#LET SCOTLAND BE INDEPENDENT

[buzz-cow-man]

everyday i hate england more and more

#im scottish and i dont like this #plz i just want #scottish independence #is that so much to ask for #let trans people feel comfortable wtf #uk politics #is awful #LET SCOTLAND BE INDEPENDENT #why do we need ENGLANDS permission tf???

[bluastro-yellow]

wait a second, Gramsci is from Sardinia

that's it, Ubi Sunt? is DE's Sardinia mixed with something else, you need proof to change my mind

#🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑 #pointless microblogging #probably ireland so it explains the lack of sunshine. or maybe scotland even if it's not an island? #maybe all of them? let's throw all the european sheep people who speak weird and seek independence and are proud of their history #in one pot #the welsh too then. who else is there idk #disco elysium

[gayforcarstairsgirls]

Why is this so funny 💀💀

#like you read the first bullet point and you're like ok so they're already at eachothers throats aren't they #and then you read the second bullet point and it's like- #rishi- 'no one cares abt independence so let's not even bother discussing it' UM?? #BRO???? #yousaf literally said in his speech he was gonna get independence i'd say that ppl do care 💀💀 #uk politics #scotland #humza yousaf #rishi sunak #btw whenever i say funny in relation to politics i mean 'oh dear god'

[thedreadvampy]

open question: what are the remaining arguments for Scotland being in the Union? bc as I recall the main arguments used in 2014 were:

Access to UK funding for public services (after over a decade of Tory rule that's not looking so hot)

Keeping the pound (literally who cares)

Scottish pensions are safer in a UK wide system (glances over at the climbing age for eligibility to state pension)

we rely on trade with the rest of the UK. how could we leave that behind? (this would be a fair point if it wasn't entirely in the UK's power to continue that trade and open borders. I mean the UK government is composed entirely on spite and soft power so they might not but. Brexit didn't stop trade between Ireland and Northern Ireland did it hey?)

Scotland wouldn't want to have to reapply to join the EU, they can stay on Britain's membership! (lol)

Voting Yes would be "a leap into the dark" compared to the lovely stable leadership of the UK (stop stop my sides are splitting)

Like even in 2014 the Better Together campaign was pretty pathetic and the only thing it could think of to say was 'but we already HAVE a union it's going to be SO MUCH WORK to do things differently' and trying to cherry pick Things That Are Good To Have In The UK rather than, idk, Unique Benefits Of The UK That Are Impossible In Non UK Contexts.

but the thing is that in the last 8 years let's be real. the UK has fallen further and further behind and while in 2014 the Yes pitch was Let's Strike Out For A Brave If Uncertain Future now it's a lot more Water Is Pouring In Through Every Crack It's Time To Depart This Ship

the only good argument I can see for voting no in a second indyref is: if the SNP are gone who's going to be an opposition in Westminster? cause it sure as shit isn't Labour despite their responsibility to do so.

(my hope has always been that Scottish independence might over time rebalance the English political spectrum. like if the English centre-left lose the big anti-Tory strongholds in Scotland and lose the SNP in Westminster there'll be a gap to fill. not sure how much I believe that after the last decade though, tbh I think at this point it's more that either way England and Wales are fucked and public opinion means worse than nothing, so Scotland might as well bail out and try and do better solo.)

#red said #the main arguments would be #money especially with north sea oil dried up. but tbh the argument that an independent Scotland would thrive off oil #was always an argument against for me bc that's not a sustainable solution both environmentally and logistically #but there's some good movement in a sustainable energy industry up here imo #also let's be real. the UK's financial situation is Also Fucked #and soft power #which again for me as a leftist was always another crap argument #like 'why should we be in the UK?' 'WELL IF YOU LEAVE THE UK YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO DO AS MUCH COLONIALISM' #ohhhh my god looking back at the Better Together stuff they made a big thing about the British aid budget for some reason? #well. the thing is. since the fcdo merger British aid is almost entirely conditional #ie it's political leverage not support #and there is a huge political will in Scottish contexts to do Not That #so once again. shot yourself in the foot a bit there in terms of pro Union arguments #similarly i think all this stuff about the UK being one of the big players in global power is p reliant on you thinking that's a Good Thing #which. i mean. good for us maybe good morally? definitely not #also for the record Scotland's rocketing drug death rate is often raised as evidence that Scotland can't go it alone #uhhhh causes of addiction aside (poverty and disenfranchisement) there's a HUGE mainstream political interest in Scotland #for safe consumption and harm reduction initiatives #which provably improve drug death rates #but when can't be done under the devolution agreement bc drug policy is reserved to Westminster

[bisonaari]

the more i read about finland, the more I think we should make an alliance with scotland, quebec and finland  - blue and white flags  - our neighbour colonized us  - they make fun of how we speak  - if we do bad it’s our fault but if we do well it’s thanks to them  - we want nothing to do with them anymore

