#Load Shedding Control

[renegadeelectrics]

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[reasonsforhope]

Article | Paywall Free

"The Food and Drug Administration approved new mRNA coronavirus vaccines Thursday [August 22, 2024], clearing the way for shots manufactured by Pfizer-BioNTech and Moderna to start hitting pharmacy shelves and doctor’s offices within a week.

Health officials encourage annual vaccination against the coronavirus, similar to yearly flu shots. Everyone 6 months and older should receive a new vaccine, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends.

The FDA has yet to approve an updated vaccine from Novavax, which uses a more conventional vaccine development method but has faced financial challenges.

Our scientific understanding of coronavirus vaccines has evolved since they debuted in late 2020. Here’s what to know about the new vaccines.

Why are there new vaccines?

The coronavirus keeps evolving to overcome our immune defenses, and the shield offered by vaccines weakens over time. That’s why federal health officials want people to get an annual updated coronavirus vaccine designed to target the latest variants. They approve them for release in late summer or early fall to coincide with flu shots that Americans are already used to getting.

The underlying vaccine technology and manufacturing process are the same, but components change to account for how the virus morphs. The new vaccines target the KP.2 variant because most recent covid cases are caused by that strain or closely related ones...

Do the vaccines prevent infection?

You probably know by now that vaccinated people can still get covid. But the shots do offer some protection against infection, just not the kind of protection you get from highly effective vaccines for other diseases such as measles.

The 2023-2024 vaccine provided 54 percent increased protection against symptomatic covid infections, according to a CDC study of people who tested for the coronavirus at pharmacies during the first four months after that year’s shot was released...

A nasal vaccine could be better at stopping infections outright by increasing immunity where they take hold, and one is being studied in a trial sponsored by the National Institutes of Health.

If you really want to dodge covid, don’t rely on the vaccine alone and take other precautions such as masking or avoiding crowds...

Do the vaccines help prevent transmission?

You may remember from early coverage of coronavirus vaccines that it was unclear whether shots would reduce transmission. Now, scientists say the answer is yes — even if you’re actively shedding virus.

That’s because the vaccine creates antibodies that reduce the amount of virus entering your cells, limiting how much the virus can replicate and make you even sicker. When vaccination prevents symptoms such as coughing and sneezing, people expel fewer respiratory droplets carrying the virus. When it reduces the viral load in an infected person, people become less contagious.

That’s why Peter Hotez, a physician and co-director of the Texas Children’s Hospital Center for Vaccine Development, said he feels more comfortable in a crowded medical conference, where attendees are probably up to date on their vaccines, than in a crowded airport.

“By having so many vaccinated people, it’s decreasing the number of days you are shedding virus if you get a breakthrough infection, and it decreases the amount of virus you are shedding,” Hotez said.

Do vaccines prevent long covid?

While the threat of acute serious respiratory covid disease has faded, developing the lingering symptoms of “long covid” remains a concern for people who have had even mild cases. The CDC says vaccination is the “best available tool” to reduce the risk of long covid in children and adults. The exact mechanism is unclear, but experts theorize that vaccines help by reducing the severity of illness, which is a major risk factor for long covid.

When is the best time to get a new coronavirus vaccine?

It depends on your circumstances, including risk factors for severe disease, when you were last infected or vaccinated, and plans for the months ahead. It’s best to talk these issues through with a doctor.

If you are at high risk and have not recently been vaccinated or infected, you may want to get a shot as soon as possible while cases remain high. The summer wave has shown signs of peaking, but cases can still be elevated and take weeks to return to low levels. It’s hard to predict when a winter wave will begin....

Where do I find vaccines?

CVS said its expects to start administering them within days, and Walgreens said that it would start scheduling appointments to receive shots after Sept. 6 and that customers can walk in before then.

Availability at doctor’s offices might take longer. Finding shots for infants and toddlers could be more difficult because many pharmacies do not administer them and not every pediatrician’s office will stock them given low demand and limited storage space.

This year’s updated coronavirus vaccines are supposed to have a longer shelf life, which eases the financial pressures of stocking them.

The CDC plans to relaunch its vaccine locator when the new vaccines are widely available, and similar services are offered by Moderna and Pfizer."

-via The Washington Post, August 22, 2024

[dsiddhant]

The global Power Management System Market is projected to reach USD 7.5 billion in 2028 from USD 5.8 billion in 2023 at a CAGR of 5.4% according to a new report by MarketsandMarkets™.

[evilgwrl]

Ghost is a desperate lover, quick to shed you of your clothes, quick to work his mouth against yours, quick to rut his fat cock into your warmth, staining your walls with his length as he writhes against your gummy spots.

Ghost loves control, rough hand against your throat as he gruffs out demands as you bend over at his will, presenting yourself to him as he laps in the sight of you, absolutely aching for him.

Ghost loves you underneath him, all compliant and brain dead at how deep he fucks you, lips trembling out slurred moans as you beg for his load inside you.

VS

Simon is a passionate lover, taking his time as he kneads your heavy breasts under his palms, aching nipples tweaked under his fingers as he suckles one into the wetness of his mouth, lapping his tongue against the nub as he listens to your breathy whines.

Simon loves when you’re both interlocked, limbs crossed together as you hold hands, sweat dripping into a merged mess between you two as you kiss softly, working your lips together in a smooth pool of warmth, skin tingling and eyes closed.

Simon loves you on-top, eyes rolled back as you take control with your shallow bounces, trusting him completely as he slowly meets your thrusts, hands aching around your hips as you mewl at how deep he is, lips moulding into the words ‘I love you’ as you rave on about how good he makes you feel.

[hoe4hotchner]

First time | [A.H] - Kinktober 2024

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Virgin!fem!Reader

CW: 18+, MDNI, almost sickly sweet, piv, nerves, this is very vanilla smut, barely described in more than like 1-2 paragraphs, loads of kissing, they drink wine.

WC: 2.5k

Summary: It's your first time and you're nervous. Hotch wants it to be special and won't do anything you don't approve of.

A/N: I don't know if I'm satisfied with this... so do with that info if you want.

This is a prompt from the the Lazy Ghouls’ Kinktober prompt list.

The light from the setting sun filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow around Hotch's apartment. The air was laced with something unspoken, something you weren't quite sure if you were ready for yet desperately yearned to do. Where every shadow whispered secrets of the atmosphere in the room. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you protected in your bubble.

You sat on the edge of his couch, fidgeting with the cuffs of your sleeves. You had sat here many times before, but none of them had made you feel as nervous as you were now. Your heart raced in a rhythm that matched the low, soothing jazz tunes playing softly in the background. You felt it in your veins as an anxious energy coursed through you, feeling both thrilling and overwhelming, clouding your senses in the best yet worst ways possible. Tonight was destined to be significant; it was the night you and Hotch would cross the fine line that you had danced around for a while now. Your first time.

Hotch stood in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine his broad shoulders relaxed compared to how tense they had been at work all day but his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he avoided spilling even a single drop. He was always in control, yet now he felt different — softened by the atmosphere. You snapped back to reality as you heard the soft clink of the glasses as he set them down on the table.

He turned and caught your gaze, the corner of his mouth curling into that reassuring smile you had come to cherish. “You okay?” he asked, his voice was low and comforting, instantly easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

You nodded, though it felt like a lie. “Just a bit… nervous,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth was that this moment, while exciting, made your stomach twist and turn. You were worried. What if you didn't meet his expectations? What if you wouldn't be enough?

Hotch stepped closer, his presence felt grounding. He took a seat beside you, his knee brushing against yours, creating a warmth that spread through your body. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “There’s no pressure, okay? We can take things as slow as you need. We can also just stay here. We don't have to do anything if you don't feel ready.”

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found comfort in the way he looked at you — his eyes were warm, filled with understanding, but you couldn't look past the hint of desire. It was clear he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, though he would never rush you, he was not like other men you had dated. That was the beauty of Aaron Hotchner; he made you feel safe even when you weren't even sure of your own feelings.

“What if I mess it up?” you confessed, your gaze dropping to your hands. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

Hotch’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a firm but gentle grip. “You won’t mess anything up,” he assured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “This is about us — about exploring together. Just be yourself, okay?” He smiled softly at you, his eyes searching yours for a sign, a sign of whether you were truly ready or not.

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you, soothing the jitters swirling within. With him, you felt like you could be vulnerable, shedding the layers of doubt and fear that had accumulated over the years. He was patient and kind, the kind of man who would never judge you for your inexperience.

As the music shifted to a more delicate melody, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and it filled the space with a comforting heat. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, it was a reminder that you were in this together.

“Whatever happens tonight,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’m here.”

You took a deep breath, letting your uncertainty seep out of your body. In this moment, surrounded by the familiar scent of him and the promise of what was to come, you felt ready. Ready to explore and embrace the intimacy that had been building between you.

With a newfound sense of confidence, you lifted your head and met his gaze, feeling the flutter in your chest settle. “I’m ready,” you whispered, a smile breaking through your nerves.

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with pride, and he leaned in closer, the air felt thick with anticipation. You were alone in your own little universe, ready to take that leap into the unknown together.

The bedroom door closed softly behind you, the sound almost echoing in the stillness of the apartment. The soft light from the bedside lamps cast gentle shadows on the walls, creating a warm glow that felt inviting. You stood near the foot of the bed, your heart racing a bit as you acclimated to your surroundings. You had been in his bedroom before, but that was not the reason behind your racing heart, the circumstances were.

