#rest in peace tyre

[weathernerdmando]

So the videos of the absolutely brutal murder of Tyre Nichols have been released. I'm not gonna link to those, if you're able to stand watching absolutely horrific video you can find it yourself. Instead, I'm going to link to a video of Tyre skateboarding that's being posted on Reddit. It's a beautiful video. If you need something good to think about Tyre with tonight, here it is.

And to be clear: fuck every single person who was on scene and complicit with the murder. That department needs to go and go preferably now.

#tyre nichols #black lives matter #cops are fucking bastards and SO MANY OF THEM just stood around and fucking watched. a lot more than just the five getting charged. #i have not watched but a minute or two of rhe videos and even then i had the sound off and couldn't finish it bc of how fucking horrific #rest in peace tyre #he just wanted to go home. he didnt get to and thats fucking horrific. #Youtube

[mimi-0007]

Rest in peace 🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️ . No words.

#black tumblr #black literature #black community #black lives matter #black excellence #civil rights #police brutality #rest in peace #rest in power #tyre nichols #black lives still matter #justice system #justice

[muncedes]

the tyre nichols video (i truly do not recommend watching as it’s very difficult to get through) further solidifies the fact that the killing of black americans is not just a white police matter but simply police culture. brutality and excessive force is not strictly contained to just white officers. there is no “bad apples” when the career choice within itself is inherently racist and biased.

the timely manner in which the situation was handled should have always been the standard. all 5 officers are being charged with murder prior to the body cam footage release, protests, and calls to action.

may his family be protected while they grieve and may this is be how he’s remembered🕊️

#may his beautiful soul rest in peace #tyre nichols

[hondtangled]

I think the caption for this is obvious. I don't have much to say but this,

JUSTICE FOR TYRE NICHOLS AND BLACK LIVES MATTER

Gone too soon, remember his smiles. #tyrenichols

#tyre nichols #rest in power #rest in peace #rest in paradise #justice for tyre nichols #justice for all

[skitzoprincepnw]

1.29.23

#pnwlife #pacific northwest #abc news #gofundme #tyre nichols #black lives matter #blacklivesmatter #blm protests #rest in peace #injustice #police brutally #memphis #sunset #miss my baby #fly free #mamas boy #Youtube

[lovelytsunoda]

zandvoort // liam lawson

summary: one man’s misfortune is another’s chance of a lifetime. so what can’t liam lawson seem to get his head in the game?

pairing: liam lawson x female!reader

warnings: mentions of dannys accident, tittyfucking except liam is too distracted for it to go very far, liam is nervous as hell about finally getting an f1 drive, sneaking into an f1 track to go jogging at ungodly hours is illegal so please do not do what liam and y/n are about to do.

the hotel room was peaceful and calm, lit only by the light from the window and the pitifully small lamp on the nightstand as she slipped beneath the covers, palming her lover through his sweatpants.

as she dipped further beneath the sheets, playfully pulling the duvet over her head, she carefully extracted her lovers erect dick from his shorts, slipping it in between her breasts and under the elastic in her lacy white bralette.

“fuck, sweetheart.” liam hummed softly, watching his dick slide between her boobs.

she looked like an angel, haloed in white, hair missed from the sheets, bottom lip in between her teeth as she tried to bite back a moan, fingers gently palming her nipples through the skimpy lace covering her chest.

so why couldn’t liam focus? it seemed like sacrilege to be thinking about trivial things like race cars and track limits and tyre strategies while the woman he loved and treasured most was currently fucking him with her tits.

he moaned softly, quieter than the norm as he laid his head back against the pillows, bleached blonde hair fanning out round his head as he tried to recenter himself.

focus, liam, he scolded himself.

“babe?” she asked softly, slipping off his dick and tucking her boobs back into her bra as she resurfaced, brushing his hair out of his face. “are you okay? you seem quiet. distant. usually I can’t get you to stop moaning, today you feel like you’re somewhere else.”

liam sighed, turning to face her, tucking himself back into his sweatpants as she lay to rest next to him, one hand gently cradling his face.

“you’re worried about tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“maybe.” liam hummed, kissing her palm. “I haven’t raced zandvoort in over a year, and super formula is so different.”

“oh, liam.” she sighed, kissing his forehead. “you’ve earned this. and yeah, what happened to daniel fucking sucks balls. but you’ve been wanting this all your life.”

“and what if I bottle this?”

y/n sighed, clambering out if the bed and reaching for her under armour leggings. “come on, I’ve got an idea. we have to get out of this room.”

“where are we going, and do I need to wear underwear?”

“you’ll see, now hurry up!”

it was dark outside, stars high in the sky as they got out of y/n’s rental car, giggling as they ducked under the rotating barriers to the paddock. it was strange to see zandvoort at night: a deserted shell of what it was supposed to be, food carts frozen in time and waiting for the crowds to come flocking back.

“I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be here.” liam whispered, trying to keep up with his girlfriend as she ran in the direction of the track itself.

“don’t be a baby, lawson!” she shouted, ducking under the cage where the marshals stood when they waved the flags. “come on!”

shaking his head, liam followed her. it was eerie to stand at the starting line, and he felt small standing in the wide expanse of asphalt, the moonlight glaring down at him.

“we’re going for a run. it will take your mind off things, and running the track might help you get your bearings back.”

“have I ever told you how incredible you are?” liam laughed, pulling her in for a kiss.

“maybe once or twice.” she smiled up at him. “now, if I win you have to give me orgasms and breakfast in bed.”

Liam’s hearty laugh echoed through the empty track. “do you want a head start, then?”

“you son of a bitch!” she laughs, playfully pushing him away. “you’d better not let me win!”

and as she started running down the main straight, liam stayed firmly rooted by the starting line, watching the bright expression in her face in the half light and the way her ass moved (he was a man after all).

god, he loved her so much.

“liam! don’t let me win!”

“alright, I’m coming!”

TAGS

@clemswrld @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @sidcrosbyspuck @thatsdemko @scuderiamh @userlando

#liam lawson #liam lawson x reader #formula one x reader #formula two x reader #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #liam lawson x you #mini fic

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

It's Loud - Daniel Ricciardo

<word count - 965>

You walked through the McLaren garage, hand in hand with Daniel. There were a few things you noticed as you went. There was a lot of papaya and it was loud. Very loud. You hated loud noises, so this was one of the worst places for you to be.

To be fair, it probably wasn't the best idea to date a racing driver if you didn't like noise, because they pretty much live in loudness, but hey, you were here and you wouldn't want anything but Daniel. 

"Is it always this... Loud?" You shouted over the noise as you stood in the back of the garage, leaning against the wall. "Pretty much, it's hard to find quiet around here," he nodded. He didn't think bringing you into the garage was a great idea, since he knew what you were like, but you had insisted. 

"Where do I sit?" You asked, hoping it would be quieter wherever you would be. You were alright for a short while, but the longer time went on, the more it irked your brain and ears. "You will be just here," he said, patting a chair.

"OK, sounds good," you said, sitting down as Daniel handed you a pair of headphones. They damped the noise a bit, but not as much as you would have hoped. "I'm going to go and get ready, but if you need anything, ask anyone and they will be happy to help," he smiled.

"Alright, go and smash it," you said.

"It's not about timings today, it's about seeing what setup the car needs for this track, but I will," he said, leaning down and kissing your cheek. You watched as he walked away through the sea of papaya, and you just sat there, looking at all of the screens that were hanging around.

It wasn't long before FP1 started, and Daniel was driving out into the pit lan and out onto track. You watched as all the data for him and Lando popped up on screen, and there was so much to think about.

There was also a lot of noise. The engines roaring as people shot past, the people talking over the radio that you could hear through your headphones, the drills of the pit crews either side of you doing tyre changes. 

You had gotten through around three quarters of FP1, but it was all beginning to get too much. There was no break, no rest from the cacophony that felt like it was attacking your brain. You thought your head was going to explode if you stayed there for much longer. 

You took your headphones off, leaving them on the chair, and walked out the back of the garage. 

You strode straight through the near empty paddock and straight into the McLaren motorhome. It was like pure serenity in there. It was quiet, and it was calm. There was no loud buzzing, or engines roaring, or drills squealing. There was nothing.

Just the quiet voice of the commentators that were on the TV, broadcasting the race. You sat there and stayed there, enjoying the peace. 