#btw this is a joke i do not actually want death on every canadian who isn't from quebec #i just thought the similarities were funny #in quebec we love hearing about scotland wanting independance from the uk and we cheer for them so much #scotland finland let's become allies

[reiverreturns]

my anti monarchist ass on sitting down on a friday night to watch harry & meghan in full

#the sun losing their absolute shit and posting a story about a poll saying they should be banned from ever seeing charlie boy again #well it really piqued my interest #the british media are fuckin awful everywhere you look and they're right to say it #i also there there might be a teeeeeeny bit of correlation between the groundswell of support in commonwealth nations to become republics #and the royal family so obviously throwing a WOC under the bus to protect their white senior royals #(the movements have been there for ages obvs but it feels more pressing in the last 2-3 years?) #anyway hope the ground they walk on crumbles to dust <3 #and meghan and harry continue to live their best life away from the uk <33 #actually while we're at it lets just abolish the uk and let scotland become an independent republic anaw <333

[jewishbarbies]

literally anyone: *calls themselves a royalist*

me:

#g talks #i hear it on tiktok a lot #jesus christ it’s cringeworthy #like yes let’s blorbo some of the worst people in Europe #they stole everything they have rn #they stole and killed and pillaged #and ENSLAVED #they colonized half the world and still have some of those colonies #notably they refuse to give Scotland independence #yet the commonwealth is supposed to be ‘voluntary’ #fuck those people #mine #/mobile #/okay to reblog

[books-and-omens]

oh BY the WAY

This scene proves, doesn’t it, that living in the car is Crowley’s choice. When Aziraphale comes back from Scotland, Crowley shoves the box at him before he gets to the threshold. He gives Aziraphale no option to even say, “won’t it be easier to leave the plants here” let alone to propose anything else. Was Crowley, by any chance, actively avoiding a conversation about him living in his car this whole time?

Crowley is absolutely not okay, we know, we know. He is frustrated, he is struggling; he is asking what the point of it all is. Yes, he is fiercely protective of his independence when he says “my car”, “the precious, peaceful, fragile existence I have carved out for myself”—and the same time, he is still not willing to talk. He probably does not even see a way to have important conversations safely; the fear of rejection might still be too much. His instinct remains to run away from trouble. With something as terrifying as vulnerability and openness, he needs Nina and Maggie to tip the scales.

He has the swagger. He acts like he knows what’s happening, like he has things figured out.

I think we’re just starting to see how much that has not been true.

#disaster puppy indeed #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Link 1, Link 2 :)

Digital Good Omens 2 Sountrack is coming out in 4 days! 🥳 CD version in October! :) ❤ Coming soon on vinyl…

Out to Stream/Download from 25th August. Out on CD 13th October. Coming soon on vinyl…

David Arnold’s ‘end of the world’ complex and multi-genre soundtrack.

From the Award-winning composer of Sherlock and Casino Royale comes a follow up to the hugely successful, Emmy nominated Good Omens soundtrack.

Good Omens series 2 premiered on Prime Video on 28th July. The series follows the odd couple, angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and demon Crowley (David Tennant) in their quest to sabotage the end of the World. The six-episode sequel to the popular adaptation of the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, concerns the Archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm) arriving without his memories to Aziraphale’s bookshop. Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to find out what happened to Gabriel, whilst hiding him from Heaven and Hell, both eager to find him.

The Soundtrack

David Arnold’s soundtrack to Good Omens was first released in 2019 to favourable reviews, with BBC Music Magazine calling it “a rollicking trip to hell and back”. Blueprint Magazine described it as “a great listen” and Sci Fi Bulletin commented on “plenty of memorable themes” to conclude that “This is another work of art from Arnold”. At times nostalgic and eerie but always varied, beautiful and full of excitement, the Good Omens 2 soundtrack showcases Arnold’s every skill from his composer arsenal. Featured here are orchestral arrangements with sprinkling of Sugar Plum Fairy pizzicato and percussion, jaunty strings and mighty choral sweeps from Crouch End Festival Chorus. Added to the mix are rock guitar riffs, and psychedelic 70s sounds and all together they create a haunting otherworldly feel, complementing the fantasy and the quirky humour of the show. The spirited Waltz of the opening theme is also present in the second series and it wonderfully sets the scene for fantastical mayhem. In series 2, this robust, evocative, and funny music entity, becomes yet again another character in the story. Award-winning composer David Arnold is well known for his blockbuster scores, including Stargate, The Chronicles of Narnia: the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Hot Fuzz, Paul, Independence Day, 2 Fast 2 Furious and Casino Royale as well as for his TV work such as Sherlock and Dracula. Also available: The original soundtrack to the first series of Good Omens >

