and she stroked his head and back and held him the whole time orpheus and eurydice sang "promises"
hades breaking it down during the dance, doing silly dance moves and making persphone laugh, and then she joins in and does his silly dance moves with him 10/10 people supporting their partners silly dance moves.
hades "i don't know" answer to if orpheus and eurydice can go... i'm used to patrick page's grave, defeated "i don't know" and here instead you could really see the inner conflict and he was holding hands with persephone and when he said it she angrily let go of his hand and he had his little "his kiss the riot" freak out.
orpheus and hades handshake during the wait for me reprise aaaa
#hadestown#hadestown london#hadestown west end#hadestown hades#hadestown persephone#hadestown orpheus#hadsetown eurydice#orpheus#euridyce#hades#persephone#hermes#hadestown hermes#mytext#mine#hadestown uk
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Two Birds In A Nest (Bob Floyd x Reader)
Summary: You and Bob are just beginning to build your lives in Montana and hope that your family will grow with it
Warnings: Talks about starting a family, wanting a family, smut etc.
Your moans were tied together with Bob's even as you felt him gutter into you, an explosion of warmth blooming between your legs as your heavy breathing began to even out with each other's. You reached up, placing a hot hand against Bob's chest, feeling his fast heartbeat beneath your palm.
"Oh baby," he sighed happily, nuzzling your cheeks and your jaw. "My sweet (y/n), I can't get enough of you."
You giggled a little as you felt his baby smooth skin against yours, the both of you still sensitive to each other's kissing and caressing. Bob helped you up from your bed and into the bathroom, running a hot bath for the both of you to get you cleaned up. God it was heaven being in your brand new bathroom and not having to worry about who would be up at some ungodly hour of the morning to hog the shower. The steam carried with it the smell of Bob's Irish Spring body wash that he used on the both of you, gently washing every part of you that he could touch. Back into your shared bedroom you both went, crawling under the warm covers as the blizzard outside began to rage. Your house however, was so cozy and warm, the dogs sleeping soundly in their crates while the cats had taken to the laundry room in the finished basement.
You and Bob lay facing each other, chest to chest, tits pressing against each other and still warm from the bath. He looked like a dream with his soft cheeks, his limpid blue eyes that reminded you of the forget-me-nots that popped in your garden every spring. The lazy but loving smile on his face was almost the same as his dad's, the spitting image in all those family photos of Bob as a baby being held by Joe, his father.
Yet there was something that stirred and ached in your chest. You couldn't put your finger on what it was or why it was there, but it was.
"What's wrong sweetheart?" Bob asked, seeing the worrisome look playing with your face.
"Do you ever feel like something's missing?" you asked in reply.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," you answered a little sadly. "I just.....I pass by one of the empty rooms and all I can see in there is you standing over a crib.....a little baby in your arms.....maybe you're sitting in the rocker singing and rocking him or her to sleep."
Bob could feel his eyes burning and a few loose tears beginning to form. Growing up the youngest in a big family, he spent endless days playing with all his nieces and nephews, sometimes watching them while his brothers and sisters either didn't have the time to do so or had to go on a SEAL team mission like his oldest sister, Reagan's husband. Picking them up from school, playing with them and taking care of them had made him feel as though there had been a hole somewhere that he could just hardly fill. Ever since the two of you had gotten married, he wanted so badly to have just that....a family of your own and a house that truly felt like home.
"Oh baby," he cooed, kissing your cheeks. "It'll happen, don't you worry."
You had hoped so. God you had hoped so. It was all you could think about, even when you were at the school trying to teach your fifth graders about ancient India and having to fill one side of the chalkboard with a drawing from The Ramayana. Now that you and Bob could finally have the time to try, you were excited, happy, nervous and scared all at once.
"Do you....do you wanna try?" you asked him a little meekly.
You felt him roll his body on top of yours, the heat intensifying a little bit from the heavy duvet you only used in the winter. "Hell yes," Bob murmured, his lips gently grazing against yours.
You felt him kiss you gently, just as he had done earlier that night, the wetness beginning to build again between your legs as his red hot, throbbing cock slipped inside you with ease. You sighed and moaned happily as his hips thrust gently in and out of you, slowly drawing your orgasm out of you. It was almost like the blizzard outside, dizzying and a wild flurry of moans, groaning and skin slapping against skin before everything calmed down and you and Bob were resting skin-to-skin against each other.
"You think this one will take?" you asked sleepily.
"I've got a feeling," Bob yawned.
Sure enough it did. After almost a week of you waking up sick, you and Bob were over the moon to find that it had taken, the tears filling his eyes when he hears the baby's heartbeat for the first time, more so when you learn that it's a little boy, your tiny little August Robert Floyd, who becomes the biggest blessing your family has ever received.
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Pink Glock
TF141 x Reader
How TF141 reacts to your newly customized gun
This was on my YouTube recommendation and I love it and this idea popped in my head. I also know nothing about guns soooo, use you imagination I guess lol
youtube
“So why are we all here?” Price raised his eyebrows at you. After gather everyone to the outdoor shooting range. Ghost stood leaning on a wooden post with his arms crossed, Gaz and Soap was curious with your latest project you teased them about.
“I wanted to show you guys something!” You proudly announce before pulling out your newly customized gun. A pink pistol with a few modifications to make it automatic. Adding a keychain clip, allowing you to add a small hello kitty plush to it. You had a small- okay maybe huge collection of keychain plushes in your room. Somehow getting a new keychain Every deployment.
Whipping out your pistol with a proud smile before shoving it in front of price “look!” You presented it to Soap and Gaz. They tried to control they’re laughter “pfft, it’s perfect for ya lass” Soap smiled at you with his brows raised.
Heading to show Ghost, “look! Do you like it Ghost?!” You waved it in front of him as his eyes slightly widen before slowly nodding. He didn’t know how you come up with these idea, curiosity peaked at how this abomination works.
Price shook his head before telling you to show them how it shoots. You walked over to the range looking over your shoulder before shooting a few rounds.
- I can’t do the video justice, please watch it -
After your little performance turning around smiling bouncing on your toes. “Soooo?” You were meet with silence before Soap followed by Gaz started clapping. Price shook his head, unable to hide his smile. Patting your back as you walked back to them. Ghost still silent he as he stood up from his position walking toward you. Standing tall looking down at you, “good job kid”
You walked over to a suitcase behind a wooden crate, “I’m glad you guys like it cause I made you guys one to” presenting the suitcase like a treasure chest. You swear you could hear the angels sing and light gleaming from the suitcase. There were four pink guns each having their own little keychain/charm to it. Handing soap one with a Irish soap keychain, “I couldn’t find a Scottish soap, so I made you Irish Spring soap. Price, I got you a otter plush cause you looks just like you! I even gave it a mini version of your hat.”
Turning to Gaz, you handed him one with a small plush helicopter with a little bear attach to it by a string “it’s you! Since you keep falling out of planes” chuckling he thanked you. The last gun had a skeleton Badtz Maru one it. Handing it to Ghost, he inspected it, looking down at you as he patted you head as a thanks.
Before they could say anything if you skipped off to König as he walked by. Sighing Price look at the little otter hanging from the pistol “where the hell did they even have time to do this?”
“And why is mine fucking Irish Spring Soap?!”
——————————————————————————
As you walked through the warehouse, senses heighten pulling out your gun. Everyone turned around hearing a metal clash against each other, ready to shoot the enemy. “Fucking hell, why did you bring that with you.” Price whispered at you. Seeing your pink gun, looking completely out of place in a life or death situation.
#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#captain john price#cod mw x reader#cod mw2 imagine#cod mw2 headcanons#tf 141#cod gaz#john mactavish#soap mactavish#cod mw2 x reader
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I saw some people critiqueing Hozier's Too Sweet for "the quality of the lyrics being low", being too "mainstream", too "pop".
I don't know if I want to laugh or despair. Like obviously nobody is obligated to like a song, but sneering that the lyrics are too "popsongy" is just such an unfair, dumb take to me.
This song is exactly the sort of song that would be perfect for teaching literary/lyric/art analysis because it's so much deeper than it appears to be when you first hear it.
It's upbeat, catchy, sounds like a basic breakup-song at first glance, right?
It's a love song - sounds like the protagonist is talking to a lover, right?
...Is it though? Listen again, read the lyrics.
I think it's really quite political. It's a society critique. I think it's about (willful) ignorance, wearing blindfolds in a world that's burning.
"Baby I can never tell/
How do you sleep so well?"
Also, "You're too sweet for me". The line sounds like it's about lack of self-worth. ... Is it, though? Maybe it's an expression of disgust. People who like their coffee unsweetened tend to go "yack" when the coffee is sweetened.
Also, he sings "I think I'll take my whiskey neat". Sounds like a simple line... Is it? Hozier is irish. To quote wikipedia:
"Uisce beatha (Irish pronunciation: [ˈɪʃcə ˈbʲahə]), literally "water of life", is the name for whiskey in Irish. It is derived from the Old Irish uisce ("water") and bethu ("life").[1] "
"A neat whiskey" btw means that the whiskey is pure, as it is, not even ice added.