Meanwhile, Daniel had just pulled back into the garage and was getting out of his car. For a while, he talked with the team about how the car was feeling, and some setup changes he wanted to run in FP2 later to see how that could change the lap times. 

There was another couple of hours until FP2, so the team went on a quick break. He wandered over to your seat, but he only saw the headphones you had left behind. "Hey, did anyone see where Y/N went?" he asked one of his engineers.

"Yeah, she headed out the back," he said, but that was all he saw. He was watching the session, after all. "OK, thanks," he said, walking out of the back entrance and wondering where you could have gone.

He walked through the paddock, looking in every possible place he thought you could be. As he passed the motor home, he peered through the window and spotted you, sat on the couch, watching the timing boards.

"Hey, I've been looking for you everywhere," he said, sitting down next to you and sinking an arm around your shoulders. "Well you found me," you smiled, leaning into him.

"Why'd you go?" he asked, even if he already knew the answer. He felt bad that he was the reason you were here, but you had insisted. Didn't make him feel much better, though.  

"It was too loud. I only left when there was fifteen left, so I stayed for most of it," you explained. "Sorry, I should have told you where you could go. You alright?" he apologised.

"Don't worry about it, this place was easy enough to find. And yeah, I like it in here. This couch is really comfy too," you said. You loved watching Daniel race, but you found that you preferred watching on a TV rather than in person. "Are you going to come and watch FP2?"

"Yeah, but I think I might come for the second half so I can be there when you get out of the car," you told him, a smile spreading across his face. "I like that idea, I missed not seeing you,"

"Daniel, you never see me when you get out of the car," you laughed. 

"I know, but I missed out on that today," he pouted, kissing the top of your head.

"Sorry I missed it, it was just a bit much..." you said, looking down at your fidgeting fingers that were rested in your lap. "Hey, don't worry about it. As long as you are chilled and happy, then I am also chilled and happy," he smiled.

"Now, it is time for some lunch,"

A/N - Is this the best thing I have ever written? Definitely not. Did I feel bad for not posting for a short while? Yes, yes I did. I had this written and ready, but I was at a festival and had absolutely 0 WiFi, so I couldn't post it until now. Love you all 💖

|masterlist|

#f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 imagines #fluff #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagines #daniel ricciardo fluff #dr3

[harmshake]

The Gentle Horror, Part 1

🖤 Summary: A quiet neighborhood. A vampire hiding in plain sight. A tragic murder. Nyma finds herself in the center of it all with Stephon as her only friend…but he is not who he seems. 🖤 Pairing: Nyma (black fem oc) x Vampire Swerve Strickland 🖤 Warnings: 18+ only, strong language, NSFW, mentions of domestic violence, death, blood, and smut. 🖤 Word count: ~6,400

Happy Halloween! 🎃

Read Part 2 or more of my spooky fics and other stuff here, if you'd like. ✨

Summer was such an angry season, Stephon thought to himself. The blaring sun, the blistering heat, and the sweat and angst that seemed to stick to people like a bad omen. 

However, Stephon had no such reaction to the weather as his skin was as cool as ice on the hottest summer day. Today was one of those scorching afternoons as he could smell that sweat and feel that angst radiating off the humans nearby. He hid away from them and the sun, resting in his basement that he'd converted into his underground bedroom. Or at least he was trying to rest. 

That angry, violent heat had gotten the best of his new neighbors as they lugged box after box into the two-story home next to his. Stephon's ears rang with the sound of a woman and man, clearly married and clearly at wits end with each other. They fussed and cussed at one another over who was carrying the heaviest burdens—at first, that meant the moving boxes yet it abruptly derailed into the plights of their relationship. And to make it worse, they had a dog that he heard yapping in between their argument. 

"You act like I don't support you in everything you do! We moved all the way out here because of you!"

"Well, fuck me for wantin' to be a man and provide for you and your needs."

"I got my own money, I don't need you to provide for me, Tyree. What I need you is for you to stop actin' like a fuckin' crazy ass alpha male all the time."

"Fuck, man," Stephon let out a frustrated sigh as he lay in his bed, wishing he could tune them out and cursing his ultra-sensitive hearing. They were quite annoying and disturbed his peaceful routine: Sun up, sleep, sundown, feed. He'd lived in a hundred places over the years and he liked this stretch of suburban paradise in University Park. It was close to Dallas, his hometown, quaint, and calm...until today.

And when he heard the unmistakable clap of the husband's heavy hand on the wife's cheek and her horrified screech, Stephon's eyes popped open once again with hot-blooded rage coursing through his veins. No fault of the sun, all fault of someone's raggedy ass son who had the nerve to lay hands on a woman. He'd never been bitch-made like that, and never heard of it going on in his neighborhood until now. 

His first instinct was to go knock on their door and gather dude up for the lady because, from the sounds of it, she wasn't going to call the police. Yet she cried as the afternoon hours bled into the night. It was all he could fixate on as she wept long after her husband stormed out of the house. He had seen the creation of enough chaos, been the artist behind it, and retired from it, that he wanted to help her.

He finally rolled out of bed, slipping into a black leather jacket and black jeans, and stepped onto his front porch to feel the humid evening air on his skin. When he looked to his left, there she was. His new neighbor, a black woman maybe in her mid-thirties with her afro hair tucked into an emerald green headwrap piled on her dainty head. All of her was dainty, yet rounded out with thick curves she hid behind her oversized black hoodie and matching sweatpants. 

Stephon didn't have to gaze long to tell she was beautiful. Too beautiful to have that welt on her cheek and too beautiful to have that cigarette dangling from her plump, brown lips as she slumped onto the steps of her porch, her deep brown eyes flickering from it and her golden retriever that rolled around in her manicured grass.

"Hey, neighbor," Stephon greeted her with a warm smile and waved from the sidewalk as he went to stroll down the street. She glanced up at him with a slow, weary smile, her lips parting to speak back until her dog suddenly jumped to its feet at the sight of him and barked so loud that the sound echoed in the silent night.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Maddie, stop it, girl!" she called over the dog's incessant noise, leaping up from the steps to wrangle it by the collar and into her home when it tried to hurl itself in his direction. Once she closed the door and somewhat muffled Maddie's racket, the woman stood at the end of her steps, picking back up the cigarette that she placed on them to take another puff. "Sorry about that," she exhaled and shook her head. "She don't act up like that normally. Not sure what got into her."

"It's all good. I'm a new face. And so are you. Just moved in?" Stephon asked with a half-smile on his thick lips. He already knew more about her than he should, but he wouldn't frighten her and let her know that.

"Yeah. Just got settled in today from Atlanta," she said with another puff. "I'm Nyma, by the way. You?"

"Atlanta? Wow, that's a long way. I'm Stephon. Nice to meet you," he replied and took a step onto the paved walkway in her yard. He noticed she didn't meet him halfway and wondered if her dog's reaction to him spooked her at all. But she didn't seem wary of him, just wary in general, certainly from the events of her day. His deep voice was softer as he glanced at her cigarette and carefully added, "You know those are bad for you. If you stressed, I recommend a shot of Henny and some good music."

"I know...I don't really smoke, but I keep a pack when I need one. But I think a shot is probably just as dangerous 'cause the way I feel right now? I'd need a few." Nyma let out a joyless laugh yet the sound was still sweet in Stephon's ears. It made him smile again and she smiled back a little before wrapping her arms around herself.

"Hey, I feel you. I'm actually headed to a bar up the road from here now. 'Cause I could use a few, too," Stephon teased and she laughed for real this time, her cute smile growing wider. "You wanna join me? My treat."

"That's nice of you, but...I'm married." Nyma flicked away her cigarette butt and held up her left hand to flash the wedding band on her ring finger. The weight in her delicate, Southern-accented voice felt heavy at the mention of her husband, her eyes hanging low, too. Yet they whipped up to meet his when he took another cautious step towards her. His eyes could see from a mile away the slight bruise on her cheek, but as he stood only a few feet away from her, Nyma covered it with her hand as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Understood. Everything okay?" Stephon asked quietly. He knew he probably seemed out of pocket to inquire as they were strangers, but seeing the pain in her eyes as she gazed at him made his blood all over again.

"Yeah," Nyma lied and swallowed hard as she shivered from his eyes on her. She glimpsed away and he nodded slowly as he quickly decided to leave her be as he didn't want to be a bother.