Hotch, always the steady presence, moved with a calm confidence that eased some of your lingering nerves. He took a moment to survey the room, making sure that everything was perfect — it had to feel just right. He then turned his gaze back to you, his eyes filled with an understanding that made your heart flutter. It was in that look — the depth of his care, the unspoken promise of patience — that you found reassurance in what you were about to do.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper, breaking the silence that hung between you. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. “We can stop at any time, or change directions if you want.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his concern. “I know. I’m okay,” you replied, your voice steadier than you expected. “I just… I really want this. I want to give it to you.”

The air shifted, charged with anticipation. Hotch’s lips curved into a small, encouraging smile. “Good,” he said, his tone deepening. “Just remember, we’re in this together. If at any point you feel uncertain, if you want to stop, just say the word.”

You knew you were safe with him, that he would never push you beyond your limits. It was one of the many reasons why you admired him; he understood the importance of both desire and comfort, intertwining them in a way that felt natural and just right.

He stepped even closer, closing the distance between you until his presence enveloped you. “Why don’t we take it slow?” he suggested his voice a soft rumble in his chest that sent shivers down your spine. “Let’s focus on what feels good.”

You could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of the wine lingering between you. It was intoxicating. He reached out, gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hand, your breathing hitched catching in your throat.

Hotch studied your expression carefully, his thumb brushing against your lip in a tender gesture. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

The air in the room thickened, and you felt the weight of the moment settle around you. Your heart raced as you considered his question, the possibilities stretching out before you like an open road. His genuine desire to ensure your comfort made you feel cherished and ready to explore with him.

“I want to kiss you,” you breathed, your heart fluttering at the admission. It felt like a small step, but in the grand scheme of the evening, it was monumental and a step in the right direction.

Hotch’s lips curved into a warm smile, leaning in closer, closing the distance between you. “Then let’s start there,” he said softly, his breath brushing against your lips.

With that, he captured your lips with his, the kiss was soft and tentative at first, you were both savoring the moment, knowing that the feelings you felt now never could be repeated. There was a sweetness to it, a promise that he would take care of you. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. You melted into him, the warmth of his body igniting something within you.

As you pulled away slightly, breathless, Hotch rested his forehead against yours, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you whispered. “Really good.”

“Good,” he echoed, the tension in the air shifting from nerves to excitement. “Then let’s keep going. Just remember what I said.” He placed his lips back on yours.

Hotch's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, waiting for your approval before gently lifting it over your head, only breaking the kiss for a split second.

The kiss deepened, and time seemed to lose its meaning as you melted into each other. Your fingers moved to the buckle of his belt, carefully opening it, not sure if you were moving too fast or not.

Hotch pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours, a silent question hanging between you. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I want this,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. The sincerity in your tone matched the pounding of your heart, and with that admission, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you.

Hotch’s expression softened, and a small, proud smile graced his lips. “Okay,” he replied. He leaned back in to kiss you, deepening the connection between you. The kiss felt electric, filled with unspoken promises and a hunger that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

You sank onto the bed, and he followed, hovering over you. The way he looked at you made your heart swell — his eyes darkened with desire, yet they remained soft, filled with love and adoration for you. It was a potent combination that only heightened the electricity in the air between you.

Hotch leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “If at any point you want to stop, just say the word. I promise we can take as much time as you need.” His voice was a deep murmur.

“Okay,” you breathed, your pulse racing. You felt a thrill at the thought of surrendering to this moment, to him.

As he kissed down your neck, the warmth of his lips igniting your skin with every kiss, you let out a soft sigh, arching your back into his touch. Hotch’s hands explored your sides, trailing along your curves, sparks of pleasure shooting through you with every gentle caress. He paused for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours, seeking permission to ignite the next step.

“Please,” you whined, the word escaping your lips almost breathlessly, an invitation laced with longing.

With that, he pressed his body closer, carefully sliding into you. You furrowed your brows at the foreign feeling. Hotch stilled as he was halfway in, waiting for you to adjust to him. He rested his forehead against yours, slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside. You watched the veins in his arms flex with every movement.

“Just breathe,” he murmured, his breath felt hot against your skin. He was attuned to your every reaction, a gentle guide navigating this uncharted territory with you. You felt as if you were floating, swept up in the tides of your emotions, every heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Hotch’s movements were measured, each one deliberate and filled with intent. The way he studied your expressions, responding to your every sigh and shift, made you feel seen in a way that you had never felt before. He was a master of the delicate dance you were dancing, guiding you through the peaks and valleys of pleasure with a sensitivity that left you breathless.

As the warmth of the moment began to settle around you, you lay wrapped in Hotch’s arms, the soft glow of the bedside lamps illuminating the room.

You could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head, a steady and calming presence that made you feel safe. Hotch shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice was laced with genuine concern as he tilted your chin to meet his gaze.

You nodded, a small smile breaking across your lips. “I’m more than okay,” you replied, your voice was barely a whisper, yet it was filled with genuine sincerity. “That was… incredible.” You closed your eyes, exhaling as you relaxed into his arms.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your forehead. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “I wanted it to be special for you.”

As you nestled deeper into his embrace, you couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that had brought you to this moment. The playful banter, the stolen glances, the kisses in the copy room, everything that had led to this exact moment with the man you loved.

“I was nervous,” you admitted. The admission felt both freeing and slightly vulnerable, but you knew that honesty had and would always be essential between you. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

Hotch nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I was too. It’s a big step to take.” His voice was filled with reassurance. “I hope you know that you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “I do know that,” you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. “And I really appreciate it.” You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, wishing you could stay like this forever.

He smiled back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As the minutes turned into an hour, you both remained entwined, sharing quiet stories and laughter, your hearts beating in tune with each other.

Eventually, as the night deepened and the stars twinkled outside the window, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes as you nestled closer, feeling his arm tighten around your frame. “I’m really glad we did this,” you murmured your voice was thick with sleepiness.

“Me too,” he replied as your breathing evened out. Hotch pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

He smiled at your sleeping form, knowing that he wanted to stay like this forever. To stay with you forever.

[wheels-of-despair]

Bloodletting Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: A passionate tryst between Eddie and Evil Woman quickly becomes her worst nightmare. Contains: Horny teens, excessive amounts of blood, inner turmoil, borrowed clothes, period-typical attitudes toward the human body, Eddie Munson being the perfect boy we all deserve. Words: 2.4k

A Little Backstory: So once upon a time, I wrote an angsty fic about Eddie having a mortifying incident in EW's bed. And I kept it in my drafts for over a year and almost didn't post it, but I did, and reception was surprisingly positive. And then I felt guilty about doing that to him. And writing it. And letting people read it. So I had to even things out and write one for EW too. This one takes place slightly before that one, and may be weird for the modern crowd, but uh... whatever, here's a messy fic where you get to freak out with EW. And it only took 10 days! Turnaround's improving!

Not for youths, ageless/blanks who interact will be blocked, etc.

It's a miracle the door shut before your shirt hit the floor.

You just couldn't wait. School took too long, dropping off the dorks took too long, the drive back to Eddie's took too long. You were *thisclose* to blowing him on the way home.

But Eddie's driving was bad enough already.

The dust the van stirred up hadn't even settled when you raced up the front steps. You started shedding clothes as soon as you stepped inside. Eddie slammed the front door, and then smashed his mouth to yours. Your arms circled each other, pulling your bodies closer as you stumbled through the house. You lost your jeans somewhere near the kitchen. Eddie fumbled with your bra clasp, growling before finally getting it and tossing the constricting garment somewhere behind him. He rewarded his hands for a job well done by giving your breasts a squeeze, and you responded by moaning into his mouth.

You crashed through his bedroom door and fell onto the bed without even turning the lights on. Your underwear was dragged down your legs and tossed aside, same as his. Eddie's thigh slotted between yours, and you dragged your mound against his skin. It just felt so fucking good. If he didn't hurry it up, you might have to keep going and get yourself off like this. Wouldn't be the first time, but today, that's not what you need. You squeeze your thighs around him, hoping to speed things up.

"Eager, are we?" Eddie rumbles into your neck, rolling a nipple between two fingers and making your insides swirl.

"Shut up and fuck me," you beg, a little surprised by your own forwardness. You rock your hips against his thigh again, making your breath catch and feeling the wetness from his tip smear onto your skin. You need him now.

"What if I don't?" Eddie asks, pinning your hips to the bed and rising just enough so that you can't feel his leaky cock pulsing against you anymore. Like he doesn't want this just as badly as you do.

He smirks down at you, eyes glinting in the dark room. It fills you with fury. Now is not the time, Munson. You lunge upward and bite him, right in the crook of his neck. He yelps. You wrap yourself around him, pulling him back down to the bed with you. Eddie grinds his cock into you on the way down, hips stuttering and body tensing before spilling his load onto your stomach. You hold back a sigh and wipe it away with a sheet while Eddie comes back to Earth.

"Shit," he pants when he regains control of his body, "sorry."

He doesn't have to be sorry for long. Eddie's hand quickly finds its way between your legs. His fingers glide through, gathering your fluids, before plunging a digit into your center. A gasp escapes your lips, and Eddie swallows it when his mouth meets yours. He works his finger in and out, your hips moving with him and heels digging into the bed. You moan into his mouth when he adds another finger, which spurs him into circling your clit with his thumb.

The circling and the pumping proves to be too much for your poor brain; it feels so good, you can't even remember how to kiss. Eddie's mouth moves to your neck, leaving a wet trail that's nothing compared to what's leaking from between your legs. Eddie's fingers move furiously, and you let bliss overtake you far too soon. Your body tenses under him, and Eddie keeps pumping through each gush of pleasure, determined to bleed you dry.