So the chorus:
I think I'll take my whiskey neat
My coffee black and my bed at three
You're too sweet for me
You're too sweet for me
I take my whiskеy neat
My coffee black and my bed at three
You're too sweet for mе
You're too sweet for me
... Kinda sounds like the idea is that the protagonist thinks that he's a better person than the one who is "too sweet", who ignores the dark, bitter things in life, and takes their world "sweetened".
However, I think the chorus is actually also a self-critique. Are you really doing much if you're drinking a black coffee? Sure, it sounds all moody, bitter and cool, but anyone who knows anything about the coffee industry knows that whenever you're drinking coffee you are also kinda wilfully ignoring all sorts of problems caused and surrounding the coffee industry.
"A neat whiskey" sounds like you're taking the world as it is... But what is alcohol but oblivion?
"Taking the bed at three" also sounds quite deep, like you're choosing to see the darkness of this world instead of avoiding it. Staying up, or not being able to sleep, hardly solves any problems either, though.
I could go on analyzing the song, but I think I'll leave it at that. I think the beauty of the lyrics is that the lines are so multidimensional.
Like when he sings "I aim low", is he talking about ambitions, punches, or Hell? Something else?
I certainly feel gut-punched, as I always do, when I listen to Hozier!
Edit. Oh and the music video!! Ants nesting in a desert. That's us, people, isn't it?
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Important question: if we assume that Claire Temple is Afro-Cuban and Puerto Rican like Rosario, how does Mexican!Matt relate to her when she fishes him out of a dumpster? I don’t know if her specific heritage is a factor; I'm just kind of curious how you see two Latinx people meeting as opposed to when Matt was broadly Irish.
Omg what an amazing question thank you thank you
If Matt was at all conscious while Santiago and Claire were carrying him up and he heard them speak Spanish, I think Matt would instinctively tell Claire not to call in the cops in Spanish. Then they'd have the following conversation in Spanish until they both simultaneously realize that the other also speaks English.
But, I think Claire would subsciously see Mexican!Matt as someone from her community trying to help their community instead of an well meaning outsider and trust him sooner. And while I won't call canon!Matt a "well-meaning outsider," it's based on first impressions. Claire doesn't know Matt was raised by a single dad in that same neighborhood who struggled to pay the bill and worked his way through law school, Claire just sees some white dude in her dumpster. She's heard the rumors of the guy in a black mask fighting crime but she doesn't know what his motivates are. As far as she knows, it's just some rich dude chasing fame and hoping to be recruited by the Avengers.
I think the show does an good job as showing class solidarity in Hell's Kitchen. The people most vulnerable to violent crime are poor people, not one specific ethnic group. Mrs. Cardenas and her neighbors weren't targeted because they're POC or lack English skills or are predominately undocumented workers, they were targeted because they were poor. Still, even when there is class solidarity in a community, it doesn't erase racism. A poor white person life experience will be different from a poor Latino or Black person.
Speaking from my own community (undocumented Latino) there is a great fear of calling the police due to fear of deportation and the involvement of ICE. Cops in LATAM are notoriously corrupt as well, so it's reasonable to believe that a lot of immigrants are generally distrustful of cops in the states because they're so corrupt in their home country. If you had a traumatic experience in your home country, you're not going to trust cops in the US. Because of this, I feel like the Latino community would be more support of vigilantes like Daredevil simply because they're not associated with law enforcement.
I don't think Matt and Claire's relationship would change too much since I don't think it took Claire too long to realize that canon!Matt was fighting because he cares about his city/the people (and not because of a white savior complex or ego or whatever). I have to assume that Claire had some discussion about race and crime with canon!Matt beforing fully enforcing his vigilante ways. You can't really be anti-crime without being actively anti-racist.
Mexican!Matt relationship with Luke Cage (and Danny because I hc him as Washian in my AU) might be different. Maybe there some unspoken solidarity. Or maybe there just more room for comedy
*Karen, Foggy, Jess and Trish talking in a circle*
Colleen: Are you guys better not start singing Sweet Caroline.
Matt: 🤭
Claire: Don't laugh canelo, you're already on thin ice
Matt: Hey! >:(
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It’s that time of the year folks where I give my ramblings and general thoughts, feelings and ramblings on the Tony Awards. For those of you who are new to this account or follow me for other reasons, this used to be a musical fan page and even though I’ve evolved and post other things we always return to our roots during Tony Season.
Thoughts:
I love Ariana Debose as the host. I thought she was a natural and did the best work I’ve seen since the 2013 Tony’s where Neil Patric Harris hosted. I think that they should continue to have “Broadway people” host because there is such more love and enthusiasm for hosts that have really strong ties to the business. Hell you could run Ariana Debose back for the next five years and I’d probably be thrilled.
I’m always sad that they moved all of the technical awards to the broadcast prior to the awards actually starting. I was a theater tech throughout high school and it holds a special place in my heart and I miss seeing at least some of the categories live. As for the actual winners, I generally agreed with all of them. I really enjoy Six so I was happy to see them get recognized for score and costumes.
The music man performance was lackluster and I’m glad that it didn’t win any awards. It just felt so odd because it’s a huge ensemble show with historically great dancing but it just felt kinda boring and way longer then it was. Now I do love to see a good tap number, especially on the Tonys, but I felt like they could’ve done more, especially as the opening performance.
Now I haven’t seen any of the nominated shows (other then a six bootleg), so some of my thoughts on things like the acting categories are just going to be based off things I’ve read/heard. For the best supporting actor and actress in a play I don’t have super strong feelings. I wish L Morgan Lee had won for her role in A Strange Loop, but also Patti Lupone in company has received rave reviews the entire run of the show so I’m not entirely upset with the outcome. As for featured actor I was really pulling for either of the guys from Paradise Square, but like with Patti Lupone Matt Doyle has received rave reviews for his performance and I haven’t seen the show so I can’t say it was “undeserved”
MJs performance was a little weird for me at first because I had literally no idea what the show was about, but I ended up really enjoying it. Myles Frost as Michael Jackson was electric and his dancing was next level. I also thought the ensemble was really strong and it was a really good performance.
I was a little surprised that Company won Best Direction if a musical, I really thought it would go to one of the original new musicals (specifically A Strange Loop). But I do enjoy seeing women directors win and get recognized for their work.
I think Mr. Saturday Night was the next performance and I was a fun little performance. It highlighted the best of the show with having Shoshana Bean sing and Billy Crystal do stand up. Idk if I’d personally ever seen the show, but I wouldn’t be shocked if ticket sales were boosted during that segment.
I know I mentioned this before, but I’m going to talk about it again, Ariana Debose really was a great host. And I think that the is was really shown in the in between when she had her little bits, skits and monologues to kill time. It’s so easy for those moments to become filler or seem so fake, but she kept it really and entertaining and I really just love her.
A Girl From North Country performed. I thought it was good, I like Bob Dylan’s music but I don’t shit about the show. It felt like it needed a fiddle or something (though maybe that’s the Irish in me coming out). It was definitely the weakest performance of the night for me, and it wasn’t even bad just kind of boring
Sondheim’s tribute was really well done. It was nice to Bernadette Peters perform, especially given how many of his shows he was in (which is why I’m sure she was asked to perform in the first place). I know some people wished they had done a different song rather then Children Will Listen, I’m not shocked that’s what they went with and I thought it was fitting (especially given the context of the song within Into the Woods ).
It was at this point in the night that I started to get a little nervous for A Strange Loop because they hadn’t really won anything yet and I was worried that they weren’t going to get recognized (though what would’ve won over them, idk). But then they won Best Book and all is well in the world. I was so happy that they won and it.
Then a Strange Loop performed and I just about died. Now I’ll admit I was not as familiar with this show (or really any of the shows) coming into this season, so I was seeing a lot of things for the very first time. And I had heard such great things about the show and their performance was probably the one I was most excited for. And they did not disappoint! I really love that they got to perform Intermission/Today and got to call themselves a big black queer ass show (or something along those lines, someone please correct me if I’m wrong I’m doing this entire thing from memory while commuting). This is a show that I was worried wouldn’t get love because the Tonys are glorified marketing ploy and I thought they’d go the safe route with one of the more “broad appealing shows) and I’m so glad they didn’t. It’s so important to have this kind of representation because it will continue to inspire new generations to become performers or write shows and I know that some kid out in the middle of no-where saw that performance and feel in love with musical theater.
Now that my gushing about a Strange Loop is over (for a bit) we’ll talk about one of the weirder parts of the night and that was the Spring Awakening performance. It was good, but the entire time I wanted to know why they were performing, it just felt like time that could’ve been dedicated to an additional category or allowed for winners to speak longer. Idk I could’ve lived without it.
Then Company won best revival and that was pretty much expected. I was really just glad to see that Music Man didn’t win (god I hate that show). Though I do wish Caroline or Change had been recognized a little bit more. I thought it was a great show from what I’d see/heard and I wish it had been celebrated a bit more.
