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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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BRO I'VE BEEN HOLDING BACK CAUSE I THOUGHT YOU'D ALREADY HAVE TOO MANP CAP. MACTAVISH REQUESTS I-

I'm here to rectify this issue immediately, how about one with him and the reader being soft? something bout seeing this rugged man melt when he comes home to his darling just egIUAfosnkew IT'S SO SWEET

—Look At The Stars; Look At Me

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

You breathe slowly, eyes gazing longingly far above you at the twinkling lights. They take up your pupils in the low glow of the moon—the dots of those far-off globes of hydrogen and helium shining bright.

The glade behind the hidden forest home is filled with the scent of wildflowers, grass, and the grind of fresh earth; it captures your nostrils as the fireflies come out to dance on iridescent wings. Under you, John’s blanket lets you be just the tiniest bit closer to him for the moment, limbs loose, sleep-clothes compliant to the flow of the breeze as it spreads a whisper through the leaves.

A deer snorts downwind, a low call over the air that can be felt in the gentle quiet. Crickets creak like the old floorboards of a lived-in home. You’re eased by the knowledge that, as your Lover drives back to this place—back to you—he’s under the same stars as the ones you gawk at in the skin of an awe-drunk woman who loves him more than even this.

A car pulls down the worn-grass road, and you hear the brakes lightly squeak on that shitty rental, a smile twitches along your face, but you don’t move.

He knows where to find you this late; knows you wouldn’t go to sleep when he’d called you not two hours earlier to say he’s back.

The both of you are stubborn and know the other more than a priest knows his own God.

A soft whistle lets you know he’ll be there in a moment, coming from behind the treeline before the sound of a car door getting closed echoes. The birds pause for a moment, though not seconds later they re-start their bedtime symphonies.

There’s a rustling, and your heart picks up the pace gradually, excitement making your lips peel slowly back into a wide smile as you gaze at the Herdsman and his glittering Arcturus star. Painting pictures in your mind, you think of the untold number of things he’s seen from his deep-space throne as your lover returns like a lumbering hound, already hearing his large sigh at the sight of you.

You don’t shift your gaze until an accented comment makes you chuckle.

“Bit of a cold night to be doin’ this,” John’s face peaks into your field of view, leaning above you with his arms crossed—one of those dark brows raised.

He looks worse for wear with a big bruise over the left side of his jaw, and medical tape on his dark eyebrow ridge. The scar is still there, over his left eye; his orbs that continue to glint more than the stars ever could in your gaze.

You hum in your throat, blinking up at him with a tilted nose.

“What?” Your voice makes the hardness of his face dim, a small sigh through his nostrils as if he could never truly get out of that version of himself without hearing you speak first. “Did you expect me to miss a view like this?”

He scoffs, tilting his head. “I’m not that much of an idiot. Move it.”

You smile widely, staying directly in the middle of his blanket as a smirk slashes the Captain’s lips, his blues deepening. A bird darts away from above his head.

“Already misbehaving, then? Not a good start, Little Lady.”

“I was here first, MacTavish.” He makes an amused noise in his throat, moving his hands from his arms to grasp under yours. You squeal, laughing loudly as he drags you up with a low chuckle into his large shirt and tucked pants.

“Aye, you were here first,” he brings you up into his arms—a bridal hold that leads you to wrap your arms around his neck as you shake with glee, burying your head into his flesh. “Never said you weren’t.” Lips whisper into your ear and he can feel your smile as it spreads against him. “But you’ve got to pick your battles wisely, eh? I’m the one who can carry you on my arm.”

You kiss his neck a few times, quick kisses in between mutterings of love; his beard shifts as he lets a small smile, amusement lingering yet dimming for something far more important. The word seems more alive than it had moments ago, but that’s not a bad thing. No, not at all.

“What’s the point of interest tonight, then?” He slips off his boots and walks you back onto the blanket, smoothing it out with his foot before he grunts and settles down—you in his lap. “I’ve lost where we were last time.”

“The Herdsman, John,” you remind gently, pushing on his chest so he lays back with no argument, shifting you into the crook of his right arm as it circles you. He gently squeezes and presses you tighter.

On his chest you place your head, arm snaking around his waist to suck in his warmth with a soft sigh.

“Ah, that’s right. Herdsman.”

He kisses your forehead, digging his nose into you and closing his eyes softly. None of the stars could compare to the one in his arms—he’ll leave the gazing to you in the meantime.

Your body in the gap between his arm was all he needed.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #captain mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #captain john mactavish #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #x fem!reader #john mactavish

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 29 days

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RUNAWAY FROM ME - EXCERPT

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x oc

Summary - Deirdre ran from her life of misery for her own safety. However, she managed to run back into the arms of an angel she once knew, now known as The Peaky Blinder Devil. In which he has no intentions of letting her run away from him again.

Warnings - Dark content, noncon, dubcon, explicit themes, lovers to enemies to lovers, slow burn kinda, Tommy needs a hug.

Word Count - 1.6k

Notes - The little teaser for the Tommy story I wanna write. Please let me know what you think, it would be highly appreciated.

The band came to a sudden stop, the audience’s heads turned towards the three men that strode through the dining. All three of them wore peaked caps with large overcoats as they walked tall. They approached the stage and Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel her heart thud harder in her chest as this suspicious tingle crawled over her skin with her light brown eyes glued onto the men that felt too familiar. Deirdre’s heart froze when the man in front came to clear sight as he took off his cap, revealing his harsh undercut styled brunette hair.

Thomas Shelby.

Her face went numb when his pale hands wrapped around the microphone, ears clogged as his words fell deaf yet she remembered the sound of his deep, captivating voice perfectly. The two other men, which she quickly recognised to be his brothers, Arthur and John, stood with their chests puffed out, arms locked across shoulders and stern expressions.

Deirdre’s heart pounded in her chest like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage. Even though her head was frozen in line to his speech, her eyes were darting around, already planning her escape. The room was full, surely his blue eyes would not be able to point her out in the depths of the occupied round tables. Let alone recognise her after all of these years.

How could she have been so foolish? The massive city of London had never felt smaller than tonight. She had heard his name many times and every time it felt like a stab in the heart. He had made a name for himself, built an empire in that fire and brimstone city. Just like he always said he would. Her father and dear husband already hated him, gypsy bastard. Every day she prayed for their obliviousness to her heavy past with him.

