#can we go back to unexplainable horrors?

[nieloxychen]

THIS REMINDS ME! why does it feel like a good 80% of current indie horror series are extremely christian? the amount of times "turns out: its actually demons/angels/god/satan!" has happened in the series ive heard about is wild... and its honestly getting boring lmao

yeah it makes sense in the "this is a commentary on a specific part of culture or a specific view point in society" kind of way. but theres still so much, im getting annoyed whenever it happens. i want to look at the application and what it means for the story and setting and creators, but im too busy rolling my eyes at another book of revelation reference.

[bewitchedfeathers]

Hitching - Jay/ce Snz Fic

For the lovely anon that requested Jayce desperately hitching with a stuck sneeze. I hope this satisfies! Included Viktor inducing him with a tissue.

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“Oh mby god..”

“Jayce, are you alright?”

“I’mb finde I juh--just…hhh’Hhh…Sndf ndeed to sndeeze…SDnffff”

“And it is stuck?”

“Yeah, I keh-heeep…hih-hitching…”

Viktor came over to his side, letting a hand settle on Jayce’s shoulder and gently massaging at the muscle beneath his delicate fingers.

“That sounds frustrating,” he said with a small frown. He looked over Jayce and he looked no worse than he had this morning, nose slightly pink but otherwise energetic. His voice had a slight rasp to it and he’d been drinking tea all that morning but Jayce had assured him that it was a mild cold and it would pass on it’s own. 

“I cah-cadn’t get anything done. I just..hhh’Hihhh…Hih? SNDFF snffsnf keep doing that.” 

Viktor gave a sympathetic hum. Gaze turning thoughtful as he considered the problem. 

“I’m too hhh…distracted to work on eh-equations and I definitely can’t…hhh…can’t work on hh-huh anything phy-Hiihhhh…Hh’Huhhh’HUH…..nghh physical. Sdnff.”

He looked up at Viktor with pleading watery eyes.

“Perhaps-” Jayce interrupted him with a heaving breath in, eyes falling shut again and a tear slipping down one cheek as he hitched wildly for a moment but it again came to nothing.

“This is hh..ridiculous. Sndff,” He grumbled stuffily. 

“Perhaps, if we force you to sneeze it will give you some relief.”

“Force mbe? Huh-how do I make myself sndeeze?”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

Jayce immediately shook his head at the suggestion, a vague look of horror in his eyes as he imagined inducing with an allergen right now. “I definitely sdnff don’t want to…ahh-add allergies on top of…of…Hohh’hhh…Huhhh..of this.”

“Reasonable. Then perhaps something slightly more invasive.”

“More invasive?” Jayce said with a panicked expression, “I don’t like thuhh-the sound of that, Vik.”

“No, no, nothing harmful. I just meant perhaps inserting something into your nose might induce a strong enough reaction to cause you to sneeze.”

“You thih-think Hhhh…Hiiihh’HIH!...hnn. Hoh…my god. Okay. I’ll try anything…”

“Give me a moment,” Viktor stepped away to search through his bag for an appropriate tool. Jayce rubbed irritably at his nose, which twitched under his touch leading to another round of wavering breaths that lead nowhere.

“Ah, there we are,” Viktor murmured and pulled a packet of tissues from his bag he kept in case of emergency. Both Jayce and Viktor usually carried a handkerchief, and Jayce had brought in a few this morning, setting them on a side table in preparation for a work day with a head cold. But today his tissues would be used in a different way than a kerchief.

Viktor returned to Jayce's side and tugged a stool over to sit next to him. He pulled out the tissues and began rolling one into a long point. Jayce watched curiously as he dabbed his nose with his usual red hankie. 

“Now this will be inserted into one of your nostrils, preferably the one most sensitive, until we hit a spot that triggers a sneeze,” he outlined his method casually.

“And you thuh…huh..thought this up just now?”

“No, I've done it to myself once or twice before, for a similar reason.”

“Huh. Okay, so I just stick it hihh..hh… up there.”

“I would insert it going slowly and twisting it as you go and then gently pressing it to the back of your nose. I can do it for you, if you'd prefer?”

“You don't thihhh-hihh…think that's weird?”

“We work with the strange and unexplainable everyday, this is really very mundane, don't you think?”

“I guess… Then um let's hahh-ve you do it. If Sdnff you don't mind.”

“I said I don’t,” he offered mildly, “Now move your chair closer so I can reach more easily.”

Jayce pauses in his movement. “Wait, if this w-works I'll end up hh…huh?.. sneezing on you”

“Nonsense you will hold your handkerchief at the ready and catch any sneezes in it. It'll be fine.”

Jayce bit his lip mulling it over, “Okay. Okay, lets go ah-head and do it then.”

“Good. Now sit and tilt your head up slightly,” he directed gentle but firm.

Jayce tilted his head back and his breath hitched, flaring his nostrils wide before they relaxed again as his breathing leveled out. 

“Very good,” Viktor praised distractedly. Jayce's cheeks flushing lightly in response.

Viktor inserted the tip of the rolled up tissue just past the edge of one nostril. But as soon as it brushed the inner rim Jason flinched back on instinct. His nostrils flared wide as he heaved in a few gasping breaths, and then huffed out a discontent sigh.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sniffling congestedly.

“It's alright, Jayce. Lets try again.” This time Viktor took a hold of Jayce's chin to help keep him still. He inserted the tissue into Jayce's nose and ignored the way Jayce's breath hitched and wavered at the least provocation. He twisted it slowly as he pushed it farther up and Jayce's hands balled into fists where they clenched along the edges of his handkerchief. 

“I can..hahh..feel it…hh-huhh. Hoh god it tih-hihhh…HIHHH…”

Viktor felt the tissue nudge against the back of Jayce's sinuses and his chest heaved, brow crumpling and eyes slamming shut. Viktor didn't let up, twirling the tissue between his fingers while keeping it there. 

“HIIHHH..HIH..HUHHHHHHH!?” He hovered for a moment on the precipice and Viktor nudged the tissue up.

“EERRRRUSHHOOO…HH’EEIISSHHHHOO…HH’HEH’EIISHHHHUHH…”

The first two sneezes caught Victor's hand before he could pull the tissue away. Jayce's head ducking down to aim towards his lap and the handkerchief still held halfway to his face. He managed to mostly capture the third in the loose folds of the kerchief.

“HEHGZSSHHuhh…Heh’DJSHOO…huhh…I cah-cad’t hhhhh’IGZSSHHuhh stop hh’huh-HEH’SHOO…”

“Try blowing your nose when you can, Jayce,” Viktor offered with soft concern.

“Hh’hh’EISSHHuhh…hhh’EDJSHHOO…” he managed to blow his nose, only pausing to sneeze once, before managing to get some relief. His handkerchief was a mess and he flushed keeping it pressed to his nose.

“Jesus, excuse me,” he offered bashfully.

“Bless you, Jayce,” Viktor murmured with a soft sympathetic look. “Feeling any better?”

Jayce sniffled, considering the answer, but he gave a tired smile when his breathing remained slow and even. “Yeah, actually. Thank you, Viktor.”

“It was nothing,” he responded, waving off Jayce's gratitude. “Now what is it you were working on?” He asked curiously. 

Jayce eagerly launched into an explanation only pausing for the occasional cough or sneeze. Both of them happy to focus on the science they loved. And if Viktor made tea and brought him tissues while insisting he wasn't fussing over him, Jayce chose not to call him on it.

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Let me know if you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated and motivating! <3

[Snz Fic Masterlist]

[ddejavvu]

I haven’t seen anyone write ghost!reader helping the BAU solve her own case…like knocking things over to get their attention or play eerie songs to give hints😭

THIS IS SUCH A COOL IDEA??

--

For FBI specialists, these guys suck. They've spent 20 minutes looking through your bedroom, and not once have they gone through the shoes in your closet, where one is tucked carefully away with a blood-stained heel. You'd driven it into your killer's eye just before he'd stuck his own weapon into your stomach, and you'd watched him put it neatly away in its place as you bled out.