Paradise Square performed and I just about lost my shit. That was probably my most anticipated musical coming into the season and the highest on my list of shows that want to see and that performance really solidified. I loved the bit of Paradjse Square they did to highlight the ensemble and joaquina kalukango started let it burn and I just about starter convulsing on my floor. I would pay obscene amounts of money to see that show
Best Actor and Actress in a musical felt like the only other categories with high stakes other then best musical. And it was with good merit both of those categories were stacked with talented performers. Best Actor in a musical I was surprised went Myles Frost, simply because I thought it’d go to Jacquel Spivey for A Strange Loop. But after seeing his performance I’m not shocked and I thought it was a well deserved, also I can’t believe his only 22! As for best actress if the award didn’t go to joaquina kalukango, I would’ve burned something down. She should’ve won the award based on the Tony performance alone. I was also really glad to see two POC performers sweep the best acting category, even though the show and awards could’ve been more diverse this is an important step into getting more representation (at least I hope)
Finally we got to the final performance of the night from Six the musical. I always feel a little bit bad for whoever gets stuck in this time slot because everyone just wants to finish the ceremony at that point I imagine and a part of me wondered if they were there in an attempt to hype the crowd back up and infuse some energy back into the show. But Six is a show I really enjoy and i will be rewatching their performance for days to come. This cast has been through so much shit since they beginning of their run in Chicago from injuries to Covid happening on their opening night, so I was glad to see them finally make it and get recognized. I also loved the shout out of Mallory Maedek and how she was the dance captain and got inserted into the number like that morning.
Then finally it was time for the big award of the night best musical. I was a little nervous for this category I’m not going to lie. I though A Strange Loop was the front runner but given the night at that point it was hard to tell. The only other shows that I thought had the potential in terms of quality and marketing I’d seen were Six and Paradise Square which are also diverse creative teams and storylines but A Strange Loop really deserved it and luckily they won! This was such a deserved win for that cast and creative teams. It has one of the best concepts I’ve seen in years and they story they are telling is vitally important.
Overall I thought it was a solid night and they honored the best of the season (which is something I can’t always say coming out of the awards). I like that the awards were spread around to a collection of different shows and the awards they were winning made sense, at least to me. This season really made me excited about the future of musical theater in a way I hadn’t been in a few years. We had a lot of original material from diverse creative teams and the best shows were being honored and not the ones they thought would see the most tickets.
If you’ve made it this far through my ramblings, then congratulations you are just as much a nerd as I am and thank you for making your way and attempting to decipher my loosely connected thoughts. If you disagree with any of my takes or what to discuss other things feel free to message me or comment. I love talking about theater so I could really go at this for hours.
#the tony awards#six the musical#six broadway#MJ#A Strange Loop#paradise square#the music man#company#caroline or change#girl from the north country
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🌙 S𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.
1. What does your muse smell like?
… Irish Springs whenever he’s on Earth.
I really wish I was joking, but every time Clarence summersaults his ass back down he always gravitates towards that overpowering bar soap. Maybe it’s because it’s cheap to get. Maybe it’s because the smell of it is still linked to the early days of his childhood when everything was normal ( when that’s the smell he frequently links to his father & that one time he accidentally went to get a bar with wet hands and the thing shot out, off the shower wall, and right back at his eye ).
Who’s to say? :)
There are other scents that constantly carry along with this planet hopping bozo, though. Fresh from Chips the ship there’s a metallic hint from all the gear — sort of like the fumes from welding. Alongside it, there’s an odd mix of burnt gunpowder, bitter almonds, petrol, even a bit antiseptic, and of course — petrichor.
In the off chance Clarence bothers to put cologne on ( which is extremely rare ), he usually goes for something light and pleasant — whatever reminds him of a nice, sunny day.
2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?
It varies! By default I would say they’re rough as hell. Sometimes he’s guilty of not using gloves when he needs to ( someone yell at him whenever he’s fixing engines or even.. welding ), but if any trauma happens to his hands… well, his body regenerates the damaged bits back to perfect condition.
And given Clarence’s track for unfortunate circumstances / clumsiness… there have definitely been times where he’s had to regrow his hands.
3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?
What the hell doesn’t he eat? Rationing between planets is uber important ( thank goodness he knows this ), but if he’s off ship and frolicking around? God knows what that man ingests in a day.
Clarence is a notoriously unfussy eater so he’ll hoover anything edible. But I will say, he does try to have at least 1 or 2 fruits a day. Oranges / orange equivalents or pears if he can find them. Other than that? It’s a food roulette babey.
4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?
Good? Debatable, but he can harmonize surprisingly well. There might not be an amazing amount of vibrato or other outstanding qualities, but he can carry a tune — even sight-read a little bit. Bonus: his voice range falls between tenor 2 and baritone.
5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?
.. christ… where do i even start?
nervous ticks — leg jiggling and fidgety hands for starters ( main reason why he started to make his own little puzzles so he can keep his hands busy whenever ). rushed speech, although it’s a toss up between being anxious and excited. touching his face, particularly the chin and sides of his face.
bad habits — gnawing on things like a gerbil, usually sticks to ice but he’s definitely damaged some teeth from being real nervous a few times; recently been switching to gum so he won’t crack or break anymore teeth ( they grow back of course ), but has definitely choked and swallowed several.
6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?
doesn’t matter if he’s in space or on a planet where he can breathe without a helmet — clarence dresses painfully simple.
his gear is bright orange, has numerous mended areas from snagging on a ton of things, and a medium sized ‘be back in 15′ patch on the chest for all the times he dies because usually… it only takes 15 minutes for his body to regenerate ( well, depending on how much damage there is of course ).
on earth? this man rocks a simple short sleeve crew neck, khakis, crew socks, and sandals.
aside that, his general appearance is low effort. mussed / bird nest hair, some stubble ( never a full beard or stache though ), and a.. can-do attitude.
7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?
one might say… overly so. while he tries to be mindful of personal space ( it’s always a work in progress ), he cannot help how verbally affectionate he can be. compliments are always bountiful and he loves to give gifts. if he comes by anything that reminds him of a friends or loved one, you can bet your ass he’s getting it. even if that means there’s some peril along the way to obtain said present, but it’s the effort and thought that counts, right?
8. What position does your muse sleep in?
face down, ass up— no but seriously, this man either sleeps on his face or like the chalk outline of a crime victim. blankets are optional since he runs pretty warm by default, but there has to be at least 2 pillows. one with good support for his neck and another to cling to.
9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?
absolutely. if he’s not talking up a storm that the entire neighborhood can hear, then there’s the stupid sound of his sandals thwapping with each step. even when he’s out to snag some artifact that’s secured to the teeth, he’s still loud as hell.
✨ TAGGED BY: my other blog xoxo goirl
✨ TAGGING: @mythvoiced @wrrnth @42piece @motherednature @6billion @vulpesse @natterghast @killedarlings @villxinoux + @lapinecide @riverspat you!!
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“I’m goin’ where the climate suits my clothes …”
In my minds eye Maverick Festival is always bathed in scorching sunshine, and sadly I’d dressed accordingly… as it turned out, this year epitomised the classic “Best pack a brolly and a jumper… and your sun screen too” British summer. Thankfully Maverick #16 had as wide a range of stormy, breezy, sunny and hot music on offer too.
Opening The Barn stage, and definitely on the bright and breezy side, was Jon Langford’s acoustic-led barroom Americana-with-a-splash-of-Irish (yes, we know he’s Welsh!) like the boisterous fiddle-and-piano-propelled Walking On Hell’s Roof Looking At The Flowers. He certainly brought plenty of vigour to get the show rolling, but for our tastes there was maybe too much of that particularly British undercurrent of tongue in cheek, knowing ironic delivery as exemplified by a very Squeeze-like Slightly South Of The Border.
Down at The Moonshine though, Chris Murphy [below] was in deadly earnest! With an appropriately Mephistophelean look, a somewhat gravelly vocal and solo fiddle (played in a variety of ways) enhanced with loops and pedals, he mixed traditional celtic and Appalachian music with ambient and heaver elements to great effect: from Early Grave’s backwoods hoedown stomp to the highlands-threnody-meets-badlands-trainride-soundtrack of Into The Past. A particular favourite was Halfway Around The World: epic in scope, ranging from sweeping ambient soundscape to full-on ceilidh fiddle lines, harmonised and doubled-up that raised the hairs on the backs of our Scots-expat necks!
Heading back toward The Barn we caught a brief snatch of A Different Thread’s Peacock stage set: some gentle Greenwich Village coffee shop folky Americana with delicate harmonies sung into a single mic (Old Time stylee), with splashes of Dylany harmonica, upright bass (and an upright drummer!) and even a hint of N’awlins-y Dr Johnishness in a whimsical whistling song.
Michael James Wheeler was just finishing up as we got to The Barn, looking and sounding the epitome of the clean-cut all-American country star, his Don Mcleanesque super-clear delivery with a hint of quavering vulnerability backed by big, chiming guitar chords.