"Stop," you breathe, when you can't possibly take any more. Eddie pulls his hand away, wiping it on the sheets you'd soaked together. Those will definitely need a wash tonight.

Eddie lies next to you, and you smile at him through sleepy eyes in the dimly lit room. You feel so happy, so relaxed, that you could stay right here with him forever, just like this.

"Ready to go again?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

You close your eyes and chuckle, and he leans over you for his cigarettes, holding himself up with an elbow while he practically lays on top of you. He fumbles around on the bedside table, you hear the lamp click and the lighter flick, and the smell of a fresh Camel fills your nostrils before Eddie finally returns to his side of the bed. Maybe you can snuggle up and squeeze in a quick nap before you have to go home.

"Oh, fuck."

Your eyes open to see Eddie staring down in horror.

You follow his gaze.

Oh, fuck.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

Blood on the sheets.

Blood on the blankets.

Blood on your legs.

Blood on Eddie's legs.

Blood on Eddie's hands.

Blood on Eddie's cigarette.

Blood draining from your head.

The room starts to spin.

You scramble out of bed and rush to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you and emptying your lunch into the toilet.

You flush with a shaky hand, and the reality of the situation hits you.

You just bled all over your boyfriend's bed.

Not just regular blood. This isn't a dainty little papercut or a scrape that he can apply a band-aid to and kiss better. This is the kind of blood whose mere existence can make a man sick. Disgusting. The kind of blood that Carrie White's mom declared the evidence of sin. Filth. The kind of blood that your own father had once fainted at the sight of. Unsanitary. The kind of blood that you ought not even speak of outside the ladies' room or a doctor's office.

You just coated your boyfriend and his entire fucking bed in it.

And here you are, naked and caked with it in his bathroom.

A light knock makes you jump out of your filthy skin.

"Babe? You okay?"

No. You are not okay. You are nowhere close to being okay. You shake your head, tears stinging at your eyes, unable to speak.

"What do you need?"

To be put out of your fucking misery.

"Do you need help? Can I come in?"

The thought of him seeing you like this makes another wave of nausea wash over you.

"Can you please just say something so I know you're still alive?"

You are, but you wish you weren't.

"I'm sorry," you whimper.

"Don't be," he says casually. "Shit happens. Are you okay?"

You glance at yourself in the mirror and regret it immediately. You close your eyes and shake your head, knowing damn well he can't see you.

"Alright. Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna take a shower, 'cause it'll make you feel better. I'm gonna put your clothes right outside the door. Then I'm gonna go in the kitchen and make us a snack. Take your time, okay?"

You look down at the blood drying on your legs. He's right. You know you'll feel better once that's gone. One problem at a time.

You let out a shaky breath and turn on the water in the shower, letting the creaky pipes send some warm water through before stepping under the spray. You grab Eddie's soap and scrub yourself, staring in horror at the crimson water pooling around the drain.

When the water runs clear, you step out and thank your lucky stars that there's a dark towel under the sink to dry off with. You put an ear to the door, hear Eddie clanking around in the kitchen, and open it just enough to grab the stack of clothes he'd put outside, as promised.

These aren't your clothes. This is a pair of sweats and a t-shirt you've never seen before. Where are your… oh. Your clothes are scattered on the floor throughout the house. Were they bloody too? Oh, God, what if they dripped and there's blood on the carpet? It'll never come out! If he ever invites you back here, you'll see that every time you come over and remember this day from now until the end of time!

You need to put on these clothes and run.

One problem: Your backpack's still in the van. Where your house keys and all your "lady supplies" are.

He's being very cool about this. He didn't bolt. He didn't throw you out. He didn't pass out or puke, to your knowledge. Could you really ask more of him?

"Eddie?" you call through a crack in the door, surprised at how weak and pathetic your voice sounds.

"Yeah?" he answers from the hallway.

"Can you get my backpack out of the van?"

"On it," he says, already walking away.

You close the door and rest your forehead against it, backing away when you hear him return. Footsteps. A light thump, like he's put it where the clothes were a few minutes before.

"It's here."

"Thanks."

He walks away, and you open the door enough to extend an arm and grab it.

You fix yourself up and pull on the clean clothes. You feel awkward about wearing Eddie's stuff in your condition, but you don't really have much of a choice in the matter. You're probably never gonna see him again after today, anyway. He's not going to want these back. Might as well have something to remember him by. Even if it is a tacky t-shirt from a radio station giveaway.

You hang the towel, scan the bathroom for any more traces of blood, and take a deep breath before stepping into the hallway.

Do you slip out the back door and walk home?

Dammit, your shoes are in the living room.

You approach the kitchen slowly.

"Hey," he greets, a smile on his face. He's wearing sweats and a t-shirt too. "You okay?"

You shrug.

Eddie opens his arms.

Like he wants to hug you.

He widens his eyes and wiggles his fingers, gesturing for you to come to him.

Your brain fights it, but your body doesn't. Much to your surprise, you find yourself shuffling across the kitchen floor toward him.

He wraps you in his arms, and your eyes start to leak again.

"It's okay," he whispers.

"I'm sorry," you sniffle.

"It's fine," he insists with a kiss to your temple.

"Let me go clean up," you offer, remembering the sorry state you left his bed in. You try to pull away, feeling the humiliation flood through your veins again, but he hugs you tighter.

"Already done," he says softly. "Don't worry about it."

The washing machine makes a noise, and you glance at it. Eddie started a load of laundry? You look at him in awe.

"That's right," he grins. "Homework, pleasure, cuddles, laundry. Eddie Munson does it all."

"Homework?" you question with a quirk of your eyebrow.

He laughs and pulls you close to kiss your forehead.

"Seriously, you okay?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "Sor--"

"Stop apologizing for being human," he cuts you off.

"Sorry," you say, lips twitching into a faint smirk. Eddie gently knocks his forehead against yours.

"That's gonna be a while," he notes, tilting his head in the direction of the washer. "Your pants are in there. You hungry?"

"Not really," you admit.

"Wanna watch TV?"

You shrug. Eddie takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. He plops his ass on the middle cushion, but you hesitate. Maybe you should pull up one of the hard kitchen chairs instead.

Eddie reaches for you and drags you down on top of him, like he knows why you hesitated. You sit on his lap sideways, awkwardly. He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his head against your chest. Slowly, you wind your arms around his shoulders and rest your chin on his head, letting out a long sigh. How does he make you feel so calm, especially after… that?

"My evil plan is working," Eddie mumbles into your chest. You look down just in time to see him dive face-first into the valley between your breasts, unrestrained beneath the t-shirt he loaned you. Where the hell is your bra, you wonder? He nuzzles his face into you. He's so adorable, it makes your heart swell. Something muffled that sounds a lot like "heaven" comes from below.

You can't help but let out a quiet laugh. He grins up at you.

"They're bigger, right?"

Your spirits sink.

"Yeah," you answer, your mouth dry, your gaze dropping to the sofa cushion. You wish he could just let it go. You don't want to talk about this, especially not with him.

You remember your father, who once sent you to your room for saying the word "period" in his presence. Your first boyfriend, who never looked at you the same after a pad fell out of your purse and he made you explain what it was. Your last one, who'd accuse you of being "on the rag" every time you disagreed. Your own brother, who'd fake a gag when he accidentally grabbed the bag of "lady supplies" from the back of your mom's car after a trip to the grocery store.

"That's fuckin' awesome."

You look at him him surprise.

"Listen here, woman," Eddie says, looking up with a no-nonsense expression. "It's the '80s. I'm a modern man. I read books. I took health class. A few times, actually. I know how this shit works. And I don't know why you think this is some big horrible secret, or why you freaked out so bad over a little blood, but it's not a big deal."

You look away, but he grasps your chin between two fingers and makes you look at him. You hadn't realized how tense you were until you felt him try to move your face.

"It's pretty metal, actually."

"Yeah?" you ask, feeling yourself soften instantly.

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffs. "Your body's so happy about not being pregnant, it celebrates with bloodletting!"

You laugh suddenly, sending out a few droplets of spit. You clap a hand to your mouth.

"And," Eddie continues with a grin, "Not only do your already-amazing boobs get bigger, but you get super horny? For me? Every month? That's fuckin' badass, babe."

Your heart swells almost as much as your boobs.

"Shall I continue?"

"I think I got it," you smile, tucking his hair behind his ear.

"You sure?" he asks. "'Cause I can wax poetic about how much I love watching you yell at people, and how much I love it when you get sweet and snuggly, too."

"I got it," you confirm.

"I fuckin' love you."

"I fuckin' love you, too."

[therainscene]

I think I might have figured out what the Mind Flayer really is.

This theory has been percolating in my brain for a while now; it hasn't really finished baking yet but I wanted to get the gist of it down before The First Shadow debuts.

Let’s begin at the Hawkins National Lab, 6th November 1983. For the second time in her young life, El faces terrifying and deeply traumatic circumstances which cause her powers to lash out and rip a gash in the fabric of reality.

Meanwhile, across town, Will is doing what every queer 12 year-old has done and finds an excuse to spend an extra moment alone with his crush.

His little gay heart is as aflutter as the garage lights.

(Strange, that. The lights, I mean -- considering that he's on the other side of town from the lab. Do you suppose the Demogorgon trekked all the way to Mike's house and quietly followed him home again?)

Will heads home, lost in thought as he cycles past the lab. Is he thinking about how sweet his new X-Men #134 is gonna be? Or is he thinking about something even sweeter? The lights flutter again.

And something in front of him notices.

Will has always been noticeable: his clothes, his mannerisms, his interests -- they've always attracted the attentions of bullies. Now something new -- or maybe something that was always there and is only now making itself known -- has attracted the attentions of a monster.