"Alright neighbor," Stephon said and began to back away. "But if you ever need anything, sugar, eggs, or someone to talk to...I'm right next door." Nyma caught his eyes again as he shot her a warm grin, and when she grinned back with a nod, he knew then that she'd at least consider taking him up on his offer.

That was enough of a promise to put Stephon at ease as he retreated down the well-lit suburb street before he found the shadows that led to the small, downtown bar he liked to visit each night for his usuals, that shot of Hennessy and a pint of blood. They didn't serve his second beverage but he usually had no qualms about chatting up the nearest patron at the bar and sharing a drink before he suggested they go for a walk in the dark alley behind the building. They never said no because Stephon had more than a way with words but an influence with his eyes that buried that suggestion in their brain deep enough that they believed it was their own idea to leave the bar and let him sink his teeth into their neck.

And when it was all said and done, Stephon would suggest to them that they had never been with him, let alone seen him, before he headed back home, full, satisfied, and ready to enjoy his evening however he chose. It wasn't the life someone like him usually led, but he craved that slice of normalcy after the things that he'd seen and done. As he walked into the upscale bar with a Rihanna song booming through the speakers, he saddled up to the counter in his usual seat. The bartender, Alissa, waved a few fingers at him before placing two shots in front of him.

"Gotta two for one deal tonight?" Stephon asked as he grabbed one glass and downed it.

"On the house, baby," Alissa winked, her wavy, brunette hair spilling over her cleavage that she wanted him to notice as she leaned over to take his empty glass. Stephon simply smiled but it faded as soon as she turned her back because he wasn't interested. She was a nice girl but he learned after the first time he hit that she wanted a boyfriend, and he knew that wasn't him. He hadn't dated in decades, didn't see the need for it, but he wasn't above getting his dick wet from time to time. 

And as she eyed him from down the bar while taking another customer's order, Stephon was grateful he glamoured her to forget the few times they had sex. While he could glamour her to be indifferent toward him altogether, he liked to use his power sparingly. He'd seen what too many glamours could do to the feeble human brain, could split right in half. He shook his head at the thought as he tossed back his second shot and scanned the room for his dinner, yet the hairs on his skin prickled when he heard a familiar voice. His eyes flitted to it and there he was, Nyma's husband, as his drunk ass stumbled out of the restroom and raised his voice at a man sitting in the barstool he abandoned when he went.

"This mutha fucka," Stephon growled under his breath. He could smell the alcohol in his blood from here, he stunk of it. It offended his heightened offenses and he made a face, both from the stench and the obvious fact that this idiot was here trying to drown his guilt with cheap vodka instead of going home to face his wife. Stephon could nearly taste the man's remorse but also his anger as he shoved the patron from the barstool to sit down.

"Gimme another one, sweetheart," Tyree hollered at Alissa when she approached him. Stephon made a fist and squeezed as he thought to calm himself down. He wanted to temper himself before going over to talk some sense into him.

"Ay, man, look here," Stephon said, biting back his own anger as he clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. Tyree was a sizeable man, more fat than muscle, but fit enough and intimidating to the average person. Yet Stephon wasn't scared when the man switched around to glare at him and his hand on him, his grip not nearly as harsh as it could be.

"The fuck you want?" Tyree spat before Stephon looked into his dark eyes swirling with irritation and looked beyond them. He couldn't read his mind but he could touch it, his gaze prodding through it until he found a suitable place to plant his suggestion, somewhere between his guilt and his indignation that overshadowed it.

"Listen here. When you get home tonight, you need to pack all yo' shit and leave," Stephon said sternly. "You don't wanna be here no more. You wanna go back to Atlanta but alone. You hear me?"

Stephon felt a tingle of his own guilt creep up his spine as he knew he had no business meddling in Nyma's marriage. He didn't know her or what she wanted, but he could tell from that argument he overheard and the look in her eyes that she didn't want this piece of shit in her life. And he didn't want him in his neighborhood, either. He held Tyree's gaze until the man nodded, the pupils of his eyes blowing out as he received his words. 

"You hear me, man?" he asked him again.

"Yeah..." Tyree sounded out. Stephon nodded back and released him, going back to take his seat. He knew his glamour would work, it always did, but he still kept an eye on the man as he tumbled out of the bar and to his pickup truck. Yet before Tyree could open the door, Stephon had the wise thought of having him for dinner since he'd been so distracted by the man that he hadn't fed yet. He usually despised the way blood tasted with so much liquor laced in it, but he'd make it quick and make sure he got his shit and left town afterward.

"Ay, you really shouldn't drink and drive," he told Tyree as he approached him in the dimly lit parking lot. The big man nearly jumped out of his skin to see Stephon, his keys dropping to the asphalt.

"But I gotta get home. I g-g-gotta get out of here," he stuttered as Stephon came closer. He was pleased to hear his suggestion repeated back to him, yet when he bent over to grab his keys for him, he felt one of Tyree's big hands come clobbering down on the back of his head.

"What the fuck?!" Stephon grunted as he snapped up at lightning speed, just as surprised as he was frustrated by the assault. His suggestion didn't wipe away his fear of Stephon, and when Tyree lunged at him again with fists as he shouted for him to back up, one of them connected to his chin.

The drunk man had a heavy blow, eerily precise, but Stephon didn't feel any pain from it. He only felt rage for what he did to Nyma. Before he could think twice about it, his fangs revealed themselves with a glisten in the moonlight and his hand lashed out in front of him and around Tyree's neck, squeezing as he pinned him to his truck door. When he heard a couple of bones pop and saw the man's eyes bulge before the fear in them faded to black, Stephon let go and watched him sink to the ground. 

"Goddammit," he whispered to himself with an annoyed sigh. He didn't have to look around to know there were no lingering eyes about, but he didn't waste any time scooping Tyree into his arms like he weighed nothing and sprinting with a blur behind the bar and into the darkness where he tossed his body behind the large, green dumpster.

He hadn't meant to kill him, only subdue and glamour him one more time for good measure to calmly go home and get the hell out of town. But as Stephon glanced at his lifeless pile of flesh, he didn't feel sorry for Tyree. He came from a time when men like him would treat people like their property, and that included his own mother. Stephon would never forget the shit he saw her go through as a little boy, and how helpless he felt to stop it. While he hadn't always done the right thing as an adult, he knew one thing was always right: Have no sympathy for these fuck niggas.

He smoothed out his jacket and headed back into the bar for something to eat, knowing he'd done his quiet neighborhood, and more importantly, Nyma, a favor that he could never speak of. 

Stephon wasn't sure how Nyma would react, but he'd make sure to keep an eye on her. As a good neighbor should.

・・━━━━━━━━ ∞ ━━━━━━━━・・

Four weeks.

Four weeks without her husband. Four weeks alone in a new town she didn't want to be in anymore. Four weeks of losing her fucking mind.

The only thing holding Nyma together was the fact that she had to hold it together because there was nothing else she could do. She couldn't afford to go home to Atlanta, not when Tyree's funeral expenses drained her savings, as well as the bills of the home they purchased together suddenly all hers to manage.

And Nyma got her money's worth as she worked from home but even on her off days, all she did was stay inside, wallowing around the big, empty space that didn't even feel lively with her fur baby, Maddie, prancing around, oblivious to Tyree's absence. But Nyma felt it, felt it every day as she adjusted to waking up by herself, cooking for herself, and going to sleep by herself.

Maybe she could have reached out to her mother-in-law for assistance getting back to Atlanta, but they weren't on good terms before Tyree's death and they sure as hell weren't now as she indirectly blamed Nyma and the move for killing him. Another slap in the face, she thought, as Nyma called her the same night Tyree didn't come from the bar he went to earlier, and called her again a few hours later when his body had been discovered. A broken neck. The police deemed it a homicide but had no suspects as who in the fuck would want to hurt Tyree when no one here knew him? 

Nyma ached inside when the thought of him gone made her feel the tiniest bit relieved as she knew him and the monster he could be. That was something she didn't tell his mother, or anyone for that matter. She was estranged from her own parents, she was an only child, and all of her friends back home only suspected Tyree's behavior but never confronted her on it because they probably knew Nyma wouldn't tell the truth, anyway.

But that was all over now. He was gone and Nyma was free. Yet she still felt like a prisoner in her home most days as she didn't have the energy to do much. And as she sat on her porch for the fifth consecutive Friday night, a cigarette between her fingers as she watched the smoke unfurl into the air, she heard a door to her right open.

