#Morgan loves fight videos

[cds-fanfic-rablings]

Lim; “don’t you dare.”

Glassman: “I just think it would do you well-“

Lim: *Glares*

Andrews: *Sitting on the floor eating a croissant*

Villanueva: *watching from the nurses station*

Reznick: *Recording*

Park: *Making a bet*

Melendez: *Praying for Glassman*

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!reader)

A/N: I am exhausted this weekend so if at some point you feel like the writing shows that DON'T BE ALARMED. It is simply just me fighting back the urge to go to bed. The chapter does contain a good amount of sexual assault and violence so please, please, please be mindful of that while reading. I love all the comments here and Ao3, they make my day! I have also been noticing a lot of love towards the original of this series and I appreciate everyone for taking their time to read the remake! Please know that as of right now this thing IS NOT PROOFREAD I JUST NEED TO GET IT OUT! Stay safe, healthy, and happy! -Love, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #2 > Next Chapter: Tape #4

WARNING: Cancer mentioned, sexual assault, blood, knife, cutting, mentions of death, death threats. Remember that you are not alone.

Tape Contents: Spencer and Derek are sent to discuss your abduction with Adeline. You fight back a sexual and physical attack from Heather. Heather reveals her plans for what will happen if anyone finds you.

Word Count: 4,029

March 5, 20XX

Spencer wasn’t too fond of hospitals, but he was fond of children. He interacted with them, loving that he could see how they processed information–new and old—every day. He loved Henry to bits, the way the kid was so willing to listen to Spencer’s ramblings or the way he was so amazed at a magic trick Spencer was doing. 

Sick kids were a tragically different story, not that he didn’t like them. He always felt like… well, he was having a hard time conceptualizing it as he weaved through the crowded lobby. The pediatrics oncology unit was too packed for his liking. Statistically, he knew that one in two hundred eighty-five children could be diagnosed with some form of cancer before they hit twenty. That didn’t mean he had to like weaving through a small crowd of parents, doctors, and nurses on the way to room two hundred thirty with Morgan. There it was –the words for that feeling– watching someone younger than himself not being able to experience life at thirty. 

After finding the friendship keychain, Hotch decided that Reid and Morgan should find your alleged ride-or-die, Adeline Smith. Meanwhile, Hotch and Prentiss would drive to Norfolk to talk to your mother. Rossi and JJ were handling some information with the police, so they were all paired away. 

Derek and he slipped into the hospital room that housed Adeline and her daughter, Nicole. His chest tightened involuntarily at the sight of a mother stroking her daughter’s head, a smile on both of their faces. Derek was quick to speak, “Excuse me,” The mother and daughter jumped at the noise, and their eyes snapped to the hospital room door. “I’m Special Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We just have some questions.” His hands dug into his jacket pocket to pull out the badge, muscle memory for both.

Adeline’s hand fell from her daughter's hairless head to her shoulder, her fingers giving it a light squeeze. “Questions regarding?” She asked with a curious expression as she stood up, a skeptical look in her eyes. 

Spencer’s eyes met Nicole’s for a second, a small smile rising to his lips, and she gave him a nervous smile right back. He moved his gaze over to Adeline, who was now standing with her arms folded across her chest as she waited for the two men to answer her question. Derek looked over his shoulder at Spencer, then back at Adeline. He gently motioned for her to follow him to a slightly more private area to talk to her, the two moving to a corner of the room near the bathroom.

“Were you aware that Y/N L/N was being stalked?” Derek’s voice was calm as Spencer approached Nicole’s bedside chair and sat in it awkwardly. 

Spencer motioned towards the girl’s stuffed animal, a bright orange cat that sat in between her legs. “I love cats,” he said in a soft voice. 

Nicole beamed at him, grabbed the stuffed cat, and happily petted the top of its head: “Me too! This is Bee.” 

“Bee? Do you like Bees?” 

Adeline’s eyes strayed to Spencer's conversation with her daughter, and she nodded a little at Derek’s question: “We talked about it. She went to the police.” She said, a little numbly, before her head suddenly snapped towards him. “Why?” 

“She was taken from her apartment on March third. She recorded videos for the police to send to us, the Behavioral Analysis Unit, to help find her.” Derek explained gently as he watched Adeline’s face go pale. 

Adeline grabbed her clothed chest and searched for a breath, her eyes wild as she looked at Derek’s face. Her eyes began searching for some hint in his face that he was lying, but she found none. She couldn’t stop the tears that were filling her waterline, and she turned her body away from her daughter and Spencer in a desperate attempt to hide her tears from her daughter. Her knees felt weak as she tried to breathe. 

Spencer glanced back at Adeline and Derek, scooting a little to obstruct Nicole’s field of vision. He didn’t want the young girl to see her mother cry. Nicole shook her head slightly at his question, “No, not really. Auntie Y/N got her for me, and she loves bees.” She laughed softly, her words making Spencer’s heart melt a little. 

“Is Bee your favorite?” 

The girl covered the cat’s plush ears and smiled like she had a secret. “No, but she is my second favorite.” Her fingers scratched the stuffed animal’s ears gently. “Mr. Business is my first,” she whispered to him. 

“Ah, and where is Mr. Business?” His eyes searched her hospital bed, and then he spotted a stuffed cat, a tuxedo cat. He grinned a little, and he motioned to the stuffed animal with his eyes, “Mr. Business is a very fitting name, I think,” 

Adeline held out a hand for some space from Derek, and the hand clutching her chest came up to her mouth as she tried to keep from vomiting all over him. She had been stuck in this hospital when you had called her that first night. Having always loved talking to you, she answered enthusiastically. Still, the more she listened to the situation, the more she realized she didn’t have the emotional strength to comfort you the way you needed. And she said that to you. She said that to you. She couldn’t help you then, and she couldn’t help you now. She couldn’t even help her own daughter. 

A sob rose in her throat, and she shook her head rapidly. “No, no, no, we talked on that day. Th-That night,” She recounted softly to Derek through her tears. 

“What did you talk about?” Derek whispered the question softly as his eyes searched the room for some tissues, but his search was futile. He places a gentle hand on Adeline’s shoulder instead. 

“We talked about college; she wanted her mind off of things, so we talked about our apartment when we were in grad school. It’s been two days! What have you been doing for two days while my best friend went missing?” Her cheeks were red, her fingers pointing accusingly at him before she sobbed softly, and her hand was moving back up to wrap around her mouth to muffle the sound. 

“She didn’t show up to work on March fifth. That's when she was reported missing. We’re doing everything we can. What time did the two of you talk?” 

“W-we talked around nine, maybe nine-thirty?” She whispered back softly before she started to breathe heavily again. “Why didn’t I call? I should have called again. It was getting so late, and she had locked all the doors, and I thought she was just being anxious. I should have called her again. I should have left the hospital to visit her.” Her mind was spiraling, the neverending rabbit hole that showed her all the ways she could have saved her best friend, unhinged its proverbial jaw and swallowed her whole, ready to digest.  

Morgan wasn’t necessarily new to the information, as Penelope had already told him about your call logs from that evening, but he always liked to hear it be confirmed. It also helped him place an estimate of the time of your abduction. “Could you tell me about anyone, anyone at all, that might have been a little too into Y/N? Any ex-boyfriends that refused to leave her alone? Did she break up with anyone around Christmas?” 

“No, she hasn’t dated anyone for almost a year.” Adeline sighed thickly and shook her head as she tried to calm down. “No, all her ex-boyfriends, they were always so mousy. ” She sighed, “And they always look alike,” she paused and gave a soft, sad chuckle, motioning over to where Spencer was as he continued to entertain her daughter. “Well, they all look like your Doctor friend, if I’m being honest. She’s always been too nice for her own good, even in college.”

Spencer tried to talk over the sobs that could be heard from the corner of the hospital room, clearing his throat or laughing as Nicole stumbled through a story. “She’s a loud crier,” Nicole whispered with a gentle pat on Bee’s head. 

Spencer frowned as his efforts failed him, and he looked over his shoulder at Morgan, who was looking at him with a similarly sympathetic look on his face. He was about to say something when Nicole shoved Bee toward him, “You should give this to Auntie Y/N. Mommy said she was sad the other day. Bee always helps.” 

Spencer turned the stuffed animal over in his hands, and he debated telling her the truth, but thankfully, his better judgment decided against it. “It’ll be the first thing I do when I see her,” Spencer promised softly as Nicole smiled wide at him. 

As Derek and he walked out of the hospital, Derek’s eyes stayed on the stuffed orange cat in Spencer’s hands. As they pushed past a small group of people, Spencer found himself almost slamming into a pretty nurse, a gorgeous nurse. Her blue eyes blinked as she shuffled to one side, only to be unintentionally blocked by Spencer once more. She sighed a little and gave him a once over with a frown. Her eyes lingered on the gun holstered against his hip before she gave him a polite smile and said, “Excuse me,” and slipped past the two men with a determined look in her eyes.  

Derek only said something when they got into the parking lot, the two of them walking to the black SUV, “Did you pick one up at the gift shop?” 

Spencer groaned softly, making Derek chuckle as he walked around the car’s front to the passenger seat. “Open the door,” He said bluntly. When they were both inside the car, Spencer carefully placed the stuffed animal in his bag, and Derek chuckled again at the sight, turning the key. 

“You didn’t even buy me one,” 

March 5, 20XX

You were assuming Heather was angry with you. The assumption wasn’t baseless as the hunger in your stomach growled. You were quick to find that the harmony between a full stomach and morphine did matter and that harmony had left you many hours prior. You also were basing the assumption as you had spent what must have been a whole day fighting off tears and nausea. 

The sick part was that you were beginning to get used to how your body got swarmed with heavy, hot, and benevolent warmth. The dull pain in your ankle was silenced under the warmth’s blanket of kindness. It reminded you of a heated blanket in a strange way. 

You had finished the sips of your water before falling asleep and regretting it. You had learned that the bucket off to the side of the dresser was the perfect distance from the bed. Your broken ankle was dragging against the carpet with every movement.  The chain around your good ankle didn’t snag as you sluggishly managed to hold your body up against the wall to pee into the bucket.

Once you were done, you hopped on your good leg and managed to pull your clothes back on. Your body fell face-first onto the bed, eliciting a soft groan from your lips as you found your body reluctant to move from its new home. 

You closed your eyes and fell into the position, letting the bed sink in deeper. Your eyes snapped open with a sense of alertness that you hadn’t felt in hours as you heard the first click of a lock. Your arms weakly managed to push yourself up into a sitting position, pushing yourself back to your former position against the headboard. Your head throbbed at the fast movement, and your vision blurred as you tried to focus on the door. 

When it slowly opened, you sucked in a small breath of air, watching as Heather slid into the room with a tray of food. “Hello, my Catherine.” She sighed as she shoved the keys into her scrub pocket with one balanced hand. “My, my, someone is looking pale today.” She asked as she sat down in the chair off the side of the bed with a gentle, pretty smile. 

You nodded a little. Your lips were numb as you licked them. “What day is it?” Your voice came out quiet and strangled. 

“Monday,” She stated simply as she twisted the top off a bottle of apple juice. She handed it over to your already waiting hands before she carefully lowered the morphine drip’s intake level. You greedily drank the juice without thinking twice, desperate to get something in your stomach. 

You panted lightly as you pulled the half-empty bottle away from your lips, “Th-the date, I mean,” 

“March fifth,” She rolled her eyes as she carefully rearranged a neatly made turkey sandwich on a paper plate, slowly placing the plate on the edge of the bed for you to take. “You moved in here early Saturday morning, don’t you remember?” she laughed out like it was the silliest thing she had ever heard. 

You felt your mouth start to move to correct her, to tell her that you didn’t move in; she had kidnapped you. But as you stared at the turkey sandwich on the edge of the bed, you realized that playing along would be better. Playing along meant more food and less nausea. Playing along meant living longer. “Right,” You said breathlessly as you pulled the paper plate to your lap. “How could I forget?” 