One of the big draws this year for Plunger were Lonehollow [below], whose first ever appearance (of three over the weekend) was at The Barn. Rylie Bourne and Damon Atkins style themselves “a little bit country, a little bit rock’n’roll” respectively, and there was plenty of the latter in Damon’s gutsy vocal lead on Angel Wings and and a boogieing I Thought It’d Be Me, and of the former in Rylie’s aching Mary Ann with heartbreaking harmonies and the wistful Simple Town. Some lovely touches too of dark Nicksian menace in Lover and Stones, plus a slinky, funky road song Hard Slowin’ Down. Top notch stuff!
A Plunger favourite from previous Mavericks, Evangeline Gentle [below] brought her stunning hypnotic voice to The Moonshine. Right from the first blissful notes of You And I, a short a cappella with a traditional highland flavour, she had the crowd captivated. The enchantment continued through the aching nostalgia of So It Goes, the hymn-like Good And Guided, and a languid cover of Simply The Best dedicated to her childhood heroine Tina Turner. Bad Girls a new song, drew on those times growing up in a small provincial town with a group of fellow ‘outcast others’. The closing ecstatic love song Sundays was as warm and abandoned as Sunday morning loving, and a formidable earworm for the rest of the weekend.
Back at The Barn, Tom Russell (storied country royalty with a pedigree including working with Johnny Cash and being the writer of the fantastic Gallo Del Cielo) [below] delivered a solo troubadoury set that drew a large devoted crowd to the barn, often singing along to his numbers like Hair Trigger Heart: it was accomplished enough but for us a little pedestrian and samey so I’m afraid to admit we wandered off…
We whiled away the remainder of the time before The Barn headliners down at The Peacock for much of Pepe Belmonte (another previous Maverick attendee we’ve always enjoyed) and his band’s set, including the louche Band-meets-McGuinness Flint lope of The Waterline with harmonica, mandolin and lovely piano accents; the Grateful Deadish boogie of (what we think was called) The Bailiff Song, and more Dylany/Band vibes in the excellent Open Water.
By this time night (and a rather chill rain) had fallen, but the storming performance of Norfolk’s The Vagaband [above] raised the temperature and the roof with a spicy gumbo of southern roots, cowboy country, blues and more. Moody Western vibes came in Something Wicked This Way Comes with twangsome bottom-end guitar lines, great Hammond organ and some devilish fiddle, and in the rattling two-step of Not My Day To Die with its saloon piano and mandolin. Beautiful World was an easy-going, strummy country amble, while the drawled Black-Eyed Sally built slowly to a rumbustious country rocker. A high level of musicianship was evident throughout, but particularly in the slightly more out of leftfield tracks: White Noise, written in (and about) lockdown, had a sophisticated reggaeish slink to it, featuring classy electric piano, and a soully middle eight; while Wheels was a Madchester shuffle with more meaty Hammond and a storming fuzzy wah solo from Mark Howes; even the final crowd-pleasing stomp of Gabrielle was leavened by stylish fiddle and cymbal rich drums, peaking in a neat switch into Miss You-style discotastic funk.
A very classy and steamy end to what had been a chilly evening, warming the cockles and raising the spirits ready for round two on Saturday.
#maverick festival#americana#country music#the vagaband#lonehollow#evangeline gentle#pepe belmonte#chris murphy#michael james wheeler
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End of the year Asks exept they’re not asks and done like a livejournal/myspace answer thing
1) Song of the year?
Rare Ould Mountain Dew - The Irish Rovers
i actually discovered in on xmas eve last year, rare old mountain dew was mentioned in Fairytale of New York so I decided to look it up and this was the first version i found and then i fell down a rabbit hole of traditional irish music. lol. anyway this is still the best recorded version of mountain dew there is
runner up is Hell’s Comin’ With Me - Poor Man’s Poison
it just so happened to be the perfect song for saints row 2022 AND for thaddeus. whomst i played as
notable mention is any version ever of The Rattlin Bog/Bog Down In The Valley-o. i found a youtube version of some irish wedding where the guests were drunkenly singing it at like 3am and even that slapped
2) Album of the year?
Not released in 2022 - The Irish Rovers 50 Years
Released in 2022 - Bronco, Orville Peck. and i had apparently forgotten to put the album on my phone until THE OTHER DAY???
3) Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?
The Irish Rovers. Other notables are The Dubliners, Flogging Molly, Dropkick Murphys, Strugill Simpson, The Protomen
4) Movie of the year?
Nope. like enoguh for me to Physically own it when it came out on bluray.
5) TV show of the year?
we watched Parasyte and Ghost In The Shell, first time I saw both of them and i love when shows make me like obsess over the lore lmao.
OH AND UH THE UK COMING /SECOND/ IN EUROVISION.
6) Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i dont think there was a specific episode of anything.
7) Favorite actor of the year?
jim byrnes, every time we find out something about him it makes our heads explode lol. we still have to actually watch half the stuff he’s been in
8) Game of the year?
joint Saints Row and Pokemon Legends Arceus. 95% of the complaints about saints row are stupid i loved it. i still want to try to 100% it (I’M CLOSE) at some point
9) Best month for you this year?
january/february maybe
10) Something that made you cry this year?
hurricane ian. also the death of 2 cats
11) Something you want to do again next year?
go to maine lol. we May be able to
12) Talk about a new friend you made this year
well i gained several mutuals on here.....
13) How was your birthday this year?
it was nice!!! i got to do shit that i wanted and just chill. and i’m finally not in my 20s anymore
14) Favorite book you read this year?
i don’t think i read anything new, only re-read things
15) What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?
fuck i dunno. procrastinating on vacuuming the house.
16) Post a picture from the beginning of the year
17) Post a picture from the end of the year
18) A memorable meal this year?
we had dinner at belle’s castle at disney world. IN THE WEST WING.
19) What’re you excited about for next year?
visiting my family in the uk. which i’m also nervous about ngl
20) What’s something you learned this year?
that gamefreak can truly get away with anything regardless of quality
21) What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?
WE OWN A HOUSE WE OWN A HOUSE WE OWN A HOUSE WE OWN A HOUSE
22) Favorite place you visited this year?
didney wurl trip was gr9, really liked getting to go to new england again even though the circumstances sucked.
23) If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?
house happens on the 31st don’t worry about it
24) Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?
got a house lol
25) Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one
no new ones but this was definitely the year of our lord Thaddeus2022. i played as him in saints row And in pokemon violet and accidentally created so much new lore for him. boxy also accidentally dreamed up yet another AU where he is the main character too lmao
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Genuinely think your one of the best peaky blinders writers out there. Do you think you could write something about little toddler Shelby and Tommy. Maybe little Shelby is out in the rain jumping in puddles? Love your work!!!
Thank you!! That’s so kind of you x
Puddles
Polly shakes her head in something of dismay as she holds a cup of tea snugly in her hands, keeping them warm against the winter chill that whips in the open window in front of her. “Mind your sister, Finn!” She calls out it, waiting until she got a “Yes auntie Pol!” yelled back to her from the 11 year old who had become somewhat accustomed to keeping a watchful eye over his only younger sibling. His answer seemed satisfaction enough for his aunt to nod her head and pull that window closed to maintain some semblance of heat in the house, but not enough for her to move away from said window to keep her own eye on the youngest Shelby sibling.
She stands cautionary. She knows better than to trust that Finn will do much to prevent his very clumsy five year old little sister from wandering off and getting herself hurt. (y/n) is notoriously like Thomas is all sorts of ways. She’s always getting into things she shouldn’t, hearing things she shouldn’t, seeing things she shouldn’t. She seems to sit back and observe a lot of things. They’re trying to grow her out of it.
Polly attributes it to the majority of her life being spent in a country torn by war. She was only nearly two when her brothers left, so naturally she didn’t understand much of what was going on. Everything was up in the air and now the war was over, it seemed l to the youngster that a war’s not just over when the fighting ends. It has also become clear that Tommy is her favourite sibling, so her similarities to him can often be attributed to her spending the most time with that brother.
Alas, in all her likeness to Tommy, she is much softer in manner than he is himself. Little (y/n) is like Tommy was when he was her age, incredibly inquisitive. Except softer. She chatters away to herself as she does things and though it takes her time to warm up to people, once she starts talking it’s hard to get her to stop for anything. She’s so kind and so very loving too, she laughs just like Tommy once did and it makes Polly’s heart happy deep down when that little girl falls asleep each night with a sweet little smile.
“Alright Pol?” Tommy greets as he comes through the back of the house from the betting shop to see his aunt standing at the window still. Polly nods, “Just watching to see if that bloody brother of yours is watching your sister like i told him to not five minutes ago.” She sighs as she takes another sip of her tea. Sure enough, Finn had not noticed his younger sister wandering off up the street subtly without even noticing in herself that she was getting further and further from the relative safety in proximity of her home and the brother who was supposed to be watching her. It seemed as though the puddles that filled certain uneven surfaces of the Watery Lane streets were more interesting, and finding more deep ones had stolen her full attention away from her surroundings. Tommy stands next to his aunt, leaning over slightly to spot his youngest sister slowly going further and further away than she should.