Tracklist

– Disc 1 – Chapter 1: The Arrival 1. Before the Beginning 2. Good Omens 2 Opening Title 3. Into Soho 4. Something Terrible 5. To The Bookshop 6. Maggie and Nina 7. He’s Smoking 8. Tiny Miracle 9. Heavenly Alarm Bells Chapter 2: The Clue 10. Avaunt! 11. The Song is the Clue 12. It’s What God Wants 13. A Mighty Wind 14. Whales 15. Gabriel Returns 16. His New Children 17. Am I Awful Now? 18. Fallen Angel Chapter 3: I Know Where I’m Going 19. Police Arrive 20. Scotland 21. We’re Going to Hell 22. People Get a Choice 23. My Car is Not Yellow 24. Beelzebub in Hell 25. The Book 26. The Fly 27. Mr. Dalrymple 28. We Need to Cut 29. I’m Going to Save Her 30. Crowley Goes Large 31. Not Kind 32. Beelzebub Isn’t Happy – Disc 2 – Chapter 4: The Hitchhiker 33. Hell-O 34. Nazi Zombies 35. March of the Nazi Zombies 36. Crowley Pep Talk 37. The Magic Shop 38. Catch The Bullet 39. Zombies in the Dressing Room Chapter 5: The Ball 40. I’ll Let You Have It 41. We’re Storming a Book Shop 42. Monsieur Azirophale 43. The Candelabra 44. Here Comes Hell 45. Gabriel Gives Himself Up 46. Shax 47. The Circle Chapter 6: Every Day 48. Bin Through the Window 49. Gabriel Leaving Heaven 50. The Halo 51. Gabriel Revealed 52. Gabriel’s Love Story 53. Leaving The Bookshop 54. Gabriel and Beelzebub 55. Crowley and Muriel 56. I Forgive You 57. Don’t Bother 58. The Biggest Decision 59. The End?

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #GOS2Spoilers #good omens spoilers #music #s2 music #david g arnold #s2 soundtrack #wahoo! #shut up and take my money :D

[auspicioustidings]

Bannockburn

Summary: Your boyfriend Johnny has come home in a strange mood, and you are about to get your shit rocked at Bannockburn.

Technically, if you squint, a sequel to Savage set just over 700 years later. Like I will perhaps write a proper sequel at some point, but you can blame Bunny for this one.

Words: 3.6k

CW: CNC, smut, implied character death

You were getting nervous. You were getting really nervous. There were two Johnny’s and you never knew what one you were getting when he came home from a mission. Most of the time you got your Johnny, sweet and loving and tackling you to the bed with a laugh while he showed you how much he missed you. But sometimes whatever happened out on mission got his blood up. Whatever he usually did to get himself settled and out of war mode didn’t take. Sometimes you got the Savage Johnny, the one who heard your English accent and became more animal than man. The one who went into such thick Scots that you hardly understood what he was growling into your ear as he took you. 

Usually you knew what Johnny you had the moment he walked through the door. Not this time. This time he seemed like he was boiling with energy under the surface, but he kissed you nonetheless and ate dinner with you and held you as you slept. When he got you both up and packed into the car the next morning for a trip you had the sense to at least be a little worried. Now, hand held in his as you listened to the guide, you had some inkling that you might be in for it. 

“Now King Edward the second invaded as a result of Bruce’s demand to his people to recognise him as their King. He summoned 25,000 infantry and 2000 horses, the largest ever army to invade Scotland. Bruce only had command of 6000 men.”

You could feel the blood draining from your face as the guide went further into the background of the battle. Around about the time she briefly mentioned how Wallace had been hanged, drawn and quartered, limbs displayed in different cities, just shy of ten years before the Battle of Bannockburn, you absolutely knew what Johnny you had on your hands. And this Johnny? There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this Johnny. This Johnny was taking in every word, ready to punish you for your ancestors' transgressions against his. 

You were trying to pay attention, but your eyes were darting around trying to pinpoint any little nooks that might spell danger if he got you in them. Only that was dangerous in itself, because the first time you felt your attention drift from what was being said Johnny had let go of your hand and moved to instead hold you firm by the back of the neck, fingers massaging a little too hard in warning. That got you to pay rapt attention to all of it, to the whole history of the Scottish wars of Independence as it related to Bannockburn. 

It was strange sometimes, you and Johnny. There were times like now when you would be learning about the history of your countries and it felt like some long forgotten memory. There were times when you met his Lieutenant and swore you knew him from somewhere. Like there was some ancient part of you that trusted them when they fought together to watch each other's backs. No matter what Johnny you got, you held such a deep love for him that it scared you sometimes. Your heart twisted as they described what the battle would have been like for the soldiers, the sights and sounds and weapons. It must have been awful. 