Heather smiled a little as she watched you bite into the sandwich, happy to see you adjusting. You were eating so fast that she was a little worried about your empty stomach. She didn’t want to make feeding you so sporadically a habit. But yesterday, when she came up with a food tray, she thought about your rudeness and how cruel you had been to her. It made her stomach twist into angry knots. She decided that not feeding you for a day would be a lesson.

“I’m so happy our first fight is over. I hate to be angry with you, Catherine.” Heather’s sweet tone wasn’t lost on you as she touched your arm gently. Your chewing slowed for a second before you swallowed, your eyes glued to her hand on your arm. 

“I picked out every gift just for you,” She sighed softly as she traced soft circles against your skin. You fought back the urge to pull your arm away. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know? You remember in college when you and Adeline dressed up as Lizzie and Jane Bennet. No one got it but god,” She sighed, her eyes finding yours as you stayed frozen. 

The hand on your arm slowly reached for the paper plate on your lap. Your fingers twitched a little as you fought back the urge to grab the food as she placed the plate on the nightstand beside your bed. Everything was happening so fast and yet incredibly slow at the same time.

Then she stood up and crawled onto the bed, swinging one leg over your lap before stranding you with a white smile. Her hands came to cup your face and tilt it up. A soft sigh fell from her lips. “You’ve always been brilliant,” 

You shook your head in her hands lightly. The warmth of the morphine was slow to leave your body, but as your body filled with an intense feeling of dread, you could feel everything. Your ankle throbbed sharply, and you were starting to feel like you were about to be sick again. “I’m not,” 

Heather threw her head back and laughed as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. When she lowered her head to meet your gaze again, she leaned closer, one of her thumbs reaching up to trace your bottom lip. You cringed a little at the feeling, a sight that she ignored. “You’ve always been so humble, too. How did I get so lucky?” She whispered as she leaned in to kiss your lips softly. 

You felt your lips tighten and bile rise to your throat, and you swallowed it. You let her kiss you once, then twice, then a third time. Your lips stayed closed in a tight line as you tried to imagine yourself in a different position, but with every touch Heather placed on you, the more you stayed cemented in your reality. 

Heather pulled back with a look in her eyes that you could recognize as crazed lust. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to know what her hands felt like anymore. You bit your lip to silence a whimper. Her hands pulled roughly at your shirt as she grabbed the hem of it and pulled it over your head with a simple yank. 

You shook your head quickly now, “No, Heather, I-I’m not ready. I don’t-” 

She shushed you softly with a gentle smile as she traced the swell of your breast slowly, the touch eliciting your tears to pool over your waterline. “I know you’re worried, but I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” Her eyes lingered on the prominent bruise on the center of your chest. She frowned, leaning down carefully to kiss the blue and black patch of skin. 

“No,” You cried softly, your voice soft before you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore. “No!” You yelled, causing her back to straighten and sit up. 

“I’m sorry?” She asked with a soft scoff. 

“I-I can’t do it, I’m not ready. I don’t want to, Heather. Please don’t make me.” You begged softly as tears rolled down your face. “I’ll try next time, I promise. I just, please, please don’t make me.” 

Heather frowned a little before she let out a harsh laugh, her arms folding over her chest tightly. She looked down at you, “You know I saw your precious little Adeline today,” 

You felt your back tense at Adeline's mention, “What? I thought you worked in pediatrics, not pediatric oncology. W-why did you see Adeline?” 

Heather reached out a hand to press on your bruise roughly, the feeling making you wince. “I work in pediatric oncology. Sometimes, I help Nicole. I loved it when you visited her at the hospital. It was almost too easy to steal the copy of your apartment key from Adeline. She doesn’t love you as much as I love you, you know that, right?” 

You shook your head, and you cried harder as you realized that you had never even noticed her at the hospital. Your focus has always been so zoned in on Nicole or Adeline that you didn’t even register Heather’s presence. Would Adeline remember Heather? You doubted it. 

“She talked to some agents or something and was inconsolable. Fucking useless friend of yours. Anyway, I ran into them in the hallway. Scrawny kid with some buff guy, I’m sure Adeline called them.” 

You found your hands grabbing her hand on your chest and shook your head side-to-side. “No, Adeline doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t, I promise.” 

Heather’s eyes met yours briefly before they trailed down to your bare chest and your hands holding onto her wrist. “Say you love me more than her then,” 

“I-I, what?” 

“Say it.” 

You opened your mouth, but all that came out were gentle sobs as you tried to form the words, terrified that she was about to do something to Adeline. The thought of Heather hurting Adeline had you gasping softly for air. 

Her eyes were on yours again as you panted softly, “You don’t love me?” Her spit hit your cheek as she hissed the words in rageful disbelief. She was off your lap in seconds as she moved to the dresser and quickly pulled out a small pairing knife. 

“Wait,” You cried softly as you tried to hurry away from her, making a vain attempt to get up from the bed that was meant with a howl of pain from your ankle and your body slumping over the edge lamely. 

Her hands grabbed your ankles, good and injured, and pulled you roughly to the edge of the bed. A scream left your throat at the contact. “You think I’m going to let them find you?” She questioned in a suspiciously calm voice as she grazed the smooth side of the knife against your collarbone.

You stayed frozen as she leaned in closer, her lips at the shell of your ear, “If they ever found you, Emma. I would kill you and then myself. I’ve already decided. We have to be together,” Her voice in your ear had you breathing harder as she slowly pressed the tip of the knife into the area above your heart. 

The knife only stung at first before it felt like a ripping pain. Heather dragged the knife into your skin with a deliberate sense of control. Not too deep, not too superficial. Something she wouldn’t have to stitch up. She made a diagonal line before staring a few inches apart from the other cut. “We belong together, Jane.” 

You cried out again as she started dragging the knife into your skin once more, “Please,” 

“You just need to open your heart. If they ever found us, I need to mark where to shoot. Stay still.” 

As Heather got close to completing the ‘X’ mark on your chest, marking you as a possible target. You felt your body thrash under her weakly. The edge of one of the lines skewed to the left, and Heather let out an annoyed groan before she pulled the knife away from your chest and to your lips. “Stop fucking crying,” She growled as she slashed at your bottom lip. 

You hissed at the feeling as blood coated your chest and filled your mouth. You stared up at her as soft sobs kept leaving your mouth, “Fuck you.” You muttered before gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth and shooting it directly at her. 

You laughed as it made contact with her cheek, and she wiped the bloody spit away with the back of her hand. She laughed harshly as she nodded a little, “Okay, so you want to be a brat.” She laughed. 

She was sliding off the bed now, leaving you lying on your back, her chest rising and falling quickly as she gripped the pairing knife in her hand tighter. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. It’ll be your last one, Emma.” She snapped at you before stomping to the door and flying it open. 

Once she was gone, you stayed there, staring up at the ceiling wordlessly. You licked at the cut on your lip gently as blood flowed freely into your mouth. You swallowed the copper-tasting liquid as you let the consequences sink in. She was going to kill you if they found you, and you had already called for a team of highly trained professionals to come to find you. 

You almost laughed at the irony. You didn’t want them to find you. You did want them to find you. It was almost hilarious. You tried to smile with your cut lip but found the action too painful to manage. 

You didn’t want to die at twenty-eight. You wanted to see your mom again, Adeline, Nicole, hell, you wanted to go to work one more time. You rolled onto your stomach and cringed the way the fluffy comforter grazed the bleeding “X” on your chest. You reached for the morphine drip and rolled it closer as you slowly turned a knob and upped the intake. Your shaking hands then moved to the sandwich on the nightstand with a sigh. 

She could kill you when they found you, but if she thought you weren’t going to try and manipulate the situation, she was dead wrong. You weakly bit into the sandwich while trying to think of a plan. 

You refused to die without leaving a mark.

TAG LIST: @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

[w2soneshots]

Soft launch -Angry ginge

words: 1.1k+

warnings: light smut.

summary: you and Morgan announce your relationship, he asks you an important question and you celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Liked by kaci.jay and 104,690 others

y/username: soft launch?? @angryginge13

-comments-

angryginge13: hard launch??

dannyaarons: so cute man❤️

user20577940: omgggggg finally!!!!!

Me and Morgan have been together for just over 6 months. We decided to keep it a secret since we didn't want other people's opinions effecting our relationship while it was still early doors, but ended up putting it off for a lot longer than we anticipated. Last night after watching the KSI vs Tommy Fury fight, we decided to quietly announce it.

We met in a pub, he was hanging around with his friends playing pool, and I was with my best friend Lana. Nether of us drink so had something in common when our friends started to become increasingly more pissed.

Today I'm tagging along to one of his house viewings. He's been trying to find a home for a while now, with no luck. I knocked on his door and he opened it a few minutes later. "Hey babe." he said pulling me into the house and then into a kiss. I smiled into the kiss. He pulled away "What?" He questioned. "What was that for?" I asked with a smile still plastered on my face. "I've just missed you." He stated. "I saw you last week." I said. "A week too long." he said and I shook my head with a giggle.

We left the house around 10 minutes later. "You exited?" I asked while he drove. "Not really, I've been to so many of these so I don't have my hopes up". he said focusing on the road. "This could be the one!" I poked his side. "I hope so." he said quickly glancing at me. "We're here." he said as we pulled up. "Ooo this is nice!" I said excitedly. It's pretty big, with light brick and a dark roof, it has big windows and a nice sheltered driveway.

"And this is the master bedroom." the estate agent said showing us the final room. "This is lush!" I said looking around. "I'll leave you to discuss." the man said leaving the room. Morgan grabbed my arm "y/n?" "Yea?" I said slightly confused by his seriousness. "I know we've only been together for a few months but- I- hate it when you're gone even just for a day, we spend most nights together anyway and I know the lease on your house is running out I- I was just wondering, only if you want to, move in with me?" I was stunned, couldn't believe the words that just came out of his mouth. "I-" he cut me off "you really don't have to." he said. "No, I do." I said. "You do?" I nodded "of course I do you idiot!" he smiled and pulled me into a hug.

y/username just posted a new story!

Morgan officially bought that house soon after and we moved in the next month. We had minimal furniture for a little while but after many trips to Ikea we were finally getting somewhere. It's a three bedroom, 2 bathroom house with a lovely kitchen and living room along with a relatively large back garden. Our bedroom is almost finished as well as Morgan's gaming room where he streams and the third bedroom which he turned into my beauty room. I told him It was his house so he should do whatever he wants in it and not use a whole room just for me but one day I came home to him sat on the floor building an Ikea dressing table. Once he spotted me he stood up and said "non refundable." pointing to the pieces on the floor, I shook my head and laughed.

Today is valentines day so I sat at my dressing table getting ready for dinner. Morgan is currently filming a football video with Chris (md). He felt awful for not being here but booked a nice dinner to make up for it. Once I was fully ready I took some pictures for insta. I heard the front door open and hurried downstairs. But I stopped in my tracks when I saw Morgan standing there with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. "happy Valentine’s Day." he said. I stepped toward him and he handed the flowers to me. "They're beautiful, thank you!" I said with a big smile. I quickly placed them on the table and pulled him into a hug. "You look beautiful by the way." he said and I pulled out of the hug to give him a kiss. "Now, get ready we need to leave." I said.

Liked by dannyaarons and 360,855 others

y/username: happy valentines day💘

-comments-

angryginge13: ❤️❤️🔥

kaci.jay: so beautiful!

-> y/username: 🤍🤍

tenesseethresh: STUNNING🖤

user74108510: where's that dress from? x

-> y/username: oh polly xx

Morgan quickly had a shower and got dressed. We left and arrived at the restaurant just in time. We were seated and given menus. "Mmm, this all looks so good!" I said scanning the paper. "I think I'm gonna get the burger." he said, and I laughed "what?" He asked with a smirk. "so predictable."