"Y'know, I think we are looking at victims of opportunity," A tall, lanky one muses, hair in messy waves down to his shoulders as his slender hands hold your journal that you're not too happy he's reading. "There's nothing in here that indicates any sort of high-risk lifestyle, or anything that connects Y/N to the other victims. I think she just had her window open, and that was enough."

"I think you're right, Reid. This doesn't exactly look 'high-risk' to me." Another speaks, the dark tone of his skin a stark contrast against the white button-up he's holding out from your closet.

"But there's still something missing," Reid hums, peering confusedly around the room, "I mean, the other victims lived miles away. So if these really are opportunity kills, this guy's driving across the country and perusing neighborhoods to kill? That's not very probable."

"No. There's something else," The bigger one agrees, kneeling by the stain of your blood against the carpet. You watch on from the corner of the room, waiting for him to tuck his fingers just beneath the edge of the bed and withdraw the token that had fallen there when your killer had flailed about in the loss of his eye.

He doesn't.

You groan with frustration, but neither of them hear it. You're tired of waiting, tired of watching, tired of hoping they crack the case. You lunge for the bed, sending a breeze against the bottom of the comforter and rippling it so that the coin is visible for a split second.

The bulky agent's eyes widen slightly at the unexplainable draft, his thick brows dipping in concern. But he's seen the shiny coin, and he lets out a tsk as he examines it.

"Morgan? What's wrong?" Reid glances over at him, "Is that-?"

"A train token," Morgan drawls, "'Guess we know how this guy's getting around."

"Where did you find that?"

"It was under the bed." Morgan recalls, "It was... weird. There was this little breeze, like- like someone moved the comforter. That's the only reason I saw it. Would've missed it otherwise."

Reid's eyebrows arch curiously, then a smirk slides over his lips, "Maybe it was a ghost."

"There's no such thing as ghosts, pretty boy." Morgan scoffs, standing up straight with the token in hand, "Let's go, we've gotta deliver the profile- ah!"

Before they can walk out the door, you grab the shoe from your closet, flinging it at Morgan's ankle in retaliation for his rather rude comment. He jumps nearly a foot in the air, looking down at your bloody heel in terror.

"That just- that just hit me! It flew out of the closet, and- no, man, I'm not doing this. Fuck- fuck this, I'm going back to the car."

"It's bloody," Reid crouches to examine the shoe, warily glancing at the closet it had flown from, "Go ahead, Morgan, I'll just be a second."

"That is why white people die in horror movies," Morgan spits, already beelining for the front door, "I don't fuck with ghosts!"

When he's gone, Reid is silent. He snaps pictures of the heel, only touching the mess after it's been sufficiently recorded. There's some obscene mush that rubs off onto his finger and he grimaces, inspecting the remains.

"It's an eye," He murmurs to himself, but you hear it from where you're crouched right beside him. He has a pretty face, Morgan wasn't lying. He peers curiously once more at the closet, and you slide yourself into his line of vision as if he can see you. It's refreshing to have someone look at you again, even if they don't know they are.

Reid stands, taking your heel with him. He digs a plastic bag out of his pocket and slides the heel inside, gloves stained the same unsettling color. He starts for the door, finished with his investigation, but he lingers just before he can exit your bedroom. You're standing just behind him, intent on walking the man out and watching him drive away.

He turns back, gaze aimed towards the closet that's no longer occupied by your supernatural throwing arm.

"Thank you," He speaks, "I believe you're real. And I hope this- uh, finishes your business here. I hope you get to rest soon."

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

A little less content coming at us this week, but all of it good. These first two are streaming on Gaga with the last provided via fansub.

Our Youth

A bit of a transition episode this week as Hirukawa and Minase solidify their bond with a trip to stay with Hirukawa's mom and then return home, where all the complications of their lives rear their heads again. The transition to The Horrors was a little undercooked, with Hirukawa self-sabotaging and sacrificing himself on behalf of a "friend" the show has barely bothered to make into a real character. There were some changes from the source material for this plot that I think weakened the themes and didn't feel emotionally correct for the character, but we'll see how the rest of it plays out next week. That minor stumble aside, this show continues to be beautiful and I am eager to move on from this high school arc and find out how these two are going to reconnect in the future where Minase is hopelessly writing letters to a Hirukawa who can't or won't receive them.

Love in the Air Koi

This week Kai regressed after a run in with his abusive ex, and Fuma persistently pushed through his walls until Kai admitted he does love him and does want him to stay. It was nice to see them get a few happy moments, and I continue to really love the way this storyline is playing out in this version. Kai's fear feels genuine, Fuma feels very serious and sincere, and I really felt Rei's helpless frustration knowing something is very wrong with Kai but not knowing what it is or how to help. Despite the brief moments of peace in this episode, Kai still hasn't told Fuma or Rei about what he's survived and that his ex is still lurking, so there is trouble yet to come. Speaking of, I was not ready for the Rei kidnapping plot to come back around this fast! I'm so intrigued by the way they are changing up the pacing and sequencing from the original, it's keeping me on my toes.

The Fragrance You Inherit

This week we finally got into Mone's head and met her husband, who is of course a great dude who she genuinely liked and seems to have a happy marriage with. I expected nothing less from this show! I really appreciated the show's nuanced look at Mone's choices in college: her awareness of Sakura's sexuality, the tension she felt about the way Sakura made her feel, the decision to run from the potential complications of returning Sakura's feelings and into the safety of something more familiar and "normal" with a boy she also liked. I understand the choices she made, and also why she feels like a coward when she looks back on it now. And of course, as he observes all these fraught and unexplained dynamics between the adults, poor Toki's mind starts running wild. We wondered how he’d react to knowing his mom once liking Kanae’s mom, but this new who's the daddy conspiracy theory he’s spun up for himself is way worse. I hope he and Sakura can have an honest talk soon and clear up all this confusion. You can find the show here, with big thanks to @isaksbestpillow for the English subs.

[year2000electronics]

So how did Dipper and Mabel transform? You said that most people in the town change over a year, but the twins were almost immediately, so was there some intense body horror?

Like growing extra limbs or the leg joints snapping into disturbing shapes and lengths while their toes fuse together into hooves and their spines push out into a whole other back and continues into a tail? Or Mabel’s horn growing? Idk that sounds like it would hurt pretty bad.

Or did they just wake up one day with their lower half replaced by a unicorn and deer, respectively?

Btw I LOVE how you’ve been doing your world building, and all of your designs are SO CUTE/COOL!!

GREAT QUESTION! see, dipper and mabel's cursed transformations in particular need to happen at a stricter time-point than many of the others because of the role it plays in the story

it can't happen too late, because this is an au about "what if everyone was monsters", and if dipper and mabel were taking their time transforming all the way up to mid-season 1, it kinda defeats the point a little

the transformation needs to happen quicker than expected, because if it's too slow, stan or another adult can see the warning signs and realize that the twins are absolutely going to get cursed if they stay for too long. it needs to happen like [snaps fingers] that, or else it wouldn't be able to happen

SO. with all that in mind, my answer for how the twins end up transforming is this. the twins have exactly one event in our show timeline that they're NOT monsters for: tourist trapped. at the starting point of tourist trapped in the show, we also know for a fact that it's been at least a couple days just based on things like dipper's "until one fateful day" line in the show. so it's not like they get cursed the moment they step into gravity falls! but the curse happening only AFTER the twins find journal 3? i feel like that makes a sort of air of mystique that's like... did the curse take the twins so fast because they dove too far into studying the supernatural? is it because they're kids so it happens faster for them? whoooo knoooows... oooh... (it's left purposely ambiguous)

ANYWAYS. about a day or so after tourist trapped but before gobblewonker, stan has the kids working at the shack for another day of suitable-for-kids labour. however, the entire day, the kids feel really sore and they keep complaining about it to stan. id also pin it as feeling really similar to "growing pains" that kids around that age get? that aching around the hips

he figures they're just being a bunch of city slickers not used to lugging their weight, and he DOES let them have the rest of the day off, but, like, doesnt think anything else about it. why would it be weird? curse takes at least a year. that's how it's always been. the kids go to bed and end up experiencing a lot of feverlike symptoms, crazy fever dreams, unexplained pain, but all that ever happens is that one or two of them wake up half-asleep and try to get some water (not noticing that their feet are clacking against every surface)

and then.