“Bloody hell,” Polly curses, sitting her tea down on the table beside her and reaching her hand to the handle of the window, “Don’t bother Pol,” Tommy interrupts her from opening the window fully and yelling for Finn to run and bring you back. Polly looks at him like he’s grown a second head, wondering if he’s completely lost his mind. He would usually have been the one giving Finn a stern word about making sure his sister was safe at all times. He just offered her a smile and says “I’ll get her.” simply, brushing past and grabbing his coat on the way. Polly furrows her eyebrows and watches as Tommy does a slight jog up the street until he nears (y/n) and then stops by her.
Her heart is suddenly warmed when the pair don’t turn back around to head home, but Tommy extends his hand to the little girl and she takes it gleefully to lead him on to find as many more puddles as they could before it got too rainy, cold and dark. He’s been so busy lately it had been a while since she had seen Tommy just be the brother of the little girl he loved so much.
Tommy relishes the feeling of his sisters little hand in his as they walk towards their uncles scrap yard, jumping in puddles along the way. She soaks the bottom of his trousers in dirty puddle water, but his heart sings with her giggles. “Tommy look!” She squeals, jumping in excitement as she spots a huge one near the window of the Garrison. She’s off a few feet before he can do anything other than open his mouth to speak. “Come on Tom!” She calls to him, “you’re so slow!” The tease draws laughter from him that only she can cause. He stops only for a moment in some form of mock shock. “Me?” He gasps, “Slow? Alright then miss speedy pants, wait there and i’ll race you.”
(y/n) does just that, waiting excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet for Tommy to reach her, both standing still a good few meters away from the puddle near the pub. The streets are pretty empty given the weather conditions and Tommy’s reputation had gone out the window of his thoughts long ago. “Okay then,” (y/n) breathes, “3...2...1!”
The pair take off at a run, the little girl stealing the lead immediately as Tommy runs slower than he probably ever has to allow the five year old to scuttle ahead faster than him. She giggles, elated as she knows she’s in front of her brother. “‘M gonna beat you Tom!” She puffs out, little boots splashing through the barren street as he laughs from behind her. “Not if i catch you first!” He calls back, speeding up his run as he heard the little girl screech in shock at the sound of him getting closer. He can see her putting her all into running from him, looking behind her over and over, laughing only when she realises he’s far enough behind her or screaming again if he’s getting close.
Inside the Garrison, Grace hears a child’s scream and what sounds very much like Tommy Shelby shouting that he’ll get her. It makes her immediately peer out the window just in time to see what most people in Small Health never expect from the gangster.
He runs up behind his little sister quickly, scooping her into his arms with complete ease as she squirms, squeals and giggles loudly. “Faster than me ey?” He snarls playfully, fingers digging softly into her sides to tickle hysterical laughter out of the girl. “No Tommy! Never!” She shrieks, knowing well enough agreeing with her brother was enough to stop his tickles and it clearly is as he places her gently back down on her feet, a sheepish grin overtaking her little features as she looks up at him in adoration. It was widely clear how much she loved her big brother.
Grace moves to the doorstep of the pub, arms crossed over her chest to keep her warm against the chill. “Having fun, Thomas?”
He whips around at the sound of her voice, subconsciously letting go of his sisters hand in surprise, almost as if he was always ready to put up a fight and defend her with everything he had within a moments notice just as reflex. She knows better than to assume he wouldn’t cut anyone who came near that little girl. “Suppose so,” he shrugs when he realises it’s just the bartender he had become rather intrigued by. “Thought i would-“
The sound of loud, proud giggling and the feeling of water hitting the backs of his trousers immediately makes him whip around again, spotting his small little sister grinning up at him like a cheshire cat and his very own devilish glint in her little blue eyes as she stands in the middle of the puddle after having splashed water up at him. “Oh you little buggar. I’ll get you for that.” He threatens, taking a moment to get over his shock as (y/n) laughs at him again but is joined this time by the light giggle of the Irish bartender. That little girl only widens her cheeky grin, her innocence still leaking through her cheeky nature as she looks behind her, knowing her brother would have to run through the huge puddle to get her.
“Only if you catch me first.”
And just like that, the hardened Birmingham gangster bids a quick goodbye to his bartender and is off running through puddles with a five year old little girl who very coincidentally melts his heart of stone down to a puddle each and every single day.
#tommy shelby x sister reader#tommy shelby x sister!reader#shelby sister reader#shelby!reader#peaky blinders blurb#peaky blinders#little shelby
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The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader
Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.
Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.
A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.
If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.
Chapter One
You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.
You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”
The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.
“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”
You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”
“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”
“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”
“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.
“Williamsburg,” you lie.
“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”
“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”
He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”
That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.
“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”
He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.
Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.
“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.
“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”
“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”
“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”
“If you insist, Sergeant.”
The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.
When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.
“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.
The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.
“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”
There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.
“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”
You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”
You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.
But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.
Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.
They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.
Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.
When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.
You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.
You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?
*****
Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.
“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”
“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”
“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”
“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”
Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.
“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”
“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”
Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”
“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.
“Exactly,” he says.
“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”
“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”
Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”
Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”
“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”
Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.
Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.
She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.
Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.
“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”
“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”
*****
You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.
You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.
“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”
“She did hit me,” he snaps.
You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.
“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”
“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.
“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”
The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.
“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”
“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”
“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.
“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”
“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Bucky, don’t-”
“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”
He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.
You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”
“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?
“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”
“This is pointless,” he says.
“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”
But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”
“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”
The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”
You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.
“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”
You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.
You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.
You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”
CHAPTER TWO >>>
#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#sebastian stan#dark!fic#dark!reader#the widow and the wolf
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My Mysterious Scotcman•
Chapter: 2
There it was. Their target. Sitting on a chair back towards the crew, seemingly writing something that made him sigh and rub his forehead. Filip swallowed and his throath felt thight, this was really happening now. No backing down anymore.
*you can do it..c'moon don't be stupid chicken shite..*, Filip thought .
Finally the group leader moved forward and it was time for action. They catched that guy without him noticing anything. The guy fell of his chair and stumbled on floor trying to get away from us. The blond haired leader catched the back of his jacket and banged the guys face against the hard wooden table.
Filip had taken his gun from back of his jeans and now held it with both hands. His hands shaking and heart beating. Everyone had gathered around there. Few watching out of windows or keeping eye on the doors. When Filip saw the guys face he was shocked. That guy who they were supposed to kill. He wouldn't be more than a bit over 20 years. Filip swallowed and held his gun lower, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Shoot him", growled the leader who was standing beside the trembling body.
"DO IT!!" The other one yelled with really annoyed tone.
It was like the whole time stopped in that very place. The only thing that the young boy with a gun heard was his own beating heart. He rised his gun, not shaking anymore. He shot twice that young guy to head and he dropped to the floor while his life was escaping his body. Filip lowered his gun and sighed. He couldn't believe what he just did. He watched the growing dark puddle of blood that was leaking on the floor. He felt heavy clap on his shoulder, but he couldn't react.
"Great now let's get the hell out of here..", one of the crew members growled until one of the boys runned to the mainroom.
"Lads..we have company", he said with an scared expression.
"Shit...", the boss growled when there was sounds coming from the front door "They said that the place will be empty...god, let's go !!" He yelled and all started to run to the door. But one stayed almost like glued to the floor.
Filip just stood there. Still eyes glued to the body that was laying at his feet. He couldn't take his eyes away from it, he couldn't watch away from the mess on the floor. The guilt flowed through him.
"Who the fuck are you?!" Came the voice of an confused and pissed man
Filip rised his gaze finally breaking the spell but too late as the other guy who came from the behind of the guy who spoke. That man had gun in his hand and rised it . Filip didn't have time to react as the Next thing he felt was the fastly spreading pain at his thigh as the bullet hit his leg. He stumbled down on to the floor, beside the already cold body of their victim's. He forced himself up from the floor with final glance to the body .
"I'm Sorry", he mouthed and jolted towards the back door where they came in .
He heard angry shouts and yelling from behind him as the guys discovered their dead friend. They started chasing after him down the streets under the dark and rainy evening.
They say that adrenalin makes you do crazy things. It's meant to help you survive in dangerous situation. Maybe that and the shock from the pain was driving the young guy forward through the side streets. He didn't feel the burning pain of the shot wound as he ran as fast as his legs could go. He probably haven't ever run as fast as he did now.
The only thought that was running through his dead was the voice telling him *murderer*. Why was he so weak. What lead him into this situation.
*? POV*
The rain was still heavily assaulting the city of Belfast as I left my work place in hospital. I was casually driving my car and silently singing along with a song that was coming from the radio at low volume. I was totally in my own world as i started jamming along with the song. My whole day had been hectic and total chaos because of this wet rainy day.
I'm still not used to these rainy days, not even after a half of year of living now in this autumn time Ireland. Yes you heard right. I am not from here. I was born and rised in the United States, I had lived my whole life there. Until that one day when i just wanted to get away and have a fresh start. Change of the scenario as you would say. So I ended up here, in this happy place called Belfast. I moved to live with my aunt who happened to live here and she gave me an offer to come to her place and crash there. I took the offer and soon I found myself from here. No one wouldn't believe that nor would I had as a kid. After few months of living on my aunts hair i decided to get my own place. I moved to live with my one long term friend who had moved here few years before me. We were almost like sisters before she moved to be closer to her family. Now we lived in the same house like some teenagers.