Out walked Stephon, his black and gold locs pulled back off his face into a ponytail that fell down his back, clad in his leather jacket and black combat boots like he always was when she saw him. And like always, he came up to her and sat down on the steps beside her. Yet tonight, his hands were empty as she told him earlier in the week she was stocked up on care packages. For the last month on Fridays, he'd brought her groceries and even packs of cigarettes that he fussed at her for smoking.

He was the only part of her day that didn't suck, his good neighborly ways evolving into a little friendship. She was grateful for him and that he made good on his promise from the first day they met that he'd be there for her if she needed anything, including someone to talk to. She told him just enough to ease her spirit, like a little of what she went through with Tyree.

In turn, Stephon was thoughtful, patient, and compassionate. And it didn't hurt that he was very easy on the eyes, she thought, his deep brown skin perfect, same as his smile that he decorated with gold top grillz. But Nyma tried not to flirt with the man. She didn't think she was ready for it, didn't feel right so soon after, especially when Stephon had an aura to him that she couldn't quite place. 

Nothing too unsettling as she enjoyed his company when they sat together like this on her porch, but each time she caught his gaze she could have sworn she saw an abyss of dark stories untold that looked back at her. As much as they talked, she knew she hadn't heard even half of those stories. Which was only fair as she had her own that he was ignorant of, as well. She just didn't want to scare him off, not when she appreciated him so much.

"Don't you get hot in that?" Nyma asked him teasingly, shooing away her thoughts and gently elbowing his sleeved forearm. He bristled at her touch yet laughed softly.

"Naw. I don't get hot like that. Don't you get tired of them things?" he asked back as she ashed her cigarette.

"This is the first one I've had today. I'm slowin' down. And maybe you shouldn't bring me any if that's how you feel." She stuck her tongue out at him and he scrunched up his nose to make her grin.

"You right, you right. As of tonight, I'm done enablin' you. But what else can I do to make you smile like that?" Stephon joked but then his tone softened as he licked his lips. Nyma wanted to pretend she didn't notice the coquettishness that slipped into his deep voice, but she couldn't ignore the way it made her heart pound. It was something that happened often, but he never pressed her for anything more than her comfort, something that endeared her to him more than she was willing to admit.

"Maybe we can finally go to that jazz club you told me about," Nyma heard herself say and shocked herself. Shocked him, too, as his eyes widened along with his smile. He'd offered a few times to get her out of the house and show her around Dallas, the nearest and biggest city to their little lavish neighborhood, but of course, she always turned him down. It was that familial fear of this slightly strange, yet kind and beautiful man, and fear of her own guilt for being intrigued by him.

Yet something in Nyma was drawn to him all the same, and perhaps her own body knew before she did that it was time to at least have one pleasant weekend.

"Really? You sure? 'Cause you know I don't mean to pressure you. I just think you'll enjoy yourself. The vibe fits you," Stephon said as he ran a hand over his beard and eyed her with his handsome smile.

"Yeah? What's my vibe?" She was genuinely curious given all he'd seen of her were these visits where she'd brood on her porch and he'd do his best to cheer her up before he went to work for his overnight shift. That was another reason she hadn't taken him up on his offer sooner—his unconventional schedule clashed with hers as while she was up and at it during the day, he was asleep. But the excitement that filled his pretty brown eyes let Nyma know the only plans he had tonight were for her. 

"Vibrant. Sweet. And beautiful," Stephon replied, his eyes still on hers as he licked his lips again. Nyma felt her heart thrum in her chest again, but she tried to hide her smile as she playfully rolled her eyes and tossed her cigarette butt into the grass. But he saw her coy joy and smiled back before he added eagerly, "So you down to go, for real? Right now?"

"Let me freshen up first, but yeah. I'm down," Nyma said with her smile still stuck on her lips as she excused herself to head inside her home. She quickly changed out of the pink cotton sweatsuit and headwrap she'd lived in the past month to shower, race through moisturizing with shea butter all over her skin, and slip into a little black dress that stopped just shy of her knees before she fluffed out her dark afro to frame her slender face. 

She hated to keep him waiting even though she rushed as she spritzed herself with vanilla perfume, threw on a pair of gold hoop earrings, and shoved her little feet into black slingbacks as she headed back downstairs. Yet as she felt out of breath reaching her front door, Nyma suddenly felt silly for making an effort to look nice for her friend and their night out on the town.

But the way Stephon's eyes devoured her as soon as she stepped foot onto her porch let her know he didn't mind the hold-up. She blushed when he offered his arm to her to help her down the steps, her cheeks growing warmer as he reminded her in a gentle tone, "You didn't have to change. But you look really beautiful, Nyma..."

And again as they sat across from each other at the small, candlelit lounge table, Hennessy and Coke in their glasses after they clinked them and Stephon toasted, "To a beautiful night out. Hopefully as beautiful as you."   

It made Nyma roll her eyes again as he was a charming fool and he knew it, his own words making him laugh when she did. "You think I'm corny, don't you?" Stephon asked with a smirk before he sipped his drink. He had to speak up over the loud but incredible band on stage that played a smooth jazz rendition of SZA's "Love Galore."

Nyma nodded her head as she rested her elbows on the table. "Yeah, but I like it," she confessed slowly and let out a wistful sigh with it.

"But you don't like that you like it..." Stephon stated. Before she could come up with an excuse, he added, "Don't feel bad. You been through a lot and the last thing I wanna do is make shit more complicated for you."

"I know..." Nyma sighed again and took a big sip of her drink. She wasn't someone who sipped often and it was already getting to her head, making her feel warm, fuzzy, and perhaps too honest. But she heard herself admit to him anyway, "I wanna dance with you. I don't wanna feel bad right now. Let's dance."

She downed the last sip of her drink and stood up from the table before Stephon could answer, and thankfully he didn't protest. Yet as he led her to the dance floor amongst the throngs of other couples that swayed close together to the music, she noticed he held her at almost an arm's length, his cool hands barely on her waist. "You shy now?" Nyma teased and he grinned a tad sheepishly.

"Tryna be a gentleman," he said as he towered over her, but she could see the abrupt shyness in his eyes when he was usually so smooth. Maybe it was because they had never touched, not even for a hug, but where he was oddly hesitant, Nyma and her liquid courage made her close the space between them and slip her arms around his neck.

She felt him tremble and so did she as he felt chilly to the touch. The jazz club was definitely cool to fight off the summer heat outside and the hot bodies inside, but Stephon was cold like ice. "I see why you wear this jacket all the time. You must get cold easily," Nyma remarked as he moved with her to the rhythm of the lovely saxophone crooning from the stage.

"I do, but it keeps me warm," he replied as he gazed down at her. Now that their bodies were touching, he seemed to settle back into himself, his mysterious eyes locking with hers as she gazed up at him. The mystery of him still grasped at her, tempting her to ask questions, but the way his large hands slid a bit lower on her and grasped her hips pulled her attention away.

"Do I keep you warm, too? You holdin' me mighty close," Nyma blurted barely above a whisper.

"Too close?" Stephon asked and she was surprised he heard her over the music. It made her blush but she shook her head before she rested it on his chest. She let herself get swept away in how he and the music held her as they slow-danced, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel content...

Nyma had a difficult time pulling herself away from that closeness as she clung to Stephon who helped her up her porch steps. She was tipsier than she meant to get after a couple more drinks, but she felt good, albeit a little embarrassed as Stephon seemed to be able to hold his liquor impeccably. He had taken a few shots of Hennessy after she called it quits and was still able to stand up straight as they danced and laughed together until the last call.

Once he ordered them a Lyft to their neighborhood, she expected him to go pass out in his house, but he was a gentleman as he said, and got her home safely first. He stood behind her now as he waited for her to let herself inside, her fingers missing her keys each time they fished through her purse. "Got 'em," Nyma mumbled as she finally whipped them out and turned to Stephon who leaned against one of the porch's columns with his hands in his black jeans pockets. "Give me a good night hug," she demanded and nearly tripped in her heels trying to walk over him.

His hands shot out to steady her yet she crashed into him. He held her to his chest for a hug before his cool lips pressed to her forehead for a quick kiss. "Good night, beautiful," he murmured before he let her go but she held on, her hands on his muscular biceps behind his jacket. She hoped the look in her eyes reached him like how his reached her, feeling bold enough from the Henny to want his lips on hers, but feeling too shamed to ask for it.