BUT YEAH thats how i imagine it basically. once i finally get around to making a Customary Google Doc about my take on monster falls i might revisit this answer but this is my headcanon for now!

[fandomfreakstudios]

Caine is a human and I will die on this hill (theory)

due to popular demand (losing the poll) I wanna post my Caine theory in proper depth.

My theory is essentially the idea that Caine is not an AI but is in fact a human trapped in the digital circus just as much as all the other players.

Sounds ridiculous, right?

good.

[LONG post incoming, be warned]

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To start, we need to understand the digital circus and its origins.

a place like the digital circus is very likely to be man-made as a place, a game, a computer program, whatever. This place did not appear out of nowhere. It is accessed through VR or some VR-esque technology, and takes on the appearance of a retro game (evidence given below)

Now, video games (unfortunately) don’t just code themselves, there has to be at the very least one person creating this game. Fortunately enough, we can deduce the name of the company from what is given within the show.

It is very common knowledge at this point that digital circus takes place within a computer in some sort of office building (as is implied by the ending scene in episode 1)

This computer is also seen at another point... namely when Pomni is running through the backrooms-like offices. She once again comes across this computer.

Now this implies that this area is at least SOMEWHAT a reflection of the real world, so analyzing this location isn't inherently pointless. Now one other interesting part of this office area is the logo on the wall, which reads "C & A" which people have unanimously agreed to mean Caine and Abel

The important thing about this is that Caine as a concept is somehow connected to the person who created this game, through the founder choosing to name Caine after the company, or vice versa. Now you could easily argue that the company was named after Caine, or Caine acts as a self insert for the creator, but I am here to argue that maybe Caine IS the creator.

More specifically, Caine is an original creator of the game (not necessarily the sole creator) aka the amazing digital circus, and in testing an incomplete game managed to get himself trapped, as does any other player who chooses to attempt to play.

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Looking back at episode 1 there is something interesting for us to think about. Caine attempting to create an exit door, but being unable to figure out what to put on the other side.

Now this could very easily be interpreted as Caine being unable, as an AI who's only knowledge is of what's within the game, to imagine anything outside of it, and therefore fumbling the task. This is a reasonable interpretation, this was MY first interpretation, and it honestly adds so much horror to the episode on a first watch through.

But in all honesty that still leaves a lot unexplained.

The question still remains why Caine, as a struggling AI, would choose to create something like what he did. From his perspective he has never seen anything as dreary as these office buildings, nor does this space make any semblance of sense as Caine's environments tend to do. It seems less like something a well-polished AI would create, and more like what a human would come up with when trying to create something from a distant memory.

That's something incredibly important to keep in mind going forward. If Caine is in fact human, he would have been trapped in the digital circus for a LONG time, with it becoming increasingly difficult to recall his human memories (something it is confirmed humans trapped in the circus can recall). at the very least, longer then Kinger, who is clearly very mentally effected by his time at the circus.

Caine would likely also be showing some level of insanity or mental instability if he had been trapped with no escape for this long (and yes I do believe that he also cannot leave, and I have some evidence later down the line that will explain this perspective), and he hasn't been seen to do this at all, right? Well, I think he is, but it manifests a little differently then Kinger, or anyone else for that matter. Keep this in mind as we go forward.

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Caine's purpose within the circus is fairly straightforward. He is the ringmaster, he creates daily adventures akin to ttrpg oneshots, and he exists to essentially guide the player through this video game world.

Now in the event that Caine was a human who was pulled into the game, why would he need to fill this role? Even as a dev he should still be playtesting as, well, a player. I believe that at the time of the dev's entrapment, the ringmaster AI had not been programmed into the game.

Y'see the Caine we know is a MAJOR perfectionist. He neeeever likes anyone seeing his unfinished work, kinda odd for an AI within a game to be embarrassed about. Yeah, he's a generative AI that creates locations, but creating something in multiple steps is something an AI cannot do. Furthermore, an AI should not feel "embarrassed" about it's work, AI by virtue is always 100% convinced what it generates is perfect, or else it wouldn't have generated it like that.

Also, if we're working under the assumption that the backrooms-esque offices were just an AI hallucination or bad generation, why would Caine KNOW it's not what his players are looking for? For a dev however, this makes sense.

Caine also has a lot of other actions that, as an AI require a bit if suspension of disbelief, but make tons more sense if he's actually a human, and furthermore a dev.

As mentioned, perfectionism, not wanting people to see incomplete or unpolished areas of the game

Realistic depictions of emotions (frustration, embarrassment, confusion)

Annoyance at Bubble for being a sucky AI (her swearing, interrupting him, inhuman and unrealistic speaking patterns and behaviors)

the need to "Reuse AI" which, if the characters are all AI created by other AI would be unnecessary because AI generating would take Caine no effort. Nor should a generative AI ever run out of ideas.

As mentioned, perfectionism, not wanting people to see incomplete or unpolished areas of the game

Realistic depictions of emotions (frustration, embarrassment, confusion)

Annoyance at Bubble for being a sucky AI (her swearing, interrupting him, inhuman and unrealistic speaking patterns and behaviors)

the need to "Reuse AI" which, if the characters are all AI created by other AI would be unnecessary because AI generating would take Caine no effort. Nor should a generative AI ever run out of ideas.

I wanna highlight that, while this is a joke post, I am enjoying the implication that Caine has a name (something only a human would have)

(top right is a particularly interesting example of him just acting super human and "dropping the act" so to speak. Getting distracted, stuttering, losing track of the conversation, all that. And bottom right is similar as he is nervously fidgeting).

Caine has all the fixings of a human dev, trapped in his now incomplete game. A game that had not had it's "ringmaster" character implemented at this point in development, likely with nothing more then some competed (albeit unpolished) locations for the game.

The idea Caine is actually a dev as opposed to an AI is further supported by Caine's ability to create and alter things from within the game. Creating areas without human prompt, deleting characters, he seems to have a level of autonomy and intelligence that no AI should EVER have.

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Furthermore, the man ACTS human, a weird ass human, but a human nonetheless. He's responsive, emotive, emotional, and he's not nearly as glitchy as the other AI. He never slips up and activates some sort of internal filter like bubble, or insists on weird mannerisms like the moon or the sun, he seems to just KNOW better somehow.

He acts like the more "immersive AI" from ep2 if anything, which he's clearly been around longer than. Someone needed to program that AI, and based on previous patterns is implied to be Caine. Once again, way out of his job description as another AI (plus how would this AI be MORE realistic if it was learning from another, older AI).

Not to mention the fact he's ALWAYS around somewhere, whether he's in his own realm he made, or just chilling around the circus (unlike bubble for example, who comes and goes at Caine's will).

It's clear he does this for his own comfort, but WHY would he be programmed to do that as opposed to only existing when necessary to prioritize memory or something.