We ordered and ate our food. By the time we left it was pitch black outside. We got into the car and Morgan drove us home. He kept his hand firmly on my thigh the entire way and we sat in a comfortable silence. Once we arrived home we went inside and I slipped my heels off. "thank fuck for that." I sighed. I looked up to see Morgan standing a few centimetres from my face. I looked into his eyes and his flickered down to my lips. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he pulled me into a kiss. It quickly became more and more passionate and soon we were in our bedroom. He pulled the zipper of my dress down so it fell to the floor. He broke the kiss for a second to look down at me, he gasped slightly "no panties, you dirty girl." he whispered before pulling me back into the kiss. I smirked into the kiss and pushed him towards the bed so he fell backwards onto it.

I crawled onto him and pulled off his shirt. Both of our breaths were heavy as I removed his pants and underwear in one swift motion. His hard cock hit his stomach and I resumed the kiss. His hands were harshly grabbing my ass as I grind down on him slowly. "y/n," he groaned. I slowly pushed myself onto his dick. He let out a loud groan and began bucking his hips up into me. "fuck, y/n."

[sir-walton-goggins]

A Quiet Time

(1479 words) by yourlocallygrowngay

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/Female Reader

Summary: Arthur has been waiting all day to get his hands on you. You retreat to his tent with only one instruction: be as quiet as possible.

---

You gasped softly as Arthur felt around for the slit in your bloomers and hovered his fingers on your warm center, taking his sweet time. He was about to drive you crazy.  And you were supposed to be quiet, too?!

The owls hooted and the crickets chirped as the last embers of the campfire extinguished in the cold chill of the night. It was dead silent at camp, the only muffled sounds coming from Arthur’s closed tent, where he had brought you to get some well-deserved privacy. He had been craving you all day, frequently sneaking glances at you, hungrily scanning the way your blue jeans folded at the center of your crotch, like arrows pointing straight at it. It was like a dinner bell to him: he wanted to feel it, to taste it, to be buried deep within it, to get rid of that annoying thick fabric that kept your folds locked away from him. You stopped your gaze on your partner and smirked at his blissful expression.

“You daydreamin’ there, Arthur?” you kneeled in front of him. He hummed softly, taking a swig of his beer. You gave him a chaste kiss on his reddened cheek, appropriate for the public setting you were in. Next thing you knew, you were in his tent, laying next to him on his cot, one arm cradling your head while the other got busy under your bloomers.

“Oh God,” you exhaled once Arthur’s middle finger found your folds and dipped inside slowly. It was far from being a new sensation: you were more than capable of taking care of that yourself, but it was never quite as satisfying as when his fingers, twice as big as yours, stretched you so well and led you to the finish line.

Arthur shushed you softly, inserting and retracting his finger a few times, and it was already soaked from your arousal.

“Look at’chu, already dripping for me…” he purred inside your ear, voice heavy and low sending a million icy shivers all across your skin.

He pushed further inside this time, just half a motion away from your clit, and you couldn’t hide the moan that escaped your lips before you were even aware of it. Arthur flew to your lips and muffled it by kissing you slowly and deeply, regretfully muting that delectable sound you were making. It was a crime, telling you to be quiet like this, especially since he loved all your little shrieks and mewls and gasps when he did all the things he knew you loved. But you were at camp, and he couldn’t wait another second to touch you, and he didn’t want anyone to find out about your pure moment of bliss. That belonged to you two only, and it was precious. And NOT to be interrupted.

You moaned against Arthur’s mouth, trying to control your breathing as he fingered you faster now, and you were already soaking your underwear and his knuckles. You felt his boner against your hip as he kissed your swollen lips, desperately trying to keep you quiet.

“You’re so beautiful, honey…” he mumbled, keeping his hand steadily thrusting between your thighs and unable to resist the urge to grind his aching stiffness against your hip to give it some relief, all while leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your earlobe all the way down to the soft curve of your breasts, stopping at you neck for a more thorough visit. It was almost torture, having to restrain yourself from expressing how he made you feel, because he made you feel heavenly. And you wanted him to hear it.

“Such a good girl… already coming undone from one finger… that’s not all you gon’ get from me, sweetheart.” Arthur was fighting the urge to be quiet with the one, much stronger, to praise the shit out of you, because he couldn’t give it up. He wanted you to know just how good you were for him.

Arthur thought he could come just by looking at you: such a pretty thing, lying there with your lips red and puffed from all the kissing, chest heaving and pearlescent with little droplets of sweat running down its mounds, one leg propped up on the cot to allow him easier access to your cunt, hips thrusting upwards in a desperate attempt to meet his finger, wanting more. And, luckily for you, more was coming.

“Arth-“ that’s all you could manage to say before he suddenly inserted another finger, and you had to summon all of your strength not to scream. You tilted your torso towards him, gripping at his chest so hard you pulled a few of his chest hairs out, but Arthur didn’t flinch. He was completely captivated by you, how you moved according to what he did, how he had you in the literal palm of his hand. How glorious you looked at the verge of an orgasm. He knew you were close, and he was too, but this wasn’t about him. You were his top priority right now, without your pleasure there wouldn’t be his.

“I’m stretching you so good, aren’t I? You want me to go faster, do you?” he said disjointedly, his breathing heavier and heavier as he moved frantically to pleasure both you and him, his mind slightly fogged by that amazing feeling pulsating just underneath, within reach, but fighting hard to keep it under control. You nodded enthusiastically at his request to fuck you harder, and he happily obliged, adding one last finger. The sounds of his fingers slapping against your wet cunt were spreading inside the tent and were obscenely satisfying to you both.

Arthur pre-emptively wrapped you into a kiss so you couldn’t wake everybody up with your delightful screams.  His tongue eagerly explored your mouth as his hand took care of your other set of lips, both swollen and soaking wet as he kept hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and deliberately, making you roll your eyes back into your skull and your mouth fly open, your back arching against his wall of a body. God, you felt so warm and so welcoming… Arthur knew he wasn’t going to resist much longer, his release was near. But yours had to come first.

“That’s it, you’re almost there. Come for me, darlin’…” he coaxed you, precum already dripping down his thigh as he kept moving inside you.

You hit your climax, forgetting all about keeping quiet as you flew to another dimension, unable to control anything your body did. You slowly came down from your high as Arthur did from his, union suit stained with his own orgasm, his fingers still thrusting and not stopping until you had fully recovered to ease the sensation.

“Yep. That’s my girl” he chuckled proudly, taking the fingers still covered in your sweet juice to his lips and licking them like they were dipped in honey. You always tasted amazing to him, and he couldn’t resist doing that every time: you were just so good, plus, he loved the hungry look in your eyes when he did that in front of you.

Arthur brushed aside the sweaty hair that had stuck to your forehead and left a tender kiss just above your eyebrows. You looked up at him with a drunken smile on your face, still a bit high. He returned the same smile to you, leaning in again to leave a peck on your lips and nose.

“Was that… good for you?” he asked, like he didn’t just rock your entire world a moment ago.  You nodded, thanking him and caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes and emitted a low hum of contentedness, enjoying your gentle touch.

You sat up, re-adjusting your underwear around your sweaty body. Arthur asked if you needed anything. Water to drink? A cloth to clean yourself up with? Just a word from you and he was already buttoning up his pants and ducking out of the tent to fetch you what you asked. He was always so caring and dutiful after doing the deed with you, asking if you’re okay, if you’re hurt or sore and what he could do for you. It was a bit of a ritual for him, like going though a mental checklist to make sure you were 100% comfortable and happy. He knew he could be quite rough, even if he tried to restrain himself, so he wanted to be certain you were being taken care of after such an intimate act. Arthur was back in a blink, with a cup of water in one hand and a fresh cloth he dutifully dabbed all over your exposed skin to wipe away your sweat.

Once your thirst was quenched and both of you were clean, you cuddled on his cot and you fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.

[velvetcloxds]

if you're too shy- dbf!derek morgan where he's secretly dating rossi's daughter and when she's in trouble the team goes in to help her and instead of running to rossi she runs to derek

BRAVE | D.M.

word count: 1k (I'm really trying to keep these short, I swear ksjc)

warnings: I'm in love with him, your honor (also the reader being in danger obvs)

Derek wasn't sure how no one had realized just how absolutely shattered he'd been from the second they got that tape of you tied up and wounded, begging for help. He was sure it was obvious just how mad he was with worry, how on edge he was, how terrified he was- he blamed it on everyone else's worry, especially your father, if your father was even the tiniest bit focused on anything other than finding you he'd have put the pieces together immediately. He didn't care for it now, trying to hide how he felt, he wanted to find you, wanted to know you were safe and if he got his ass handed to him by Rossi in the process then so be it.

Truth be told, Rossi had noticed, everyone was worried, and everyone was on edge but it wasn't the first time they had lost someone on the team and though you weren't on the team, you were definitely part of the family. Derek, however, wasn't acting like he lost a team member, not close. Rossi would've had to be blind not to see the look on his face every time a lead fell through, the balled fists as he rewatched the video of you as if looking at it one more time would show him something new the team had missed, tell him something he hadn't heard, or the way his face showed such genuine fear when he first heard your voice- Derek was about as easy to read as the Sunday paper and Rossi, though not pleased at all with what that meant, had a feeling you'd be acting the very same if the roles were reversed.

Which is why, despite everything in him, Rossi was the one who volunteered to go first, check the rooms first, look for the unsub first, why he'd let Derek lead the team to look for you, why he'd let him go after the sound of your voice instead of the sound of a gun- if Derek's behaviour was anything to go by, you'd probably be wanting him anyway, it'd be him you'd be calling for from beneath your restrictions- and he was right.

You were crying, fighting against the restraints, fighting to feel him, to be free in a way that only his arms could free you and he was trying, gun discarded and knees on the bare concrete, cooing all the while as his tremored hands attempted to undo the knots.

"I'm trying, baby," he breathed, voice nearly as unsteady as his movements, barely keeping hold of his sanity as your crying intensified. "I know, sweet thing, I know, just one more second," and that's all it took before you were loose, the way you reached for each other was messy, reckless, senseless, you weren't sure how you'd tangled yourselves so quickly but you were on his lap, not a care for a single one of your injuries as you grabbed at his neck. "You're safe," he sighed, finally allowing the relive to find him, not concerned in the slightest for what the team would think as they rushed into the room behind him.

"I asked for you," you admitted, your voice a broken sound, hoarse from the shouting, trembling from the crying, not at all controlled. "In the video, it was stupid," you wanted to see him, pulling away with hands not delicate in the slightest as you cupped his cheeks. "Didn't want you to worry," you weren't thinking at all about who was listening, watching, trying to climb onto him even more, lean into him even more, eliminate the concept of space completely because you didn't want to be out of his arms for even a second ever again.

"You weren't stupid," he argued, his own hand mimicking yours as he brushed a thumb over your cheek, avoiding the scar that hid under dried blood, fuming at the sight, the only thing keeping him from beating the life out of the bastard who did this to you was the impossible grip you had on him. "You were brave, baby girl, so damn brave," he insisted and you nodded without thinking, entranced, exhausted, with the adrenaline leaving your system the ordeal was starting to catch up with you.

"Is my dad here too?"

"Right here," you looked over Derek's shoulder to find the pair of eyes that had been taking in your whole interaction, not at all expecting him to move forward and place a lingering kiss on the top of your hand, hand squeezing Derek's shoulder as he did so. "You think I'd let your guy over here take all the credit for saving you?" he mused and you managed a small smile, syncing into Derek's arms, body too heavy to stay upright any longer and of course, Derek was expecting the sudden slump and the nuzzle of your head into his neck as he lifted the pair of you up from the ground.

"We wanted to tell you," Derek noted as the medics moved you onto the gurney, connecting you to all the wires and machines, ignoring your whispered pleas for the time being. "She was scared."

"For you?" Rossi quipped, already knowing the answer, shrugging when your partner nodded guiltily, already moving to join you on the ambulance, instinct kicking in when he heard you begging for him, saw you reaching for him. "Don't think facing the father could be as terrifying as this," he tried a lighthearted comment, but it had a bite to it, tension still thick, nerves still soaring. Derek nodded again, looking down at you with eyes so full of love it was sickening.