You were stuck on it. Stuck on the image of a Johnny with a sword on the battlefield. That was your mistake, zoning out and just following along when he led you out to the grounds. Only when you had been walking for a while did you realise how far you were getting from the safety of a building full of people.

“Where are we going?”

“Dinae pay any attention at all did ye? Must naw have been interesting tae ye learning about how my people battered yours when they tried tae grind us intae nothing.”

“No, I was paying attention. Of course I was” you said, trying to be meek and quell some of his building fury. 

“Couldnae even hunt a bunny without some English noble claiming it wisnae our right. Punishing us” he ranted before turning to you with a feral look in his eye. “Cannae stop me from hunting one right now though can they? Ye going tae run for me wee bunny?”

Fuck. He looked ready to tear into your throat with his teeth. You felt every bit a prey animal, eyes darting around to find a way out of this. The woods. There were woods here. That was where he had been leading you while you had been busy getting stuck on the idea of him as some ancient warrior fighting to the death. Gillies Hill. The guide had told you about it, how the Scottish had made their camp here. It was where they had attacked from.

And it was where you found yourself sprinting through, heart pounding. Your logical mind knew it was a mistake, you running only meant he could chase. You should have just stayed where you were, tried to talk him down. You were stumbling and tripping, trying to get your bearings as the woods became dense around you. Every snap of a twig or sway of a branch sent you darting away in the other direction until you were shaking from exhaustion and no small amount of mounting terror.

You had never been hunted like this. Johnny had been rough with you before in the warmth of your own home, had fucked you into the bed like he was trying to mould you permanently to him. But this was a different creature entirely. This was the monster under the surface that you only caught glimpses of, that you never thought you would meet face to face. The woods were silent of another human, had you managed to escape him?

“Yer naw even trying little bunny, ye want me tae catch ye is that it? Slut.”

His breath was hot on your ear and you choked on any response you had tried to come up with. How had he gotten right behind you without a sound? You were running again, tripping and scraping your knees but clawing your way back to your feet to keep going. The little summer dress was not suited for this, but at least you were wearing boots. At least Johnny had told you to wear boots this morning. 

It was with a sickening dread that you realised he had planned this. He knew you would be running from him, knew he wanted you in a dress for easy access but boots for fleeing into the woods. At least you knew that your Johnny was still in there somewhere, enough to care about you not breaking an ankle. Not enough to care about breaking you in other ways. 

“Aww wee English princess got her knees all scraped up? All yer kinfolk are going tae ken how ye love getting on them for good Scottish cock when they see the marks. Wee whore down in the dirt fucking gagging on it, crying over how much ye love it.”

You couldn’t properly tell what direction his voice was even coming from. The shame of his words was flooding you with a sickly humiliation that only increased when your body reacted differently to how it should have. When you throbbed with need for him. 

“I’m not! That isn’t what’s happening!”

You were flustered and scared and needy and felt like you were yelling at nothing as you kept catching sight of him on your periphery only to turn and find nobody there. 

“Naw? Slick is practically running down yer plush fucking thighs princess, bet yer clenching down on nothin’. Dinnae even have tae catch ye dae I? Could just wait until ye come crawling tae me, begging me tae claim ye. Fucking pleading for it right here, right where my army celebrated before decimating yours.”

His words sent a shiver up your spine. Out here felt removed from time, it really did feel like you were betraying something by finding yourself drawn to this savage. By imagining that his prediction would prove true, that you’d beg for him. You couldn’t, it would be too much, too shameful. So you kept stumbling through the woods even when the deep tenor of his voice rang through in a mocking little song.

God he had translated this for you once. Told you that brose and butter was a euphemism, that it was about fucking a girl full of cum. It had made you blush and laugh at the time when he playfully sang it over to you now that you understood the meaning, but now? Fuck now it just scared the hell out of you with how the words were tinged with a promise. This was hardly playful, he really meant to hold you down and shove himself inside you out here in the woods where anyone could walk by. 

“We can’t! John please, not here” you pleaded, pausing to try and find where he was. “I… you were gone for months, I’ve not…”

He had made you promise before he left that you’d save yourself for him, wouldn’t even put your own fingers inside yourself while he was gone. And you hadn’t. Fuck you would be so tight now, not ready for him to take you hard. Had he known even then that this was the plan?

“Maiden are ye? Scared it’s going tae hurt, princess? It will, did they naw teach ye that we’re animals? We dinnae treat wee English lassies the way yer own men would. Ye’ll get treated the way ye should, like a fucking whore. And ye’ll take it won’t ye? Ye’ll take it wherever I want tae give it tae ye.”

Fuck, you were starting to slip away to whereever he was. You were starting to feel less like yourself and more like the poor English maiden being hunted by the enemy. The bunny being hunted by the hound. Starting to drift away into pure animal instinct, pure fear and arousal. You could hardly breathe now, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“Please…” you sobbed quietly, not even sure what you were begging for.