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But one would be right to say he's slightly... off. He is a strange one, if he was a human. He's erratic, unpredictable, and often manic at times. This goes back to the point I made with Kinger, where I claimed Caine should also be exhibiting signs of mental illness

Under the assumption that Caine, in the act of playtesting the game, got trapped, a handful of things would happen (the finer details are negotiable, this is just my knee-jerk reaction):

He'd realize what happened and that he can't get out

He likely felt as though he was in his own personal hell, as he was trapped in a scuffed, incomplete skeleton of his own passion project

He likely found some sort of way to alter stuff, a backdoor that only he as the creator knew about, or some sort of privilege in being the first to enter the realm

He got his first or first few players. This was probably alarming to him as there was no ringmaster, no worlds, nothing. All the AI he had created thus far had been poorly made and could not function which such a difficult task. But then he realized... HE could be the ringmaster

This is probably around the time as well that he realized he could not remember his own name. But he remembered what he wanted to call the ringmaster... Caine

He takes on the identity of Caine, acting as ringmaster, polishing the game behind the scenes, and creating daily activities on an "as needed" basis

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Now this is where it gets interesting. I believe, at this point, Caine has taken on the identity of this AI generated ringmaster for so long that he's beginning to lose himself. He's beginning to lose memories of his life, he's becoming more detached from the side of himself that ISN'T Caine, and he's starting to catch himself believing he IS Caine, he IS an AI.... and he's scared

He's completely lost the ability to create any meaningful connections with others, as he needs to keep up the illusion of being an AI. He's lost his humanity, become detached from the way other humans think and feel, and its starting to make him become more AI then human if anything.

(left image does not crop nice, plz click to view the whole thing TvT)

He's probably seen at least a dozen people lose their mind in so many different ways. While he knows he's different then them, TECHNICALLY he's still a player, and can abstract all the same. This is why he seemed to freak the HELL out at the idea of an AI and a human getting mixed up.

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One last bit, and it's a simple one I promise. Caine has been described as the main antagonist outside of the show. This is interesting as up until now Caine hasn't done anything actively malicious (aside from Gummigoo, but he seemed to have solid reasoning for that, just not anything he chose to share with the audience).

[does ANYONE have the "weight of Caine's sins?" tumblr ask I am having no luck finding it again]

At this point, this would be shooting the messenger. He is simply a byproduct of the system that is keeping these folks trapped, right? Caine himself didn't put them there, he just takes care of them.

Unless... Caine was the one who made the AI. Then he would inarguably be the reason everyone else was trapped there. And goose is right, that wouldn't make him an AWFUL person either, but he does still have many sins weighing on his back, and many deaths on his hands. And there's nothing he can do about any of it, because he's just as helpless as they are.

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So yeah, TLDR: Caine was the creator of the circus. In attempting to playtest he got trapped in the game and eventually took the initiative to play the ringmaster within his own game, but he is slowly beginning to lose his mind, as happens to everyone.

Hope you all enjoyed the read! If anyone's still interested at this point I have a few more small bits of evidence (more from outside the show on Goose's socials and whatnot) which I could not fit in the bulk of the theory. I'll reblog with some extra bits so this post is still complete but I don't break the flow of my main ideas.

And if you get this far, thank you so much. I don't typically post long form theories like this but if this gets any sort of traction I definitely will begin too.

[scullysflannel]

hiiii apologies if i'm sending you too many asks lol, don't feel pressured to reply right away or at all tbh, but there's this thing ive been turning over in my head about the x files that's like... so in many ways it has these conservative ideas kind of baked into the premise and format of the show. these fears of monsters and monstrous others that have to be investigated and neutralized by our heroes who are these beautiful professional looking white people. and then there's the looming fear of alien invasion that comes up in the myth episodes. so theres a lot that could and should and does feel reactionary and conservative about it. but theres also such a palpable love for the strange and unknown? the "i want to believe" poster represents this so beautifully. i think this love tends to be expressed visually rather than in words so it's kind of hard to concretely describe but i'm sure you know what i'm talking about. and then the show also relies on us the audience having an interest in the paranormal and unexplainable, not because we want to see it defeated, but for its own sake. so i guess i want to ask how you square those two ideas, that the x files has all these anxieties about weirdness but also loves and yearns for weirdness? as i said ive been kind of ruminating on this for a while and having trouble reconciling the two ideas so i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Ooh I kind of just want to give you a reading list. Have you read “In the Dark” by Brian Phillips?? It’s a Grantland essay written for the 20th anniversary in 2013. It’s my favorite piece of X-Files journalism (actually my favorite piece of entertainment journalism in general) — kind of an essential text to me. It gets into all of this. But for me I don’t feel like reconciling the tension is the goal, or that it’s even possible. The tension is the show.

Likely thing for me to say, but I think the structure of The X-Files as a procedural is a big part of how and why it moves between fear and love. Phillips describes Mulder and Scully as representatives of a doomed but still operational status quo, “figures of a weird reactionary beauty, struggling to understand and then prevent the profound transformation breaking out across their world.” I’d say that last part (prevention) is especially true of the mythology, with the monster-of-the-week episodes giving space to sometimes complicate that. 

The X-Files is traditional in its basic formula; it makes assumptions about who gets to be the hero and what kind of job they should have. There are some assumptions it doesn’t interrogate, like its default whiteness. But its critique of the government can be shockingly pointed, even if it holds itself back in later seasons by keeping Mulder and Scully in the Bureau well past the point where they should go rogue. (Not that I think the show actually could have done that.)

Does The X-Files love its boundaries or want to blow them up? Both. The appeal of a procedural is typically that it gives neat answers, so being a procedural that denies easy answers is the point, which is to say that both sides of the show are dependent on each other. The whole show is sort of an experiment in fitting some of the strangeness of Twin Peaks into a procedural. I think it’s meant to be a go-between, the same way Mulder and Scully are. 

Phillips also writes, “In this show about not knowing, the agents confronted two distinct sets of frightening unknowns. On one side was the shadow government represented by the Cigarette-Smoking Man. On the other was the evil that lurked beneath the surface of every American hamlet. Often, Mulder and Scully’s role was simply to act as interpreters between their own antagonists, rendering chaotic eruptions of small-town horror comprehensible to men in marble corridors in D.C.” I think The X-Files works like that too — interpreting between what’s regimented and what’s odd — and in that sense it has to yearn for the same things it’s afraid of. And really, I prefer the honesty of that to something more ideologically consistent. 

I always think about “Home” as an episode that sums up a lot of The X-Files’ attitude toward progress (more on this here): It isn’t immune to the romance of the myth of Mayberry, even as it’s aware that it’s a grotesque lie built on violence, and that people are committing perverse acts to hold on to it. The show allows for progress to be scary but insists that it’s not as scary as what people will do when they fear it. Weirdness on The X-Files isn’t perfectly analogous for righteous deviance only. I believe the show sees what is weird coming from all sides, past (like the Peacocks) and future, so what’s weird isn’t inherently good or meant to signify inherent goodness; it only can be good. 

One of my favorite things about The X-Files is the way it respects the integrity of doubt. (I’ve written about this! But hold off on reading if you don’t want any spoilers.) I don’t think the show could be about the bravery of questioning your beliefs without letting those old beliefs be a little bit comforting to Mulder and Scully, even the ones that turn out to be lies. There’s a great New Yorker essay by James Wolcott written in 1994, near the end of the first season. He writes that in The X-Files, the Cold War-era obsession with UFOs and alien invasion gives way to the more inward-looking fear of alien abduction: “The X-Files is the product of yuppie morbidity, a creeping sense of personal mortality.” Later on, the mythology incorporates shapeshifters and alien colonization plans, but it never commits. That’s never the emotional core of the show in the way abduction is. The core of the show is personal annihilation: the fear of death and losing loved ones, and the fear of tearing yourself apart to get to the truth.

But some of the most affecting episodes are the ones that love and yearn for the weirdness in spite of it all. Like you said, it’s always in the atmosphere and the visuals (the poster, or Mulder looking up at the stars), but I think the show puts words to it pretty often, too, like “I guess I see hope in such a possibility” in “Quagmire” and especially all of “Humbug”: “Imagine going through your whole life looking like that.” There’s so much affection for peculiarity in that episode. Still, I love that ultimately it’s just a fact: “Nature abhors normality.” It doesn’t actually matter whether you like what’s “freakish” or not; it’s just nature. I think all of The X-Files kind of evens out into a neutral judgment like that, which is nice and even kind of radical in its own way. What is weird doesn’t have to be beautiful and desirable; it just has to be seen and accepted.

[drivinmeinsane]

Crimson Headache

※ Sierra Six x Afab!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You wonder something about Six. Will he allow himself to surrender to what he really wants?