And so Nyma let words fail her altogether and instead she grabbed his face into her hands and pressed her lips to his. It was quick, as quick as his peck on her, but the feel of his soft, cool lips made her heart thump so wildly in her chest that she felt sinful to like it. 

"You ain't mean to do that," Stephon breathed as her thumbs caressed his beard and his hands caressed her waist. Yet he didn't let go as he declared quietly, "We're drunk. I don't want you doin' some shit you'll regret tomorrow."

"I won't regret a kiss...will you?" Nyma breathed, too, and when he shook his head, she pulled it back to hers as their lips met again. The unusual coolness of his skin made hers tingle, made a part of her brain tingle with a hushed warning that she neglected as the bigger sensation was warmth. 

Warmth in her cheeks from his soft mouth that moved on hers so slowly, so deeply. Warmth from beneath her dress where his fingers gently dug into her skin. Warmth between her legs when his tongue tasted hers and then her neck, drawing little circles that she suddenly wanted to feel even lower on her body.

Nyma couldn't remember the last time such a succulent warmth threatened to consume her as she'd busied herself with every negative thought her mind had to offer. Yet there was something about Stephon, something that eased her mind and yearned to let him in...

"Come inside. Please," she whispered on his lips and she didn't have to beg as he followed her through the door once she unlocked it. Usually, Maddie would come running to greet her, but she mercifully stayed put wherever she was, probably too tired at this late hour to move. Nyma was grateful as even though her dog had somewhat warmed up to Stephon, she would still weirdly bark her head off if he moved too fast around her.

And the way he moved with her now, their bodies falling all over each other as they sloppily kissed would probably look frightening. But Nyma leaned into it, leaned into him and the scary good feeling he gave her as his mouth covered hers and then her neck yet again, his teeth grazing her skin as he cupped her ass in his hands. He lifted her up and sat her on the wooden end table in her foyer, the structure and the lamp on it wobbling a bit as he leaned into her, too, wrapping her thighs around his waist as his tongue found the spot on her neck that made her whimper in his ear.

"I like the sound of that," Stephon softly growled on her skin, his big hands squeezing her hips to make her do it again. His lips brushed along her collarbone before he kissed it and said, "Bet you taste as delicious as you sound..."

"Find out..." Nyma huffed as his tongue twirled along her exposed breasts in her dress that he held to his mouth. Stephon hummed as his hands fell back to her thighs, inching up them until he found the hem of her thong that he pulled down slowly, his eyes on hers as he did it like he wanted her approval every step of the way. But Nyma meant it when she said she wouldn't regret a kiss...even if it was between her thighs.

Stephon sank onto his knees, his hands never leaving her as his mouth found her skin again, found her bare warmth dripping for him as he met it with unhurried kisses that made Nyma sink onto the table. She tried to find her balance as she clutched at the ends of it, but the more he coated her with wet kisses that swiftly used his cool tongue to lap up the juices she was spilling into his mouth, the less she could hang on. Her thighs shook around Stephon's head as he gripped them, gazing up at her as he wagged his tongue on her sweetest spot before he kissed it and made her nearly knock over the lamp to her right.

"Right there...right there, unnhhh," Nyma cried, her flailing hands finally landing on his head to hold him right there as he flicked his tongue just so..."Stephon, unhhh, ffffuck..." 

The fluttering warmth swallowed her up even with the curious coolness of his mouth, that very thing making her orgasm stronger as it clashed so enticingly with the heat pulsing through her body. Nyma couldn't stop moaning, couldn't stop the good feeling if she tried, as Stephon unlocked it and controlled it as he kept his mouth on her until her grip on his locs loosened while she came down slowly.

"Fuckin' delicious," he nearly moaned, too, as his tongue ran over her lower lips before it trailed outward to her thigh. She shivered from his teasing licks and shivered harder when his teeth nipped at her sensitive skin. She liked it, fondling his head as she whimpered and watched him kiss her before he bit her, a proper bite that made her shriek and shove his head away.

"What the hell?!" Nyma cried in a different way, tears dotting her eyes as her inner thigh glared with pain. She stared down to see her own red blood oozing from the small break in her brown skin. She couldn't believe her eyes for a moment, realizing she was drunk but not that drunk, and her eyes flashed to Stephon who now rose to his full height to loom over her. He looked just as startled as she was, his lips parted slightly in tipsy awe. She could see his gold grillz...as well as the elongated fangs on either side of them that gleamed with her blood.

"I'm sor—"

"W-what's goin' on? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Nyma interrupted in a stammer, her brain stammering, too, as she knew exactly what she was looking at but she didn't want to accept it because no. No, they don't exist. They aren't real creatures.

Yet she could tell Stephon recognized the question shouting in her head from the horror on her face—and his own face smoothed over with an uncanny yet clumsily beautiful grin as he professed, "Yes. I'm a vampire."

"Are you goin' t-to eat me?" Nyma mouthed with a silent scream threatening to ring out, all at once believing him and every myth she ever heard about vampires. She wanted to run but she felt frozen, her eyes fixated on him and those long fangs that his tongue swiped over to clean her blood from them, the very same tongue that was dipped in her nectar. It made her heart thunder so hard in her chest she thought she might die, and yet in the same vein, she felt gravely aroused by him still.

Especially as Stephon uttered, "I already did, beautiful. But I wouldn't mind gettin' another taste."

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! 🖤

Whew! I didn't think I'd get it up on time (and technically I didn't LMAO), but it's finally here! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed!

Part 2 coming later this week because, dammit, let's celebrate Halloween a lil longer. 😈

Tag squad 🫶🏾

@harlem11680 @mzv11 @visionarymode @miyuhpapayuh @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @angelreigns444 @vebner37 @flawlessvictory2020 @dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @nayys-world @msbigredmachine @purplehairgawdess @dayjlovesromance @solosikoasgf @mohawkmama @smuts-whore @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @christinabae @itsautomaticfaegirl @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @iguessilikewrestlingnow @seeingstarks @555sage @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @weirdosandhopelessromantics @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @twocentuar @sassginaswanmills @gomussy @theglamclosetsl @baeusos @2-muchsauce @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal

#swerve strickland #aew fic #swerve strickland fic #aew fanfiction #swerve strickland smut #swerve strickland fanfiction #aew smut #swerve strickland x oc #spilled ink #all elite wrestling #aew wrestling #vampire story #vampire smut

[starryrain]

a long night

a cute little fic i wrote today! it is set like a year after s2 of good omens and you can read it just under the cut !! both of them are male presenting in this, but i might write a fem one because i am a sucker for sapphic stuff.

let me know if you want a part 2 !!

description: aziraphale and crowley aren't talking, but they decide to meet one final time.

Crowley looked out of the window of the Bentley, their glasses slung low. He turned his head, the phone in his palm buzzing absurdly. With a clench of his jaw, he flung it into the backseat, where it undoubtedly hit one of his new plants. 

“Sorry, darlings,” he said, patting a leaf. “But that’s what happens when leaves go the slightest tinge of yellow.” He sighed, slamming his foot down on the accelerator. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t care. 

A chirpy, familiar voice rang through the speakers of the phone. “I don’t have leaves, Crowley. And I’m a singular being!” 

A skid of tyres against asphalt. A chain of hastily muttered curses. And the scramble into the backseat to retrieve his phone. 

“I wasn’t talking to you!” He yelled into the phone. “I don’t talk to…to-” 

“What? Your friends?” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, and Crowley hated himself for having missed it. 

No. No. You did not miss a thing. You do not miss that cowardly bastard. 

“You are not my friend. I don’t have friends. I despise you.”

A soft laugh and a twinge struck the heart that Crowley didn’t have. “So you’ll talk to your plants, but not me?” 

He hung up the phone with no words, only a sigh, resting his hands on his temples. Flipping off the cars that were honking behind him through the window, he set his foot onto the pedal, heading for his flat, where he would put his new plant, and then drink copious amounts of alcohol. Whisky, preferably. Crowley likes whisky. Aziraphale hated whisky and had always complained about the sharp- 

NO! No thinking of that useless slop! He bit down on his tongue, driving faster and skidding as he parked the Bentley in front of his flat.