It felt like her soul was pulled out of her body when his blue eyes landed on her. His mouth fell ajar open as his long lashes batted, head gently tilting to the left as he acknowledged her, remembering her thoroughly. The brothers noticed his pause and looked towards her as well, she couldn’t help but to cower slightly. The rest of the room was oblivious to the stare off between him and her.

“And now, shall we dance?” He suggested it in a slow and challenging manner. One hand snapped to que towards the band and the other gestured towards his brothers.

The sounds of jazz roared against the walls as everyone abruptly stood up. A deer caught in headlights, that’s how Deirdre felt at first. As she watched him walk down the stage, his eyes still on her. The brothers were already out of her sight.

She snapped back to reality when Jack’s fingers traced over her bare shoulder. Deidre gulped hard as she quickly stood up, nervously brushing through her dark loose brunette hair.

“Sorry, I, I suddenly don't feel too well” Deirdre admitted, which was actually a lie, but the implication went in the opposite direction.

“Nonsense! I haven’t even gotten a single dance with you yet” Jack acclaimed with a charming smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Her eyes shot towards the stage, he’s gone.

“I’m so sorry, I really must go” Deidre quickly spoke, her voice trembling as she yanked herself out of his grasp.

She heard him rebut, however she was already heading straight towards the large doors as she zigzagged through the crowd. Unfortunately, her poorly planned escape route had quickly soiled, she spotted Arthur and John standing on opposite sides of the exit. They were always loyal pawns in his game. There was a pause in her movements as her eyes shot around, her body covered in pins and needles.

She’d escape through the workers quarters. But as she turned in a hasty measure, her small body smacked into another. The arms that she had felt years before wrapped around her possessively as he steadied her stance. There was no doubt who it was, no hope for it to be another.

“My dearest Deirdre, my eyes will never fail to spot your beauty no matter how you age. May I have this dance?” Tommy asked with a stern expression but soft voice, head tilted down towards her as she kept her eyes on the floor.

The coat he wore was gone, and she could easily feel his muscular frame hidden underneath the button up shirt, not to mention the pistol in his holster. His cold hand lifted her chin and their eyes locked. As she blinked slowly, her eyes glistering, she bit on her tongue. Tommy waited patiently for her next move.

Show no fear.

“If I knew that the Eden Club was in your possession I would have steered clear. We can pretend that you never saw me” Deidre negotiated confidently but her front failed when her body shook against his.

Tommy laughed loudly as his arm around her waist tightened in a proprietorial manner.

“Unfortunately we have unfinished business, you and I” Tommy replied coldly.

“Please, surely you haven't held onto those emotions for all of these years” Deirdre chuckled presumptuously as she tried to push their bodies apart without gaining attention.

Tommy grunted at her words and dragged her to the dance floor, his fingers dug into her upper arms. Surely he wouldn’t make a scene here. But then she’s heard many tales of him, the beast that he had become when he returned from the war.

“You’re in a considerable debt with me, my love. One that you thought would fade if you merely ran” Tommy growled.

“I can get you your money” she winced at the sharp pain, not like it would even mean anything to him with how much his businesses bring in these days. When they passed through the crowded floor, she realized that he was leading her out of the lounge.

“If you think your debt is based around money, are you still that naive girl from all of those years ago, eh?” Tommy smirked as he kicked open the double doors which led them into the kitchen.

It was now or never. Deirdre shoved him away with full force and scrambled through the busy kitchen as she nearly fell over in her heels as she broke free. All eyes were on them but no one dared to move a finger in the wrong direction. As she roughly pushed past everyone, she tried to remain calm.

Tommy grinned at the girl who loved to run. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed for the both of them, her heart was pounding immensely as she panted in her heels. The first door she took led her to a hallway, the open exit to the streets on her right was blocked by two working men. Cigarettes in their lips as they watched her intimately, she bolted to the left.

The next door she took, she didn’t consider analyzing, she locked herself in the small dark room which appeared to be an office. The moonlight shined through the sash window which she yanked up and looked down to the small drop, survivable but not without two broken heels. As Deidre laid her hands on the windowsill, her head snapped back as she heard the door unlock from the other side. There was no other option besides hiding. Deirdre found herself hidden underneath the wooden Lombardo desk. It was human instinct to cower, pray that she’d be able to run from her past demons.

The weighty door creaked open, and she heard his heavy footsteps on the carpet. Tommy pulled out a cigarette, the end of the stick brushed in between his lips as he lit it. “Oh Deirdre, my dearest” Tommy spoke loudly, his tone dripping of sarcasm, which made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. He slammed the door shut behind him. “Why do you run? Why do you hide? From me of all people? You seemed to have forgotten the vows you swore your life on. The promises which are still owed to me. You ignorantly believed that fate would keep us apart? Oh but haven’t you heard the tales of the Peaky Blinder Devil?” Tommy spoke, his footsteps slowly approached her.

The thuds in her chest were painful, her throat felt like the cold air around her was strangling her. He could hear her heavy breathing and chuckled silently. The Colt M1911 is pulled from his holster and he ensured that she heard the safety click off.

“Once upon a time there was a boy. Who foolishly fell for a girl with a secretive past. They created a life as one. He protected her from the pure evils in this cruel world and how did she repay him? She robbed him blind. She ran from the boy that she loved and turned his soul black. She created the Devil of Birmingham. And tonight, the runaway has tripped over her bad deeds” Tommy teased as he leisurely approached her.

With a turn of the corner of the desk, Tommy raised his pistol and pointed it at her forehead. Deirdre looked up to him with doe eyes and gulped down her nerves. “And now, you will repay your debts” Tommy ordered with a gentle nod.

“I will do no such thing” she refused, her words sizzling in anger.

Tommy knelt down to her level, his pistol pressed against her temple. Deirdre breathed out but didn’t fear, she’s been pushed and shoved too many times before to know when there was an actual threat on her life.

“Yes you will. Because you’re still my property, my dear wife” Tommy smirked.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #smut #dark smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fookin blinders

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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Hello! I hope you are well and having a fantastic day!

Can you, if you're alright with it, make this a oneshot separately for Ghost, Soap, and König and how they would comfort their S/O in this scenario.