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content

※ Content/Tags: Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Smut, Protected Sex, Male breast worship (mild), Wound care, Pet Names, No use of Y/N, Fluff. No use of pronouns for the reader, Not beta read (we just die)

※ Word count: 3,337

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Got too overcome at the sight of Ryan Gosling's tits when he was in the Gray Man. Will it happen again? Probably. This was been sitting in my docs for ages while I poked at it occasionally. So uh... enjoy.

A dog barks in the distance, the sound blending in with the occasional passing car as the noises of the night creep through the open window. The curtains rustle as they get stirred by the crisp, autumn breeze. It’s the perfect kind of night to be tucked into bed under the covers and reading a book by the comforting glow of the bedside lamp. The only way it could be better was if there was a warm body laying beside yours. You were so painfully, desperately lonely in the absence of your companion.

You flip another page of the book you’re holding in your hands. Six had given it to you the evening he was called away on another job. The mission he was recruited for is the kind where he couldn’t disclose any of the details or even take the risk of a phone call while away, secure line or not. As soon as he walked out the door, you would be left in the void of not knowing if he is safe or if he would even be coming back… hence the book. It carries the promise that he will return, that he has to come back so you can talk about what you read in his absence. That was four days ago. You’ve been slowly dragging your way through the chapters. You’ve read sections of the text over and over to savor the meaning of it like a piece of candy melting in your mouth.

You’re so engrossed in the paragraph you’re reading, so captivated in horror along with the characters at the sight of unexplainable creatures moving amongst the branches of willow trees that you don’t see the man in the doorway. Unbeknownst to you, he stands there for a long while, watching the way your lips part and gasp at a newfound twist, the way your face scrunches at a particularly unsettling moment. He savors the sight of you and waits for you to realize that he’s here. Several pages go by, held gently between the pads of your fingers as you turn them, before you pause to reach for the water bottle on your nightstand. You catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure in the corner of your eye. You startle and miss the water bottle, it falls to the floor with a heavy thud and rolls to a stop against the dresser. You’re scrambling, prepared to scream when you realize you recognize the silhouette. It’s Six.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you gasp, falling back on the bedspread. 

There’s a quiet chuckle followed by a decidedly insincere sounding apology. “Sorry, beautiful.”

He doesn’t move any closer, choosing to observe as you mark your place amongst the pages of the book. You set it aside with slightly shaky hands and observe him. You can’t make out any details beyond the circumference of the soft light radiating from the lamp, so you beckon for him to come closer. He hesitates for a long moment before obeying. He moves stiffly but steps right up to the foot of the bed, letting his shins hover mere inches away from the mattress. 

You can’t stifle the gasp that bursts from your mouth at the sight of him. He recoils slightly at the sound but keeps his eyes unwaveringly focused on you. He is a complete and utter mess. His shirt is marred with an impressionist's interpretation of a crime scene. It’s dried to a deep, almost brown, burgundy in the areas where the blood soaked into the fabric. His face isn’t any better. It’s a disaster of wet and dried blood, bruises just beginning to purple underneath the gore. You are on your knees all but immediately, fighting to be at the edge of the bed. Your hands uselessly flutter around him. You’re not sure what parts of him are safe to touch. It’s impossible to be certain what amount of the viscous liquid has come from his own body. 

“I missed you, Six. I missed you so much.” You’re half sobbing in relief that he’s come home to you. Even if he is bloody and bruised. You’ve barely settled your hands on his broad shoulders before he’s on you.

He bypasses your attempts to soothe him, choosing instead to tangle his hand in your hair. He gives it a firm tug to bare your neck to him before mouthing roughly along the column of your throat. You gasp at the sensation. His facial hair feels like fire lapping against your sensitive skin. The hot heat of his mouth only strengthens the comparison. You yield to him willingly as he manhandles you. A whine escapes you when his teeth nip a little too hard on your delicate flesh. He’s so gentle and tender with you outside of the handful of sexual encounters you’ve shared that it always shocks you how aggressive he is in bed. He seems at his most relaxed when he’s simply spending time with you or letting you roughhouse him, but when it comes to sex… he’s as strangely stilted and tense as he is now, almost as if he’s working his way through a script. It hasn’t seemed that he finds much pleasure for himself outside of the moments when he’s working his mouth between your legs. He never quite manages to look you in the face either while he permissibly degrades you. You wonder…

“Hold on.” He is busy biting a mark into your collarbone and muttering something about you being a good girl for him. The hand not intertwined with your hair has made its home around the base of your throat. The hold is threatening to become a hard press into your esophagus. “Six, wait a second.”

The agent instantly withdraws and the look he gives you is wary. He looks like a scolded dog. You cup his face and rub a gentle thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. He relaxes into your hold, pressing his face into the warmth of your palm. The desperation of being needed, of being touched, is rolling off of him in suffocating waves. It only furthers your growing suspicions about him.

“Do…” you bite your lip, bringing your other hand up in the vain attempt to brush his hair off his forehead. It had tumbled loose and gotten caught up in the blood on his face. You’re sure that there will be streaks of it along your own skin. “Do you even like this kind of sex?”

He goes rigid against you, wrongfooted. “I like pleasing you.” 

“Baby, that’s not what I'm asking. Do you like being rough?” You question, hesitation slowing your words. 

“Honestly? No.” The blunt confession is given as though dragged out of him, kicking and screaming. There’s a vaguely ashamed expression lingering in his eyes. 

“Why do it?”

He’s silent for so long, you almost think he’s never going to respond. “I thought it’s what you wanted. Anyone else has wanted me to be… a certain way. Told me it’s how I should be. Do you not like it that way?”

“I like you in any way you want to give yourself. I just want you to be comfortable and feel good too,” you say sincerely. 

He looks stunned by your admission. Six’s life has been nothing but molding himself into the ideal aggressor. There’s no room for softness or vulnerability, not when he is supposed to remain impartial, unattached . His hands are meant for causing harm. As he has said in the past; he was taught how to hurt people, not how to care for them. He shifts uncertainly in place, processing your words. 

“I see.” It’s said without conviction.

You let out a soft sigh and stroke the crease that’s formed between his eyebrows. His marginally relaxes under your soothing touch. The injured man allows you to give him a chaste kiss. 

“Let me take care of you for once, baby. Please,” you plead.

There’s a moment where you can see him warring with himself but he relents. Six surrenders to the deeply buried desire to be looked after, to be treated as something more than a tool. He allows you to take his much larger hand in yours and lead him into the bathroom.

He looks worse under the bright lights. The shock of red liberally coating him is stark against the white walls and fixtures. You ignore the bile fighting to rise in your throat at the sight and focus on gently extracting him from his shirt. His stomach warms the backs of your fingers while you slowly peel the soiled material away from his skin. He twitches slightly when you graze his side. You suck in a sympathetic breath when you realize why. His flesh is a mottled crime scene of bruising from his armpit to his lowest rib. You help him ease the destroyed shirt over his head. Despite himself, he lets out a pained grunt at raising his arms. It gets tossed to the side the moment he’s free of it.. His trousers are a much simpler affair, one that you’re able to leave him to handle while you turn on the shower. 

His touch against your lower back is a welcome surprise. He pulls you against his chest, hands coming to rest on your stomach. He’s fully naked and blazingly warm against your back even though the cotton of the shirt you’re wearing. 

“Raided my closet?” He questions softly against your ear. The sensation of his breath sends an involuntary shiver through your body.

“I missed you,” you remind him. 

“I missed you too,” he confesses. 

He works his bloodied hands, with their split knuckles, under the fabric of the borrowed shirt covering your body. Soon, you’re stepping out of your underwear and pulling him under the warm spay with you. He groans appreciatively at the feeling of the water hitting his back. You spend your time with him, taking the utmost care when rubbing the shampoo into his scalp. The frothy water is tainted red on its journey to the shower drain. There will be a red ring around the edge of the tub that will need to be scrubbed away tomorrow, but for right now, your main concern is the man melting underneath your hands. By the time you’re rinsing him off underneath the showerhead, he’s stooped over in order to press his face into the crook of your neck. His arms are looped tightly around you, one hand resting on your shoulder and the other gripping the softness of your hip.