I started working in the hospital as a nurse. The job that i had went to school for. I think i always wanted to work in medical side. I loved helping peoples it was some sort of calling for me, but sometimes the hard job and being the superhero of the day can suck all your juices away and left you all weary. Like today. From all the days, today everyone chosed to break what ever bone they can break or fall at home and fracture something. Sick elderly people coming to reception just hoping for a chat with someone. There actually never was anything wrong just normal old peoples stuff. The list goes on and on. I was totally ready to get to my bed, pull the blanket over my head and sleep for the next 24 hours. Straight. Not kidding.
As I drived down the dark and dimly lit street, only the cars light illuminating the road with yellow light. I wasn't prepared that someone would be outside at this time of the night. There wasn't change for me to react faster than i did as some dark object run straight infront of my car getting hit by me. With a loud thud the dark object fell down onto the street from the force of the car.
I did fast brake and i rised my hands over my mouth. Did I just run over someone ?! All kind of scenarios started to run in my head as I opened the car door and i unbuckled my seatbelt. I hopped out of the car into the cold and wet air as i walked to the front of my car. On the ground there was laying dark clothed person who i assumed to be young man. He was hurriedly trying to get up from the street as i shook my head getting back into this moment.
"Hey, stay down !" I suddenly opened my mouth and the person tried to get up even faster but failed with their attempt. Apperently he was clutching at his leg.
I moved fast squating down and carefully placing my hand on the shaking body on the ground "Hey ? Did you get hurt ?" I asked. I immedietly mentally kicked myself. It was stupid question of course you get hurt when you get hit by a car. Stupid me.
The man still kept trying to get away from me what showed me that he couldn't be that much hurt. I studied him with my eyes in the light of my car and i saw blood on the street. The blood had to come from him and what ever it was that was bleeding, was bleeding heavily. And when i saw his bloody hands.
"Hey, don't move you are bleeding..", i said with a rised voice. I tried my best to stay calm and keep the man on the ground "You need to go to hospital..", I said as the man suddenly had his attention to me
"No hospital !!!", he growled at me "They..will find me", he Whispered almost with inaudible voice. He had an thick accent what was hard to understand. Even for me who was constantly around Irish and british accents. This was different.
I looked at him and then around to our surroundings. Who would find him ? What had this poor man put himself into. What ever it was i wouldn't liked to be part of that. No i was just an avarage working woman.
I was again snapped out of my thoughts as the man tried once again to get up but fell flat on his stomach on the wet street. Breathing heavily. It was more like huffing than breathing anyways. I needed to do something...it's my curse as an nurse I swore it in my vow.
Then the light bulp went on my head and i made probably the worst decision what you can make with completely stranger, but it was the only option at this point. I stumbled up from the ground and i sneaked my arms around his torso, getting only a painful grunts and growling from him
"C'moon help me a bit", i hissed at him and i got him up from the ground and to the backseat of my car we went. Slowly but we made it. After a little of fightning back, he was nicely seated there as buckled him up and i closed the door.
This mysterious man was already drifting from consciousness so i have to go fast. As i was walking around my car i saw dark clothed peoples at the end of the dark alley. I gulped and basically runned fastly to drivers side door and i hopped in . Fastly change gear and started driving forward. Those peoples didn't have any kind of nice vibe coming from them.
I looked at the backview mirror, and to the mysterious man who was now sitting at the backseat of my car. What the hell i was thinking about ?! Is he dangerous ?? What if those peoples were chasing him and they follow me back to our house . I couldn't put my finger on those thoughts and my heart kept racing the whole drive back to me and my friends house. As i watched at the rewiev mirror to the man who was hunched at the back seat i had feeling in my heart. I have to help him, I almost just killed him so i have it for him.
To be continued…
#chibs telford#chibs x reader#chibs telford x reader#sons of anarchy fic#sons of anarchy#filip chibs telford#soa chibs#tommy flanagan#badboyromance#fanfiction#fanfic#chibs imagine#carbage
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🌙 S𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.
1. What does your muse smell like?
… Irish Springs whenever he’s on Earth.
I really wish I was joking, but every time Clarence summersaults his ass back down he always gravitates towards that overpowering bar soap. Maybe it’s because it’s cheap to get. Maybe it’s because the smell of it is still linked to the early days of his childhood when everything was normal ( when that’s the smell he frequently links to his father & that one time he accidentally went to get a bar with wet hands and the thing shot out, off the shower wall, and right back at his eye ).
Who’s to say? :)
There are other scents that constantly carry along with this planet hopping bozo, though. Fresh from Chips the ship there’s a metallic hint from all the gear — sort of like the fumes from welding. Alongside it, there’s an odd mix of burnt gunpowder, bitter almonds, petrol, even a bit antiseptic, and of course — petrichor.
In the off chance Clarence bothers to put cologne on ( which is extremely rare ), he usually goes for something light and pleasant — whatever reminds him of a nice, sunny day.
2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?
It varies! By default I would say they’re rough as hell. Sometimes he’s guilty of not using gloves when he needs to ( someone yell at him whenever he’s fixing engines or even.. welding ), but if any trauma happens to his hands… well, his body regenerates the damaged bits back to perfect condition.
And given Clarence’s track for unfortunate circumstances / clumsiness… there have definitely been times where he’s had to regrow his hands.
3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?
What the hell doesn’t he eat? Rationing between planets is uber important ( thank goodness he knows this ), but if he’s off ship and frolicking around? God knows what that man ingests in a day.
Clarence is a notoriously unfussy eater so he’ll hoover anything edible. But I will say, he does try to have at least 1 or 2 fruits a day. Oranges / orange equivalents or pears if he can find them. Other than that? It’s a food roulette babey.
4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?
Good? Debatable, but he can harmonize surprisingly well. There might not be an amazing amount of vibrato or other outstanding qualities, but he can carry a tune — even sight-read a little bit. Bonus: his voice range falls between tenor 2 and baritone.
5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?
.. christ… where do i even start?
nervous ticks — leg jiggling and fidgety hands for starters ( main reason why he started to make his own little puzzles so he can keep his hands busy whenever ). rushed speech, although it’s a toss up between being anxious and excited. touching his face, particularly the chin and sides of his face.
bad habits — gnawing on things like a gerbil, usually sticks to ice but he’s definitely damaged some teeth from being real nervous a few times; recently been switching to gum so he won’t crack or break anymore teeth ( they grow back of course ), but has definitely choked and swallowed several.
6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?
doesn’t matter if he’s in space or on a planet where he can breathe without a helmet — clarence dresses painfully simple.
his gear is bright orange, has numerous mended areas from snagging on a ton of things, and a medium sized ‘be back in 15′ patch on the chest for all the times he dies because usually… it only takes 15 minutes for his body to regenerate ( well, depending on how much damage there is of course ).
on earth? this man rocks a simple short sleeve crew neck, khakis, crew socks, and sandals.
aside that, his general appearance is low effort. mussed / bird nest hair, some stubble ( never a full beard or stache though ), and a.. can-do attitude.
7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?
one might say… overly so. while he tries to be mindful of personal space ( it’s always a work in progress ), he cannot help how verbally affectionate he can be. compliments are always bountiful and he loves to give gifts. if he comes by anything that reminds him of a friends or loved one, you can bet your ass he’s getting it. even if that means there’s some peril along the way to obtain said present, but it’s the effort and thought that counts, right?
8. What position does your muse sleep in?
face down, ass up— no but seriously, this man either sleeps on his face or like the chalk outline of a crime victim. blankets are optional since he runs pretty warm by default, but there has to be at least 2 pillows. one with good support for his neck and another to cling to.
9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?
absolutely. if he’s not talking up a storm that the entire neighborhood can hear, then there’s the stupid sound of his sandals thwapping with each step. even when he’s out to snag some artifact that’s secured to the teeth, he’s still loud as hell.
✨ TAGGED BY: @romancemoon ( history.... is bound to repeat itself.. ilu )
✨ TAGGING: @yulyecng @onlyoddities ( give me rue or florence ) @oddisms @temporalobjects @megaerans @debtwon @hnjwn @amaarok @blatantvirucide @prtcts @guttersniper @calstrare @jeoseungsaja @consigleire @theirtragedies @villxinoux + you!!
#⁺˚*･༓☾ clarence luc watts ➟ headcanon ☽༓･*˚#// babes wake up#// the worst planet hopping idiot's back
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Make the day better.
summary: Y/N's son turns five and Harry doesn't know what to give him.
word count: 2.5k
Based on these requests:
"could you do artemis first bday with harry or christmas??"
and
"Love your writing. I have a request please, celebrating a birthday, could be Y/N, Harry or Artemis birthday"
and
"Can you do a blurb in the single mom series where Artemis is watching videos on YouTube but he sees harry in his 1d days and watches those vids and Artemis really likes and thinks one of the 1d boys are cool and stuff so harry does stuff to make Artemis happy, like maybe call that member or something? Sorry if it's trash I don't mind if you just throw it in the bin😂"
and
“I have an idea! For my shy little boy, could you do something about the moment that makes Harry realize he wants to keep y/n and Artemis forever and decides he’s going to marry her and hopefully adopt the little boy one day? Love your writing!!”
you can find more of my shy little boy here
a/n: saw these pictures and immediately thought about our little family. enjoy!