And then he was there, towering over you and wrapping a hand around your throat, thumb beneath your chin to tilt your head and force you to look at him. 

“Wonder whit they’d think of ye begging so pretty for the enemy. Cannae help yerself can ye?” he said, as if fascinated by you, slipping his other hand up your dress and under your panties. “Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

Your reaction to those words was violent and unexplainable. It made your legs shake and your pussy clench painfully hard. It was confusing how much it affected you, causing such a flood of wetness that Johnny noticed, his pupils dilating as he squeezed at your throat and laughed when that made you whimper and claw at his hand. He only kept on squeezing until you were starting to see stars.

“Dinnae fucking move princess.”

The pressure of his hands was gone in an instant and the flood of oxygen made you dizzy. There was no time for you to recover before he was on his knees in the dirt, treating your pussy like it was a mouth and sloppily kissing it over your panties. The press of his tongue was insistent and overwhelming, like he was trying to bully it past the fabric. When he ripped at your waistband with his teeth the lace tore. 

He continued his attack like he truly was a wolf sinking his teeth into a fresh meal, completely ruining your underwear until the mangled scraps fell to the floor and left you bare. Your hands were woven into his mohawk and you tried to pull him away, earning a growl that reverberated into your bones and a heavy handed smack to your ass before he assaulted your clit with tongue and teeth and spit. 

You felt yourself clench so hard that you almost felt nauseous. Fuck. You were trying to keep some sense of self, trying to remember that you were out in public and he was some feral version of the man you loved who was saying horrible things to you and promising he was going to hurt you. But there was a creeping haze taking over, turning you dumb for him. 

It wasn’t even something you had been aware was happening when you came on his tongue. It was just sensation, just the desperate need for more. The primal desperation to be fuller even as he pushed his tongue into your over sensitive hole while your walls fluttered through the pleasure of that high.  

“Please, need you.”

“Aye, that right? Needy wee slut.”

You were too far gone to notice that while he was rough in getting you onto your back in the dirt, one hand was gentle in cradling your head to make sure it landed softly. 

“Use those pretty wee words. Ask me for it the way ye’d ask a good English man.”

Ask me for it the way ye’d ask Simon.

When all you could do was wriggle underneath him and whine he grabbed the neckline of your dress and yanked it down to let your breasts spill out, slapping hard at one and making you howl. 

“They naw teach ye how tae talk proper ye wee slut? Ask fucking nicely.”

“Please, please I want you inside me.”

“Aye, can tell that princess. Whit else?”

“Want you to cum inside me.”

“Good fucking girl, wisnae so hard now was it?”

He didn’t take any of his clothes off, just fished his hard cock from his jeans, hooked your knees on his shoulders and pressed into your wet heat in one fluid motion. You both groaned as he bottomed out. It had been so long, you were so fucking tight around him. 

“M’so full, thank you thank you ,m’yours, need you. Fuck, ah. Made for you, it’s so much” you rambled, incoherent in your bliss. 

“There she is, needed this naw? Needed my cock deep in this tight wee English cunt. Cannae be a person without it, it’s whit ye were made for. Fucking built tae be on yer back with yer legs open for me.”

He stayed like that for what felt like forever, the fullness pushing any coherent thought out of your head. Fuck he was so deep like this, with you nearly folded in half. It felt like you were choking on his dick. You were clawing at the dirt by your sides so hard that you thought your fingers might bleed, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head before they could.

You were so cock drunk that you were only distantly aware of the look in his eyes now, the almost obsessive adoration as he took in how you looked pressed into the earth like this, dress rucked up from the bottom and pulled down from the top, palm print visible from where he had slapped at you, knees by your ears, hands pinned over your head and yet despite it all so blissed out you were salivating and babbling at him how you needed him.

When he pulled all the way out to the tip and then slammed back home you choked on the wind being knocked right out of you. It only encouraged him as he started to fuck you hard and deep, taking him time to make sure every thrust settled him so incredibly deep inside of you that you were floating. 

“Braw wee creature aren’t ye? Feart of me and gagin’ fer it anyway. Dinnae fash bonnie, gettin’ yer hole proper.”

You knew vaguely that he was close because you could hardly understand what he was saying. You were so unable to do anything in this position, no leverage on your arms and legs that you could use to pull him closer. 

“Inside, need it inside. Please, please ah!” you cried, no shame left in so as you begged like a bitch in heat for him to cum inside you. 

He shifted and sped his pace, nailing that spongy spot inside you that was making your vision black out with every thrust. You’d have marks on you from the buttons and zipper of his jeans. You’d have marks on your throat and your wrists, on your tits. He needed more, he needed anyone to take one look at you and know who you belonged to.