“You don’t have to pretend to be anything you aren’t, you know… Not with me,” you murmur. He nods. 

You turn off the water, careful not to jostle him in the process. He peels himself off of you, avoiding making eye contact. There’s insecurity written across his face and it only grows when you encourage him to sit on the edge of the tub. You gently towel dry him, letting him guide you into standing between his spread knees with his hands on your sides. He rubs circles into your skin while you tend to his injuries. You’re thankful  that it’s nothing too terrible. Most of the blood hadn’t been his, but there is a sizable, abit shallow, gash in his hairline that requires the careful application of liquid bandage. There’s little you can do about the bruising. You hold Six’s face in your hands while you wait for the adhesive to dry, brushing your thumbs over the coarse hair of his goatee.

“All done?” He asks. The look in his blue eyes is tender, but there is a glint of something else swimming in the depths.. 

“Mmhm,” you affirm. 

He kisses you, brushes his tongue against the seam of your lips. You open for him eagerly. This is a different kind of possession than the kind he had shown you earlier. It’s not domineering, he’s not rigid and wooden underneath your hands. There’s no push and pull. It’s merely two bodies interlinking. You return Six’s interest. You weave your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck. A low groan rolls through him. It’s enough for you to encourage the man fully up onto his feet, to walk him blindly into the bedroom and to the bed. Your bodies jostle together, naked and damp. He lays down on the bed at your behest. He allows his body to unwind against the yielding surface. He’s a vision in the warm light. Drops of water are beaded on the miles of his skin and it’s taking every scrap of your self-control not to consume him. To lick and bite at him until there’s nothing remaining but the memory of him on your taste buds. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” You ask, moving to kneel beside him on the mattress. A shudder runs through him at your proximity. He nods, eyes lidded. He’s fully allowing you to take control of this situation.

You press your mouth against his, once, twice. Priming him for your next movements. He responds to your attention with a hitch of his breath. You cradle his jaw in your hand, grounding him as you make your way down his neck to his ample chest. He’s never let you touch him like this before during sex. He’s always captured your attention with his own actions. Never mind how his own orgasms seemed forced while he was blowing your mind. 

His hands shoot to your shoulders when you swirl your tongue around his nipple, gripping hard enough to leave the imprints of his fingers branded into your skin. You pause, letting it pebble between your lips. His grip loosens marginally and you suck gently. The noise he makes is loud enough to wake the dead. It’s an unconstrained growl and his body twists and bucks. Encouraged, you lap at the sensitive skin. It grows swollen and hard at your attention. You drag the hand from his face down to his unoccupied pec. You knead the tissue for a moment before rolling that nipple between your fingers. His chest is heaving under your exploratory teasing. You pull back to observe the effect you’ve had on him. His eyes are focused on you, and his mouth is open slightly, panting. His facial hair does little to conceal his flushed state. You cast a glance downward and he’s starting to get hard. 

You skate your hand down his stomach, savoring the way his muscles flex under your fingers. You take his cock in hand, earning another low moan. He’s huge in your grasp. You can’t quite encircle him within the ring of your index finger and thumb. You leisurely stroke him. He throbs in your hold, a warm trail of precum drips from his tip, pooling against the side of your hand. You give him a light squeeze before taking your hand away.

You slide it between your own legs, quickly gathering up the slick at your entrance before you ease a finger inside yourself. Six rolls over to watch you. He audibly swallows at the sight of your pillowy thighs wrapped around your wrist as you open yourself up to take him. You bite back a moan of your own as you sink three fingers home, spreading them increasingly wider. Six is a big man, he’s going to stretch you deeper and wider than you can reach, but at least you can prepare the way for him. You pull out of yourself, the sound is obscenely wet. He reaches for you, intent on taking over. The desire to fuck into you with his much larger digits is written all over his face, but you stop him. 

“I want to cum on your cock.” The admission strikes him dead in his tracks. 

He lets you rummage in the nightstand drawer for protection. You can feel his gaze on you like a physical weight. You find what you were looking for and turn back to him. You press a hand against his shoulder and push Six down onto his back again. He holds himself still, muscles trembling with the effort of not rutting up into your hand while you unroll a condom over his erection. 

You swing a leg over him and pause, hovering over him. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is thick, low with arousal.

You line the tip of him up with your opening and brace your hands on his chest. He watches you raptly while you ease down on him. The stretch burns as your body accommodates his girth. You gasp as you fully seat yourself on him. He’s fully sheathed inside of you. You sit for a moment, letting your body get used to the way he fills you. You use the hands on his chest to push off, settling into a steady rhythm. Both of you are letting out noisy gasps. He clamps his hands over your thighs, drags his eager touch to the backs of them. He’s using his grip as a support for your movements. Any tension that he’s had in him during previous encounters with you is gone. He’s wholly enthralled, clearly engaged. There’s nothing being forced here. 

“Touch yourself, please,” he pants out. 

You can’t refuse him when he asks so nicely. You reflexively clench down around him when your fingers find your clit, He groans at the increase of pressure. It’s wet, sloppy. Your fingertips occasionally make contact with his dick as you ride him. You’re soaking him. You can only begin to imagine the mess that would be pooling at the base of his erection if he weren’t safely encased in a condom. 

You collapse forward on top of him. Letting him hold you up and drive his hips against you while you circle your clit with frantic fingers. You’re close, so close. Your mouth finds its way to his chest. You suck a mark into the yielding tissue, a hint of your teeth has him letting out a strangled grunt. You speak between the presses of your mouth to his pec. 

“I’m yours.” He makes a sound, low, broken. “I’m yours, Six.”

His grip on your thighs turns bruising. His handprints are going to linger on your skin for days. You’ll feel the phantom of his touch with every step. He’s marked you muscle deep.

“Stay with me,” he begs. There’s a wild desperation on his face and you realize that he means permanently, that he wants you with him indelibly. You’re not just some temporary outlet for him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. You’re his for as long as he wants you. You’d let him be your forever. 

At your words, he moves his hands from your plush thighs and digs his fingers into your hips. The man underneath you grinds you down against his pelvis as he cums. His cock spasms inside you, sudden heat making itself known. It’s enough to push you over the edge. You seize up around him, milking him dry. You sit up and withdraw your cramping hand from between your legs. You rest, thighs relaxing from their chokehold against his flanks. Six is watching you, trying to catch his breath. The expression on his face is slightly awed, vulnerable. He looks hopelessly, helplessly in love with you.

He softens and you ease yourself off of him, letting him slip free. With shaky legs and clumsy hands, the two of you clean up in the bathroom. You steady the agent as needed and he uses the excuse to press close to you. Necessities out of the way, you help Six back into bed. You pull the blankets up over him and he flips over to pillow himself against you. You spread your hands over his back, tracing aimless circles over his warm skin. You massage a thick ridge of scar tissue that disrupts the smooth topography of his shoulder blades, he sighs in contentment. 

“How was the book?” His voice is sleepy, relaxed. 

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Elchanan Poupko

For centuries, rabbis around the world get up on Shabbat Zachor and speak about memory, never about violence. Not once in the past 2000 years of Jewish history – and that is a vast record to draw on – was the Biblical account of Amalek used to evoke revenge. It was always used to evoke memory. The imperative to remember the unprovoked atrocities committed against our own innocent communities.

The name of Amalek was invoked to remind us of the ubiquitous nature of antisemitism, the only hate in the world directed against people who are unknown to those seething with hate for us. People like the Houthis in Yemen who never saw a Jew in their life, yet are determined to destroy the Jewish state; Nazis in Germany who traveled hundreds of miles away from home to kill Jews in Belarus, Lithuania, Hungary, and Morocco even though they had never seen or known much about those Jews, that is the kind of evil we speak about when invoking the memory of Amalek.