The door flew open with a flick of his hand, and Crowley walked through the hallway, his new plant in hand. Setting them down, Crowley flung himself onto his chair, taking his glasses off before leaning his head back and closing his eyes, before opening them again to find one of his bottles of Talisker. 

The Talisker was smooth and everything that Crowley needed. Before he knew it, night had begun to drape its’ sleepy embrace over London. And if he could see the stars, Crowley would’ve laid back on the roof of his flat, watching his creations dull out with the light pollution of the city. It was a punishment of the highest cruelty, but he had accepted it long ago. Running a hand through his crimson hair, Crowley cradled the half-empty bottle, his peace undisturbed. 

Well, his peace was undisturbed until the answering machine rang. He frowned, letting the caller talk. 

“Crowley! You answered!” Crowley shot up in his chair at the sound of hearing the angel’s voice for the second time that day. 

“No! I am not talking to you!” He went to hang up, but he tripped on the chair, hitting his head on the edge of his desk. “Fuck!” 

“Are you alright, dear?” 

“Shut up!” 

Crowley could practically hear Aziraphale’s eyebrows raising. “Very well.” He sighed and gritted his teeth. 

“Why are you calling, Angel?” 

A pause. Silence that Crowley hated. “It’s been a while since one of our dinners. I thought we could go somewhere and eat. The Ritz-” 

“Things have changed,” choked Crowley. “It’s like you said, nothing lasts forever.” 

A sigh came from the answering machine. “Just one last time? Then I’ll never talk to you again.” 

What was once a threat, now an offer. How the tables turned. Though it still felt like a threat.

Crowley sighed. “Just this one time. And then we’ll never see each other again.” 

“Done.” 

Aziraphale paced around the bookshop, ignoring the concerned look that Muriel was giving him.

“You haven’t actually sold any books, have you?” He asked, frowning. 

Muriel shook their head with a smile. “Of course not! Crowley comes in every week to check in, too! We’ve decided to keep it open one day a week and close the rest! And nobody even cares!” They let out a laugh. “Humans are so interesting!

Aziraphale continued pacing, adjusting his bowtie. The last time. It’s the last time. And then we’ll never talk again. That’s good, right? 

The door swung open, and a bell rang. “We’re closed-!” 

“I know, Angel,” remarked Crowley dryly, and Aziraphale spun on his heel, finding Crowley at the door, leaning against the frame, in an all black double-breasted suit that looked oddly similar to the one that he wore on their 1941 escapade. 

And Aziraphale was back in the same spot as a year ago, and the ghost of Crowley’s pressed his lips on his. It ran a shudder down his spine. Shaking himself out of the memory, Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, locking the shop up and sitting in the Bentley for a second before Crowley flashed a grim smile at him and slammed his foot down on the pedal. 

The Ritz twinkled with many lights, and as they passed through the building, Crowley settled into the familiar feeling of being with Aziraphale. They sat themselves at a miraculously empty table, ordering quietly and waiting for their food to arrive. In the meantime, Crowley popped open a bottle of champagne that he had swiped from someone else’s table, gave himself a generous serving of the drink, and then poured the same into Aziraphale’s glass, ignoring his bright smile. 

Bless him and his smiles, scorned Crowley. Stupid, pretty angel. 

“For the record, this doesn’t mean I like you,” he said, sipping on his champagne. 

Aziraphale shrugged. “Nor do I. The feeling is mutual.” 

“Very mutual. But I don’t like you more than you don’t like me.” 

Aziraphale frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.” He sipped his own drink, eyeing Crowley carefully. 

FUCK.

“So, what’s new?” He asked, setting down his glass and slouching further in his chair. “Y’know, in Heaven. Because you went there. And left me.” He smirked, drinking some more champagne and saying nothing, only making a bemused expression at Aziraphale’s face. 

“Well, doesn’t the food look lovely?” grinned Aziraphale as his plate was set on the table. Crowley rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

Aziraphale and Crowley were both terribly, horribly full. And awkward. The drive back to the bookshop was quiet between the two of them; the air was heavy with tension. Crowley had played on Aziraphale’s feelings, and he seemed actually regretful about his actions. Aziraphale couldn’t do much; he could only eat his food and drink the alcohol. So he settled for looking at Crowley the entire night. 

Crowley noticed, of course. He noticed anything Aziraphale did.

It wasn’t hard; he looked fantastic. Of course, Aziraphale wouldn’t admit that out loud. Well, he would, with the right amount of alcohol and coercion. But Crowley didn’t really feel like coercing his… whatever Aziraphale and he were into admitting that he looked fantastic.

He parked a block away from the bookshop, a habit that he had clearly not forgotten. In comfortable silence, they walked inside and settled on chairs. Crowley’s chair crinkled with a sound of paper, and he realised that it was because he was sitting on a note. Standing up and tossing his glasses aside, he read the note aloud:

Mr. Sir Aziraphale, 

I am out for a walk to go communicate with the funny humans down the road. They said I can stay ‘for the night’, so I am going to do that, whatever it is. Mr. ‘I’m Not Nice’ Crowley knows what I mean. I think. Thank you!!!

-Muriel :)

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Sir Aziraphale?” He laughed, putting the note away. 

Aziraphale shook his head. “Mr. ‘I’m Not Nice’?”

“Oh, shut up.” 

Aziraphale smiled that fucking smile. That. Fucking. Smile. And the fact that, from the angle he was at, it looked like he was kneeling- 

Crowley looked away, giving himself a moment to regain composure. “Why did you leave, Angel?” 

Aziraphale’s smile dropped. “Why didn’t you stay, Angel? I…I needed you!” He choked out, blinking hard. 

Crowley shook his head, clearing his throat. “And yet, you still have nothing to say.” 

“I didn’t have a choice.” 

Crowley scoffed. “Yes, you bloody did!” 

Aziraphale stood up, his hands trembling. “No. Look at me, Crowley.” Crowley, against his will, looked at Aziraphale. “I. Didn’t. Have. A. Choice.” 

“You still left,” sulked Crowley. Aziraphale threw his hands up, scoffing. 

“What are you scoffing for? I have a genuine issue, and you’re all, ‘Oh, it’s not my fault’, like that’s going to help!” 

Crowley was frowning now, his hands on his hips as he ranted. Aziraphale had turned around, pressing his hands to his temples.

“And you’re all wishy-washy and nice, and-” 

Crowley stopped talking. Because Aziraphale was holding his head in his hands. And he was kissing him. And Crowley was kissing him back. 

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Aziraphale whispered, his breath tickling Crowley, before kissing him again.

Crowley pulled back, his chest heaving with heavy and rapid breaths. Clenching his jaw, he pushed a confused-looking Aziraphale back onto his chair, cradling the angel’s jaw. 

“I still don’t like you,” he whispered. "But... there are some things I need to do,” he said, before clambering on top of Aziraphale. 

Oh, it was going to be a long night.

#anthony j crowley #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic rec #good omens fic #good omens angst #good omens possible smut

[astrosky33]

𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐏 #𝟑

[READ] Rest In peace Tyre Sampson. I mean no disrespect by posting this it’s solely to inform people

Tyre Sampson fell off of a 400 foot tall ride in Orlando, Florida. Like I always say do not participate in anything with the possibility of you getting hurt or that’s risky on a 7 or a 9 day

The day this happened was on March 24th. March is the 3rd month so 3+2+4=9. He passed on a 9 day which is the number of completion/endings in Numerology

I’m only posting this because I want people to know Numerology is very real and to stay safe

You need to check all 3 numbers in the date to stay safe. Also avoid 7 because it’s the number of injuries and 11

MORE NUMEROLOGY

#numerology #numerology help #tyre sampson #orlando florida #7 numerology #9 numerology

[victusinveritas]

"I grew up on these 'mean streets'. They look peaceful, bucolic, even. But in the chill of a winter's afternoon, as the weak failing sun falls to its early rest, and there's no sound but the haunting echo of the rooks and crows, then these lanes come alive. You don't see much. But you feel things. You know they are there, watching, waiting. You know that fairies don't exist - but you also know, that if you should ever hear their music, you must not fall into step nor dance to it. You know that there are no such things as pixies, but you also know that you must always leave some crumb for them, as a tribute for crossing their land. Some pay no heed - city folk on holiday, ignorant of country ways - but then they get a flat tyre, or an oil leak. One way or another, the Old Land will have its revenge on those who do not tread lightly upon it. Salute the magpie. Touch the smooth-worn branch on the crossroads tree. And so you move on, turning up your collar against the wind, and scuttling home beneath dark arch of overhanging branches, hoping that your bones will not be added to those of the centuries."-Elliot Bulmer.