He runs home, he calls for help, but he's alone, there's no escape. He races to the shed and loads a gun like his father taught him -- but it's not in his nature to be violent. He freezes, petrified.

The lights surge as his terror wrestles control of his powers and uses them to puncture an escape route in the fabric of reality.

Why were we so quick to believe that the Demogorgon -- a minion of the guy whose whole thing is his inability to open gates -- was able to open its own temporary portals in S1 and then never again?

Will could plausibly have been responsible for every temporary portal in S1: he’s at the Byers house when the Demogorgon pushes through its walls; he's on the run to Castle Byers when Nancy stumbles across that portal in the woods; and he's plugged in to one of Vecna's vines during the finale -- something we see Vecna plug himself into when he remotely opens gates in S4.

There’s one exception though.

Barb likely slipped through a gate in Steve's pool, but how could Will have opened that one when he was in his bedroom at the time, talking to his mother through the lights?

Let me ask you this: isn't it interesting that of all the injuries Barb could have obtained in her passage to the Upside Down, she got a nosebleed?

I think powers are more common than we’ve been led to believe, and gates are a last-ditch self-defense mechanism for anyone with powers.

This is why the four curse victims’ deaths opened a gate: Vecna pushed them to their breaking point to artificially trigger the self-defense response. Those headaches and nosebleeds weren't caused by Vecna directly, but by their own powers acting up as they inched towards oblivion.

[Shoutout to @givehimthemedicine's underrated powers and blood theory for the idea of Vecna's Curse being the overcharging of his victims' own powers.]

It was already pretty obvious that Vecna's Curse is a metaphor for suicide, and this theory reinforces it: every kid who gets targeted by the horrors of Hawkins for being "different" tries to find some way to escape.

Willel's misfortune is that their powers are considerably more easily manifested than the average person's. Byler tells the story of visible vs invisible queerness, but that's just a reflection of the larger theme at play in the show: the visible and invisible ways kids are othered and abused.

Max's trauma was a quiet thing that came from within and festered until it was almost too late to save her... but Willel's trauma manifests as a giant monster that openly hunts them down.

And I'm being literal when I say the Mind Flayer is a manifestation of their trauma.

We know that Vecna fashioned the Mind Flayer from a cloud of black particles he found in the Upside Down, but where did that cloud come from? The Upside Down is a mysterious enough place that it's easy to assume the Shadow is native to that realm... but what if it isn't?

The Mind Flayer is heavily associated with repression -- Will gradually lost his memories while he was possessed, and El lost her powers when the sliver of Flesh Flayer wormed its way into her leg.

But Will has mysteriously been without powers ever since leaving the Upside Down, and we've seen El lose memories too: her memories of surviving the lab massacre, in which she didn't simply escape by opening up a gate, but by disintegrating her attacker into black particles.

The Mind Flayer doesn't cause repression -- it is repression.

There must have been countless generations worth of traumatized children who took the extra step El did and sent their abusers -- or at least their memories of abuse -- into that hidden realm beyond the gate.

(There's also the possibility that Mr. Time-is-Just-a-Social-Construct is stuck in a time loop of some sort -- maybe the massacre has repeated hundreds of times, and Dimension X is a timeless graveyard of El's attempts to repress her trauma. This would explain why Henry seems to have both disintegrated and survived: we were watching at least two different iterations of the massacre all along.)

Whichever way you slice it, it's a perfect fit: the tool Vecna uses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse isn't some bizarro alien from an alternate dimension, but a direct consequence of the cycle itself.

The Mind Flayer tells us that escape alone doesn't work as a long-term solution: it might help you survive the initial abuse, but if you don't address the effect it had on you...

...it will come back to wreck havok.

[Edit: Click here for post-TFS thoughts on this theory]

[insomniakisses]

Mixed Arsenal x Buff!Alpha Reader HCs

Alphas - Buff / Gentle Giant R, Beth, Caitlin, Steph, Lotte

Omegas - Leah, Lia, Viv, Katie, Alessia, Kyra

When she first joined arsenal everyone assumed shed be a rough, tough mean alpha.

Her appearance gave that off and they just figures her quietness was rudeness.

The alpha’s would shove and push at her because shes strong, she can take it.

The omegas kept their distance because they didn’t want some mean alpha touching them. Even katie stayed away because she didn’t want R.

It took beth and cait being particularly rough for things to change.

R having been pushed hard to the floor and she just whimpered eyes watery as she curled into herself.

Beth and Cait immediately felt bad but were so confused because why is this buff nearly 6 foot alpha whimpering from a light shove?

All it took was a “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me” for them to immediately understand

The omegas rushed over and u were hugged better, head in Vivs neck as she rocked u a little.

It was a little awkward with ur big body and her smaller one but she made it work.

After the incident they were a lot gentler with you, only rough housing when it was initiated by you and the omegas let you close to them.

They found your large muscles arms wrapped round them mind numbing.

You may be strong and big but your hold on them was always soft and gentle, though they felt so protected.

Having the omegas in her arms calms Buff!R soooo much.

- ANATOMY -

Shes definitely 8-9 Inches, 1.5-2 inches thick with such a pretty blush tip. Her cock has a thick vien underneath and shes un-cut.

She has one ball that hangs a little lower than the other and they’re full and round.

She keeps well trimmed and has a pretty thick and full happy trail tho she shaves it down.

She def shaves a cute heart or star there sometimes.

Shes POTENT. One or two drops = Pups

- SEX HCs BELLOW -

ALOT of ridding.

R just loves gentle riding, holding the girls hips and guiding them on her cock.

Shes all low groans and soft gasps as she watches her omegas bounce in her big cock loving how she stretches out their pretty pussy’s and how they make a mess on her cock.

She has terrible pull out game, like non existent.

In ruts is when she comes into her own pinning her small omegas and pounding away hard and fast.

Size kink go brrrrrrrrr

She doesn’t really get with the alphas tbh. Its inky in couple settings like with lessi and leah, cait and katie or viv and beth.

Its rare even then someone’s going to fuck her ass.

The first one to do it was Beth.

It took getting R pussy drunk and balls deep in vivi but beth managed it rubbing her hands up and down Rs back and hips placing kisses as Rs mouth latched onto Vivs neck her hips softly thrusting into Vivs pussy ready to give her a biggg load.

The second she felt beth by her ass she froze and her eyes widened but a whimper from viv and her legs locking around her kept R in place.

Beth was gentle when fucking into Rs ass knowing she was her first and she kept teasing to a minimum.

Very soft moment. The only jokes were about how much cum poor vivi was getting, the girl having JUST come off Birth control there was a very high likely R gave her a pup.

Beths constant teases of “Trying to get my wife pregnant huh baby?” And Vivs whines and she rubbed at her own clit cheeks flushed as she begged for more cum.

Ofc beth was also filling R up and kissing her neck and back.

The 3 were very much bonded when at training the next day and EVERYBODY could tell with how viv insisted R carried her or how R seemed to craze Beths attention and approval.

Though R isn’t against some alpha-alpha action shes still Alpha enough to get aggressive and snappy when her alphahood is questioned.

It was another Beth and Viv night when this was really shown.

Beth wanted to test how far R was comfortable going and tied her up making her watch as she fucked viv. It hadn’t been many nights since they all first lay together so if viv was pregnant they wouldn’t have knows, at least anyone but the sire and Viv.

Beth spent the night taunting a caged R telling her who vivs REAL alpha was and who should fuck viv.

These comments passed with glares, annoyed huffs and maybe a growl or two if her tone was particularly patronising but it didn’t really come to head till viv was straddling R and pushing out all the cum into her lap.

A clear disrespect to R and she felt herself growing upset trying to communicate to beth silently too embarrassed in front of viv. But she kept going;

“See Y/N? Whos the true alpha huh? Say it tell me who-“

The second they locked eyes though beth saw the unshed tears, embarrassment and the flicker of uncomfortable shame.

Not wanting to hurt R more she made an excuse.

“Im tired, thats enough. Viv baby why don’t u go get a bath ready for us yeah?

The second Viv was gone R was uncaged and hugged.

The boundaries of what was okay and what was not now known and passed on to the rest of the pack a new sense of understanding formed.

Though R still has only been with beth out of the alphas in that way, the others could now do so without fear of going wrong.

- END NSFW -

The pack are still learning when it comes to buff R.

Theres still times her soft feelings vs her buff hard appearance.

Buff R still sometimes shuts down and hides away from them.

She gets embarrassed they might think she should just alpha up or be weak not this middle ground she has.

But they love her and she loves them so they will all figure it out in time.

[greenfiend]

What really happened to Will when he vanished...

I don't have all the details here but... a lot of this is starting to connect.

Will enters the U.S. Department of Energy.

He falls off his bike. Wheel stops turning (indicating time coming to a halt).

He rushes through a spooky forest (creepy trees... I'll touch on that topic later) into his home. Mom and Jonathan aren't there. He tries to call the police but the Demogorgon scares him into doing so.

He rushes toward the shed.

(The association between a shed and a bomb for context).

This "Little Boy" loads a gun.

Little Boy was a gun-type atomic bomb that was the first nuclear weapon used in warfare.

He comes face to face with a light (the truth). It begins shining brighter and brighter...

Likely an explosion occurred right at that moment.

As Will is compared to "Little Boy" here... there's a nuclear fission reaction. This means splitting in two.

Kind of like...

A boy being split into two. Two what you say? Two... personalities?

Perhaps this little girl appeared to take over. To help protect Little Boy from his trauma. She came into the light while he vanished into the darkness. She's the gatekeeper alter (an actual DID alter term...). The one who controls the gate and access to memories...