May this be an x Fem!Reader where the reason that Y/N joined the military was to get away from her abusive family, and when she first joins the force, she's very quiet and sticks to herself, obviously being shy around either one of the boys. Eventually, they both start talking, and once she gets comfortable around him, she turns into an extrovert and tells him many things with him lovingly listening to her.

Maybe she could also tell him about how, with her family, she couldn't tell them anything because she was either told not to talk or they wouldn't listen, in other words, shut her out. Making her feel like she couldn't talk to anyone.

(You don't have to write it if you don't want to.)

You’ll Understand One Day | John “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

a/n: i used artemis for this because she can be seen as you! i’m also sorry this took so long i got distracted (AGAIN)

warnings: vague mentions of neglect, abuse. cussing, soap being soap and having a crush

summary: Soap has a special interest in Laswell’s protégé, Artemis.

Soap would have never ever believed that she was this talkative when he first met her. He was never a man to go out and catch feelings, it was more like those feelings immediately grabbed him and put him in a chokehold - that’s exactly what happened because of her.

Laswell’s protégé, Artemis, was a force to be reckoned with. She had been lent to the 141 for extensive tactical training by Laswell, and when she stepped off the plane, Soap internally swooned - though he swore to himself never to tell her. He had walked up, shaken her hand and talked her ear off about the whole base.

It was very early on that all of the 141 noticed that she almost never spoke, only ever responded to orders and comms. If anyone tried to approach her, she’d back away like a scared dog. That put Soap off - what if she had a mission go wrong and she’s scared of attachment? What if her last team didn’t treat her well, that’s why she’s scared of him?

Tried to bump into her at the water fountain, she ducked away as soon as she noticed him. He even sent Gaz to talk to her for God’s sake, she scurried away like a mouse. The only person she didn’t run away from was Price, which was odd to Soap - almost everyone was scared of Price. His poor little heart thought she had heart eyes for Price, but oh, he was dead wrong.

He asked his Captain about the relationship, Price rolled his eyes and said that Artemis wasn’t used to being with a team that was like a family. She didn’t want Price to think she wasn’t capable of doing her job, so she was like his shadow.

Soap internally swiped the sweat off his brow, but he was still confused. Family problems? Artemis? No! She was too nice for that, too skittish, too good for that. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want to believe it was real. So he made a point to get her to talk to him, no matter what it took.

He walked up to her at the water fountain and loudly asked her a question. “So, Arty, you know why the strawberry was cryin’?”

She looked bewildered, eyes widened and back straightened as if to make her look bigger, but it didn’t put Soap off.

“…No.”

“‘Cause he was in a jam!”

Her eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed. “Funny.”

“You like jokes then?” He smiled. “Price gets all his jokes off me, the bastard.”

She just stared at him.

He stared right back, his smile reached his eyes. “I hope you’re not stealin’ jokes from Price, you can just get’m from me!”

She nodded and walked away.

It took her only a couple more weeks for her to not move away from the fountain when he approached her, she was no longer like a scared deer at the shore of a lake - she only stared at him as he filled up his water bottle.

“Ya know why the coffee filed a police report?” He screwed the cap back on, his smile still huge. It’s like he couldn’t make it go away when she was around.

“No.”

“‘Cause it got mugged!” He chuckled, his smile got impossibly bigger.

There was a crack of a grin on her face as she spoke, “What’s the most terrifying word in nuclear physics?”

His eyebrows furrowed, raking his brain for an answer while still being shocked that she was talking to him. “Uh, dunnoe.”

“Oops.”

Soap let out a bark of laughter, almost dropping his water bottle. “S’good one, Arty!”

The smirk on her lips lit up his heart again, the infatuation only getting worse.

After that day, he’d seemed to find her everywhere. He used to spend hours looking for her, just to check on her, but never find her. It’s like she is making sure he sees her whenever she’s near - he smiles about it. He’s always smiling.

She approached him more, telling him jokes more often; that evolved into asking him questions about his life, his hobbies, his favorite gun to use. Soap was happy to oblige, babbling on and on about his large family and the trouble he used to get in as a ‘wee lad’. And at a certain point, something changed - she began to answer his questions. Soap was getting confused more often at what had opened, what had changed in her pretty little head for her to talk to him with more than the same ten words she had for months before.

It was a Saturday night in his Glasgow apartment when there was a knock at his door. The Glasgow Celtics game was on, he was pissed off that they were losing and texting his mom about it. She was sure to be watching, so he knew it wasn’t her at his door. His sister lived in Edinburgh, and was known for announcing her presence by calling him six different times on her way to Glasgow - it wasn’t her either. And it definitely wasn’t any of his team, he knew how almost everyone knocked.

He hopped over his couch, almost slipping on the hardwood because of his Celtics socks that he wore every game he watched. He was grumbling to himself, upset about the game, that it was almost over and that they were losing. He ran a hand through his mohawk, quick to grab his front door handle and pull it open, “This better be good-“

He shut his mouth, eyes wide as Artemis stood in front of him - soaked to the bone, eyes red and her dufflebag on her shoulder. He opened his mouth again, then shut it quickly. For a blabber mouth, as Price says, he did not have one word to say as she clenched the handle of her duffle.

“I didn’t mean to bother you.” Were her first words, nervously teetering on her feet as she then sniffled. “I just- Ah, fuck,” One hand went up to her eyes, rubbing at them before continuing, “Can-Can I crash here?”

Soap was bewildered, to say the least. The girl he was pining over was at his door step, soaked and in tears, and he felt anger rise in his chest. Who would force her to walk in the rain? Who made her cry? Come to think of it, he never even asked if she had a boyfriend. Eejit, eejit, eejit! He was mentally kicking his own ass as he swallowed thickly, answering, “Y-Yeah, c’mon.”

He looked ridiculous, he remarked to himself, wearing a ratty 141 t-shirt with MACTAVISH on it and a pair of bleach stained Celtics sweatpants. He moved out of the way, but she had kneeled to untie her boots. He watched her, noticing that she had to have been in the rain for at least half an hour, since everything she wore was dripping water into the carpet of the hallway. As soon as she shucked off her boots, she walked in, setting them beside the door before standing up straight again. Soap hadn’t closed the door yet, still in shock that she was in front of him - in a soaked university sweatshirt he didn’t recognize and jeans. She glanced out the door before looking down at her clothes, then back up to Soap. “Could I use the shower? And some clothes?”