"No sir," he agreed and smiled as you looked up at him with a big, dazed stare, a dreamlike look matching his own as you forced your entwined hands to your mouth to brush a light kiss to his knuckles. "Nothing could be as scary as losing her."

[bisnes-socks]

Terve! Would you consider doing a Mic Mac write up? I would be so interested to read it! When I first found Jere I listened to CCC and Party, and then I went to search things on him and the Mic Mac video was one of the first I listened to. I think I was in love after this. Kiitos!

Sure i can! Click right through ->

Mic Mac is early 2000's nostalgia to the max. I'm not sure how common knowledge it is with international fans, what Mic Mac actually is, so i'll go over it briefly.

Mic Mac, sometimes styled as MicMac, was a finnish clothing brand (not to be confused with a french luxury fashion brand of the same name). Mic Mac clothes were particularly popular with young people and teens. They became popular in the 70's and remained super popular with all young people until the 80's. In the 90's Mic Mac became more associated with hip hop inspired fashion, as they were the only local brand that managed to really score with their loose fit baggy jeans etc. They were still popular in the early 2000's especially with hip hop kids. Mic Mac closed down in the 2010's.

So the fact that he talks about Mic Mac loose fit clothes, and then all of the sound effects in the beginning of the song, like landline phones and dial-up internet, it all immediately takes us to like the turn of the century, maybe like 1999 or 2000 at the earliest, 2005 or 2006 at the very latest. So his childhood from maybe 6 or 7-ish to about 12 or 13-ish..? Immediate nostalgia!

He uses some clever language in this song. I want to give an example from the first verse: "olin merkillinen enkä esimerkillinen" meaning "i was weird, not exemplary". But as you can see, merkillinen (weird) and esimerkillinen (exemplary) are quite similar words in finnish. in fact they are built around the same root word: merkki. merkki means sign (a sign like a symbol or a sign like "give me a sign". not a street sign).

If you break down the word merkillinen, it actually means "with signs", but in practice means odd, weird or strange. Now, esimerkki has that same word in it, merkki, but it's a compound word: esi + merkki. Esi is a prefix that means pre or fore. so if you break down esimerkki, it means "fore sign" or "pre sign", but the meaning of the word in practice is example. And as i said, esimerkillinen, which would literally translate to "with fore signs", means exemplary.

So, he gets a very clever bar, being able to rhyme merkillinen with (esi)merkillinen, and getting a looot of information across like that.

In the first verse he also uses a word you might come across in his other work too: morkkis. His song Morgan means the same thing, morgan is a slang word for morkkis, which is short for moraalikrapula, meaning a moral hangover. Not sure if that term exists outside finland, but a moral hangover is feeling ashamed and not at all good about something stupid. Usually it's to do with drinking: you have both a physical hangover from drinking, and a moral hangover over the amount you drank and also doing dumb shit while drunk. But morkkis can be used quite flexibly to talk about other things you're ashamed of and recognise as being stupid things to do - as in this case, trying smoking as a kid. Again, a simple word but very informative, once you know what it means!

The chorus about the clothes and the whole second verse of him describing himself as someone intentionally annoying bigger boys, getting into fights and doing stupid shit like setting his friend on fire for a trick of some sort, stealing pokemon cards etc.- all of this is paving the way to understanding songs like Takavoltti. I so know this type too, i knew boys exactly like this when i was a kid lmao. But he's telling us he's always been mischievous, wild and a little bit crazy - and in this song he says the apple didn't fall far from the tree, saying his dad is like that too.

So i think Mic Mac is probably one of the more personal songs of his, those key songs to understanding the character. Mic Mac is all about him remembering the past, and i guess Takavoltti is like.. how did the crazy little boy from Mic Mac cope with everything that happened to him.

All in all, Mic Mac to me is a very sweet, very nostalgic song, that paints a lot of vivid pictures about Käärijä - or maybe Jere - as a person.

Let me know if there is anything specific in the song or any other song you'd like to know about, any questions or anything 💚

[skygemspeaks]

I finally got to sit down and finish episode one, and i've got some thoughts!!

I think that introducing garp as a big player right from the get go is a really great idea. His presence at the execution made sense, and his dynamic with roger did well to help establish both of their characterisations

Roger's actor did a phenomenal job with the eerie laugh and his complete irreverance in the face of his own death. I love how he delivered the wealth fame power speech!

It was a bit surprising to me that they showed roger actually getting killed, but honestly i'm in total approval of this direction they're taking with the live action. I really like the more brutal approach, especially because oda's refusal to kill anyone outside of flashbacks pre-marineford is one of the biggest complaints i tend to hear from people. Seeing zoro dragging around the top half mr 7's corpse was so jarring, but it was a good choice

Ilia's perfrmance as alvida was absolutely amazing. I like that they changed her catchphrase from the most beautiful woman on the seas to the most powerful

Overall, i really like the different transitions between plot points, and how this episode set things up in future arcs. All the different things that go on in shells town feel so much more better interconnected than they did in the manga. I'll go into this more in another post, but like one example of what i'm talking about is how the reason zoro allowed himself to be tied to the post was because morgan threatened that if he didn't agree to it, he wouldn't be able to collect any more bounties from any marine bases. It also gives zoro mire of a reason to join luffy - he knows that at this point there's no eay he can continue being a bounty hunter now that morgan has it out for him. So how else is he going to meet other strong swordsmen? By joining a pirate crew of course.

The shanks flashback was awesome! His dynamic with luffy was really endearing, and again i do like that they didn't have higuma attack shanks. That's one thing that never really made sense to me in the manga - i get thst yoy don't have to solve everything with violence, but there's no reason for shanks not to have fought back against someone who was attacking him, even if he did know they couldn't possibly hurt him

Also on shanks' flashback - the scene where he found out luffy had eaten the devil fruit was AMAZING. What a fantastic idea to have little luffy framed in sunlight! And the utter heartbreak on shanks' face as he realizes that there's no way luffy will ever be able to have a normal life now...

Of course, we gotta mention the snippet of Binks' Sake we heard in the scene where shanks is stitching up luffy's cut. I recognized it instantly and it made me really emotional. Love all these little easter eggs they have for long time fans of the series. In addition to this there was alsp the cavendish, foxy, and bellamy wanted posters which we knew about from the trailer

Speaking of wanted posters - what a COOL way to introduce the other pirates!

Morgan going on his monologue about capturing kuro is SO funny know what's gonna happen on a few episodes. Oda played it a lot more subtle in the manga but i like that they came right out and said it here.

And while we're talking about foreshadowing, it was a fantastic idea to include the mr 7 fight in this season! I really hope we get a season 2, just sp we can get the payoff for this great setup.

I'm a little sad that we didn't get to see the luffy and koby hug that was shown in the behind the scenes video (i think that was the one?). I really hope that wasn't cut because i loved that little scene. Maybe it'll happen later in the season?

Buggy's introduction at the end of the episode was SO good. I loved his whole vibe, with him lounging so confidently in his chair, his creepy laugh, everything. I'm excited to see the next episode! They better not have cut chouchou out 😭

[queer-ragnelle]

Best of Ladies of the Lake

Seeking recommendations for media featuring the Ladies of the Lake?

Here’s a curated collection of Retellings, Films, TV shows, and more ordered alphabetically by Lady and oldest to newest. Each recommendation comes with a brief synopsis and review containing mild spoilers.

All PDFs link to my Google drive, videos to MEGA drive, and can be found on my blog. Each passage adopts the unique spelling of character names as used in the media.

🌊 More Best of Masterposts 🌊

Lady of the Lake

Books

The Chessboard Queen by Sharan Newman

Guinevere Evermore by Sharan Newman

Possibly my favorite version of the Lady. Nameless despite all her subjects having names, including Nimuë. She kidnaps Lancelot, then kidnaps a wetnurse & brother for him too. Lancelot is her “toy” & between her & the wetnurse, messes him up beyond recognition, even though the Lady claims to love him. In the third book, she gives Morgan a place to stay & remain eternally youthful. They realize the horror of their actions, the Lady gave Merlin Excalibur/scabbard to give Arthur, Morgan stole scabbard, now their sons Lancelot & Mordred are fighting on opposite sides of a war Arthur can’t win.

Movies

Excalibur (1981)

The Lady appears briefly to issue a repaired Excalibur to Arthur who broke it by using it to chat & wrongfully defeat Lancelot. She wears a beautiful sequins dress & she's so otherworldly with the green lighting & eerie music.

TV Shows

The Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949)

The Lady helps Galahad escape Merlin’s machinations while on his quest to recover Excalibur. She pops up throughout the show to offer guidance & advice.

The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

The Lady appears to bring Arthur across the lake & receive Excalibur. She doesn't speak which makes her very strange & her hair is decorated in cattails. She returns twice, once to bring Merlin to the afterlife & again to receive Excalibur from Bedivere.

Merlin (1998)

Coolest Lady—she wears shimmering white and floats above the lake like a ghost, fish swim around her throat like a necklace & the numbers dwindle as her power weakens throughout the show. She gives Merlin cryptic guidance & causes problems seemingly on purpose.

Nimuë/Ninian

Books

The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Nymue is the head of all the Ladies of the Lake & the one who guides Arthur across the lake to get Excalibur. Ironically she is not the hand that reached out of the water. She later kidnaps baby Launcelot & raises him in the Lake Kingdom. She has a sort of rivalry with Vivien, who curses Gawaine, which Nymue releases him from. After Ettard’s rejection of Pellias, Nymue marries him. Nymue is also the one to lead Galahad to his shield just as she outfitted Launcelot for knighthood before him.

Bedivere: The King's Right Hand by Wayne Wise

Nimué is a little girl rescued by Bedivere from a battle. She can foresee everyone's deaths & freaks them out. She only comes in near at the end but I like that Bedivere is her big bro & Merlin is afraid of her, as he should be. She eventually joins Vivienne & Morgan in Avalon for training as a Lady of the Lake.

The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman

Nimue is an honorary member of the Round Table as a replacement for Merlin. She is present throughout the entire story & uses magic to fight on the battle field along side the knights. She gets her own flashback chapter to explain her backstory & why she sealed Merlin away. Her romance with Collum was cute.

Movies

Merlin and The Sword (1985)

The movie is a frame story which opens with Ninian & Merlin trapped together for eternity in a cave beneath Stonehenge. In Medieval times, Ninian is rescued from evil knights by Pellinore & brought to court because her father is too ill to present her himself. She quickly develops a relationship with Merlin beginning first with divination but progressing to learn his most powerful magic. Morgan imprisons & tortures Ninian’s father to extort her to get Merlin’s most powerful magic, her she accurately binds them both into the cave forever.

TV Shows

Merlin (1998)

My favorite Nimue ever. She was a very unique accent & alluring acting. She first meets Merlin when they’re both teenagers, no questionable age gap. They come together again many years later when she helps him escape Vortigern’s prison. After she is burned & scarred by a dragon, she stays in Avalon with the holy people where Merlin visits her sometimes. They get their happily ever after when they’re old!

Video Games

Sonic and The Black Knight

In this alternate universe, Amy Rose takes on the role of Nimue to give Sonic the sword he’ll need to defeat corrupted King Arthur. She guides him on his quest & at the end, unites her magic with the Knights of the Round Table to help defeat Merlina.

Vivian

Books

The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Vivien is an enchantress taught magic by Morgana le Fay whilst on the Isle of Avalon. Vivien successfully beguiles Merlin & traps him. She returns later to tempt Percival while on Grail Quest & puts a curse on Gawaine.

Bedivere: The King’s Right Hand by Wayne Wise

Vivienne is the old leader of all the Ladies of the Lake in Avalon. I like how powerful & well respected she is throughout the book. Didn't care for the ending at all where she facilitates Morgan/Arthur marriage, but everything before that is solid.