In our generation, when speaking about that kind of senseless hate, we speak about the Hamas terrorists who woke up on the morning of October 7th and were willing to gable away their lives and futures to murder and burn alive people like Canadian peace activist Vivian Silver, someone who spent her life driving Palestinians from Gaza to medical appointments in Israel’s best hospitals. We invoke the memory of Amalek when we encounter something so evil it defies any logical explanation.

It is appalling to see how many people rushed to the Bible to judge Israel’s use of the memory of Amalek before looking at its use for the past 2000 years, most notably during the Holocaust.

While Germany starved to death and killed hundreds of thousands of Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto, Jews secretly published a newsletter called Kol Hamidbar in which the emaciated Jews wrote: “Many nations waged war against the Jews and did bad unto them, but Amalek, that is something absolutely different. Amalek put the destruction of Jews as a goal, a program, a method; premeditated, in cold blood, sadistically, according to a plan, organized, and with laws… Amalek and their grandson Haman are not satisfied with the killing of individual Jews…they would like to destroy the entire nation and eliminate Judaism.”

These words ring powerfully to any Jew who has seen what Hamas terrorists did on October 7th. The senseless hate that defies any logic or pattern of human conflict is simply unexplainable. The kidnapping of grandmothers from their homes and burning of babies and little girls alive with no reason whatsoever has no other language.

Jews invoke this language of Amalek when we encounter the world’s oldest hate, acted on with cruelty no human can explain. Jews have done so countless times while remembering the Holocaust and also did so while seeing the evils of Hamas on October 7th.

Like Jews after the Holocaust, the memory of Amalek’s unforgivable horrors reminds us of the need to take action. How does that action look? Years ago, speaking to congregants in synagogue, here is what I said as I spoke of the story of Amalek, and I was not the only one:

“The greatest heed to the call ‘Yidden, Nekama – Jews, Revenge’ inscribed in blood in Slabodka, Lithuania, is not going back to that town and place or to those perpetrators; it is that there are today thousands of students in Israel learning in Yeshivas named Slabodka. It is that we are undeterred in leading proud Jewish lives, laser-focused on the future while refusing to forget the past.”

Jewish revenge never looks like the acts of our enemies. We never follow in the inhumane footsteps of those who committed the unthinkable against us. This is true also concerning the horrors of October 7th.

[someonebeatyoutothisuser]

Ight, so with the whole U.S. situation and the fact that my rights may or may not be stripped away from me, let's talk about something else.

Let's be real, beast-yeast could've been better, but it was slightly just... Unexpected and kinda just...

So, let's talk about some things they could've done in favor of that update!

(these are my opinions btw.)

Explaining what the fuck horrors strawberry cookie just saw.

Now, let's be real, strawberry SAW a cookie get eaten, but it is not mentioned enough, and I feel as if it just never really happened, but I feel like she deserves a side story on how that overall affected her and her daily life, how she lives knowing what she had seen, and probably what she heard, because a lot of shit could've been going on at the moment and honestly I feel like the writers just forgot it happened and decided to just say "Fuck it" and never mention it

Going more in depth about GingerBrave's and Dark enchantress's dynamic and about the one line in ep 10 timeless kingdom.

Now, I know GingerBrave has about enough spotlight, but it's the words "You of all cookies dare to defy me?" That gets the community, it opens up possibilities and some questions that could be answered through that and perhaps could give the words some back story and maybe reveal more about why dark enchantress said that and how these two might have something a bit more than just an enemy viewpoint of one another. Plus, it might go in depth on how GingerBrave isn't just some plain ass cookie, and might open up some interesting character about him and perhaps why he thinks so lowly of himself.

Giving the cookies of darkness backstories.

When I say back stories, I do mean how they met dark enchantress cookie and kinda how they managed to form the whole gang, and primarily how they became evil exactly.

Giving other cookies some (Well deserved) side stories.

It's self explanatory, but some cookies just DESERVE a side story yk... Like rebel cookie or some tension between a few cookies, like Expresso and butter roll cookie.

Going more in depth about the ancients friendship.

Mainly how white lily formerly being dark enchantress cookie (Or the concept) affected them and going over how the ancients think of one another in actual depth, and perhaps even reveal some past relationships or tension they have with one another.

MORE DRAGON COOKIES...

There is ONE cookie in the fucking dragon category. Can we get some more along with some backstories bruh... This is depressing. And it's been like this for what, a year? We should get some more.

A boss rush concept.

Listen, the gameplay is getting uninteresting and guilds need more going on so, here's where you fight old bosses with your friends and maybe as an extra challenge, you don't know whose character is whose and each person gets one negative effect that stays with them till the end of the game. As an extra, everyone gets one character and only the host and two of the first members get to pick a treasure so crk doesn't get boring as shit, and it's a max of 5 people.

Timekeeper + croissant cookie introduction.

We had a cameo of croissant, might as well introduce her and timekeeper, and perhaps they could know of the ovenbreak timeline and perhaps break 4th wall or even just compare certain stuff from ovenbreak to kingdom and vise versa cause it would be funny, and also twizzly gummy cookie being aware of this because I think it's just better that way. And an introduction to the TBD.

More on custard cookie the third and what the fuck is going on with his family tree and why the hell we found him in a forest.

I'm talking about the exact context + reason. Because like listen, it's just unexplained and not talked about (due to the fact that devsisters just brushed it off) and I think I just need it answered on who is this boy's mother and how the hell he got in the dumbass Forest.

And that's the few things I personally think should've happened in favor of beast-yeast.

[blood-orange-juice]

Looking at the datamined Childe conversation.

Chilumi ship has been taken out and shot. This guy has been in Fontaine this whole time and didn't even bother to leave a note with Katherine. Rude.

The Traveler is his favorite NPC but still a NPC.

I liked the conversation overall. Our boy adopting a bunch of kids again and poking Arle for intel (I like how he's both straightforward about it and willing to doubt Pulcinella. it's all very him).

Would really like to hear the voice acting there though. Is it his usual polite curiosity ("we are all here anyway so might as well learn something") or is he taunting Arle there.

And with how Arle said "how are you going to distract me without Childe here" at a later point I wonder if his monologuing about siblings was in fact an attempt to distract/stall her too.

(I can't understand if he's reactive or intentional in that conversation)

Generally I'm happy with the patch itself but unhappy with the direction Hoyo are taking with the guy. The conflict of loyalties is still very much there but no signs of corruption arc. They seem to be setting him up for something purely heroic.

(I'd rather if he becomes heroic after he finishes his vegetables glitches through a corruption arc)

I want my uncanny boy/ruthless Harbinger/Abyssal horror back but I guess my headcanon of him is a separate character at this point. His characterisation has shifted from "a genuinely unpleasant guy with strict morals and an unexplainable air of innocence" to "precious cinnamon roll with a few unsettling traits and some questionable choices that were not his fault".

On the topic of Childe and trusting people: can we appreciate him just drinking a bunch of random potions some HoH kid whose name he barely remembers made for him.

(he was already sick, considered her boss insane and had no way to check if the kid is competent. still drank those. mad lad)

Also an extremely dry patch in terms of lore. Not even a hint at what Arle is, just "go read Perinheri" (she's a descendant of Khaenri'ahn royalty, sure, but what exactly does that imply). Seraph references seem to be just for aesthetics. I'm glad I didn't do an Arle lore bingo.

Some Natlan and Remuria crumbs though.

[bootlegpancake]

Grand Dad

Geppetto learns he has a grandson.

Genre: Horror, Romance, Family, Drama

Lies of P with Ai: Somnium elements. To learn more about Kanra, read this. He is an AI ball.

Spoilers for Lies of P.

"What's going on here?" he heard her mumble, "How did we get here?"

From previous psync sessions they had, Gloria recognized the city they were currently in. Somehow, some way, Pino got transported back to his timeline but for some reason Gloria was there - and so was their few months old son, fussing in her arms. Currently, they were hiding in one of the abandoned buildings; P was shielding his family with his body, as they were stuck close to the entrance. The raven gently opened the door so he could take a peek outside.