The Scot licked his lips as a way to try and wake him from his stupor, but it barely worked. “Down-Down th’ hall on th’ right, ah will git some clothes fer ya.”

She was gone then, walking down the hallway - leaving wet footprints since your socks were soaked too. All Soap could do was close his front door, lock it, and mentally kick himself in the ass. If he’d known you were coming, he would have at least brushed his teeth - and he remembered the pile of dirty laundry in his bathroom. He was going to stub his toe on purpose.

He heard the lock click on his bathroom and immediately jumped into action, moving towards his kitchen and putting away plates that had been clean for a few days, just sitting on the rack. He filled the kettle with water, placing it on his old stove and turning it on high. He then moved away, rushing to his living room and picking up his many empty bags of crisps. He threw them away before moving to his cramped laundry room next to the bathroom, hearing the water turn on as he opened the small cabinet he had to old sweatshirts and sweatpants, all of the sport and military merchandise type.

He grabbed one of his larger sweatshirts and a pair of sweats that he figured was close to her size, knowing that she probably would have felt more comfortable with him not seeing her body through his clothes she would wear. He wanted to respect her space. He turned off the light in his laundry room, noting that the shower had turned off as soon as he closed the door, he set the green and blue set of sweats in front of the bathroom. Soap then hightailed himself back to his kitchen, mind still flying thousands of miles a minute.

The kettle on his stove was beginning to whistle and he almost tripped on himself as he moved to the stove, pulling the well-loved kettle from the hot element to the cold one. He then opened his cabinets, grabbing a box of his best tea and two of his cleaner mugs. He settled them on the counter, putting the tea in the mugs just as he heard her open the bathroom door, before shutting it again. He took the mugs to his coffee table before making the smart decision to bring his small jar of sugar and his bottle of milk too, settling them on the table while he heard the door open for the final time. He looked back to his TV, trying not to seem like a creep and seeing that the Celtics were still losing. He heard her walk into the living room, he reached forwards and muted the TV as she sat on the opposite side of the couch.

“Made ya tea.” Soap looked to her, his heart pounded in his ears as he observed her in his clothes. H/C hair dropped water onto the sweatshirt as she reached forwards, putting sugar and milk in her mug.

“Thanks.” She murmured as she took the warm mug into her hands, taking a sip and sitting back. Soap wasn’t too worried about his own tea as he was why she was here.

“Do ye wanna talk about it?”

The look is her eyes almost confused Soap, she mumbled, “What?”

“Ye don’t hav’ tae talk about it if ye don’t wantae, I-I’m just curious as to how you even knew whaur I lived.”

“Ah. I-uh called Price.”

“Oh.”

She reached forwards and placed her mug down on the table, wiping her mouth before whispering a soft, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

He shook his head, settling his hands together and knitting his fingers. He was trying not to explode. To be honest, he had imagined her coming to his apartment on very different terms - after a date, maybe just a sleepover or just to hang out. Soap’s whole world was spinning; the girl he’s pined over for months is sitting in his apartment, crying, and he’s daydreaming over her. Get yerself together, yeh fockin’ muppet! “Uh-no! No, no- I wasn’t really doin’ anythin’.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Important. Anythin’ important, meh team was losin’ anyway.”

“Well, I just-“

Brrrrg! His phone began to ring on the coffee table next to the TV remote, his eyes glanced down to it, seeing that it was his sister. She stopped what she was saying, mumbling, “It’s okay, you can take the call.”

Soap took his phone in his hand, shutting it off before putting it back on his coffee table. If his sister really needed something she could call their dad. He looked back to Artemis, confused as to why she looked as if she was going to cry again. He reached his hand out to comfort her, she hesitantly took it. “What’s wrong? What’d I do?” She shook her head, hands going to her eyes as she sat back on the couch, clearly upset. He felt awkward then, not sure what he had done to make her cry. “Arty-“

“Thank you.” Her voice wavered as she laughed a little, leaning her head back as she wiped away her tears. “Thank you.”

“What’d I do?” Soap questioned again, curious.

She sniffled, settling against the arm of the couch as she whispered, “You just declined a call to listen to me.”

He blinked rapidly at you. Was she serious? “Well, yeh. I think whatever you say’s important.”

Her hands dug into her eyes, sniffling a little louder before her hands unceremoniously dropped to her legs. She then brought her feet up onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chest as she could rest her head on them - keeping her gorgeous face looking towards him.

His big Scottish heart felt like he was doing laps with Ghost, running as fast as he possibly could while Ghost barely broke a sweat. He almost condensed himself into remembering his first crush in primary school, how his heart beat so fast and so hard that he thought he was dying. His mum just laughed about it, telling him that he should never be scared of love.

“An-And if ya wanna talk about whatever happened, ‘m all ears. ‘Cause my ears are really big ‘n always have been, ever since I was a wee lad ‘n-“ He smacked his own hand over his mouth, the giggle that escaped her lips made his stomach do a flip. It was ethereal, like an angel had possessed her. No, he concluded, she is an angel. She’s Artemis, she’s Y/N. Y/N is an angel.

With her arms wrapped around her legs, she murmured, I-uh, my family doesn’t really like me. And they don’t really let me talk all the time… ‘n I just didn’t want to sit there and be silent for another week…”

Everything came crashing down.

How could they even dare to damage an angel like you? Your voice is the only thing I want to hear for the rest of my days, you’re so witty and smart and I will never deserve you. And I know for a fact that you don’t deserve them and they do not fucking deserve you.

“Well, you can say whatever you want to me. I’ll never shut ya up, but you might have to shut me up ‘cause I’m loud and obnoxious and I talk too much-“

“No, Johnny.” Her hand grabbed the one flailing about, her fingers pressed into his pulse point. “You’re perfect.”

For the first time in John MacTavish’s life, he was speechless.

———

#cod john mactavish #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x f!reader #john mactavish x fem!reader #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish

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if-came-the-day · 1 year

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SH: Why is it always the hat photograph?!What kind of hat is it?Is it a cap?Why has it got two fronts?

JW: It's a deerstalker.