Thus, he remains in the dark with only "vague" memories.

This bomb going off caused time to stop at exactly 8:15, just like "Little Boy" the atomic bomb did. That atomic bomb caused time pieces to be stuck at 8:15 essentially leaving the city of Hiroshima frozen in time.

It's no wonder Brenner and co wear hazmat suits when investigating the shed. Nuclear fission leaves behind toxic nuclear waste, after all.

More on this topic...

[warrioreowynofrohan]

LOTR Newsletter - October 26

Yes, I know that today isn't a reading day, but with the hobbits safe in Rivendell and the Council of Elrond over it's a good day to catch up with what's been going on in the Shire.

Which is not good.

Because the Scouring of the Shire comes at the end of The Return of the King, it's natural that we generally associate it with Saruman screwing everything up. But things were going wrong in the Shire well before Saruman got there.

This is the account that Tom Cotton gives of events in the Shire during this autumn:

“It all began with Pimple [i.e. Lotho Sackville-Baggins], as we call him, and it began as soon as you’d gone off, Mr. Frodo. He’d funny ideas, had Pimple. Seems he wanted to own everything himself, and then order other folks about. It soon came out that he already did own a sight more than was good for him; and he was always grabbing more, though where he got the money was a mystery: mills and malthouses and inns, and farms, and leaf-plantations. He’d already bought Sandyman’s mill before he came to Bag End, seemingly. “Of course he started with a lot of property in the Southfarthing which he had from his dad; and it seems he’d been selling a lot o’ the best leaf, and sending it away quietly for a year or two. But at the end o’ last year he began sending away loads of stuff, not only leaf. Things began to get short, and winter coming on, too. Folk got angry, but he had his answer. A lot of Men, ruffians mostly, came with great waggons, some to carry off the goods south-away, and others to stay. And more came. And before we knew where we were they were planted here and there all over the Shire, and were felling trees and digging and building themselves sheds and houses just as they liked. At first goods and damage was paid for by Pimple; but soon they began lording it around and taking what they wanted.  “…Take Sandyman’s mill now. Pimple knocked it down almost as soon as he came to Bag End. Then he brought in a lot o’ dirty-looking Men to build a bigger one and fill it full o’ wheels and outlandish contraptions. Only that fool Ted was pleased by that, and he works there cleaning wheels for the Men, where he dad was the Miller and his own master. Pimple’s idea was to grind more and faster, or so he said. He’s got other mills like it. But you’ve got to have grist before you can grind; and there was no more for the new mill to do than for the old.”

The 'best leaf' that Lotho has been selling and 'sending away quietly' has been going to Isengard. Lotho is basically a local business magnate who's extensively expanded his holdings (in both agricultural land and businesses), and who has strong economic ties with a hostile foreign power.

And I think this sounds like a fairly accurate description of an imperial power gaining hold by co-opting that local magnate. He sells things the Shire needs (like food) to the foreign power for his own profit and to the Shire's detriment. Then he welcomes in paramilitaries connected to the imperial power to enhance his local power base, and mostly lets them operate with impunity. (And does not really realize that he doesn't actually have any control over them.)

And he says he's making things better by "modernizing", even when it's not actually useful and it's largely making life worse for the people who actually live in the country.

[misstycloud]

How to stop your husband from being weird: situation one- digging in the middle of the night.

One of the things that I have noticed about my dear husband, Arlo (bless his soul), is the constant digging in our backyard; he leaves in the middle of the night and when I dare glance out the window, I see him. His back is always facing towards me, so I can’t get a good look at his face. He is a very expressive person and I can tell what he thinks from simply looking at his face, hence why this is somewhat concerning.

Had I known that my dearest would wake up during ungodly hours of the night, get dressed, fetch the garden tools from the shed, and then proceed to dig a massive hole, then maybe I would have hesitated to say ‘yes’. (Do not be worried, I love my husband deeply and this was just a little joke.)

Joke aside, it is still very annoying. Does he not know this will keep me awake too? I have work to do and I can’t keep on going if my sleep is this disturbed. I would have to be some sort of abomination- a vampire perhaps?

That is not all; I find dirt particles inside our house; I clean for nothing apparently.

I have tried bringing this up(somewhat hard to ask your spouse why they are leaving you all cold and lonely in the middle of the night) with Arlo, but every time he changed the subject. The audacity! He even asks me if I’m ill and is in need of a doctor. I tell him ‘I am quite fine thank you very much!’ and remind him my eyesight is good, I’m not imagining things and I know he’s been up to something in the yard. I also know he’s not preparing to pot new plants for summer so he better not try that with me.

Last time I tried prying the answer out of him, he finally relented and gave me what I wanted.

His explanation: I have been finding a lot of roadkill and other deceased animals lately. I didn’t want you to have to see it. You know I work so many hours, I don’t have time during the day, that’s why I bury them at night. It’s horrible, but understandable since they’re rebuilding the library and trucks loaded with materials drive by often.

Whether I believe this explanation or not doesn’t matter. There is factor agreeing with his explanation and there are ones that goes agaisnt it.

Those vouching for him: it is true that trucks drive by often these days since the library really did catch on fire recently. It was an unfortunate accident casued(according to the police) by some teenagers. They played around with a lighter and things escalated beyond their control. The saddest part is that I can’t go to the library anymore, I suppose I’ll have to find new hobbies to entertain myself until the library is rebuilt and restocked with books. Another thing is that I do like animals and it definitively wouldn’t be fun to see a run-over one in real life. My husband is very caring and wouldn’t expose me to something he knows I hate, therefore it makes sense for him to bury them in secret. Besides, his job is demanding and he actually wouldn’t be able to do so in the day.

All of this form one solution that is: burying the dead animals in secret from his wife(me) during nighttime as to not disturb me or his work hours. (If we look away from the fact I wake when he does)

Factors indicating he’s lying: how come I have never found a roadkill if they are so common nowadays? It’s unusual for him to come home before me, and if he’s that busy with work, it wouldn’t make sense for him to find all of them before I’ve even caught a whiff of something foul nearby. You see what I mean? Secondly, there is not reason why he should be the one doing all this work. Surely there are professionals dealing with here things? In that case then he should call them instead and tell those truck-drivers to be more careful.

Ultimately this is very suspicious, but what else can I do? Statistically, there is a high chance(I believe?) that your husband will have at least one weird hobby. I will have to live with that and I have said to him ‘I love you more than anything and if this is something you wish to do then o won’t question you.’

He was almost in tears, it was adorable. He said, ‘Yes, my love, thank you. I also love you more than anything in this world and I would be damned if something came between us.’

Afterwards I lectured him on not bringing in dirt in the house again, though. This was his answer: of course not, my darling!

To summarise this incident: my husband still visits the outdoors at night, however not as often as before. I warned him, too, of being careful because a bunch of men have been going missing lately and I’d be devastated if his name came up on of of those reports. I shouldn’t say this- but I will- I’m kind of happy those men are gone. I recognised their names and/or faces from the papers, you see. It turns out that all of them were ones I’d met previously. I won’t bore you with the details, but they weren’t pleasant encounters.

Everyday I have checked the floor for dirt and have found none. This is very good news for my ‘cleaning-spirit’. Whenever I feel Arlo leaving the bed I have decided to relax my mind and go back to sleep again. Then, if I’m still half-awake, I will feel him laying down beside me once more and together we drift off to dreamland.

The lesson I learned from this is that you don’t have to ‘fix’ everything about your partner, and they are allowed to have their special hobbies. There is a difference if you’re being harmed in the process, though. If that’s the case then you should immediately speak up about it and you compromise. Remember, communication is key!

———

Written by: (Y/n) (L/n)

[another-bryk-in-the-wall]

Joseph x f!Deputy!Reader drabble

i am cooking again lads, please enjoy

Warning: far cry 5 standard warnings

:)

When she woke up again, the ground had stopped shaking. There was this strange calm spreading across the world, as if the world had gone to sleep. They said, they didn’t know which weapons would be used in the 3rd world war, but the 4th one would be fought with sticks.

The radio stations had gone quiet, the TV only showed static. Who was left out there? How many were left out there? What even was left outside?

The only noise was the ringing in her ears, the noises of the electric devices scattered around the bunker, and humming. Joseph was somewhere out there, alive, doing whatever a cult leader was doing inside of a bunker during the apocalypse.

Sleep was a welcomed friend for her.

While she was asleep, Joseph cut her free and placed her in the bed next to her spot. The constant sleeping was a sign of a concussion. Joseph had sustained injuries too, but nothing to the head. His cuts and bruises healed over quickly. Her concussion took longer to heal. She was awake only a few hours a day, and whenever she was, she wasn’t…quite here. Whenever Joseph tried to speak to her, it felt as if she was in a cloud of cotton. Not really present, but not too far away. His voice was muffled by the voices inside of her own head.

Two weeks in, she finally spoke to him in a normal voice.

“Can we make some goulash? I’m craving it.”

Dutch had prepared loads of canned food for the end of the world. No one had prepared Dutch for the end of the world. For now, Joseph refused to open the freezer. 

Joseph cooked them a can of goulash. To stretch the meal, he added pasta with it, in hopes that they’d feel fuller for longer. It was a good meal. It reminded her of home. A home so far away. She knew she’d never see it again, and the tears were shed in private.

It took them a long time to warm up to each other. She killed his family. He killed hers. That made them even. But admitting these things was a hard thing to do. Admitting weaknesses was not for the weak. It takes a strong willed individual to admit that they have flaws, weaknesses, and make mistakes. It takes an even stronger willed individual to look into someone’s face and admit to murdering their family.