“‘at’s it, take it. Fuck. Good lass” he groaned as he sunk his teeth into your throat and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came, clamping down on his cock.

He jackhammered into you, forcing his way in while your pussy tried to force him out. The tight heat of it was too much and he growled and stilled after one more brutal thrust had him cumming deep inside you. He collapsed on top of you, the painful stretch from being folded as you were a delicious burn with the extra pressure forcing you to stretch further. 

You stayed like that for a while, both panting. Only when you were slowly coming back to your senses did you feel a sharp pain in your back from what must have been a particularly jagged stone. Ah, you thought you were probably bleeding on it, feeling something sticky. 

“Bannockburn” you breathed out softly.

The pressure was off of you almost immediately and he let go of your wrists and kneeled up, pulling out with a soft sigh leaving both of you at the feeling. He was quick to tuck himself in before his hands were back on you, gentle this time, fixing your dress and rubbing at all the spots he had marked.

“C’mere bonnie, ye did so well. Hurting anywhere I need tae look at?”

He looked at your back when you told him, laying soft kisses of apology on you as he cleaned it up. You used to tease Johnny for the little first aid kit he always had strapped to the back of his jeans whenever you went out, but it was coming in incredibly handy. Your panties were toast and he sheepishly tucked the remnants of them into his pocket before getting you to unsteady feet. 

“Creeping Jesus, I’ve made a right mess out of ye” he said with a bashful sort of grin, doing his best to try and fix your hair. 

“Hmm, s’ok” you replied, still a little hazy. 

He kissed you soundly and then gave you an absolute squeeze of a cuddle before scooping you into his arms in a princess carry.

“Let’s get ye all tucked up in the car then we can have a bath and dinner when we’re home eh?”

You nodded and nuzzled into his chest to get comfortable. He would take care of you, he always did.

–

John MacTavish didn’t know how he got so lucky. Not any woman would be softly dozing off in his arms after what he had just put you through. Fuck you were beautiful all of the time, but when you were like this? Fucked out and marked up but achingly soft for him in the afterglow? Jesus, he loved you. He would love you forever, through lifetimes. 

He’d explain obviously, he should really have warned you how hard he was going to go, that should have been pre-negotiated. But he had been so wound up. Fucking Simon Riley and his little comments about you, winding him up by putting thoughts in his head about how demure an English man could get you. It should have just made him laugh and shove at him, instead it made his blood boil and his cock hard and he had taken it out on you. You had let him, you always did until either of you thought it wasn’t safe. 

He paused on his way out of the woods with you, considering waking you so you could see the little glade he had come upon. It was pretty as anything, almost felt like hallowed ground with a giant stone right in the middle. Something about it called to an ancient longing within him. Fuck. He wanted to marry you out here. Was that ridiculous? Maybe just post orgasm stupidity.

Still as he settled you in the car and took you home so he could love you properly, he thought maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

–

“Fuck, Johnny.”

Simon Riley was an Englishman through and through. Everytime he stepped into battle it was to strike down those who would oppose his King and country. Yet he had left the battlefield. He had tracked into the woods, to where he knew MacTavish had crawled off to die. He found him leant against the stone that sat in the centre of a glade. Of course this is where he would want to die. Not on the battlefield, but here. The place he had married you. The place they both had.  

“Ye come tae watch it for yerself Si?” Johnny said with a laugh that turned to a hacking cough. 

“Course. Been trying to kill you for years, not about to miss it.”

Simon sat next to him, both of them looking at the sunlight filtering through the trees. It was peaceful here. Maybe in another lifetime they would not have been enemies. Maybe in another lifetime they could have been brothers.

“Ye’ll look after her until I can find her again?”

“Always.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #cod au #fanfic #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #look I am very much implying that Simon is going to get in on this action #I used all my smut braincells on Savage so the smut is not really hitting as good #had to let some of the angst braincells out for a bit or it wasn't going to get written #personally I think having Bannockburn as a safeword was sick and twisted of me <3

[skyethebisexualwolfwizard]

I'd like to say, that if you fight for rights of any discriminated people, whether people of colour, the ones experiencing genocide, have experienced genocide, LGBTQIA+, etc. It won't matter if there isn't a planet to live on.

Fighting to stop climate change is just as important as fighting for human rights. And to fight to stop climate change we have to acknowledge one of the biggest reasons it is happening.

Capitalism. It is their beliefs of infinite growth and profit over people and the planet that has caused and been causing all of this.

If you care about one of these things, you better start fighting the root of almost all of these problems.

The wars in the name of money

The deforestation for profit

The propaganda made to keep capitalism as the "best" economic system

The discrimination and shallow acceptance in the name of money

The violation of privacy for money

The violation of so many human rights for money

It may seem hopeless to fight them, but it isn't. We are the ones working and we can stop working, we are the ones buying and we can stop buying.