SH: Stalk deer with the hat?What are you going to do,throw it?A death frisbee.It's got flaps.Ear flaps.It's an ear hat,John.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock #benedict cumberbatch #martin freeman #the reichenbach fall #trf #sherlockedit

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monstrology · 7 months

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someone explain what's going on with tim's stakeout truck in s6e1

a dark blue ford with a pinup girl on both wheel flaps, a deer decal between the FO and RD, blue balls hanging off the tailgate, another decal of two rifles crossed above the deer, some sort of Big John's racing sticker on the truck cap window, with a GIANT red white and blue word art decal that reads "COUNTRY BOY CAN SURVIVE" in the middle

did I miss where he obtained this spectacle of southern self-expression or were we all meant to be surprised by it

#tim gutterson #justified #is it some other shitkicker's assets that he obtained #i doubt those stickers are government sanctioned #excuse the quality of images blame my internet and hulu's throttling

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aahsokaatano · 1 year

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Superman may live Metropolis but we all know Clark Kent is still a Midwestern Boy at heart and what I'm trying to say here is that at some point Superman and Flash are teamed up for some undercover thing and they both show up wearing the same John Deere baseball cap. Clark and Barry laugh themselves sick. Bruce is SO annoyed and tells them to be professional and coordinate in the future so that they don't look so matchy-matchy.

They show up to the next JL meeting and Superman is just. Wearing the John Deere hat with the rest of his costume like it's totally normal.

And then Flash shows up with a Caterpillar hat on top of his cowl.

"What! You said no more matching!"

Bruce thought all of his children were in Gotham. He was wrong. His coworkers are the worst kind of children.

#superman #flash #clark kent #barry allen #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #my stuff #brought to you by a picture i saw of three of my cousins showing up to dinner in the same hat

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minervadashwood · 1 year

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Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab/plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 5

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Series Masterlist| Masterlist | Taglist Form

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Summaray: Spilled coffee = danger zone This chapter contains: A frightened omega, off-screen violence, blood, minor burns. Word count: 3K Thank you!!! to @green-eyedladywrites and @bringinsexybackk69 for their encouragement and general tolerance of my nagging questions. And @livingdeadblondequeen, as always, for letting me say "what if" and then replying "yes and." Dividers: @firefly-graphics - a boon to all writers.

You left Merle and Daryl at the corner table while you went to the counter to buy three large coffees to-go. Just as you were turning around, drinks in hand, a large trucker backed into you. The coffee spilled all over you, the hot liquid making you yelp in pain. The now-empty cups clattered to the floor onto a brown puddle just as the man whipped around.

He growled at you, his eyes hidden beneath a worn John Deere cap and his unkempt beard concealing most of his face.

“Watch were you’re going, fucking bitch!”

You wanted to be brave and strong, but tears were already falling, as instinctual fear held you in a chokehold. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Just like any other omega would, you froze at the hint of danger, and this was an all-out confrontation. To make it worse, you were hurt. Your tank top and skirt clung to your skin, against your burns that felt no relief from the fabric trapping the heat to your burns.

Daryl had let himself get too comfortable. Your excitement and beautiful smiles let him forget just what kind of place he brought you to.

Your scream felt like a knife stabbing Daryl in the gut. He was out of his seat quicker than he could draw another breath. Merle was right behind him, and Daryl ran to you, dodging scattered tables and chairs, getting to you faster than he thought possible.

At once Daryl was in front of you, hiding you behind him and violently shoving your attacker in the other direction.

Instinct borne of countless fights before—when it had been the Dixons against the world—told Daryl that Merle would handle the trucker.

Grabbing you, Daryl turned his back to the others and cradled you to his chest.

"Yer alright, Y/N, I'm here. Nothin’s gonna hurt ya.” Unconsciously, he scented you, marking his territory and soothing you all at once.

“Guess who we have here, Daryl!” Merle shouted. “It’s Joe Wilson.”

Holding your head against his chest, Daryl glanced back at his brother and snarled. Merle had met that mother fucker in prison and still held a grudge. Something about stolen cigarettes and ramen.

Daryl began dragging you away from the confrontation, but not without missing Merle’s humorless laugh. That laugh boded trouble, and for once Daryl didn’t mind it. Merle could beat the man to a bloody pulp and Daryl’d be grateful.

“You and me got unfinished business, Wilson,” Merle warned. “And now ya gone and hurt my brother’s ‘mega. I’d start prayin’ to my lord and savior if I was you.”

The manager’s booming voice filled the room. “Dixon, ya’ll take it outside or I’m callin’ the cops.”

“Fine by me,” Merle grinned and grabbed Joe Wilson by the collar, dragging the man out the nearest exit.

With the looming threat gone, Daryl finally noticed that you were clutching at his shirt and sobbing.

You whimpered. “Daryl…it burns…I need…help.”

Despite your confidence, your easy way of moving through the world, Daryl knew that deep down you were an omega. In this moment it was abundantly clear why omegas needed alphas.

Why you needed him.

You were practically helpless. Not even able to say just what help you needed; your only coherent thought was to turn to him. Something in Daryl’s heart solidified, filling him with a confidence he’d never known. You were his and nothing in the world, not Joe Wilson, not Merle, not Daryl’s own self-doubt, would prevent him from protecting you and keeping you safe.

He lifted you in his arms, knowing well the way to the showers with the automatic card readers outside each stall. After paying, he took you inside the cleanest one and turned the faucet on just a little, letting the chilly water come out at a steady pace without splashing both of you in the process.

“Lemme get your clothes off ya, ‘mega,” Daryl spoke gently as he put you down to stand.

You nodded, letting him strip you down to your underwear and bra. Daryl rinsed your tank top out in the water, wringing it out a few times before dabbing it on your belly.

“That alright?” he asked.

You nodded, and he kept soothing your minor burns with the damp cloth. You weren’t severely injured at all, but Daryl sensed you were still scared, still lost in your fear.

He kissed your forehead and soothed your back with one hand. It took a while, but eventually your breathing slowed, and you managed to take your shirt from him.

“I’m okay, I think,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Been a long time since that’s happened to me. Years.”

Daryl furrowed his brow. Who had been with you then? Who’d taken care of you? Kept you safe?

Daryl could not stand the idea of you out in the world—all alone—just hoping some kind beta would check on you. And the thought of another alpha consoling you filled Daryl with a simmering rage he struggled to reign in.

An omega without a pack.

Well, not anymore, that was for sure.