What broke the ice was a fever.

They couldn’t really tell what day or month it was, but the tiny airflow by the bunker entrance was ice cold, showing that winter had started. Nothing was sealed tightly. Joseph had insisted on staying shirtless, while she had found a bit of joy in wearing different clothes after waking up from yet another slumber.

Joseph managed to catch a brutal cold, his whole body was trembling as another chill ran down his spine. There was a ton of medication in the bunker, but Joseph insisted on riding it out the old way, with cool compresses and tons of fluid. She wasn’t a fan of this, calling him a pigheaded fellow, because if he were to die of the fever, she’d have to deal with his rotten body. But on the 3rd day of constant fever, he gave in and let her give him ibuprofen. The relief was nearly instant, and Joseph did not die.

She made him warm meals, helped him change out of his clothes when he managed to sweat through the fabric. And what helped him the most? Her just sitting with him. His sore throat was the first part to heal completely, and in a slightly feverish nonsense, he started to talk.

How everyone had failed them in their lives. How he had hoped that the Project would be a place of comfort and help for other failures like them. But this time around, Joseph could have been the one to hold the knife to someone’s neck. After all, he was in control, and could put it away whenever he wanted to. He acknowledged that he let some things get out of hand. The brainwashing wasn’t necessary, but Jacob had insisted on it, threatening violence if he had not gotten his way. Torture wasn’t on his to do list either, but John had insisted on it, threatening to stop the cash flow to Eden’s Gate.

Give them a finger, and they’ll reach for the whole arm.

But Joseph had let himself get out of control as well. The enablers around him, the yes-sayers if you dare, got the best of him. They clouded his vision and made him forget what was important. Saving the failures. And in the end, the only failure he could save was himself. He hadn’t noticed the silent tears running down her face.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was meant to be.”

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

By Nick Pinto

The memo from the Justice Department is explicit: The Trump apparatus isn't pardoning Adams or dropping the charges with prejudice, which would free him from the threat of trial, conviction, and prison. They're dropping the charges for now, without prejudice, and holding the threat of them to Adams's head like a loaded gun. Like any hostage, Adams now has to do what his captors want, knowing that doing what they want offers no promise of release, only more coercion and obedience. He is the restaurateur whose relief that the mobster is covering his debts is short-lived. Be careful what you wish for, and from whom you wish it.

Shed no tears for this man, though. He dug this hole himself, beaming all the while, smugly convinced that he was putting one over on the marks and the suckers who believe in the promise of honest government, never dreaming that his petty fuckeries would one day put him in thrall to an even more powerful, more cynical, more malevolent political opportunist than himself.

Immigrants, trans people, schoolchildren, women, subway riders, anyone who relies on any sort of government assistance, anyone whose life will be worse under accelerating climate change, all the New Yorkers who need a mayor to advocate for their rights and wellbeing, we're all out of luck. New York City doesn't have a mayor, we have a toadie, a yes man, a hapless MAGA floor manager making sure the shit being doled out from D.C. is jammed in the mouths of all the right people in the five boroughs. Trump controls the man elected to speak for New York City, and, when New Yorkers take to the streets to speak for themselves, Trump will control the man who directs the police who will greet us.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Danish Werewolf in The City

The First Taste - part 2

Note: life's full of surprises, huh? once again, this fic was getting out of hand, so I had to split it up once more and this chapter is now 3 parts long. And as promised, the ending & smut part of it will be out tomorrow. For now, I hope you enjoy this! Special thanks to @foxyanon for reading a tiny part as a way of helping me out.

previous chapters: part 1 - part 2 - part 3.1

Pairing: werewolf!Sihtric x you (f)

Warnings: 18+, angst/horror fic.

Wordcount: 2,7k

Masterlist

After his relentless vampire killing spree, which had lasted up to several months, Sihtric realised he needed to calm down before accidentally sparking the interest of werewolf hunters or other observing folk around.

He had earned quite some new scars during his slaughters, some of which were hard to hide on a warm summer day. And the last thing Sihtric wanted was having to move towns because his beast identity had been discovered. He knew he'd be chased away, or worse, being hunted down and tortured before being brutally murdered. And the people would most likely make a fancy rug out of his fur and use his decapitated wolf's head as a laughingstock to scare children with. These weren't medieval times, but once a creature was discovered living amongst regular humans, people tended to slip into a state of primaeval panic. So he began to lay low as the Moon cycle continued, and that's when he made a list of everything he'd need to restore the shed.

His shed was ordinary on the outside, like any other backyard shed around his neighbourhood, but the inside of it was something else. Inside, the wooden walls of which the shed was made, were hidden behind a firm layer of steel that would be impossible to break out of and, most importantly, were sound proof. Furthermore, the cabin was completely empty inside, apart from a chair in the middle which resembled those used as electric chairs in prisons. The design had been picked on purpose, as he could be easily restrained in it with metal chains, which a pack member would always help him with, and because his monthly involuntary transformation felt like something he should be punished for.

As Sihtric had his shifting under control, he usually didn't need to be fully restrained and mainly did it as a precaution every month, not wanting to become a killing machine. But after he had decided several Moons ago to rip off all the chains from the chair, floor and ceiling, to completely let his werewolf form go in order to slay those vampires while he was hurting, thus making the shed completely unusable for the sole purpose it had been built, he now felt that he needed to be fully chained up again to restore the balance inside of him. The full Moon made everyone act out, even humans and other animals, not just the werewolves, but it simply affected the latter more than the average breathing being. And since Sihtric did not want to become a target by hunters, townsfolk or any other creature of the night, he knew he had to be quick to fix up his enclosure. And as he only had three days left before he would already start to feel the effect of the waxing Moon, as she would be almost fully round, he headed to the hardware store.

Sihtric strolled through the store with a shopping cart, agitated by one of its wheels as it malfunctioned and abruptly brought the cart to an awkward halt every now and then with a loud squeak that hurt his ears and drew attention. He cursed under his breath as he fought with the cart while he searched for the materials he needed. The full Moon wasn't here yet, but Sihtric was already more sensitive than during the other moon phases, and he kicked the cart's wheel in his frustration when it blocked once again and caused him to bump into the cart. To his delight, he quickly found the aisle he was searching for, and he loaded the limp cart with several heavy metal chains, as well as the tools he needed to secure them again.

And it was then, when he wanted to struggle with the cart to the self checkout, that he suddenly froze as he caught a familiar scent closeby that made his heart skip several beats.

You gritted your teeth as you searched for a specific colour of paint. Months had passed since Sihtric had scratched up the paint job on the outside of your windowsill, and you couldn't bear to look at it anymore. It was horrible, the claw markings clearly visibly as they had left dark scratches on the white surface. The fact that those scratches were there was not even the worst part of it all. No, the worst of it was that you knew you had to repaint the entire outside part of your house after touching up the scratches, because it had been a while since you had applied the paint, and the white had turned a rather light grey overtime. 

You internally cursed your werewolf ex-boyfriend as you roamed past the various shades of paint. It had been months, but you still loved Sihtric, and in truth you knew it was going to be hard to remove the last physical memory you had of him. To make matters worse, you finally spotted the paint you were looking for at the top shelf, which you couldn't possibly reach. You sighed, clearly annoyed, and looked around for an employee who could help you, but it seemed they were all on their lunch breaks. You groaned as you wanted to make your way back to the paint aisle, but stopped when you spotted a man who looked tall enough to reach that top shelf. He had his back turned to you as he seemed to stare down into his shopping cart, and you cleared your throat as you walked up to him.

'Excuse me,' you chuckled awkwardly, 'could you maybe help me-'

You immediately stopped talking when the man turned around, and it felt as if the ground beneath your feet crumbled away. You stopped breathing as you studied him, for he looked so different. The man was handsome, so very handsome, with his well kept goatee and interesting haircut; dark curls on one side while the other half was shaved. For a moment you figured it couldn't possibly be him, but those mismatched eyes were undoubtedly the same you had looked into various mornings.

'S… Sihtric?' you managed to breathe as your cheeks warmed up.

He stared at you, dead silent, while his Adam's apple bopped in his throat as he swallowed hard before he finally opened his mouth to speak after what felt like forever.

'I… I,' he stammered with a shaky voice, 'I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else.'

He quickly averted his eyes and turned on his heels, ready to push his cart and leave the store as fast as he could. But the cart stalled again as the limp wheel refused to cooperate, and forced him to suffer being around your presence a little longer. Your scent drove him mad, in every possible way, and he felt a mild panic inside of him. You were fast to grab his arm and stepped around to face him.

'Sihtric,' you said again, fully convinced this time as his voice had betrayed him too, 'please… I… I've been thinking of you,' you blurted out.

Your eyes darted over his face while he just stood there, nailed to the ground and clearly at war with himself, fighting urges inside of him. You took in his new look while he dared to bring his eyes back onto you, his new haircut was bold and strange, but you couldn't deny he made your heart beat just as fast as the first time you had met him.

'I've been thinking of you every day,' you said as you finally released his arm, 'have… have you been thinking of me?'

Sihtric looked down at his feet, then showed a quick pained and broken smile as he shrugged lightly.

'Of course,' he half mumbled and shyly rubbed his arm, 'of course I have. You're… you're all I think of, still.'

You smiled faintly and felt your cheeks heat up again. You stared at each other, unsure of what to do next. Part of you wanted to slap his face for telling you to get out of his life and break your heart, and the other part of you wanted to grab his face and kiss him, stumbling into the shelves and making out steamingly on the floor of the hardware store for everyone to see. But you did neither of those things.