Movies

Sword of Lancelot (1963)

Vivian is a handmaiden that travels with Guinevere from Cameliard to Camelot. She becomes romantic with Mordred & helps him spy on Guinevere & Lancelot while spreading gossip among the ladies.

Lancelot du Lac (1970)

French film adapting the Vulgate. Viviane has raised Lancelot from his infancy & brings him before the King & Queen to be knighted. She also has her handmaiden Saraide from the Vulgate as well. They wear pretty blue gowns except when they bring Lancelot to the surface everyone in the party wears white.

Camelot (1998)

Vivian is the head of the Isle of Avalon where Merlin brought Arthur to be raised. She introduced Morgause to Arthur & they eventually marry. She also helps Lancelot & Guinevere conceal their affair from Meleagrants who caught them together.

TV Shows

Starz Camelot (2011)

Vivian is the first person that Morgan recruits after deciding to employ more women. She is not a true Lady of the Lake here but acts as Morgan’s messenger, handmaiden, & confidant. She has cool face tattoos & a gorgeous wardrobe. It was compelling to see she let Igraine escape against Morgan’s wishes, allowing a glimpse into her conscience.

[swtnrcmnt]

need more singer!reader hcs

���୧ — s.r x singer!r; headcanons (3)

hi hi ! ik i said i was gonna go on hiatus (and i still will lol) but i think writing something will help keep my mind off things :) enjoy ! also i’m so sry anon this took so long.

- stays up until midnight for every album, song, or music video release even if he’s on a case because he’s the most supportive boyfriend

- anytime you win an award he goes to work the next day bragging to every team member talking their ear off about which award you won this time

- he gives everyone in the bau some of your merchandise because he loves it and he wants to show you off

- morgan teases the fuck out of him any chance he gets about his “popstar princess” girlfriend

- example: the music video is a bit more on the sexual side, and the next time he sees spencer he’s all “did you see what your popstar princess did 🤭”

- using poems from his favorite books as lyrics in your songs omg !!

- when he invites you to karaoke night with the team so they can meet you but he also wants everyone to see just how good you are

- convincing him to sing with u ! and everyone else is hyping him up like yes do it and he’s begging you not to lol

- sends you every tweet he sees complimenting you like “look, they love the new song :)!” HE’S JUST SO CUTE LIKE THAT

- again fans thirsting over him because how can you not??

- is at every photoshoot asking “do you need water? food? a sweater? are you cold? your outfit’s very small. are you sure you’re fine??”

- the biggest worrier when it comes to song lyrics and if you guys are fighting he overanalyzes every sad lyric you have as if it’s about him

- the first time you post him and the photo goes viral he’s like ???? why am i trending on twitter ?? what’s going on ???

- he’d probably never ever get used to paparazzi but surely you have your tricks to avoid them bc ik they would get so damn annoying omg

sorry this is so short, i’m braindead and burnt out rn lol

i hope u enjoyed !

part 1 | part 2

[fernthewhimsical]

Hopepunk Primer pt. 3

How to practice Hopepunk

Find joy in the small things. The flowers growing through concrete, the way the sunlight hits the grass. There is beauty and joy in the small things, but it takes a bit of training to find them. Mindfulness or a gratitude journal (or even a Tumblr sideblog) helps with this training. Hope can be learned, I promise.

Be a pebble. [8] Imagine a tall glass that is half-full with water. Imagine you are a crow. You try to drink the water but you can't reach, the glass is too deep. So you take a pebble and throw it in. The water level rises slightly. Other crows come in with pebbles, and with each pebble the water level rises until finally you all can drink from the glass. There is a lot of focus nowadays in activism circles to be aware of every horrible thing that is going on in the world and to work on each and every one of them. The tough reality is: we can't. We're only human and right now we are all very prone to burn-out. We can't bring change if we are burnt out or have compassion fatigue. So be a pebble. Stay small, perhaps even stay local. If everyone focuses on one thing and focuses their efforts and energy there, we will make it. We'll make the water rise so everyone can drink. Be a pebble.

Stop doom scrolling. It's ineffective and only serves to make us feel more hopeless and demoralized.

Be responsible for your own internet experience. This is related to doom scrolling. Unfollow people who make you feel hopeless and like the fight is useless. Block trolls and don't engage them. Find people who make you feel inspired, invigorated, hopeful. Blacklist tags, block, delete.

Look into hopepunk media. Be inspired by the stories told. Some examples are movires: Lord of the Rings, Mad Max: Fury Road, Pacific Rim. Series: Sense8, the Good Place, Star Trek. Books: Binti by Nnedi Okorafor, A conspiracy of truths by Alexandra Rowland, the Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. Music: Torches by X Ambassadors, This Yeah by the Mountain Goats, Be More Kind by Frank Turner.

Build/Find your Community. Share what you have, ask for what you need. We're in this together. If you grow your own fruits and vegetables share them with friends and neighbours. Exchange favours like doing a grocery run or offering to watch the kids for a night. Make a tiny library or give & take cabinet. Share skills and resources. This can be done both online and in person, but making a difference locally is easier with boots on the ground, so to speak.

Create. Live authentically. Do things just to do the thing. So much needs to be "content", these days. So much needs to be a "side hustle" or "monetized". Resist. Create because it makes you feel good. Because you want to. Create bad art, sing off key, swing your arms wildly and call it dancing, write edgy poetry, create Mary Sue self-inserts. Live.

Resist capitalism. Reuse, recycle, repair, thrift, make, trade, etc.

Vote. If you really want to make a difference get out there and vote. Especially in the US they do not want you so rebel and vote. Not just for the president. Voting locally for your representatives will have more of an influence.

Unionize. Alone you beg, together you negotiate. Only together can we make change

Spread hope. Do random acts of kindness, compliment people, share positive things that happened, spread love and joy where you go.

[8] Be a pebble

Further reading:

Alexandra Rowland's Hopepunk Manifesto What is Hopepunk by Vox.com Hopepunk-Humanity blog on Tumblr Hopepunk: A Genre, Philosophy and Movement by Lexi Drumonde (Video) Intro to Hopepunk by Morgan Hazelwood (Video)

Part 1: Intro and history Part 2: Philosophy of Hopepunk Part 3: How to practice hopepunk and further reading Part 4: Extra! Hopepunk and magic

[alrightbuckaroo]

our love's a protective poison

Yet another cross post from ao3 that I have needed on this blog for months now. Can't believe it took me this long to move this one here! Anyways, hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

Gwyneth Morgan loves her son; that is an uncontested fact.

Tyler Kennedy Stand is his father’s son; that is also, an uncontested fact.

Gwyn loves her son, even though he has a tendency to act just like his father. Gwyn loves her son, even when he has a tendency to act just like his father.

Owen Strand had always been a pusher, always found a way to push things down.

When he and Gwyn were married, he would start the day with 50 push-ups. He would stretch the limits of their trash can, pushing down the grime until no more space could be filled. He pushed down trauma, suppressed it. Owen Strand is still a pusher, but for a moment Owen Strand beams more of a fighter.

He fought fires, he fought demons. He fought, and fought, and fought, and fought.

Eventually, he started fighting with her. 

Gwyneth Morgan had always been a pusher; always found a way to push through things.

When her job announced a company wide lay-off, she pushed through the bad days until the days were good again. When she realized that she and Owen might not make it, she pushed until she couldn’t push anymore.

When she found TK, strung out and barely lucid in that drug-den; she pushed the confides of her love as far as she could. Then she pushed herself even more.

TK was a little bit different.

TK Strand had always been a runner, always found a way to run.

He played little league, at the request of himself, but maybe also Owen too.

Gwyn remembers the first time he hit a home-run. Owen and Gwyn watched him run around the bases. He slid into first, though he didn’t really need to. Gwyn knew it was going to be a nightmare getting those dirt stains out; but when TK smiled up at her, she decided that it was worth it.

TK was in winter choir; always vying for a solo. Gwyn would hear him practice his runs, day in and day out. Gwyn won’t deny that listening to him singing all day every day became a bit grating. But, when TK got the solo and saw her sitting there in the audience, video camera pulled up. Well, the smile he smiled was worth it. Even if it was a little dimmed due to the empty seat next to her.

TK was a runner. He ran, and ran, and ran, and ran.

Until eventually, he ran from her.

Maybe Gwyn should of seen it coming. With both her and Owen being pushers, maybe it makes sense that he was more of a runner. He saw what pushing did to the both of them, straining them, even if it was in the best way.

Maybe running had always made more sense.

—

One day, Owen calls her, tells her that TK is in a coma. Again.

He tells her that it’s going to be okay.

Gwyn laughs in disbelief, the sound jagged. “How can you be so sure?”

“He’s pushed through before, and he’ll push through again.” Owen answers, simply. “You know, he gets it from you.”

Gwyn considers it, maybe TK is a pusher after all.

—

Gwyn watches on as Jonah, TK and Owen display family is never just blood. She watches, knowing that there’s a special type of love she felt for each of them at some point in her life. Gwyn watches TK; his eyes mirroring his father’s.

Carlos is standing next to her; the silence they’re both sitting in comfortable but leaving Gwyn wanting more.

“He gets it from his dad, you know?” Gwyn mutters to Carlos, taking a sip of her lemonade. “Pushing things away before they push him away.”

“Gwyn,” Carlos feels like his breath has been robbed from him. “You have to know, I would never,”

“No,” Gwyn reaches out, places her warm hand against Carlos’ arm to steady him. “I know. I just need you to know. He loves you, no matter how much he might try to push you away, he loves you and he knows that he does.”

Carlos watches TK. “How can you be so sure?”

Gwyn smiles, “He is his father’s child.” Gwyn shrugs, “And maybe his mother’s too.”

Gwyn continues to watch TK and Owen, “I don’t know, I just think sometimes he has so much love inside, he thinks he needs to push it down. Don’t worry, you’ll always be the one he’ll want to run back to.”

Carlos knows Gwyn is telling him this for TK’s sake; but maybe she knows Carlos needs to hear it too. “Thank you, Gwyn.” “Anytime, just,” Gwyn takes another sip of her lemonade. “Call me if you ever need anything? Okay?”

Carlos hears the unspoken offer. “Okay.”

—

Carlos is sitting in the dark, watching over TK as his chest moves up and down. How do you comfort someone who’s mother has just died.

Carlos softly walks into the living room, continuing to sit in the dark. He has his phone in his hand. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, or how to help. He doesn’t know what to do during a time like this.

He unlocks his phone and calls the only person he can think of.

Carlos listens to the phone ring on the other line; knowing no one will pick up. Eventually, he’s greeted by the voicemail.

“Gwyn,” He releases her name with a shaky breath. “You said I could call you if I ever need anything and right now I need you more than ever.” He listens to the whine of the phone call; the silence uncomfortable. “I don’t know what to do.” 

He knows he’ll never get an answer back; but maybe just saying the words out loud is what he needed. He doesn’t know what to do but he doesn’t need to feel weighed down by the unsaid truth of it all anymore. He hangs up the call.

He gently paces around the living room before he finds himself staring at a photo. He looks at Owen, Gwyn, TK, Jonah and himself.

“No it’s fine.” Carlos had argued when Owen asked him to jump in. “It’s a family photo.”

“Exactly.” Gwyn agreed. “So get in here.”

Carlos picks up the photo and smiles to himself. He remembers what Gwyn once told him, about how TK can be overflowing with love because Gwyn was always overflowing with love. Love for Owen, love for Jonah, and love for TK.

Maybe the best thing Carlos can do, is to keep that love flowing.

[thankyouforthememoriesworld]

I low key think Morgan Valley is also in the fight for Azzi Fudd fan number 1 given she was tasked with her fully recovery as liaison with Curry team. Not to mention CD telling Morgan its okay when Azzi made that final 3. And I can never forget how she was on the bench during Iowa 2022 when Azzi was avoiding 3s until she got hot until she finally hit one. Just mic everyone up honestly, I wanna see something.