Protests, boycotts, and even revolutions taking down capitalistic governments and systems will happen.

We just need to be in solidarity, fighting for our and the planet's future. Elevate voices, fight the broken systems, start making your online presence more private, boycott companies mistreating employees, boycott companies supporting and profiting from genocide, protest, revolution.

Socialism or death.

That is our choice.

I personally believe the next few decades will see the fall of many capitalist societies, and countries. I know we would not and will not let it continue. The future will have a free Palestine, a prospering Sudan and Congo, an independent Hawai'i, a unified Ireland, an independent Scotland, a truly free Philippines, a safe America, a unified world.

Free Palestine, the Congo, Sudan, and all experiencing genocide.

Never stop talking about them

Protest, boycott, lobby

I'll see you all when the sun rises on a free and safe world. Until then, we fight and endure.

#wizardpostingn't #capitalism is evil #anti capitalism #socialism #privacy #kosa bill #usa #world politics #climate change #politics #global warming #hawai'i #hawaii #philippines #palesine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #congo #sudan #yemen #ireland #scotland #palestine #genocide #israel is committing genocide

[dopescissorscashwagon]

Happy Wallace Wednesday! As dawn breaks through a misty morning in Stirling, the enduring spirit of Sir William Wallace stands sentinel atop The National Wallace Monument. This legendary figure of Scottish independence is immortalised in stone, sword raised high, overlooking the very lands he fought to free.

Wallace's tale is one for the ages: a common man turned knight who rallied his countrymen against English oppression at the end of the 13th century. His most renowned victory at the Battle of Stirling Bridge in 1297 became a symbol of national pride and resistance. Although he was ultimately captured and executed, his legacy is far from forgotten. In fact, it's etched into the very fabric of Scotland's history and identity.

This striking image captures more than just the chill of a foggy morning; it's a reminder of the resilience and enduring fight for freedom. Wallace's silhouette against the awakening sky is a powerful representation of Scotland's past and its continuous inspiration for the future. Let's take a moment to remember and honour the man behind the monument, the hero of Scotland

—Sir William Wallace. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

📸 The Kilted Photographer @TheKilted.Photo

#The Kilted Photographer #Stirling #Wallace Wednesday #Wallace Monument #William Wallace #Scotland #The Kilted Photo #Visit Scotland #Scotland is Calling #@TheKilted.Photo

[cazzyf1]

Some James Hunt lore ✨️

Because man needs to be appreciated

Warning, potential nsfw and other triggering topics under the cut

James Hunt brought a v*brator to a Mclaren mechanic asking if he could fix it.

James Hunt supporting black-led groups in South Africa when trying to gain their independence. He didn't want to commentate the South African GP because of what was happening but the BBC forced him to. So he purposely revealed during the race that him and Murry Walker were not actually in South Africa commentating (which was not known to the public at the time). He also donated all the money he got from commentating the South African GP to charities to support the apartheid's even though at the time he was struggling for money

James Hunt learnt to play the trumpet at school and was rather good at it. He got to play at the Royal Albert Hall and everyone was suprised when he played well and got invited back to perform at another show.

At school he made his younger brother a pair of pj trousers and his brother proudly wore them around. James loved his younger siblings dearly.

James studied the female anatomy to understand and help his girlfriend at the time who kept having miscarriages.

Niki had to convince German guards not to arrest James when he tried breaking back into the track after a night out.

James having to convince airport customs to let him bring a playboy magazine through because it had an interview piece with him in.

James would throw up before races and Niki sometimes would piss beside him.

After retiring from F1 James brought a farm however he couldn't kill any of the animals so it fell through. His son, Freddie, now owns a sustainable farm in Scotland.

James loved the game backgammon and made everyone play it with him.

James sent Niki a telegram after his crash trying to motivate him to get better. Niki called James up on his birthday from hospital and they chatted for hours.

James owned a nightclub called 'Oscars' named after his dog.

James Hunt slept with a journalist then got upset when she rated him in a newspaper article.

James seized the PA system from a flight attendant and gave his own version of the welcoming address as they landed. Later on he appeared sitting on luggage riding the carousel.

One day during practise James felt tired and halfway through he pulled the car over and fell asleep. Niki who was sitting out watching James practise panicked when James didn't return and jumped on an ambulance that rushed around to find James, only to find him asleep in his car.

James went to therapy and concluded that he struggled with emotional intimacy with women likely down to the lack of emotional availability in his childhood.

Once, while being interviewed, James pointed to his hotel room and him and the interviewer watched as a woman broke into his hotel room.

James was happy when Suzy left him for Richard Burton as he felt responsible for her even though their relationship had fallen apart.

James was given a toy monkey after winning the championship and carried it everywhere.