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
December, 2018.
Artemis has discovered something new.
He has discovered old videos from Harry from when he was in the band. At first, he was confused as to why Harry wasn’t alone in the videos he watched like in the ones he was used to see. So Artemis did what always did when he was confused: ask.
Conveniently, Harry was invited to dinner at their house, and the first thing Artemis did when he crossed the door, was tell him. “Harry, I saw you on the TV!”
“You did? Did I look good?” He asked cheekily, sitting next to him on the sofa.
“Watch!” He turned on the television and pointed to it.
Harry chuckled when he saw his young self in the Best Song Ever music video along with the rest of his former band mates. “That’s you!” He said excitedly, clapping with his small hands.
“Yeah, buddy. I was in a band before.” Harry was happy Artemis seemed interested.
“What’s his name?” He asked, pointing one of the guys.
“The blonde one?” Harry questioned, receiving a nod from the small boy beside him. “That’s Niall.”
“He’s so cool.” He commented, kicking his legs back and forth on the couch. “He does music like you?” He asked.
“Yes, he does, mate.”
“He’s my favorite.” He decided.
“Oi! I am supposed to be your favorite!” He pretended to be offended, taking him in his arms and tickling him and making him let out a belly laugh.
“Stop! Stop!” He said in between giggles. “Harry, I’m gonna pee!”
“Say I’m your favorite.”
“You’re… you are… I can’t talk!” He laughed again and Harry stopped but didn’t let him go. “You’re my favorite, Harry.”
Harry smiled, pleased with himself for getting the validation from an almost five year old. “Go wash up, it's almost dinner time." Artemis ran to the bathroom in the hallway as Harry walled towards the kitchen where Y/N was.
"I was a little behind but it's ready now."
"I'd help you, but you banned me from the kitchen the second i got in." The curly-haired man wrapped his hands from behind around Y/N's waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"It was because Artemis has been wanting to tell you he saw the band on the TV all afternoon." She giggled, putting the knife down and turning around to face him. "He asked why your hair looked weird."
"Wha'?" He asked, his accent getting noticeably thicker. "What was wrong with me hair?"
"He didn't like the long haired look." She passed a hand through his now much shorter curls.
"And apparently Niall's his favorite, can you believe?" Harry asked in a fake offended tone.
"Artemis likes blondes because he has blonde hair, kid's logic."
"Should i dye mine?" Harry's tone now was playful, grabbing a couple of his curls.
"Please, no."
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
A week after dinner, Harry was scrolling down his phone desperately, trying to find the perfect gift for Artemis.
He had invited Harry to his birthday party, and although he was nervous to meet the rest of Y/N's relatives, he was more excited to spend this day with his girlfriend and her son. It would be the first time he was there to celebrate Artemis' birthday, so he wanted it to be perfect.
And a perfect day required the perfect gift.
He just didn't know what to buy. "Doesn't he like Legos? Buy him a set." Mitch said, trying to help. They were currently in a break from a writing session and almost everyone was out to get food.
"There isn't a set he doesn't have." Harry groaned, running out of options.
"What else does he like?"
"Books, robots, music..." He paused, suddenly getting an idea. "He likes music!"
"Buy him an instrument or something." Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a he's five to Mitch. "So?! Better start them young."
"Perhaps. But for now i think i have the perfect idea." Mitch looked confused, but Harry’s smile only grew bigger.
He wrapped up the session early and called a friend to see if they could catch up while having some drinks. His right leg shocked in anticipation, looking around trying to find that one familiar face he hasn’t seen in a while.
“Styles!” Harry smiled at that unmistakably Irish accent. “It’s been so long!” The pair hugged each other.
“Far too long. How have you been?” They took a seat on the table Harry was previously sitting on.
“Pretty great actually, tour ended a little while ago but stills feels very fresh.” He sighed. “What about you? Heard you’re dating someone.” Niall sent him a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
Harry breathed a laugh, touching the bridge of his nose. “I am, met her at the beginning of the year. Her name is Y/N.”
“Look at you, you’re blushing!”
“Stop it!” Harry giggle, followed by Niall. “She has a kid, he’s great. They’re great.”
“I’m happy for you, H.” The blonde man gave him a genuine smile. “Is it serious?”
“Pretty much. So Artemis, Y/N’s son, is turning five next Saturday and I’ve been trying to get him the perfect gift.”
“Any luck so far?”
“Not really.” He shook his head. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“How can I help?” He readjusted himself on his seat.
“Well, I wanted to ask you a favor.” He paused. “The other day he found the band and said, for some reason, you were his favorite.”
“Ooh, and that how made you feel?” Niall teased him, knowing he didn’t like to be second in anything, especially talking about his girlfriend’s son.
“Delightful, next question.” He rolled his eyes playfully and Niall let out a big laugh.
“So want do you want me to do then?”
“Are you free next Saturday?”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Niall's appearance was a surprise, even for Y/N. He'd arrive later than Harry, just in time to sing happy birthday to Artemis. In the meantime Harry had to make sure everything else was perfect.
He was in charge to pick the cake up from the shop before heading to Y/N's mums' house. He already knew Ally and Ella, and they seemed to really like him so he felt a little less nervous.
Y/N told him a bunch of her friends were gonna be there, including Adam and his family so that was also nice. Harry wasn't very familiar with all of her friends but from what she always tells him, they're good people who care for her and Artemis.
Harry didn't have a key or anything so he knocked the door with one hand while holding the cake with the other. Ella opened the door, grinning at him right away. "Harry! It's so good to see you, love."
"Likewise, Ella." The woman pinched Harry's cheeks before letting him in. "Where should I put this?"
"In the kitchen! There's kids running around and we don't want them to drop the cake."
He did what she said and walked towards the kitchen, finding Ally decorating some cupcakes. "What do you think?" She took one out of the plate and showed it to him.
"Looks great. You've been practicing with the fondant." The cupcakes had a little whale on top of them, made with blue fondant.
"I made turtles, whales, crabs... Oh! Look at this little octopus!" Ally was so excited every single decoration turned out perfect, as her designated was getting the pastries done. "Y/N's changing Artemis's clothes in the guest room if you want to go upstairs with them."
He nodded, heading out of the kitchen and taking a quick look to the backyard. There were some people sitting on tables and a couple of children running around, but no one he knew so he listened to Ally and went up to look for his loves.
He knocked the door and heard Y/N say 'come in!' so that's what he did. "Harry!" Artemis exclaimed, trying to run towards him but Y/N stopped him.
"Stay still, baby. I'm trying to tie your shoes." She was knelt down in front of him, putting his shoes on. “Hi, honey.” She looked up at Harry as he bent down to give her a little peck on her lips.
“How’s the birthday boy?” Harry sat next to him on the bed and wrapped his arms around him gently.
“Did you see everyone, Harry? They’re here for me!” He said excitedly. He might be say, but he sure as hell likes the attention of his loved ones.
Harry chuckled, messing up his hair a little. “Happy birthday, mate. Couldn’t wait until it was time to open the rest of the presents, so here’s mine.” He handed him a small box wrapped nicely with a bow on the top.
Artemis took it excitedly and was about to tear the wrapping paper apart but Y/N took his hand gently. “What do we say to Harry, darling?”
“Thank you, Harry!” Artemis threw himself at the older man. “Can I open it?”
“Of course, it’s yours.” Artemis offered him a toothy smile, opening the box. Inside there was a package of professional colors, there was one in every shade. “I know how much you like your color books, and these are the best colors ever.”
“Wow, thank you, Harry. I love them.” The small boy hugged him one more time. “Look, mummy!”
“I see, they’re so pretty.”
Artemis hugged Harry once more before hopping off the bed. “Can I go with nana Ally now?”
“Yes, but leave your gift here, okay?” He nodded before handing his mum the box and running out of the room and off to find his nana. “Did you seriously buy professional colors to a five year old?” She asked with a smile, shaking her head in disbelief.
“What? He loves to paint.”
“Thank you.” Y/N said, kissing Harry’s cheek. “It was very sweet of you.”
Harry gave her a dimpled smile. “You look stunning, love.” Y/N was wearing a long, white summer dress with little sunflowers on it, paired with some heels.
“So do you.” She gave him another kiss. “Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Going around greeting everyone, Harry had a hold on his phone all the time making sure Niall had the right address to get there in time. Y/N’s mums made a perfect job decorating the backyard, there were balloons everywhere and the tables had different marine animals on the center.
Artemis loved the ocean a lot, considering he lived in London and there wasn’t many beaches to go, he liked watching pictures and documentaries of it. So Y/N thought that instead of taking him to the ocean, she brought the ocean to him.