#folklore #folklife #traditions #country lane

[delicatuscii-wasbella102]

I have just watched the body cam footage of this poor man being murdered by Memphis police.

I am disgusted and sickened by the way these five policemen beat and kicked this poor man to death and to hear him calling for his mum was heartbreaking!

My love and thoughts are with his family at such a painful time.

Rest in peace Tyre <3

#tyre nichols

[skitzoprincepnw]

1.29.23

Helping raise awareness and share this memorial fundraiser..

This world we live in can be so cruel and some of the sweetest ones are taken too soon..

Rest now Tyre Nichols, let us help you and your family get justice..

#pnwlife #pacific northwest #fundrasier #gofundme #injustice #tyre nichols #police brutally #rest in peace #fly high #we got this #memphis #peaceful protest #Spotify

[skytooru]

SEIJOH FIGHTERS

tooru oikawa x fem!reader

warnings. heavy depiction of violence, death, guns, kidnapping, angst, drugs, alcohol/intoxication, physical assault, blood/injuries

a/n. Excuse my grammar and all that, English is not my first language and I haven’t written anything in ages :,) kinda inspired by minghuaa’s fighter au art on Twitter!

series masterlist + chapter 2

y/n’s pov

It´s a nice summer night. I´m on my way home from a birthday party with my parents, driving through the city of Buenos Aires, watching the few passing cars and all the buildings around us through the window of the car. By this time, the city seems empty almost, as if everyone has left without leaving a single trail. It´s quiet and calm. I only hear the soft roaring of the engine and a faint voice coming from the radio in the front part of the car.

My mother has been quiet almost the entire ride back home, just like my dad in the driver´s seat. They´re probably tired, just like me. Everything seems so peaceful, until i hear a faint „bang“, just as i was closing my eyes to rest until we reach our home. I rip my eyes open and i see my dad pulling on the staring wheel in panic, my mom also wide awake, screaming at him.

„WHAT WAS THAT“

„I don´t know! A tyre ripped, Im losing control over the car!“

I couldn’t do anything but watch my father try to regain control over the damaged car. I feel paralyzed, numb and mute all at the same time. Everything seems so distant and dull as i watch the car forcing him to steer onto the pavement, my mom´s screams in my ear. I can see tears in her eyes as i listen to her begging for my dad to do something. It feels like time stands still as i hear another loud bang, and a second one following from the other side. All of this happened in the span of a few seconds, but for me it felt like hours.

I sit up straight in my seat in the back of the car as I hear glass shattering and shards flying through the air. Both of my parents turn silent, my dad´s hands dropping lifelessly into his lap. The car keeps driving and the moment it hits a lantern, I wake up. I’m drenched in sweat, screaming at the top of my lungs.

It´s been a few months since it happened. Since someone shot our car and then both of my parents. Since i lost everything i had in one night. My parents, my home, my happiness.

I let a few weeks pass, taking care of the injuries I gained from the accident. I fell into a deep hole of misery and depression. I pushed all my responsibilities such as uni, my friends and people I care about to the back of my mind and completely isolated myself. The time that has passed since the death of my parents has felt like years, even though it has only been a few months.

People have tried to reach out to me, concerned about my physical and mental health, but I stayed stubborn, not letting anyone into my bubble of sadness. Nightmares have been torturing me but then it suddenly all stopped. I managed to get a grip and get back to life. But not here. Not in this hell of a city. Not on this hell of a country.

I need a break. A restart even, so I took all the money I had, including everything I have inherited from my mom and dad and started a new life in Tokyo. My real home.

My parents and I moved from Japan to Argentina a couple of years ago, due to my father finding a new job over there. Even though I missed my friends and the rest of my family, i loved being in Buenos Aires, but i couldn’t keep living there for the life of me. The images of my parents kept following me everywhere i went. Everything seemed to be connected to them.

I fled here to escape the nightmares and the deep depression i fell into, back there. I needed to restart life, gain new hope, make more good memories to suppress the thoughts of my parents, especially the images of them lying there in the car, lifeless, drenched in blood, holes i their heads. Just thinking about it sends chills down my spine.

One thing i did not want to replace with something new was my passion for fighting, especially MMA. My dad has been teaching me to kickbox since I was a child. It’s one of the few things that connect us. We had a very strong bond and a great relationship, maybe even through our shared hobby.

He taught some teenagers besides me to fight, though, i never really had much contact to them. I only remember one boy, but i cant really recall what he looked like or what his name was.

Now here I am, lying in my new bed in my new apartment in my old new home, Tokyo.

I look at the clock that’s sitting on my nightstand.

05:00 AM

fuck, i have to get up in one hour

Fuck it. I get out of bed and head straight towards the bathroom. I wash my face with cold water and apply some moisturizer to calm down my skin from unknowingly crying in my sleep.

„I thought i was over that shit“ i mumble under my breath.

The nightmares have stopped after some time, but they’ve been coming back the past few nights, probably due to the stress im going through because of university right now.

I make my way to the kitchen aisle standing on the other side of my apartment. It’s not very big, but its not small either. When looking from the entrance door, there’s a bathroom right on the left and the bedroom on the right side, at the end of the small hallway is an open space. Towards the left there’s a kitchen with a cooking island and bar stools placed around it and to the right, separated with an open shelf, there’s the living area with a pretty big white leather sofa, a coffee table and a big tv mounted on the wall. Overall its a very open and bright apartment, everything in beige and other light colors and a lot of plants and simple decoration everywhere.

I get out of the bathroom and walk right into the kitchen area to make myself some coffee. While my drink is brewing i grab a banana and finish eating it, right as the coffee machine turns off. I walk over to my sofa and sit down , placing the mug right next to my MacBook sitting on the small coffee table. I have another hour before i need to leave for Uni.

Im studying pharmacy, currently in my 3rd year. Only 2 more years to go. Thank god.

Since i woke up so abruptly and knew I couldn’t get back to sleep, i decided to revise some stuff for a test this week. I sit there for a good half an hour, reading through the notes i made on the topics for the test. I have to pass it, to be able to continue my studies, which puts a lot of pressure on myself. Maybe the reason why my mental health is getting worse again.

Luckily i was able to continue my studies here in japan without having to do it all over again. Ain’t no fucking way I’m gonna go through this hell one more time. I would’ve rather dropped out and starting working as a cashier or sum. No offense to cashiers though of course.

Times Flies. It’s already noon and i make my way out of uni, to the gym down the street. It’s become my second home since I moved here and I made a few friends in the small amount of time I’ve spent here. The gym is specialized for mixed martial arts, owned by a group of friends called Nekoma boxers. Kuroo, the head of the whole thing, is a great guy, we got along quite well since the second I first set foot into the gym.

I enter the building and the familiar scent of sweat and deodorant hits me and i hear 50cent playing from the speakers.

„Yo y/n! Wassup?“

A male voice comes from the reception and as i look over there, i see a big guy with black hair look at me.

He really does look like a rooster

„´Sup Kuroo. How´ve you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.“, I smile as i walk over to him. I notice another guy with brown, soft looking hair standing next to him, staring at me with his chocolate brown eyes. He’s wearing a white compression shirt and white trackpants with teal accents.

„You’re exaggerating, I’ts been like a week“, he laughs.

„Yea that’s what i said. Ages“, I say as I finally reach the two of them, putting my bag down on the counter.

„Who’s that?“, I nod at the brown haired guy.

„Oh thats Oikawa, my friend. He just came back from Argentina. What a coincidence, eh? You both lived in Buenos Aires.“

I greet him as I swipe my membership card to check in.

„Tooru Oikawa, nice to meet you“, the guy says with a soft, charming voice.

I look back up at him, shaking the hand he stretched out to me.

„Hi, nice to meet you.“

I muster him, noticing his eyes glowing under the lights of the gym. His features are soft, but he looks good, very put together. His shoulders are broad and I look at the sleeves of the shirt he’s wearing wrapping themselves snugly around his big and toned biceps. Somehow he seems familiar but I can’t quite make out where I’ve seen him before.

My eyes wander over ro Kuroo, who’s looking at me with a knowing expression.