Back at the car, you changed clothes, putting on your cargo shorts and Camp Crystal Lake t-shirt. You made easy work of it, being well practiced at changing in shared dorm rooms and the community housing you’d lived in as a teen. You pulled your shorts on under your skirt, then put on your t-shirt, then took your tank top off from underneath the tee. Being in clean clothes went a long way in helping you feel better.

Daryl helped even more, mostly by just being close. His fury back in the restaurant should have scared you, but it hadn’t. In fact, it’d been a great comfort to you having your alpha get you out of danger. When all you could do was stand frozen in place, having Daryl take care of you made it all okay.

When you were changed, Daryl opened the passenger door and sat you down, squatting in the doorway. He cupped your cheeks. “Feelin’ okay?”

You nodded. “Just tired now.” You put a hand over one of his. “Are you okay?”

Daryl clenched his jaw but gave you a small smile. “If yer okay, I’m okay.”

Your heart clenched and you wanted to cry again. Only now it wasn’t about the man who yelled at you, but all about how much Daryl cared for you. Like all that mattered to him was you. How was that possible? He didn’t even know you existed until last night.

“C’mon now,” he chided, his voice rough. “No more cryin’. You’ll wear yerself out.” His thumbs stroked away your tears.

You nodded, smiling at him, despite everything.

He relaxed his shoulders. “There’s my good ‘mega. With their pretty smile.”

You pried his hands from your cheeks and pulled him to you for a hug. “I’m so glad I met you Daryl Dixon.”

His kiss was the only reply you got.

In the distance you heard Merle’s now-familiar whistling as he approached you and Daryl.

As Daryl got to his feet, you saw blood trickling down from Merle’s nose and that the front of his shirt had been ripped in half.

You gasped.

“He won’t be botherin’ ya again, Peanut,” Merle grinned. “Ol’ Merle took care of ‘im.”

“Oh, Merle,” you sighed. Again, the sight of blood and signs of violence should have unnerved you, but they didn’t. Just like Daryl, Merle had come to your rescue.

In the next moment, you had your first aid kit out and went about seeing to Merle’s minor scrapes and cleaning up his bloodied nose. Unconsciously, you released soothing pheromones, making both brothers feel calm and at ease.

When you finished, Merle patted you on the head.

“Don’t go makin’ Daryl all jealous now, Peanut.”

You’d never had a brother, but Merle Dixon gave you a sense of what having one might’ve been like. Still, you moved away from him and back to Daryl, into your mate’s waiting arms.

“Daryl has nothing to be jealous about, you big lug,” you said to Merle. “I just saw you needed some first aid.”

Merle laughed. “I know, I know. It’s the ‘mega in ya. Tendin’ our wounds and givin’ us something to protect. Yer a Dixon now, like I said.”

You gave Merle a small, shy nod, then looked up at Daryl. “Guess I am.”

Once Daryl got you back on the road, with the sound of the engine, lulling you to sleep, you found yourself taking a short nap. About twenty minutes later, you woke up refreshed and soothed by the presence of your alpha beside you. He patted your knee as you stirred awake, and then you contented yourself with staring out the window as the Georgia landscape flew by.

A few minutes later, you took out your phone and opened your messages. You decided to text Paul Rovia, a person you knew only through texts and emails—you’d shared research during your respective senior year projects—but would meet for the first time tomorrow. He was a graduate student, like you, only his specialty was omega biology. You’d gotten along from the first tentative, professional emails you’d exchanged. He shared your love of horror movies and your passion for alpha/omega research.

You: So a funny thing happened on my way to GSU.

Three dots popped on your screen, indicating that Paul, or “Ro” as you called him, typed a reply.

Ro: Oh? Do tell.

You shifted in your seat and snapped a picture of Daryl.

You: So this is Daryl…

Ro: Looks pretty cute.

You already knew Ro was bi and a beta. You couldn’t help responding appropriately.

You: Hands off, Rovia. He’s my true mate.

Typing it out had you grinning uncontrollably, and you momentarily put down your phone to stare at Daryl. He had a lovely profile. Strong, angular chin, perfectly proportioned nose, deep set eyes. As if seeing him for the first time, he seemed to you perfectly made, perfectly handsome.

Your phone buzzed.

Ro: No. Way.

You: Yes way. Met him at a cheap motel of all places.

“Everythin’ alright?” Daryl suddenly asked, making you nearly drop your phone.

“Yeah, great.” You said hastily. Admitting all of this to Ro made it much more real than it had been before.

Daryl was yours. Really and truly yours.

You stared at him for another moment or two, wanting to tell him everything you felt in the moment. But it was too soon. So much had happened already.

“I’m just texting my friend Ro,” you explained. “I’m meeting him for the first time tomorrow.”

You did not miss Daryl’s white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Daryl wasn’t jealous, was he?

Daryl huffed. “That why you sendin’ ‘im your picture?”

You giggled. “No, I sent him your picture.”

“Mine?!” Daryl punctuated the word with enough shock that it had you wondering if anyone had taken his picture before.

“Just showing off my mate,” you said.

A beat of silence before a deep red blush crept up from Daryl’s neck to his cheeks. You watched in awe as he tried not to smile.

“Stop starin’,” he ordered. “Don’t need you distractin’ me from the road.”

“Yes, Alpha,” you whispered, trying not to laugh. How was the man who protected you at the restaurant the same blushing mess sitting next to you?

You went back to texting Ro, relating everything that had happened during your ill-fated pit stop.

You: I haven’t frozen up like that in a long, long time, Ro.

Ro: It’s only natural.

Ro: Sounds like you found your mate just in time.

A nugget of fear you’d been nursing subconsciously finally grew enough so you could articulate it.

You: But it’s not like he’s going to be with me 24/7. What then?

Ro: He’ll know the moment you need him. That’s how it works.

Looking out the window again, you tried to reassure yourself. Daryl didn’t live close to you, not yet, but he would soon. You could cope until then, surely. Even if it took Daryl a while to get to you, you’d have Ro, the RAs in your dorm—all of them betas trained to take care of omegas who were alone, like you.

You looked at your phone.

Ro: Until then, you’ve got me and Buster!

Attached to the message was a photo of his old mixed breed black lab, sleeping on a sofa.

You: Thanks, Ro. Means a lot. Give B lots of pets for me.

Ro: What else are research buddies for?