Morgan doesn't publicly express her love for Azzi enough to compete. Azzi is the favorite of the whole staff 😋 and I need that mic video while she's playing.

[saltsprite]

WORDS: 1,948

RATING: Explicit

RELATIONSHIP: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith

CHARACTERS: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith

TAGS: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Feminization, Hand Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, service top 4 service top, Fighting As Foreplay, everyone is bisexual in the west, Genderfuck

SUMMARY:

“Maybe I need lessons in the more gentle arts,” Arthur murmurs, laying the flat of his hand on Charles’s stomach. “How to treat a lady, and such.”

Mouth parting so slightly, Charles’s brow crumples in sweet confusion. “What for?”

“So I know—” Thrill zinging down his spine to feel Charles’s humid breath across his lips, Arthur doesn’t so much kiss him as touch their mouths together. “—how to treat you.”

[jedimandalorian]

Ahsoka Episode 8 “The Jedi, the Witch, and the Warlord”: The Story, the Symbolism, and the Score Part Two

If you missed Part One of this analysis, it can be found here:

After Enoch gives his report on the failed TIE fighter attack, Thrawn tells him to prepare for a ground assault. Sinister drumming accompanies Thrawn’s exit.

The scene changes to Ahsoka, riding Baylan’s howler, and Ezra and Sabine riding double on her mount, Tota.

“May the Force be with you,” says Huyang as he stays behind with the Noti to repair the ship.

Back at the henge atop the tower, Morgan addresses the stormtroopers who volunteered to stay on Peridea to fight the Jedi.

Ahsoka, Ezra, and Sabine arrive to see that the Chimaera is ready to dock with the Eye of Sion. Courageous sounding music plays as Ahsoka says, “Let’s try the front door.”

Thrawn, who has been tracking them, commands his men to “Rain hellfire on them.” He believes that there will be no negotiating with the apprentice of Anakin Skywalker.

Ahsoka’s Theme plays as the heroes ride toward the confrontation. They guide their mounts to dodge laser blasts from the belly of the Chimaera in a scene that reminded me of the orbital bombardment of Lothal’s capitol city in the series finale of Rebels.

Thrawn’s ship itself is a mythological reference, being named after the legendary Greek chimaera, a terrifying fire-breathing monster that is part lion, part goat, and part snake.

The Chimaera, with its enhanced firepower, rains hellfire upon the heroes who race towards the tower’s triangular gate. Ezra and Sabine are shown to be using the Force in tandem push open the gate with Ahsoka. It opens just wide enough for them to ride through before it slams shut again.

The three heroes engage in battle with the Nighttroopers, using lightsabers to deflect the blasts. Sabine uses her blasters to go on the offensive, doing the classic “sword and shield” maneuver from the Clone Wars, providing firepower against the enemy as Ahsoka deflects the blasts. The trio defeats all of their opponents.

In another callback to The Clone Wars animated series, the Nightmothers recite the resurrection chant from Season 4, episode 19, “Massacre,” which was written by Katie Lucas (George’s daughter). This is a clue to what the secret cargo aboard Thrawn’s ship might be: dead Nightsisters who will be returned to Dathomir for resurrection. The chant revives the dead troopers, who rise to continue their assault on our heroes. The creepy violin music that is heard during this scene sounds as if it was inspired by Danse Macabre, a popular orchestral work composed by Camille Saint-Saëns in 1874.

Here’s a recording of Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) being used to accompany a very spooky animated short that terrified me as a child. (I became a classical musician anyway.) Listen to the violin about 0:20 into the video and compare it to the music for the resurrection of the Nighttroopers scene.

Intense music plays as the zombie troopers assault the trio of protagonists. Sabine saves Ezra from a trooper who sneaks up on him.

“Nice moves,” Ezra says with genuine admiration.

“She’s been training,” Ahsoka explains.

“What’s your excuse?” Sabine asks, not missing an opportunity to tease Ezra.

“I missed you,” Ezra replies in a hoarse whisper, uttering that heartfelt admission like a spontaneous love confession.

*******

End of Part 2.

To be continued.

What are your thoughts? Please leave a comment

[sir-walton-goggins]

All That Matters

4.312 words

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

tw: graphic torture, canon-typical depictions of violence and gore

credit for the header as always goes to the lovely @raevennsge, Arthur pic credit is mine

“Where is Arthur."

Kris’s heart sank into her stomach, burning through it like a hot ball of lead.

Dutch and Micah rode back into camp.

Something was off.

"Where. Is. Arthur" she gritted through her teeth.

"He didn't meet us at the fork in the road." Micah replied.

She ignored him, not being able to shake the horrible feeling that her husband was in danger. 

Dutch's pleas went ignored as Kris wielded a rifle on her right shoulder and jumped onto her mare, Cloud. The woman’s ears were buzzing, heart beating in her ears like a mad drum, vision focused only on the stretch of road in front of her. One thought on her mind:

“I need to save him.”

Hosea watched her silently from his cot, book open on his lap ignored, bowing his head silently.

"Dutch, I told you it was a trap."

Lately his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Not to Kris, though. She practically had begged Arthur to stay. But he was still Dutch's shadow, and as pulled by an invisible thread, or rather, an invisible noose, he followed along.

The mind of the gang followed her horse galloping away, eyebrows knitted into a worried expression. His son was in danger.

"Dutch, we need to go get him!"

The leader opened his mouth to speak, but the mustached gunslinger preceded him.

"Oh, old man, let's not get ahead of ourselves!" He approached, hands in the air in a ridiculous attempt to look harmless.

"Arthur is just fine. He's probably out gallivanting and rolling around in the dirt like he usually does" he grinned. He never let the opportunity to make fun of him go to waste.

"That girl is gonna get herself killed, for Christ's sake!" Hosea snapped, begging Dutch to listen.

The wanted man took a long drag of his cigar, his eyes shifting in conflict. Hosea stared at him like he lost his damn mind. Where did his determined and protective partner in crime go? He was somewhere behind those brown eyes, he knew it. But he was fighting a battle unbeknownst to anyone in the gang, even to him, who knew him so well. Or, at least, he thought as much.

"He'll be back" was the leader's lapidary statement. Cigar smoke engulfed Hosea’s face, making him cough repeatedly.

The evening was turning windy, making Kris's eyes water and she wondered if she was actually crying. She felt out of control, like everything she had was slipping away from her hands with every second Arthur was away from her. The horse sped up, the woman bouncing rhythmically on the saddle, reins in one hand, the other wiping some tears away from her face.

"Please, Arthur, be alive" she repeated, mumbling the words like a prayer.

She rode to the spot where the three men had met Colm O' Driscoll, pistol drawn and ready to fire. But the place was deserted, if not for a single lost deer wandering the plains. The prey animal lifted its head up to stare at Kris with its big doe eyes. Staring back, she saw Arthur’s own eyes, the words he left her with before disappearing resounding in her head.

“I’ll be just fine, darlin’.” He hid his nervousness behind a sweet smile, crinkles around the ocean eyes she so bitterly missed. He knew something was off, she had sensed it.

‘Should’ve never let him go.’

The woman put her revolver back in its holster and examined her surroundings. She closed her eyes, trying to picture the events of earlier that day: the three men dismounting, the plan taking shape, Arthur’s role in it. Since he was called on missions either for protection or intimidation, Kris assumed he was ordered to protect Dutch and Micah from afar, since they could never trust a dirty snake like the O’Driscoll leader. He was the best shot between them, after all. Mrs. Morgan’s eyes landed on a nearby hill: jackpot. Perfect place for a sniper.

The sandy dirt of the hill had hoof marks imprinted in it, so she eagerly followed them to the top, watching her back the whole time. She feared another ambush from the Irish bastards. Yes, 'cause it had to have been an ambush. The O'Driscolls would never offer a parley. How did she know? Because Colm was a vindictive piece of shit. Eye for an eye. His brother for Annabelle. He wasn’t gonna stop there.

It was starting to get dark, the pink horizon steadily drowning in shadows, entirely swallowed up in blue and black. The view from the high ground was hauntingly beautiful, but Kris felt a heavy presence nearby and a cold gust blowing through her heart. The new moon rendered the night sky even more sinister and pitch black. She took out her lantern and turned the knob to light it up. As soon as she did, a murder of crows rushed menacingly over her head, spooking her. They were heading north. She followed their trajectory: it led her straight to the warm light of a campfire in the distance.

Kris Morgan released a shaky breath; Arthur had to be there. He had to.

‘Please, don’t let the crows be a bad omen.’ 

“He’s alive, he’s alive” she whispered, trying to build up her courage and not give in to despair. Arthur needed her, there was no time for weakness.

She pointed the oil lamp to the ground, examining it closely. There were signs of a struggle, a big hollow mark dragged out and several foot prints all over it. The depression was large enough to have been made by a man about Arthur’s size. The woman’s breath sped up, her chest hurting at the thought of his darling being knocked unconscious and overpowered. It was a feeling she wasn’t used to: Arthur Morgan was as strong as an ox, he was the one who incapacitated others. Imagining him vulnerable made her stomach knot into himself tightly, leaving her out of breath.

She shook away the thought and resumed her inspection. The dirt was smooth where the body was being dragged away, leading downhill on the opposite side. Kris followed it down to the base of the hilltop, where the marks stopped.

Noticing the open nature of the cliff, it was plain to her that Micah had only brought Arthur to have him kidnapped. Her husband was probably so focused on protecting him and Dutch that his back was left completely exposed to attacks. The mere thought of this being staged filled Kris with murderous rage. Oh, when she returned back to camp, there would have been hell to pay.  And she wasn’t coming back empty handed, no fucking chance. 

Desperately trying to keep her emotions at bay, Kris sneaked towards the camp up ahead. But first, she called her mare over.

“Stay, Cloud” she commanded, taking her rifle from the saddle.

She was like a cat, quick and nimble, her dark hair blending into the dark landscape perfectly.  She stopped behind a big boulder and scoured the area with her binoculars:

A few tents, a wooden shed, doors to an underground basement and a single campfire. Luckily, it seemed to be a small camp. She could handle it.

“Dumb bastards gonna regret their choices very soon” she thought, murder on her mind, gripping the binoculars harder.

All seemed quiet, apart from two drunken bastards laughing their heads off by the shed, checking some guns that looked vaguely familiar and playfully pointing them at each other, making shooting sounds with their mouths. Kris zoomed into one of the weapons and exhaled rapidly. She recognized the engravings on the grip: those were Arthur’s pistols.

“He has to be here” her mind consoled her. At least she found him. But where did they keep him?

She didn’t have to wait long for the answer: as soon as she thought it, two men slammed the basement door open and emerged dragging a large feller forward.

“Arthur!” she almost screamed, but it came out choked and painful. She wanted to run over, kill the two bastards point blank, fire at the drunkards by the shed and just be done with it. But she had to be smart about this. She didn’t want her husband to pay the price for her stupidity.

She followed his steps through the binoculars. God, he looked rough: they took his clothes off, leaving him in just a union suit. He stumbled forward heavily, like he was injured, and his features were contorted into a mix of pain, fear and anger. This man towered over his perpetrators, and yet he was so fragile, like a wounded bear attacked by a pack of wolves. Suddenly, they pushed him and almost sent him tumbling on the ground. Instead, he crashed against what seemed to be a large wooden tub of water. A bit of it splashed out the side on impact.

Since they stupidly didn’t tie his hands up, Arthur turned around and tried to fight back, punching one of the O’Driscoll boys to free himself from his grip. The other one reacted just as quickly, hitting the kidnapped man on the back of his skull with the butt of a gun. Kris winced, phantom pain hitting her in the same spot. Tears burned behind her eyes as her husband collapsed on the ground, red blood staining his blond hair.

She held her breath until she saw him move, slowly and disorderly, but moving. Colm’s henchmen grabbed a stunned Arthur and pushed him towards the tub. The last thing Kris saw before bolting towards the camp was one of them putting a white hood over his head and fastening it with a rope.