“Harry, sweetie, would you take the cake out of the fridge and bring it to the table?”
He nodded and went inside again. At the same time he was crossing the door, someone rang the doorbell so Harry went straight to open it, eager for Niall to arrive. “Didn’t want to show up empty handed so I bought the lad a little something. It’s a train set.” Niall said as soon as Harry opened the door.
“I’m glad you made it, mate.” They hugged and Harry closed the door behind them. “We’re about to cut the cake, he’ll be so happy to meet you.”
Harry was so excited for this surprise, ever since Artemis ‘discovered’ his band, he’s been obsessed with Niall so the curly-haired man couldn’t wait to see the look in Artemis’ face when he sees the blonde man walking into his party. He grabbed the cake before leading Niall outside where everyone was.
Y/N was the first one to notice the new man walking in, and her eyes grew wider when she recognized him. She walked towards them with a confused smile on her face. “Harry?”
“You must be Y/N.” The Irish man said with a grin. “Hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
“Uh, yeah. It’s great. Nice to meet you.” She offered him her hand for him to shake.
“I brought Niall to surprise Artemis.” Harry said proudly.
“Oh my, he’s going to be so happy, let me bring him over here.” Y/N went off to find her son. She’d never expect Harry to actually bring Niall for Artemis but it was a very sweet, thoughtful thing. “Honey, come here. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”
The five year old stopped running and walked towards his mum to take her hand and let her lead him to where Niall and Harry were. When he spotted Niall, he got all shy and hid behind her legs, like he always did when he got nervous.
Niall noticed it and crunched down to his eye level. “Hi, bud. A little bird told me you liked my music.” Artemis looked at him with big doe eyes, curious to know what was in the box Niall was holding. “Happy birthday, mate.” He handed him the gift and Artemis shyly took it from him.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Niall said, looking up to Y/N and Harry. “Call me Niall, okay? It’s nice to meet you, buddy.”
Artemis finally smiled at him, letting go of the hold he had on his mum’s dress. He came closer to Niall and started talking, Y/N and Harry looked at each other as she took one of his hands in hers to intertwine their fingers.
It was time to cute the cake and Artemis was stood on a chair behind it with Y/N by his side and everyone around him. She motioned Harry to come stand with them and he gladly did so. They sang happy birthday to Artemis and the boy had a big, toothy smile on his face the whole time.
Eventually the guests started to leave, but Artemis didn’t let Niall go before giving him a big, tight hug before making him promise they’d see each other again. Just before all the guests left, Artemis fell asleep and Harry had to take him upstairs to the room Y/N’s mums had for him. When he came down again, everyone was gone and his girlfriend was just finishing picking up some things outside so he went out to help her.
“Did you see how happy he was the whole day?” She said.
“Yeah, he enjoyed it.”
“It was really thoughtful of you to bring Niall, you know?” Y/N walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “He was very excited for it.”
“It was my pleasure, love to see him smile.”
“Thank you.” She told him, cupping his face with her hands.
“For what?”
“Today was good, but you definitely made it better. So thank you.”
Harry smiled happily before leaning down to capture her lips on a sweet kiss, making her smile against his lips. It was good to finally feel he belonged somewhere, and slowly started to feel they were becoming his own family. He’d never deny the way his heart skipped a beat every time Artemis laughed, or when Y/N smiled. Harry found himself wanting to be forever there for the two of them, for every single birthday, anniversary, everything.
He was in love not only with Y/N but with Artemis too, and he knew that feeling was never gonna go away.
☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁
taglist!!
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#harry styles imagine#harry styles#harry styles imagines#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles fluffy imagine#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#dad!harry#stepdad!harry
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...in the details, part 1
A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.
Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
All mistakes are my own.
Word count: 1,198
“A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat.”
Sam Wilson said it. You heard it. Damn, you felt it. And it hurt. He knew it was more than that, and that joke was just not funny. And you’d tell him that. If you could.
The problem was that Sam was nowhere near where you were at the moment. By all rights, anything that even smacked of The Avengers was now marked on a page in the latest tome about your life with a very definitive “The End” written in swirling calligraphic script at the bottom of the page, followed closely by the same words written in Ogham. That was an alphabet not seen much these days beyond necklace pendants or old rock formations found in farmer’s fields on the road to one Irish town or another. That in and of itself still seemed weird.
If this had ended when you were working at The Daily Bugle, then it would have closed with a -30- before you logged off your screen. But this was not your ill-fated stint at The Bugle. Jameson was such a pompous twit, and he never took a moment to even try to understand why the world needed a friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man, let alone how a teen had been left to carry that mantle and had to now lift an even greater burden since his mentor was gone. That poor kid was going to need help, but you knew anything you had to offer would likely be more curse than boon.
But this nonsense with Sam? This was something you really couldn’t put your finger on yet.
Weeks ago, wait, it was months ago now, The Avengers saved the world one more time. You were there, right in the middle of the insanity before Tony Stark snapped his fingers and turned Thanos and his army into nothing more than dust.
As deaths for wannabe gods go, that one was justified, lame and incredibly sad all at the same time. And you should know. You’d seen almost every manner of death in the 1,500 years, give or take a day, which you had walked the Earth. It was not a warrior’s end.
The warrior’s end was saved for Stark. He reminded you so much of his father at that point. Supremely intelligent. Unflinching. Loyal.
When Howard Stark and Peggy Carter met you, you went by your birth name of Kari MacOrish. At least that was the Anglicized spelling of it. The true Irish spelling was a bit hard for others to wrap their heads around at times.
Your name is, was and always would be Kari MacOrish. You had gone by hundreds of others as time ebbed and flowed around you, but this was you. You had been, since your birth on a battlefield in what was now called County Kildare, Ireland, the earthly avatar of the Celtic battle goddess The Morrigan, and that was a lot less fun at times than it sounded.
But back to Sam.
You could now see the person he was talking to. Bucky Barnes. And Bucky was bringing up Gandalf? Why in the name of Heaven were they talking about fictional magic wielders? It was too bad Barnes had not started reading those Potter novels he had been gifted in Wakanda during his deprogramming and rehabilitation. Thank Thanos for that one. You were sure that Shuri had left them for him, and you were pleased he’d have one more thing to take his mind off the parts of his past that likely still dogged him.
But why in the world were you even thinking about that? You never were really an Avenger. Or more correctly, you had never let yourself fully embrace the title.
You would likely never have known if Barnes read those books or not anyway. He was a nerd. A kindred spirit. That was why that little detail mattered.
This, on the other hand, was just not making any sense.
Or maybe you just weren’t used to this new sense of not being a part of their lives just yet?
Getting up and leaving places much too soon had become a habit. You hated explaining to people about your secret, so you usually left Dodge before anyone caught on to the fact you were an immortal.
This should have been different. Thor knew you and called you a friend. You joked once that you and Thor would have been in the same year of high school if gods and avatars of goddesses shared such mundane things.
Hell, Loki even called you an ally at times. You had always hoped he would use the word “friend,” but that level of trust needed to be earned. And now the chance was lost.
Steve Rogers knew you, and so did Bucky, back from those days in the camp where they were sent out on those missions to hunt down The Red Skull and his Hydra minions. You had had to explain that you looked a bit different back then. Explaining glamours to those not versed in magic was a pain, but in this case, it had to be done. You also had to pour them drinks like you did in the old days and sing a few bars of “Taking a Chance on Love,” that Benny Goodman tune that Helen Forrest sang so well. Dum Dum Dugan loved that damned song. That sealed the deal.
Was it possible that the spell you had so painstakingly crafted to make them all not care about you once Steve had gone back to the past was actually working? That the only forms of magic they registered in their minds were brought about by books, movies and TV shows and, when they were part of the fight, Thor, Stephen Strange and Wong? No red haired wild woman with a sword? No bit of Irish sparkle in their days?
But that didn’t explain whatever this was. If the spell had worked, why were you able to be an eavesdropper on this conversation, wherever it was happening? It looked like an airport hangar, but there was no way you could be sure of it unless Sam turned around.
And why Sam? The brief time you were last with The Avengers—sitting in the middle of that fight at the compound as Thanos’ forces brought hell to Earth once more—you had been closer to Bucky during the fighting. It just worked out that way save for the few times you had to go skyward to keep some idiot from raining ordinance down on someone’s head. Wong’s wizard corps was very good at putting shields up as needed, but sometimes you had to get in an opponent’s face to take care of business.
Power stunts like that bugged some of The Avengers a lot. Then you reminded them that you were damned hard to kill, and that, if you did die, you had been around the track a lot more than any of them had been except for Thor.
But Asgard and a bloody battlefield in County Kildare were worlds apart from this place. The large sign told you that right off the bat.
Welcome to Westview!
#mcu#sam wilson#bucky barnes#steve rogers#howard stark#peggy carter#tony stark#thor odinson#loki laufeyson#mcu fanfiction#wanda maximoff#wandavision#stephen strange#wong mcu#tfatws#my ocs are my babies#my ocs do not steal#my oc writing#oc#oc x canon#mcu oc#mcu ocs#the avengers#avengers imagine
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