He would refuse to wear suits to formal events, preferring to wear jeans and no shoes.

In his early days he tried to enter a mini car he had made with missing doors and a garden chair in the passenger seat.

Once James was stuck in the back of a car in traffic and he needed to go to the toilet. His then girlfriend suggested he piss out the window as the car tried to rush past all the traffic but as it was so cold his c*ck wouldn't work so he was just accidentally flashing everyone as the car rushed by.

After winning the world championship, Britian hosted a 'James Hunt' day. Niki went along to wave a flag for one of the races.

One of the first times James Hunt and Murry Walker worked together, James leg was in a cast, and he sat down and put his leg on Murray's lap which really annoyed Murray. He also drank two bottles of rose wine during that commentary session.

James was utterly dedicated to his dog Oscar to the point that they were inseparable.

James said that what brought him pleasure in the bedroom is the woman feeling pleasure and that he liked a woman who knew what she wanted and told him

He became very depressed and would call the bad days his 'dippers'

He struggled with a lot of addictions but got sober for his sons

#i've become number one james hunt fan on discord so might as well share some reasons why #james hunt will forever be that icon #so much more than that playboy image #james hunt #classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1

[the-scottish-costume-guy]

People in scotland have been being arrested over anti-monarchy signs.  https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/abolish-the-monarchy-protesters-king-proclamation-b2165294.html

They’re calling it breaching the peace - just holding up signs promoting abolition of the monarchy. There have been multiple arrests and charges brought to people involved.  Meanwhile we wait to hear from the supreme court on if we are allowed to hold an idependence referrendum when the english government disapproves.  Let it be known for anyone who is unclear: I am anti-monarchy, I am anti-union. Bring on scottish independence sooner rather than later.  On advisement I’ll clarify that anti-union here means anti-united kingdom/pro scottish independence. I want to mention that “Anti-union” as in against trade unions is a very american thing. Unions are so common in the uk that you are often automatically a member when you join any place of work. 

#uk politics #monarchy #arrests #scotland #king charles #queen elizabeth #fuck this

[thebibliosphere]

So when Scotland and/or Ireland goes independent, we break out the crabs again, yeah?

Oh, hell yeah. Death of the union, baby, let's go! 🦀🦀🦀

#crabs

[random-brushstrokes]

Nasta Rojc - Self Portrait with a Rifle (1912)

Nasta Rojc, one of the first academically educated female painters in Croatia, was born in 1883 into a wealthy family. Her father was Croatian politician Milan Rojc, a former Minister of Education. From a young age she didn’t fit the stereotype of a young girl so, after many quarrels with her family, she persuaded them to let her peruse her true calling – painting. She was mentored by the prominent Croatian painter Oton Iveković thanks to whom she became skillful enough to continue educating herself in Vienna and Munich, alongside some of the most exquisite artists like Miroslav Kraljević and Josip Račić. She excelled at portraits and landscapes, but although she was often present in various galleries, her work was frequently overlooked. In order to obtain a better status in society her family talked her into an arranged marriage with her friend, a colleague painter, Branko Šenoa. Their marriage was based on friendship – there was neither romance nor intimacy. Nevertheless, Nasta stayed legally married to Branko until his death in 1939, even after she met her one true love.

Because of her poor health, Nasta took a trip to England, just after the end of World War I. Through one encounter she managed to heal her physical and emotional health. She met Alexandrina Maria Onslow, an officer of the British army, famous for her bravery on the war field that brought her medals of honor. Alexandrine was an exceptional woman, famous for testing the boundaries of femininity, thus opening Nasta up to her true nature. Nasta and Alexandrine traveled throughout England and Scotland getting to know one another and becoming deeply infatuated with one another; luckily, this love and infatuation lasted a lifetime and beyond. On that trip, Nasta painted the first painting of an automobile in Croatian art history, making a precedent once again, merely by her extravagantly bold life choices for that time. The two lovers returned to Zagreb together and started living together in a house that Nasta designed herself, along with a well-known architect Hugo Ehrlich, in a famous area of Zagreb, Rocco’s park.

Unfortunately, not everything went smoothly for the couple. Nasta and Alexandrine supported the partisans and after the proclamation of the Independent State of Croatia in 1941 their home was confiscated and though both of them were ill (at that time age 60 and 75), they were arrested, but soon released on account of insufficient proof. The stress was unbearable for Alexandrine, who started to fall ill more frequently, until she eventually died in 1949, leaving devastated Nasta alone. Nasta spent most of her time in the rose garden, reminiscing of her departed partner, allegedly barely painting. She died forgotten and poor on November 6, 1964, on the date of her birth. She was buried next to her beloved Alexandrine Onslow on the Mirogoj cemetery. (source)

#women painters #Nasta Rojc #croatian art #self portrait #1910s