Panic settled into her whole being. “Shit, shit, shit.” She had to act fast.

Kris reached the back of the shed, scouting the grounds attentively. She located the two men who were playing with Arthur’s guns earlier: they were far enough apart to be taken out stealthily.

Creeping behind the first victim of the night, Kris drew her knife slowly. She jumped up, locking the bandit’s neck with her forearm and plunging the blade deep into his throat. Before he even fell to the ground gurgling and choking on his own blood, Kris was already tailing the second feller. This one was taller, so she took advantage of her lower position. With a swift kick behind his knees, the man fell on the ground with a gasp, the air knocked out of his lungs when the woman sticked the knife into his temple, pressing and releasing it as a gush of warm blood stained her hand. 

“See you in hell, fuckers” she murmured, releasing the tension with a short exhale.

The sound of splashing and roaring laughter alarmed her, so she turned around, searching frantically for Arthur. What she saw made her freeze in horror.

While one O’Driscoll held Arthur down with his whole weight, locking his arms behind his back, the other plunged his hooded head into the tub, keeping it down until he squirmed violently, on the verge of drowning. The he pulled him out, Arthur gasping and sputtering and coughing, only to stick his head back into the water, over and over again. The two were talking and laughing maniacally, but Kris didn’t even register it. Both her vision and hearing was focused on her husband being tortured, his desperate sounds unleashing something primal in her that she had never felt before. Everything went white, a blind rage enrapturing every fiber of her being. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was drawing her rifle, directing it at the torturers. 

All reality froze in that instant, slowed down as if coated in honey. Every movement felt heavy and automatic, white-hot rage taking over Kris’s central nervous system, sending impulses to the nerves, urging her fingers to manipulate the trigger.

Two shots to the head. She didn’t miss.

The second blast echoed in her ears, unbearably loud, making the white veil lift off reality, and she gradually resumed control of her own body.

Arthur sprung backwards, choking and sputtering water as his hands clawed at the completely soaked cotton hood, struggling to remove it. The water had made it stick to his head like a glove, the fabric getting into his mouth and nostrils, making it impossible to breathe.

Kris slung the rifle over her shoulder and rushed over to him; she gripped base of the hood, lifting the rope that closed it and pulling it desperately upwards. It started to budge after a few pulls, Arthur’s struggle becoming more and more violent as more oxygen left his lungs and terror took ahold of him. Finally, it came off with one last desperate, violent pull.

Arthur inhaled sharply, erupting into a coughing fit as too much oxygen filled his severely deprived airways. Kris reached out to touch him, like she needed proof that he was really there, in front of her. Alive.

She checked him for injuries: he had a bullet wound in his left shoulder, the blood barely visible on the red union suit they left him in. It looked pretty serious: it must have been a double barreled shotgun, because the gash was huge. The cotton had melted into the skin, fusing with the charred edges of the wound and slowing the bleeding up a bit. The risk of infection was very high.

“You came” Arthur managed to speak hoarsely. He seemed surprised that someone actually came to rescue him.

Kris hugged him, careful to avoid his wound. “Of course I did”, she whispered, choking up.

Arthur wrapped her in his arms, but gasped in pain as his shoulder muscles contracted. He was rapidly reminded of the gravity of his injury and let his harmed shoulder slump to the side, right arm cradling his left deltoid in an effort to reduce the sudden pain.

“We need to get you back to camp” Kris urged, wide-eyed, inviting her partner to lean on her.

Arthur looked back, taking in the torture grounds before leaving: multiple men on the ground, slit throats and burst heads in pools of brains and blood; the nightmarish hood, which disturbingly still retained the shape of his face, was floating in the tub like a dead fish. The campfire burned furiously, fueled by shreds of cotton thrown in it, now as black as coal. He recognized his own clothes.

Kris walked in front of him, kneeling down to grab something by the entrance of the tool shed. Arthur limped over there to have a look: it was his gun belt and all the weapons he carried during the ambush. His wife helped him tie the belt around his waist and handed him his rolling block rifle. His dignity back.

Arthur held it, savoring the familiar feeling of wood and metal in his hands. He swung the weapon on his unharmed shoulder, but the movement was enough to send a sharp stab of pain directly through his flesh again. He groaned, clenching his teeth so hard they hurt and he went as pale as a sheet. He struggled to breathe, his limbs slowly becoming numb, his heart-rate slowing down. He could tell he didn’t have much time before passing out from blood loss.

“Shit,” Kris exclaimed, noticing his rapidly worsening condition. “We need to leave!”

With the loudest whistle she could muster she called her horse over. Cloud galloped into camp diligently, neighing and shaking her mane furiously upon seeing the lifeless bodies on the ground. Kris helped Arthur get on the horse, struggling to support his weight. She then mounted in front of him and took the reins. 

They were halfway home when Arthur started to lose consciousness. His grip on his wife’s waist grew weaker, his head heavy, slurring his words.

“Arthur? How are we doing?” Kris asked anxiously.

“Dunno… how much” Arthur tried his best to articulate, “…I can hold on” he coughed, breathing raucously. His eyes felt heavy and the world was becoming darker by the minute. He was in and out of reality, lights flickering on and off, a mysterious veil clouding his vision.

“Please, hold on honey,” she encouraged him. “It ain’t much longer now!”

Kris spurred Cloud on, going as fast as she would take them, hoping Arthur would keep holding on tight behind her. She rode and rode and rode until she saw the familiar camp entrance through the woods, sighing with immense relief as Arthur clung to her with all the strength he had left.

“Charles! Sadie! Someone, help!” Kris screamed her lungs off long before approaching camp, urgency and distress rendering her voice shrill. 

Arthur moaned and grunted, finally letting go of all the efforts to stay vigilant. His body slumped over and he fell unconscious. Kris barely had the time to get off the horse to try and catch him, but he was too heavy and he almost fell on her. Luckily, Charles had heard her call and was already behind her, ready to catch his friend. A few others rushed over to help them carry Arthur over to his cot.

Kris made her way through the small crowd that had formed around his wagon. She checked his breathing and heart-rate, which were both slow, but regular. Arthur was gradually starting to regain consciousness now, breathing faster and trying to speak, only incoherent, jumbled words coming out.

“You’re gonna be okay, dear. You’re safe now” Kris cooed, stroking his hair tenderly. Arthur opened his eyes and was met with the worry and love in his wife’s. He rolled them back shut, way too fatigued to keep them open. He smiled.

“Thank you” he muttered, trying to squeeze Kris’s hand, but too weak to.

“Ms. Grimshaw, can you please have someone tend to his wound?” she asked, pointing at Arthur’s bleeding shoulder. “It’s pretty bad.”

The older woman saw all the fiery determination of a loving wife in Kris, all the pain and anxiety she was suppressing for Arthur’s sake. It was such a familiar feeling for her. She nodded, pulling herself out of the shock of seeing her adoptive son gravely hurt.

“Of course.” As she ran to get the doctor, Dutch and Micah approached the small group gathered at the man’s bedside.

“Arthur, my poor son!” Dutch lamented, filling Kris with disgust. What a shameless farce.

Arthur groaned, shifting his weight on his right side. “I told you it was a trap, Dutch” he growled, pushing the pain down and letting the anger resurface. He allowed this to happen.

Fury and bitterness enveloped him so intensely, he managed to send the pain to the backseat for a moment. Sitting up to face his mentor, he spoke, his tone the lowest Kris had ever heard:

“You let my wife risk her life for me.”

Extreme pain and anger were making him delirious, but this he saw as clear as day: Kris put herself in danger to rescue him. Dutch didn’t come looking for him after he didn’t show up at the meeting spot. He let his wife go after him alone.

Everyone fell silent, two sets of furious eyes and several shocked ones pointed at Van Der Linde, who stood there like a salt statue, his expression indecipherable.

“Micah planned this, didn’t he?” Arthur pressed on, rage white hot, pronouncing Micah’s name with pure disgusted disdain. “He was the only one who thought it was a good idea.”

The accused man dropped into the conversation with his usual fake apologetic tone. “Hey, cowpoke, no reason t-“

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Arthur erupted, coughing and wheezing as the pain abruptly came back to torment him, leaving him no choice but to back down and rest. Kris helped him get back into a comfortable position.

“I’ll deal with this, Arthur” she promised sternly. Then, turning to the crowd:  “I want everybody except the doctor and Ms. Grimshaw out of here. Now!”

Nobody wanted to further aggravate an upset wife, so they all scrambled back to their cots or scattered throughout camp.

Dutch turned his back to leave like everyone else, but Kris stopped him.

“Oh no, you stay here. I need a word with you.” Her tone didn’t admit reply. Van Der Linde slowly turned around, lighting himself a second cigar.

“Miss, I-“

Kris corrected him, vitriol in her voice. “Mrs. Mrs. Morgan.” She emphasized each letter deliberately, her patience wearing dangerously thin.

Dutch recognized his misstep, so he resorted to fawn and praise, like he always did. Still, he strangely refused to acknowledge her title.

“I’m so sorry about this, Kris. You were so brave, to rescue Arthur and bring him back to us in one piece.”

“One piece?!” she retorted, in complete disbelief. “Does my husband look in one piece to you?!” she gestured towards Arthur, laid down on his cot while the doctor examined him. Susan watched over them both.

Dutch raised his hands, softening his tone. “We’ll take care of him. This won’t happen again.”

Kris had grown tired of this man’s empty promises. “You say that, but how long until he’s lined up for the next stupid, deadly, useless mission? Huh?” her voice was starting to crack, the pent up emotions of the whole day taking their toll on her. “What then?”

“Were you going to come for him?” she asked softly, too tired to hold back tears now. “Be honest, Dutch. Were you?”

The dark-haired man stared blankly in the distance, over Kris’s shoulder. The charismatic leader finally had no words. They bolt jolted at the sudden scream that resounded through camp. The doctor was removing the bullet from Arthur’s shoulder, Susan holding his hand like a doting mother, whispering words of comfort to her surrogate son.

Kris dried her tears on her blood stained shirt. Arthur’s blood. “Dutch,” she called, voice shaking. “look at me.”

“Do you still have faith in me, Kris?” he asked, all of a sudden emotional. “Like when you did when you were an orphan on the street, and I took you in as my own daughter?”

Kris looked up at him, tears dry on her cheeks. 

He knew that would make her feel guilty. 

He knew she had no choice but to join, and that she had been grateful. 

He also knew how much Arthur came to mean to her. 

Did she still have faith in him? Her mind was way too tired now, her emotions too jangled up to verbalize them. She shot her mentor a doubtful look and left him there.

Kris went to sit by Arthur’s cot, head buzzing with too many thoughts. The doctor had just finished bandaging him. Seeing her approaching, Susan promptly gave her the seat next to her husband.

“The doctor says we need to change his bandages frequently to avoid infection, but he should feel fine in a few weeks” she reassured Kris, laying her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder.

Kris smiled, grateful that the worst had passed. “Thank you, Ms. Grimshaw.”

Susan nodded and gave the couple some privacy.

Arthur was understandably tuckered out, so Kris just sat on the chair next to him and held his hand as he slept.

“You’re gonna be okay” she said, more to herself than to him. She would have never admitted it, but seeing Arthur like that stressed her out to no end, a profound anxiety shutting her stomach down and keeping her awake.

And awake she sat, all night, checking Arthur’s breathing from time to time and changing his bandages every few hours.

Arthur woke up the next morning at the crack of dawn to see his devoted wife slumped forward on the chair, head bowed and fast asleep, still holding his hand. He smiled: she looked so cute when she slept. Poor baby looked exhausted, and yet she never left his side. God, how did he get so lucky? A brute like him hardly deserved such devoted loyalty like the one she showed him. If it wasn’t for her, who knows what would’ve happened to him. He loved her with all his soul, provided he had one to begin with. 

Sensing his eyes on her, Kris woke up, taking a while to adjust to her unusual surroundings.