„Aight boys“, I clap my hands together, „enough chit chat. I have some training to do“, i say to break the silence.

„What you training?“, the guy who introduced himself as Oikawa asks me.

„I kickbox.“

„For real? Didn’t know pretty girls like you can fight“, he say with a cheeky smile on his face.

I roll my eyes at his flirty words and try to concentrate to prevent my face from turning red. fucking bastard.

I tell him about my passion and how my dad taught me how to fight, his face neutral, yet showing a spark of excitement.

„You sound pretty confident for a little girl like you. Mind showing me some moves?“

„Sure if you’re brave enough to fight me“.

I wont let a motherfucker like him mess around with me like that.

He grins at me and leaves Kuroo, who has been listening to the conversation, now excited for the fight, and me standing there at the reception and walks into the staff room.

„What a prick“, is the only thing i have to say to Tetsu, before heading to the dressing rooms. With him, preparing for the upcoming training with Oikawa.

all rights reserved 2023 - skytooru - do not repost or translate my work on any platform

#oikawa hcs #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa torū #hq angst #hq x reader #hq x you #hq oikawa #haikyuu #oikawa haikyuu #oikawa smut

[damnea]

Christopher Awdry's annual stories 1989

---

I think I mentioned this story in the tags of my last post.

This is one those annual stories thats been adapted quite a bit, but its always nice to be able to read the story itself.

Old Square Wheels

The Fat Controller had borrowed a diesel. He told Duck to show the new engine round, but Diesel made mistakes, and the trucks began singing cheeky songs about him.

Trucks are waiting in the Yard: tackling them with ease'll.

"Show the world what I can do." gaily boasts the Diesel.

In and out he creeps about, like a big black weasel.

When he pulls the wrong trucks out. Pop goes the Diesel!

Duck was cross, and told the trucks to stop, but Diesel thought the song was Duck's fault.

"I'll pay him out," Diesel said to himself, but he couldn't think how.

"It's not fair," he complained to Henry, Gordon and James. "I never get a moment's peace from these rude trucks, and it's all because of that Duck!"

"Nonsense," said Henry. "Duck would never do that. It would be des...des..."

"Disgraceful!" put in Gordon. "Disgusting!" said James.

"Despicable!" finished Henry.

Diesel was not convinced. He spent the rest of the day wondering how he would get his own back.

Next day, Henry's trucks chattered amongst themselves, and paid no attention to him. They were very full and wanted to take it out on someone. "Why not Henry?" they whispered to each other.

"Wait until I give the word," said the front truck. At last the signal went down. "Come on you." Henry ordered shortly.

Reluctantly, and still chattering, the trucks followed him out of the yard.

All went well until they reached the top of the hill. "Steady," Henry warned the trucks. They heard, but they took no notice.

"Now!" Shouted the front truck.

"Go on, go on!" Yelled the trucks as, surging against Henry's tender, they pushed as hard as they could.

"Stop, stop!" Wailed Henry, and his driver braked as hard as he dared. But Henry couldn't hold the heavy trucks properly - his wheels locked, and he slithered, out of control, down the hill with the stupid trucks cheering and shouting behind him.

"Help, help!" Whistled Henry despairingly.

Thomas, waiting in the branch line platform, saw Henry coming, but could do nothing to help. But the hill ended before reaching the station, and Henry was at last able to bring the silly trucks under control.

Gradually his driver eased off the brakes. When he was sure that the trucks were behaving themselves, Henry came to a controlled stop. "Phew!" he said. "What stupid things trucks are- they could have caused an accident."

"Never mind," said Thomas. "They didn't, that's the main thing. You did well to stop them."

Thomas puffed away, and after a while Henry set off again. But something strange seemed to have happened to his wheels. Each time they went round there was a 'clunk' when they reached a certain spot. "What's that?" he asked after a while.

Illustration pulled from wiki

"You've got a flat tyre," said the driver.

"What?" objected Henry indignantly. "Engines don't get flat tyres. Only cars and lorries - and buses like Bertie - get them." His driver laughed.

"It's the trucks' fault," he explained. "All that sliding on the hill, with your wheels locked in the same place, has worn a flat place on each of your driving wheels. You'll have to go to the Works, I'm afraid."

They clunked to the end of the line, and Henry went crossly to the Shed. Duck was there, and Diesel. "What's the matter, Henry?" asked Duck. "Those trucks been playing you up, have they?"

"Yes, they have." snorted Henry. "Pushed me down the hill, and now Driver says I've got flat tyres."

"Ah," said Duck. "Bumpy, that. But you can't trust trucks, can you. Ah well, I hope you get your 'flats' sorted out all right." And he puffed off to see about the next train.

Diesel snickered. He'd just had an idea. Next day he spoke to the trucks.

"That was a good trick you played on Henry," he said. "He's got flat tyres now, and has gone to the Works to have them replaced." He paused.

"I shouldn't really tell you this," he went on quietly. "but! know you won't pass it on. Do you know Duck's new nickname for Henry? Old Square Wheels.

Good isn't it? Don't tell anyone I told you." The trucks promised, but as Duck had said, you cannot trust trucks.

When Henry came back from the Works the whisper went round. "Here's Old Square Wheels," it said. "Old Square Wheels is back."

As Diesel had expected, it was only a matter of time before the trucks told Henry that Duck had invented the nickname.

"I'll give him Duck," Henry said furiously. "Just wait till I see him again!"

The trucks snickered, and Diesel smirked with satisfaction.

"That worked well," he said to himself. "Now, what can I think up about Gordon?"

#ttte henry #ttte books #enjoying the annual stories so heres one of them #ah forgot to add the tags typical

[feelingsareforweak]

As far as Tony Tark could remember his brain never stopped. Be it during sleep, playing an instrument under Maria's gaze, listening to Howard's lectures (especially during those), later even during hardcore sex, under liters of alcohol influence or listening to defending volumes of music, his brain never stopped, it always ran, making away connections, planning new schematics, analyzing information, grouping different data for later, layering and processing it even before he consciously realised he was doing it, it was there.

There was proof of that. Professors at MIT unable to keep up with him, inventing world's first AI when even the world wide web was not in the market proper, singlehandedly making a multi-million dollar worth military depended contracting company to the first ever institution worth trillion due to his major contribution, the world's most patents holder, building iron man suit in a cave, with a box of scraps, under constant torture, brain scans staring from when he was just a toddler till his time of death were all proof of his constantly running mind.

He never really knew rest, with his highly active brain for his age during childhood, with constant research and studying during his early teenage years at MIT, with his alcohol and drug abuse ranging from his late teenage years to mid thirties, then constant guilt and nightmares, PTSD that was the aftermath of IronMan, his insomnia throughout the life, he never knew it,

But at the end, where he held the infinity stones in his left hand at the destroyed compound, gazing into the eyes of his loving wife, his best friend and brother in arms and the son that never saw grew, remembered the daughter that he may never see grow, he felt his brain stuttering, like a circuit that felt overloaded and finally shutting down when he realised what he thought was only possible in dreams was now happening in reality.

His brain was finally slowing down, his thoughts where he felt like a passenger who spend his entire life inside a racing car which now had bursted all of it's tyres and was slowing down and he was finally able to see what was around him for the first time in his life was when he was dying.

He desperately wished for that unfathomable rest for himself all his life, from when he was child unable go sleep more than 5 hours at night to the time after snap when everytime he closed his eyes he would see half of life turning into ash in his hands, he realised he was finally getting the peace that he dreamt of since he was 4 years of age but now he was dying.

He realised at those last few moments of his life, when he turned head towards his beautiful wife holding tears for him, his not-son who no matter what world may was was his in everything that mattered, his brother standing strong and grim, his daughter's innocent face in his mind's eye, he decided at that moment that if he ever had a reason to stop his brain then, it would be at this moment that he would pull brakes in the imaginary racing car where his family was in his view.

And as his wife said, he could finally rest.

#marvel #mcu #iron man #marvel mcu #mcu peter parker #tony stark #pepper potts #avengers endgame #tony's death #the thoughts of last few moments of a dying man #morgan stark #The last battle #respect #RIP Anthony Edward Stark #genius #billionaire #father #philanthropist #ironman #a Dad #a best friend #a ceo #a boss #a sir #a young master #a husband #a hope #mourning a great man as well as a better person than I ever hope to be