'Where have you been?' you asked, breaking the long silence, 'I heard you quit at the vet a little while ago.'

'I didn't quit,' Sihtric said softly, 'I'm on temporary leave.'

'But why?'

'I just, I don't know. I had to take care of things.'

'I see,' you nodded, still confused by his vague answer, and then you looked into his cart, 'so, eh, renovating?'

'Something like that,' he chuckled faintly, 'what brings you here?'

'I need paint, but I can't reach it…'

Sihtric broke into a genuine smile and followed you to grab you the bucket of paint.

'Renovating?' he jested.

'Something like that,' you smiled, 'you left some… marks. I haven't gotten around to fix that up yet.'

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric said, immediately tormented again by the horrible night, and he sighed as a sense of panic crept up once more, 'well, look… I just… I-I have to go-'

'Sihtric, please,' you stopped him again, 'please. I'm worried about you. And I…,' you swallowed hard and half whispered, 'I miss you. I really fucking miss you.'

Sihtric stared at you, the tears glistened in his eyes as he sniffed and scratched his goatee in an attempt to hide his emotions.

'I miss you too,' he mumbled.

'Can we talk, please? Not here, not right now. But can we meet up somewhere later?'

Sihtric wasn't sure about your offer. He desperately wanted to talk to you and be close to you again, but he was afraid it would only make his unhealed wounds deeper as he still loved you with all his heart. You suggested to meet at a pub later that evening, but as you left the store with trembling hands, you still weren't sure if he was going to show up.

You waited outside the pub and hoped Sihtric would show, otherwise you'd look like a fool waiting at the door for twenty minutes already. The place was crowded inside, as were the streets, and suddenly your eye caught the Moon as she crept up the darkened sky when you looked up. You began to feel nervous, reminiscing over everything that had happened prior to your break-up, and you wondered if maybe it had been a mistake to try and see where you and Sihtric stood right now. 

You would never deny that you were still in love with him, and had been all this time, despite the horrors and gruesome truths you had discovered about him and his being. If anything, you understand his werewolf identity more now after all the research you had done, and it even had gotten as far as sparking a new curiosity inside of you. But before you could disappear into your newfound interest, you were startled when Sihtric suddenly stood behind you and spoke softly in your ear.

'Caught you,' he chuckled softly with a hint of darkness.

But the mischief quickly fell off his face when you turned around, and he once again remembered what he had lost that night in the woods; you. You and that smile of yours, the one you flashed him now upon seeing him. The smile that made him weak instantly and made him want to cup your cheeks and nuzzle your nose softly in between peppering you with kisses all over. He'd do anything to be able to do that again. He'd try every other superstition that could potentially break his werewolf curse that he hadn't tried yet, no matter how gruesome, no matter the cost. If only he could have you again and love you like no other living being ever could.

'Hey,' you smiled, relieved, 'I wasn't sure if you were going to show.'

'Neither was I,' Sihtric confessed.

You noticed he avoided eye contact, and the sudden trembling of his lower lip betrayed the fact he was on the verge of tears.

'Well,' you broke the painful silence, 'can I… at least get a hug?'

Sihtric shrugged lightly and scrunched his nose as he sniffed, then held his arms open and invited you in his embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to sink in his warm and strong arms which you had dreamt of nearly every night.

'I've missed your arms around me,' you murmured in his ear.

You fought your own tears now while you heard Sihtric sniffle quietly, and his grip suddenly tightened as his chest heaved up and down fast, as if a state of panic had captured him.

'I… I-,' he stammered with a shaky voice, 'I just can't breathe without you. It feels as if I can't breathe without you,' he almost wheezed, 'I… I need… I just need you.'

You tried to step back, wanting to look at him as you could sense he started to slip further into an abrupt form of panic, but you couldn't get out of his grip. A sudden low growl started to sound from deep down his throat, while his heavy breaths slowly changed into murmured grunts. 

His head was spinning as the intensity of every sound, sight and smell around him grew stronger, slowly driving him mad as his ears were ringing. His clothes felt too tight, the street lanterns and pub signs were too bright and the people too loud. But even louder was the buzzing of his own blood in his ears, as well as the sound of your beating heart inside your chest, and he suddenly bared his teeth with a silent snarl as you managed to take a step back. You took his face while his hands found your waist, squeezing you firmly but not all unpleasant, and you forced eye contact as you spoke to him as soothingly as possibly.

'Sihtric? Sihtric listen to me. You need to calm down,' you said compassionately, but not without fright as his mismatched eyes occasionally glowed, 'just breathe. You can breathe, I promise. I'm here… I'm here, okay?' you said with a soft sob, 'I'm not going anywhere, you hear me?'

While Sihtric fought his urge to shift, as his emotions were almost unbearable and he just wanted to hide, you managed to gradually calm him down and suggested you'd go for a walk instead of a drink at the pub. You worried that any slight cause of frustration might tip Sihtric over the edge, thus shifting into a gigantic werewolf and tearing up the place as well as everyone in it, which was the absolute last thing you wanted. You took his hands and pulled him with you, out of the busy street and near the entrance of a quiet and dark alley where you sat down on a public bench that overlooked the river which ran through the darkened city.

Sihtric calmed down while his trembling hands held yours, and he finally dared to look at you again as he stopped fighting his tears.

'Pushing you away from me was the biggest mistake of my life,' he spoke softly, with a broken voice, 'I thought it would be better for you, but it's… and maybe it was, but for me-' he stopped and buried his face in his hands while he cried.

You wrapped your arms around his jerking shoulders, letting your tears run freely along with his, and you told him you understood why he had pushed you away and that walking out on him was your biggest regret too. You told him that after the split you had started researching his wolf being, and that you understood him so much better now and everything that came with it. Sihtric felt relieved to hear that it seemed you had accepted his darker side, but he dreaded telling you what he had been up to while you were broken up…

'Have you been with someone else?' he eventually asked as both your tears had dried.

'What?' you scoffed, 'oh, please. As if you couldn't smell.'

'I could,' Sihtric admitted with a chuckle, 'but have you?'

'I haven't,' you rolled your eyes with a soft smile, 'what about you?'

'Really?' he frowned and feigned offence.

'Look, I know your sex drive, Sihtric,' you shrugged, 'so I'm just asking.'

'Well, I haven't been with anyone else,' Sihtric sighed, 'I mean… no one wants to be with a monster, do they?'

You sat in silence for a long time, just staring out into the darkness together, until you took his hand again and said, 'It was a mistake to break up, wasn't it?'

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[teambyler]

"Byler Endgame, One Episode at a Time" - s5e5

Plot beats and scenes leading to a Byler endgame, one episode at a time, for Season 5 of Stranger Things. (This is just for fun! I have no insider knowledge!)

Also see Part 0, where I explain what I think a Byler Endgame has to address. Link to the previous episode.

s5e5

Will is unconscious and bound to prevent him from taking off his headphones. Mike and El stay with Will. The group heads out to assault Vecna’s power source when Vecna is distracted by Will. El will piggyback and try to protect Will.

El talks to Mike. “You know why he took off the headphones, Mike?” “Vecna controlled his mind?” “No, Mike… Will was doing it. He loves you, Mike. I saw what Vecna told him. He said he’d kill you if he doesn’t give himself to Vecna.” Mike’s mouth drops open. El tears up: “He doesn’t see living without you, Mike… Did you know he’s loved you since you were five years old?” Mike can’t believe what he’s hearing. “WHAT?” “If he makes it, you have to talk to him, Mike, okay? No more pretending.” She tenderly puts her hand in his hair. “Friends don’t lie.” Mike starts to realize it all and starts to sob. She hugs him. Mike glances at Will and looks back at El: “Thank you. I - I’m so sorry…” She shakes her head and smiles, and kisses Mike on the cheek.

They hear from the walkie-talkie that now is the time. She takes Mike’s hand, “I can help you talk to him.” He understands and nods. They each hold one of Will’s hands. El takes the headphones off of Will. He starts to breathe heavily. Vecna is getting close… They close their eyes as El starts to focus.

Current-day Will is in the Upside Down, in the woods, and El is nowhere to be seen. Something is pursuing him. He runs to the old Byers house, runs in, and shuts the door. He hears Vecna taunting him: “How suitable. It’s time to finish what I started…” Will runs out to the old shed where the gun is. He is hyperventilating and starts to load the bullets. He feels the back of his neck, and turns around. He knows Vecna is in the back yard. Vecna slowly approaches the shed… when Will strides out and fires the gun. Vecna staggers back. Will is reliving and struggling through all the trauma and pain of everything that has happened to him since that fateful night. He strides forward, repeatedly firing, getting closer each time.

The bullets only have so much effect, and Vecna grabs Will by the neck. Will starts panicking. Back at Hopper’s cabin it becomes apparent Will is being Vecna’d. Mike: “El, what’s happening?” El is still struggling to focus. Mike tearfully kisses Will’s hand. “I’m right here!” El arrives in the Upside Down. She tries to stop Vecna but vines immediately grab her and restrain her. Vecna smiles and looks at Will: “Good… I see you have power over this place, too…” El looks in horror at Will, who is looking at Vecna in utter despair as he continues to taunt him. The more hopeless he feels, the more horrible his surroundings become. The Upside Down is tied to Will. El cannot reach him. Will starts to levitate.