“Good morning, beautiful” Arthur squeezed her hand and immediately winced, the effort making his wound wake up as well.

“Beautiful?” she huffed, sarcastic. “I’m tired, dirty and covered in blood!”

“Did I stutter?” he replied, inviting her to get closer. She obliged, sitting directly on the cot and leaning in to kiss him. It was the softest kiss, tender and intimate. It was a ‘I’m glad you’re alive’ kiss, savored slowly by both of them.

“Did you talk to Dutch?”

Kris shifted her weight from side to side, reminded of the uncomfortable conversation between them last night.

“I don’t want you to worry about this, not until you’re fully recovered.” She ordered, gently kissing his cheekbone. Arthur sighed.

“If I am gonna make it, that is.”

Kris repressed the urge to elbow him in the ribs. “Arthur Morgan! Of course you will” she scoffed. “Or I will descend into hell just to drag your sorry ass back here. Hear me?”

Her husband chuckled softly, then grimaced. “Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“Sorry” Kris grinned, suddenly overcome with a deep-set, warm relief. They were back in camp, having their usual banter. They were together.

“So, what do you need? Water? Something to eat? Do you want me to read for you?” she yawned so intensely that she was left disoriented for a second.

Arthur shook his head. “I want you to get some sleep, first.”

“Ugh. Fine” Kris protested, Susan already coming back to take over. 

“I’ll be back, honey” she cooed, leaning down to kiss Arthur’s lips again. 

“I’ll be right here.” he smiled, seeing her off. 

[megafighter343]

Can Denji Survive These Horror Movie Villains?

So, a few days ago I watched Anthony Gramuglia's You Cannot Survive These Horror Movie Villains https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JI7YOGb0e3Q I enjoyed it a lot. Very fun countdown of some of the most terrifying "you're so fucked" kinda villains in horror.

But a little worm of a thought crept into my mind these past few days "Could Denji take these villains?" What can I say? I love Chainsaw Man and given it's a horror-tinged work, I figured it'd be fun to match Denji up against these supposedly unstoppable forces. Spoiler Warning: This post is gonna do a lot of spoiling for Chainsaw Man and probably have spoilers for the works talked about in Ant's video. And Ant's video, really. If you're not wanting either of these, keep on scrolling. Also, watch Ant's video if you haven't. Is really good. Only rule I'm going with for this is that Denji is going at this alone. No Aki, no Power, no Asa, no Himeno, no Kishibe and certainly no Kobeni. This is Denji vs. 20 horror movie villains. With that said, let's roll.

20. Denji vs. Sadako Yamamura

Given the rules of the Ring curse, I don't think Denji is really capable of taking Sadako down. She has an extensive catalog of powers and can kill with a thought. At best, he could try befriending her if he meets her when she's nice, but I don't know for sure if Pochita's "give her lots of hugs" approach will be effective. Now, Samara Morgan, that's easy. Like, we don't even need to talk copy the tape and pass it on. The second he and Aki enter that video store, Denji's probably gonna spot that copy of Yor, the Hunter from the Future and demand they rent it. Completely ignore the the Ring tape, that's gonna be Aki's problem, not his. He's going into Yor's world!

19. Denji vs. Carrie White

Oh, this one's easy. Denji would beat Carrie with kindness. Both are outcasts with weird powers, so I can absolutely see Denji managing to befriend Carrie, giving her a support network that she needed when facing stuff like the school bullies or her awful mother. He'd probably ask Carrie to the prom before Tommy does. When the whole pig's blood prank goes down, Denji would probably rush the stage to drag Carrie off and get her out of there, even if he'd have to transform into Chainsaw Man to survive Carrie's early onslaught of telekinetic attacks. I dunno, I just picture the two of them outside the high school, Denji comforting a crying Carrie, licking the pig's blood off of her. It's a weirdly cute image.

18. Denji vs. It (aka Pennywise the Dancing Clown)

Despite Ant making the argument that soloing It wouldn't work, it absolutely could for Denji. See, Pennywise preys on fear. He likes to make sure his victims are nice and scared of him before he eats them. The problem here is that Denji is absolutely fearless. The dude went through absolute hell for so much of his life that a clown trying to eat him would probably be seen as a mild annoyance. Pennywise would be low diffed by Denji easy.

17. Denji vs. Lucy (Elfen Lied) Man, this is one where the "give her lots of hugs" strat really feels like a Hail Mary, doesn't it? Like, Chainsaw Man or not, I don't think Denji is gonna win a stand-up fight against the Diclonius Queen. Like, unless Denji can somehow kill her with kindness, he's pretty screwed here.

16. Denji vs. Pinhead

Well, first off, Denji is probably too stupid to work the Lament Configuration, so this is an easily skippable fight. Otherwise, while I think Denji would put up a hell (heh) of a fight, I just don't see him winning this under normal circumstances. Pinhead is immortal and has a high pain tolerance. The times he has been killed, he's revived himself in Hell. Now, I did note that this was a loss for Denji under normal circumstances. There is one trump card Denji has that I don't wanna pull out all willy-nilly, but in the case of Pinhead, I think we'll draw it here. Pochita. Resting within Denji is his closest friend, the Chainsaw Devil, Pochita. Literally, Pochita is inside of Denji, functioning as his heart. In very rare circumstances, Pochita has taken full control of Denji's body and reverted to his full, true form as the original Chainsaw Man. The Devil that other Devils fear. The Hero of Hell. True Form Chainsaw Man. (Note: 'True Form Chainsaw Man' is not an official title, just one I'm using for convenience.) Now, you might be wondering what the key difference here is and what turns this from loss to win. At least, if you haven't read CSM. If you have, you know what Pochita can do in his true form, but for those who need a refresher or just a crash course; basically Pochita can erase concepts from existence by eating their associated Devils. In Chainsaw Man canon, World War II and AIDs didn't happen because of Pochita.

I think the same ability can be applied to the villains Denji faces down in this list. Now, you may find yourself asking "Well, Mega, why not just have Denji turn into True Form Chainsaw Man and wipe out all the villains?" Well, my logic here is mainly because that's not something that's easily done in the manga. It's mostly an act that comes about when Denji is at his emotional lowest. After Makima had both Aki and Power killed. After Barem presented Nayuta's head to Denji on a platter (after already killing Meowy and the dogs on top of that.) True Form Chainsaw Man is not something Denji can just at-will transform into. It's basically Pochita taking the wheel because Denji is so emotionally devastated that he can't do anything.

So, I wanna save Pochita for fights where victory seems 100% hopeless. Fights where even kindness just isn't on the table as a way to victory. And I gotta say... don't think giving Pinhead a hug is gonna do anything.

So, Pochita takes over and after a grueling fight, devours Pinhead. It's a victory, but it's the hardest fight they've had so far.

15. Denji vs. Jason Voorhees Oh, easy. Jason may have a high body count and come back a lot, but he's still just a man compared to Chainsaw Man. Denji would tear Jason to ribbons. Wouldn't even need to get his new girlfriend Carrie involved in this, though she'd probably also low diff Jason. He's weak to Psychic, as shown in New Blood.

14. Denji vs. Nemesis

Eh, this is just Final Form Jason. It'd be high diff, but Denji can absolutely go the distance on this. It helps that Nemesis is usually hanging around a zombie-infested Raccoon City, so there's plenty of zombies for Denji to snack on to replenish his blood supply.

13. Denji vs. The Invisible Man

Weirdly, this is gonna be an unconventional victory for Denji. I mean, it'll probably just be him putting a chainsaw through Jack Griffin's solar plexus, that's the standard part. No, the thing that gets him the victory is just the simple act of transforming.

Ya see, when your transformation involved chainsaws sprouting from your forearms, it can get... messy. Blood going everywhere and if even a splotch of that blood hits Griffin, then that gives Denji a visible target to attack. Jack's going down easy.

12. Denji vs. The Djinn

Man... I think this one's a clean loss for ya, Denji. Like, this dude's a reality warper... don't touch the fire opal, I guess. That's all I got. There's no way he's winning here.

11. Denji vs. The Deadites Man, and you thought Ash Williams with his one chainsaw hand was bad for the Deadites...

10. Denji vs. Michael Myers

You remember all the stuff I said about Jason? Same applies here. Michael Myers may be pure evil, but he's still just a man. Thorn cult bullshit or no, you ram enough chainsaws into Michael and he's going down. Will he put up a fight? Sure. Will he win? No.

9. Denji vs. Art the Clown

Art's a new player on the scene and while Denji did good against Pennywise, I don't feel like I have enough of a grasp on Art's abilities to call this one. Call this one a no contest on the board, especially since I don't wanna play the Pochita card for this one.

8. Denji vs. Kayako and Toshio I'm not as familiar with Ju-On to know if there's anything that would make it so Denji could beat these kids and given that I've had him lose out against an Onryo already, best to keep things consistent. This one's a loss for him. 7. Denji vs. Xenomorph

I think Denji can take one Xenomorph, but it would be a brutal match-up. One of the advantages Denji has is that his opponents usually have blood, something that needs to maintain Chainsaw Man form. Problem is, Xenomorph blood is acidic, so not only does that mean he's getting hurt tearing into this thing, he can't even heal from those wounds. He could still down one of them, but put him up against a pack and he's screwed.

6. Denji vs. The Ghosts from Pulse Yep, that's another loss for Denji. Not much hope against the Japanese ghosts. 5. Denji vs. The Great Old Ones I... think he's got a fighting chance here. Like, this is a dude who in his own work is being squared up against the concepts of War and Death. We may be ants to the Great Old Ones, but Denji's more like a wasp. Sure, he could swatted down, but wasps have been known to kill humans. Put this under like, extremely high difficulty. Some real Dante Must Die shit.

4. Denji vs. Dracula

Most iterations of Dracula would fall to Denji. Like, OG Dracula was killed with Bowie knives, I think the dude with the chainsaw face has good odds. Hard to bite into a man's jugular when your own has a whirring cutting chain going through it. However, the big one Ant brings up is a total loss for Denji.

Alucard.

So, I brought up True Form Chainsaw Man and how it can erase things from existence by eating them... yeah, this is something that Alucard canonically can survive. The biggest trump card I had for Denji and Alucard can just say "Hah! No..." to that shit. This is a major loss for Denji, no way he can take on Alucard.

3. Denji vs. King Ghidorah

It's a hard battle, but Denji has some experience with fighting Kaiju. I put this at "has a fighting chance" along with the Great Old Ones.

2. Denji vs. Freddy Krueger

Oh, Freddy is the most screwed out of any of them. See, Freddy Krueger kills in your dreams. Guess who lives in Denji's dreams...

That's right. Good ol' Pochita. The second Freddy tries anything with Denji, he's gonna be facing down the Chainsaw Devil. The Devil other Devils fear.

So uh... good luck, Fred. Don't think those Dream Demons are gonna help you out there. They've probably bailed already. Denji doesn't even have to do anything, just sit back and let Pochita go full power Chainsaw Man. Freddy's gonna get eaten and wiped from existence easy. No more Bastard Son of a 1000 Maniacs. No more Springwood Slasher. No more Nightmare on Elm Street. He's just gone. 1. Denji vs. The Thing

And whereas #2 on the list was a no diff, I really have no idea how Denji could even begin to fight something like the Thing. It's a microscopic alien parasite that will get into his bloodstream and mutate him and Pochita from the inside. I don't even know if Power's hemokinetic abilities would even work on him and I can't even play that card since this has gotta be Denji soloing the opponent, but this one might be one where he just loses. Game over. Sorry, Denji. So, I'd say roughly half the list would be victories for Denji, two entries would be better odds than if he was a normal human, one entry is mostly wins except for one very OP iteration, about seven are straight up losses and one is a complete shrug on my part. Hope you enjoyed reading this long, LONG post of mine, be sure to check out Ant's original video up top if you haven't already and keep up the Halloween spirit, folks. God, I am gonna get some real angry reblogs and comments on this one...