He sent a ridiculous number of emojis, prompting you to close the app and lock your phone.

Needing to ground yourself, you reached for Daryl and threaded your fingers through his hair.

“Ro said you were cute, Alpha. I have to agree.”

Daryl felt his cheeks flushing all over again. Your touch was electrifying. He didn’t want you to stop. But he sensed your unease, and he wondered what you weren’t telling him.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “What’s a matter? Somethin’ ain’t right.”

“I just…” you paused but kept playing with his hair. “I’m going to miss you this week. That’s all.”

Thirty minutes after you left the truck stop, Deputy Rick Grimes arrived. He’d been up late, drowning his sorrows with a case of beer before hitting the sack at 3 AM. Photos of Lori and Shane started hitting Facebook at 4 PM, just hours after the divorce had been finalized.

It took Shane and Lori less than a day to start posting together and updating their relationship statuses. It’d been going on long before that—Rick’s wife and his best friend started having an affair almost eighteen months ago. Rick found out about a year ago. And by then everything was over. Too far gone for him to fix anything, Lori said.

Last night, it hadn’t been until he saw a short video of Carl laughing with Shane that Rick broke. Watching another man live his life over social media had never been in the cards for Rick. He’d been a good husband, he thought. He was sure as hell a good father. But somewhere along the way he’d messed it up.

A few months ago, he gave up trying to understand his ex-wife or Shane. It hurt too much. All he could do was be there for Carl and look forward to every other weekend, half the holidays, and a month in the summer.

Rick now found himself taking the Lilly Valley exit and drove to The Bus Yard. On autopilot, he parked, then grabbed his notepad and gear. Once he was out of the car, his personal sadness took a backseat to his hard-earned professionalism.

Once inside the restaurant, he questioned the manager, the servers, and the line cooks. He talked to the complainant, Joe Wilson. After all that, he sat in his car, looking up Joe’s record, then Merle Dixon’s. It wasn’t hard to surmise the pair of good ol’ boys probably had it out for each other, given their history in lock up.

Rick checked out Merle’s current whereabouts. There was a mention of a younger brother, so Rick looked him up, too. The younger Dixon—shockingly—didn’t have a record. However, the guy had been a corroborating witness for Merle plenty of times. Providing alibis mostly.

Rick chalked it up to redneck roughhousing, not unusual in nowheresville, Georgia. So long as no one innocent was involved, Rick would have been fine letting it all go.

But there was another victim, an omega matching your description who’d suffered minor burns from the incident. But you weren’t here to press charges against anyone, so Rick’d have to let that go.

He ended up telling Wilson if the man wanted to press charges against Merle Dixon, Rick’d have to take Wilson in for harassing the omega. Wilson relented, and the manager said no property was damaged.

So, one of Rick’s easier cases, all told.

With nothing pressing to do until his radio squelched or his phone rang, he took a seat at the counter and ordered some coffee.

Even the rich aroma couldn’t mask your scent, however. His alpha senses had picked up on it easily—the only sign of an omega had been here at all. Rick struggled not to fixate on it while he’d been doing his job, but it was there all the same. His heightened alpha senses told him you were long gone. According to the witnesses, Dixon’s little brother was the one to come to rescue; the confrontation between Wilson and Merle almost incidental to your role in the matter.

Was that younger Dixon your mate? If so, the man would do well to take better care of you. Starting with not bringing you to places like this one. Rick could swear he could smell Daryl Dixon, too. A strong alpha with protective instincts that had scented the place when his omega was in danger.

However, this scent threw Rick for a loop. It was unlike any other alpha he’d smelled before. Once Rick sat there for a while and the caffeine started working its magic, the deputy was filled with renewed vigor. Something in him wanted to get closer to both scents, to follow them down the road and find what was at the end of it. To match those scents with two mates and satisfy his niggling curiosity.

Rick was a bit turned on, too, but he blamed that entirely on your lingering aura: mint and lavender. At some point the scent settled deep inside him, as if instilling itself in his memory forever. Something to recall at will whenever he needed it.

Sleep deprivation. That’s what it was. Otherwise, none of it made sense. What kind of weirdo went chasing scents down the Interstate, anyhow?

By his third cup of coffee, Rick had pretty much talked himself out of it. He filed his report at the station on the way home.

However, before logging off the station computer, he took down Merle Dixon’s last known address on a slip of paper.

Just in case Wilson changed his mind, Rick told himself.

Though, deep down he knew better.

I did not expect Rick to show up for a while, but he insisted! Who knows what will happen next because my outline is already obsolete.

I'm sure it was clear that idk how people text these days. i text the way I think, so...yeah.

...anyway...

Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed it, please reblog so others can find it, too! Replies and comments are what keeps me writing and sharing my work. If you're shy, you can always send anonymous messages.

Next Chapter.

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#mdop #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #minerva writes #the cop and the criminal #omegaverse #alpha beta omega dynamics #a/b/o #nonbinary reader #enby reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months

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This day in history

On September 22, I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. That night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

#20yrsago Fed cop slams Verisign https://web.archive.org/web/20030923083005/http://dnm.sieve.net/tdw/2003_09_01_entry.html

#15yrsago Cybersquatters register domains for potential bank-mergers https://www.theguardian.com/business/2008/sep/21/technology.banking

#10yrsago Implementing a Turing machine in Excel https://www.felienne.com/archives/2974

#10yrsago Ryanair vows to reduce fewer customers to tears https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-24171384

#10yrsago Jungle Boat skipper gives a tour of the wall around the construction site https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DakW1GtyTVA

#10yrsago Terms and Conditions May Apply: documentary about abusive license terms, privacy and surveillance https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2013/sep/19/data-digital-identity-cullen-hoback

#5yrsago Defunct Vancouver tech retailer’s servers sold off, containing credit cards and other customer details https://www.eteknix.com/ncix-database-servers-sold-craigslist-without-wiped/

#5yrsago California farm lobby’s sellout to John Deere will cost its members their right to repair https://www.wired.com/story/john-deere-farmers-right-to-repair/

#5yrsago Middle school cop who arrested seventh graders “to prove a point” may yet face consequences https://www.techdirt.com/2018/09/20/ninth-circuit-says-no-you-fucking-may-not-arrest-bunch-middle-school-students-to-prove-point/