Back in Hopper’s cabin, El levitates herself and Mike together with Will. She tightens her grip on Mike’s hand. Mike’s eyes open wide as he realizes what El’s doing. She shares his memories with Will (“I asked you to be my friend. You said yes”… a kindergarten Mike and Will swinging high on a pair of swings… biking through the rain and hugging his mom when he thought Will was dead, jumping off the cliff to join Will, by his bedside in s2, apologizing to Will in the rain, Will: “Not possible,” Mike looking back at Byers house and hugging his mom again, reading El’s letter “Maybe it is for a girl, I think there is someone he likes”, Will giving Mike the painting in the van, Mike happy seeing the painting, Will: “better for being different”) Mike: “I love you Will! Not just as a friend… I’ve always loved you. The painting, all of it, going to Vecna… I know what you’re doing! I won’t let you! And I’m sorry! I was too stupid to say how I feel. I was scared Will! I’m so sorry…”

… Vecna snaps Will’s arm. Mike: “No!!!”

In the Upside Down, Will opens his eyes with a look of utter determination. The vines unwrap around El. She distracts Vecna enough that Will falls to the ground (here and in Hopper’s cabin). El and Vecna have a showdown. The rest of the party, seeing their chance, get at Vecna’s power source. Seeing he is weakened, Vecna hurries elsewhere.

Will wakes up and winces from his arm, and looks kind of lost. Mike and El look at each other with concern. Mike: “I’m here.” He wants to hold Will but doesn’t want to hurt him. Will looks directly at Mike and extends his one good arm to him. Mike cups Will’s face and kisses him passionately. It is a long kiss… Will puts his hand in Mike’s hair, tears flowing. When it’s over Will is in disbelief.  “Am I dead?” El and Mike laugh. Mike caresses Will’s hair. Mike: “Don’t leave me Will, ever…” Will laughs and nods. “Okay.” Mike laughs, they kiss, and then hold on to each other as tightly as Will’s arm allows.

FOLLOW ME for the next part of “Byler Endgame, One Episode at a Time”!

Part 0 (what a Byler endgame needs to address) Previous episode Next episode

-teambyler

[eksvaized]

[ Previous ┃ Next ] part 9

Simon was fiddling with his balaclava. The fabric was coarse and suffocating. It stuck to his skin, causing a persistent itch that seemed to spread across his face. He had to resist the urge to yank it off. Matt has seen his face, but with a little bit of luck, he might have knocked that image out of his head when he beat him up, and if he keeps his features hidden, Matt might not remember him by the end of all of this.

Matt was awake. His face was smeared with dried blood, his nose was broken, and his clothes were ripped. He was locked in the cell, which was in the damp basement of the old shed. Simon refused to engage in conversation, leaving Matt to stew in his fear. However, Matt was far from docile. He banged on the bars, threw his body against them, and did everything he could to draw Simon’s attention. He even tried to negotiate his release, foolishly hoping that words could somehow set him free.

“What the hell do you want from me?!” At first, Matt was timid and sat in the dark corner, too terrified to even raise his head. But as Simon continued his ominous silence, it gave him the confidence to speak, which eventually led to him yelling and shouting. He lashed out, and his fear turned into anger. “Is it the money you need? I’m loaded... my family is flush with cash!” At this point, he was practically tearing his hair out. “Just let me out and... and I swear to you, I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Fuck, I’ll even pay you. Just name your price and let me go”

Simon bought this property many years ago. However, it had been just as long since he last set foot in this old, weathered shed. He used this place to control his urges when his impulses would drive him astray. Whenever he found himself in a mess of his own making — a situation that seemed impossible to resolve — this shed allowed him to slow down, pause and think, and figure a way out.

Admittedly, most, if not all, people who found themselves in a similar situation as Matt’s, trapped in a cold cell, did not get out of here alive. But Simon wanted to believe that this time, it would end differently. Killing Matt, no matter how much of a scumbag he was, would upset you, and Simon didn’t want to do anything that could cause you pain.

“Shut up!” Simon eventually roared, unable to endure Matt’s incessant whining for a moment longer. He had been trying to unlock Matt’s phone for the past half hour, but he couldn’t figure out the passcode, and he was sick of having to wait every time his guess was incorrect. “How do I unlock your phone?”

Matt hesitated, his cheeks squished between the bars. His eyes darted to the phone in Simon’s hand. But as Simon rose to his feet, Matt immediately took a step back and blurted out a sequence of numbers and random letters. Simon sat back down and entered the password. The phone unlocked.

Simon started looking through the contents of it. His eyes were drawn to a series of notifications that littered the screen. There were two missed calls and five unread messages. None seemed important, except for a text from someone named Carl, who appeared to be furious because Matt hadn’t shown up at work. In an attempt to maintain the illusion of normality, Simon responded. Pretending to be Matt, he explained he needed to take a few days off because he was feeling unwell after a heavy night out.

Simon realised that it was important to preserve the impression that Matt had not disappeared.

Once that was done, he swiftly navigated to the conversation thread between you and Matt. This was, after all, the primary reason he had this phone. Simon wanted to know what it was Matt says to you, what he tells you to make you fall at his feet. Yet, to his surprise, there were merely a handful of text exchanges. Most of them were from Matt, asking if you were free, if you were at home, and if he could come over.

He then clicked on the gallery. It was filled with many pictures of Matt with a different woman by his side each time. Also, there were two or three shots of his dick, which Simon scoffed at (and which made him grow confident, knowing there was no way he could please you with that tiny thing). As he tried to erase those haunted images from his mind, he stumbled upon something that piqued his interest and ignited a flame of anger within him.

Matt has taken multiple pictures of you. In all of them, you were asleep, completely oblivious that a camera was pointed at you. If it had been Simon who had captured these, he would have paused, perhaps even taken the time to admire them. But knowing that Matt had taken these without your consent infuriated him. Simon’s grasp on the phone became so tight, his fingers pressing into the device with such force that he was on the brink of shattering the screen.

Simon was buried so deep in his thoughts that it took a long time for Matt’s muted voice, as he talked to himself, to reach his ears. Simon didn’t raise his head to look at him, but he paused to listen.

“... if I’d known this night was going to end like this... Fuck, I would never... ever have gone to see that bitch and got drunk... I—”

“Don’t call her like that unless you want me to rip out your tongue and feed it to you,” Simon hissed. He should have kept his lips sealed, but he wasn’t going to let that jerk talk about you like that.

“Who? Y/N? She’s a bi—” Matt was about to repeat the same mistake. But before the word could slip past his lips, Simon sprang to his feet and moved closer to the bars that separated them. Simon’s eyes darkened, and he made no effort to hide the raw anger that was seeping out of him. Matt got the memo and shut his mouth; at the same time, everything seemed to connect in his mind, and clarity hit him. Everything began to make sense. “So she’s the reason I’m there?” He spat and began to pace around the cell, his fingers running through his dirty hair. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re just some bitter ex-boyfriend of hers, aren’t you?

Simon maintained a stony silence. He feared that if he opened his mouth, he might say something he would later regret. There was still a chance that Matt might walk out of here alive, so the less he knew about Simon, who was still just a masked stranger to him, the better it was. He tried very hard not to let Matt’s incessant chatter provoke him, but the idiot wasn’t shutting up.

“I don’t care about her... she’s yours! Honestly, I only reached out to her because I was curious. We dated in high school, but she was always such a prude, and I...”

Matt truly believed that he was doing the right thing by giving up you, allowing Simon to have you all to himself, promising he would disappear from your life. His desperate speech was working. But the problem was that Matt didn’t know when to stop talking.

“I only kept coming over because she kept inviting me. She seemed ecstatic to reunite with me... I was initially apprehensive, but after the first time we slept together, I knew I could exploit her.” Matt paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with air before continuing. “I knew I could text her whenever I wanted to fuck. She never turned me down, and whenever I came over, the night always ended with me in her bed. I let her believe I liked her, that there was a chance we may be something more in the future... all because she was fantastic in bed and made herself easy.”

Simon had reached his breaking point. He could no longer tolerate Matt’s disrespectful comments about you. You weren’t easy, and you weren’t an object that he could use anytime he wanted to show his dick into someone. Your innocence and naivety led you to believe that Matt genuinely liked you. This belief is what kept you going back to him, time and time again. You were too blind to recognise that Matt was taking advantage of you. And you would probably never see it, but that doesn’t matter. Simon will handle this. He won’t stand by and watch you get hurt, nor will he let Matt break your heart. He will make sure that Matt will never touch you again.

Matt was gripping the cold bars, standing perilously close, his knuckles turning white. Simon’s mind went blank, and he closed the gap between them. His calloused hand wrapped around Matt’s throat.

Matt immediately began his desperate struggle, his every muscle strained as he tried to push Simon away. His fingers dug into Simon’s arms, his nails clawing at his skin in an attempt to break free. But Simon, without a single thought in his head, fuelled by rage, remained still; he was stronger and his hold was firm. He kept squeezing and squeezing, preventing the air from filling Matt’s lungs. His eyes, devoid of mercy, fixated on Matt’s face, watching as he began to run out of oxygen and strain to breathe. A minute passed. Matt’s face turned a disturbing shade of blue, his eyes started to water, and the tears rolled down his pallid cheeks.

Simon was so focused on keeping his grip secure, refusing to let go, that he failed to register Matt’s frantic movements. He didn’t notice when Matt’s fingers curled around the fabric of his balaclava. He was oblivious until the very moment when Matt tugged Simon’s mask off. A sudden realisation dawned on Simon, and his eyes grew wide. Now, Matt knew who he was, he had seen Simon’s face, the one thing that Simon was determined to keep hidden. Without realising it, Matt had thrown away his chance of getting out of this cell alive.

Before, Simon intended to kill him out of jealousy, for the way he spoke about you, for the way he treated you... but now, killing him was a necessity, and Simon only stepped away from the cell bars when Matt’s body went limp in his hands.