#5yrsago Puerto Rico is a tax-haven for rich mainlanders and is also too broke to survive hurricanes: are these facts possibly related, somehow? https://www.gq.com/story/how-puerto-rico-became-tax-haven-for-super-rich

#5yrsago Carriers to FCC: Americans would totally be happy with throttled, capped wireless at home instead of home fiber https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2018/09/despite-data-caps-and-throttling-industry-says-mobile-can-replace-home-internet/

#5yrsago Nature’s greatest con-artists: the parasitic beetles that trick ants into barfing into their mouths https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJ-k0TBwvL0

#5yrsago Supreme Court decision will rip away Dark Money’s veil of secrecy https://www.commondreams.org/news/2018/09/19/supreme-court-decision-dark-money-were-about-know-lot-more-about-who-funding-our

#5yrsago As Canada-US trade-war draws nigh, so does the threat to nationalise US pharma patents https://ca.finance.yahoo.com/news/canadian-officials-mulling-attack-u-s-pharma-says-ottawa-lawyer-165038690.html

#5yrsago Europe’s copyright catastrophe is a harbinger of bad times for Canadians https://macleans.ca/opinion/the-spectre-of-bad-internet-laws-in-europe-should-be-a-warning-shot-for-canadians/

#1yrago Book-banning wingnuts are a tiny, vocal minority https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/20/the-moral-majority/#is-neither

#pluralistic

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sarah-dipitous · 11 months

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 148

The Reichenbach Fall

“The Reichenbach Fall”

Plot Description: Moriarty hatches a mad scheme to turn the whole city against Sherlock.

Oh, Jawnnnnnnnn. Glad you went back to therapy over it though

Ok yes. He’s been ungrateful with his other tokens of gratitude, but to humiliate the man by making him wear the deer stalker cap after he’s just brought you interpol’s most wanted? Come on…

It’s an EAR hat, Jawn

The “confirmed bachelor” lines were no accident and just blatant queer baiting.

Jimmmmm!! Jim my love

I…made this scene a VERY large part of my personality for TOO LONG. Now I’m just gonna sit back and enjoy watching this man bring a country to its knees (this part of The Thieving Magpie was my alarm for years, and I maintain that I was correct to have it. It’s way better than what I have now)

Who’s doing it like him, I ask you

Wiggling, squirming. Oh man. I had THIS on playlists too (the song right before Jim’s trial…when I say my WHOLE PERSONALITY…stayin alive was also my ringtone. Would you believe I’m divulging this lore SOBER?? Because I am)

Do not be yourself in this trial, Sherls, omg…

There’s a weird nostalgic pang of “god I wish that was me” when he asks the one courtroom worker (truly, I don’t know her job title) to slip her hand into his pocket. Maybe it’s just the Irish accent. It’s just for gum but he’s so slutty about it

I can’t look at this actress without thinking of her as Jen from the IT Crowd. She can’t be anything else in my mind. She’s forever Jen doing a bit in a costume in different places (this is going to take forever to watch if i keep pausing like this)

The Sheriarty is jumping out right now. You don’t describe someone you know is definitely listening and watching you as “a spider, a spider at the center of a web. A criminal web with a thousand threads, and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances.” YOU ARE LOOKING INTO HIS EYES AT HIS TRIAL AS YOU SAY THAT ABOUT HIM. Were I a consulting criminal, I would be so flattered by that description

Oh god…don’t make the jury hate you. Yeah. Of course he finds it impossible to not show off

This tea scene omgggg when he…is it really breaking into 221b if Sherlock is expecting him??

Every once in a while, I do get the glimpses of how these three shows got lumped together. Jim telling Sherlock he’s boring because he’s on the side of the angels is definitely one of those things

He’s got the best little speeches “no such thing as a private bank account now, they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy, I OWN secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up nato in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king, and honey, you should seeee meeee in a crown” (did I do an embarrassing amount of that from memory? maybe so)

Oh shit…i forgot the fairy tale stuff Moriarty puts them through…I mean, you gotta fill 90 minutes somehow (I want to sleep so badly…but I’m not even half way done)

I fucking hate how he treats Molly. She deserves better than him and this show. God…she thinks she doesn’t count…fuck. I hate it

Riiiight. He made it seem like the kidnapping was Sherlock’s doing so he could then solve it and he the hero. Just planting the seeds of doubt

Oh the Tale of Sir Boast-a-lot

When villains hijack the airwaves>>>>>> (my taste has not changed a bit in 10 years lmaooooo) I know in this case, he’s actually the cab driver, but he’ll do it later in the series. For now, we’ll just enjoy this nice little story Jim’s telling

You can’t outrun………oh, that was one of the assassins that moved onto baker street

It’s so weird that he’s doing exactly what Jim wants him to do…..

He’s unbelievably precious as Richard Brook. Insisting he’s a children’s storyteller, he’s on tv. It’s on dvd. You do almost forget that he’s a criminal mastermind for a second, except for that one moment when Kitty can’t see him and he has that look on his face as he glances at Sherlock

John and Mycroft have such a good dynamic. No matter if they’re on the same side, on opposing sides…it’s always a good scene when it’s just them

Uuuuggggghhhhhhhh, we’re starting with the roof of St Bart’s scene…will it be as good and heartbreaking as I remember?

Reader, it is. Jim’s lament about how easy it was to beat Sherlock, his best distraction for the monotony of staying alive. Oh, bby. Andrew Scott is such a good actor.

The fact that there was no code, that it was always a few of those threads that Jim made dance to send the world crashing down around them.

(I’m currently living in a world where his character didn’t get absolutely fucked over by the last episode of the series…………….so far(?))

I do like that Jim underestimates the importance of Molly. She still deserves better from everyone around her, but it’s nice that she’ll get SOME recognition in season 3

Pausing because I know what comes next and I don’t want it to…

Can we not just stay like this??? (Not if I want to make it a true full rewatch…)

I STAY a “here’s how [villain] can still live/be alive” girlie. I DO NOT CHANGE LMAO

Oh the phone call… “nobody could be that clever” “you could” I hate everything

Mycroffffffffft. Jawwwwwwwwn.

John at Sherlock’s grave is just…heart wrenching. Always and forever.

This is the best and highest rated episode of this show for GOOD REASON

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023 #we discover I’ve always been this way…#and my tastes have not changed in 10 years

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