"I don't know." he quickly scanned the area as much as he could, "We are close to the hotel." he glanced down at his Legion Arm. Again, an unexplainable change, it seemed like he was once again reverted to being a puppet with a human soul. He quickly glanced back at his family and saw his beloved's terrified face. Despite working for the police for years now, this horror was something that has shaken her to her core. He understood her fear - their whole family was in danger. He needed to get them to the hotel as fast as he could. He just prayed that his son won't start crying while they are on the move. He turned to her and gently grabbed her shoulders,

"Honey, listen." he said in a whisper and despite his calm exterior, his mechanical heart was beating insanely fast, "We must get to the hotel as soon as we can. I can't protect you without my weapons, so we have to be quiet and fast."

If Kanra was here, he would have made this into a dirty joke, but alas, the AI partner of Gloria was not with them.

Gloria's eyes were filled with tears and terror but she nodded and held their baby closer, who whimpered in response. He couldn't bear seeing her like that so he quickly gathered them in his arms. She nuzzled her face into his neck and he held her tight,

"I love you both so much. We'll find a way back home." He whispered his promise into her hair and she nodded. As he released her, she sniffed and noted,

"You.. you feel a bit stiff. Are you...?"

He gave her a sad smile and a nod, "I am afraid so." He showed her his Legion Arm, making her gasp, "But we can talk about this later. We need to move, now."

He ushered her behind him and they made a break for the hotel as quietly as possible. Their hastened footsteps echoed throughout the deserted city. Despite the solitude they had, they all felt the cold dread, as each dark corner they passed through had the chance of a deadly monster lying in wait to claim their lives. P felt each and every heartbeat of his beat in his ears. Which was strange, considering he was reverted back to being a puppet again.

Despite his artificial body, P felt a soul gripping fear throughout their run. His normal hand held his partner's hand tightly as he navigated them throughout the ruins of the city.

Sometimes he heard his son whimper, but they couldn't stop to calm him, so with a heavy heart, they just ran forward. To their luck, no one heard them as they powered through the streets.

As the hotel came into view, P got excited and hurried his steps. Not long now. As they were running up the steps, P quickly noted that they had not run into any trouble. In fact, the whole city looked deserted. When he was still there, puppets and monsters were crawling everywhere.

As they arrived at the entrance, P prepared to answer the question the hotel's alarm system was supposed to ask, but there was no prompt.

Odd, he thought.

"What's the matter?" Gloria was still catching her breath, and bounced their son a little in her arms, as he grew fussy.

"We were supposed to get a question here." P replied with a confused blink. He then tried to open the door with both of his hands and oddly enough, the door opened without any resistance. What was going on...? Was Krat no longer dangerous? What happened while he was gone? Why was Krat still in shambles? 

They walked into the hotel, which looked just the same as when P first entered it - beautiful and elegant, but the only difference was that there was no one to greet him this time. This silence and solitude unnerved him and once again ushered Gloria behind him.

"This is wrong," he whispered "there are supposed to be people here."

"I remember this place from your memories." she whispered back and held their baby tighter to her, "Polendina is supposed to be manning the reception desk, right?"

"Yeah." he whispered back, and advanced to the center of the room to interact with the huge stargazer, "I wonder if I can-"

"Who goes there?" a familiar voice rang in the air and P felt a chill run down his spine. No way...

And sure enough, his old man was descending down the stairs from the left. He looked just like he remembered, from his clothes down to the a scowl on his face; however, upon gazing at his creation, his expression changed to pure shock and uttered in disbelief, "Son...? Is that you?"

In that instant, P felt a surge of excitement and he couldn't stop a smile forming on his lips, "Father!" he exclaimed and wasted no time running up to him.

"Son!" his father exclaimed, and before P could envelop his arms around him, his father held him by the shoulders instead and questioned him, "Where have you been, son? I have been worried sick! I thought I'd never see you again!" his voice cracked as he spoke and he gripped him harder. Since he was held at arm's length, all P could do was grab his fathers arms in comfort,

"I don't know, father." P replied, his voice shaking, "I just, I think I got into an accident, I don't remember, I woke up somewhere else. In a different world."

"In a different world?" he echoed in disbelief to which P nodded,

"Yes. I tried getting back here, but I couldn't find a way back for two years."

His old man let out a thoughtful hum, "You have changed, son." he now looked him up and down and furrowed his eyebrows at his jeans and plain black shirt, "You seem more... mature." he let go of his son and inspected his hair, which was longer than before, but did not reach his shoulders yet.

P gave him a small smile, "I want you to meet someone." 

P stepped away from his father and turned to Gloria, who was already walking up to them very slowly, with a small frown on her face. P immediately knew his partner did not trust Geppetto. That was her "I don't buy your bullshit" expression, and sometimes she used it on him whenever he -badly- tried to lie to her. P extended his normal arm towards her and she took it, as he lead her up next to himself.

"Father, I would like you to meet my partner, Gloria." P said with a huge smile on his face, but he was jarred when he saw his father's disapproving look for a millisecond, which he quickly hid with his fake business smile. The old man then took Gloria's hand and shook it.

"Pleasure to meet you, miss Gloria. I am Geppetto. Thank you, for taking care of my son." he then glanced at the baby in her other arm, who chose that moment to turn around and look at the old man with his big, blue eyes, "Your husband must be worried sick about yours and your child's disappearance. We will do everything we can to send you back."

"The pleasure is all mine." Gloria said in a flat tone and P internally cringed. Even he could tell she was lying, "But I have no husband so he is not worried about me."

"My apologies." Geppetto said in an undecipherable tone, "That child made me assume it is yours and that you are married."

"Father." P chose to speak up, because he knew Gloria's no-bullshit attitude would not bode well with his father's bullshit attitude, "Gloria is my partner. We are not married, but we live together and-" he carefully took the baby out of her arm and he saw her relief - she was holding him for over an hour and her arms were aching from the constant weight - and held him out to Geppetto, "This is our son, Carlos." He beamed with pride and hoped his father would soften a little bit, "Your grandson!"

But yet again, P saw his father's expression darken as he looked at baby Carlos. The little boy was whimpering and fussing about, he was clearly upset about something. Seeing this, P brought the baby back to himself and began rocking him. His father spoke up,

"This... this child is yours?"

Carlos' little whimpers were getting heavier and P knew from experience that his boy was getting close to breaking into a cry, so he put him against his shoulder and patted his back to hush him. He turned his attention back to his father, and furrowed his eyebrows. He was not expecting this reaction, "Yes, I am his father."

"That's impossible." Geppetto's demeanour got a lot colder, and the way he eyed Carlos made P feel increasingly protective over his own child, "You are a puppet, you don't have the necessary organs to... create a life."

"He did, back in my world." Gloria spoke up, making Geppetto turn his attention to her. "He was fully human in my world. It complicated things, since Ergo is nonexistent in my world, so when they found Ergo in me, we also found out we had Carlos on the way." 

That seemed to have struck a cord with Geppetto, "You have Ergo in you now?"

"Not anymore." She replied quietly and watched as her partner failed to calm Carlos, who began a full blown cry. She motioned for P to give him to her, "I will try to feed him."

"Alright," he moved to give Carlos back to Gloria but the baby begun wailing even more and clutched onto his father's shirt, refusing to let go. Perplexed, they both stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. Usually Carlos was not this clingy to either of them. Glancing at his father, P saw the old man was getting annoyed at the sounds the baby was making. Which jarred P, since Geppetto had a son way before he was created, so this shouldn't be anything new for him.

"I uh, I think it is better if we go to a separate room to calm him down." P said awkwardly and was about to walk away, when Geppetto held him by the shoulder,

"Son, wait. I need to talk to you in private." his stern look melted away and his eyes softened, "I missed you, son. I have so much to talk to you about and then I would love to hold my grandson after he calms down." 

"His son needs him." Gloria said coldly and put a hand on Carlos' back, who was still crying, "He clearly doesn't want to be away from his father. Give us a few minutes at least." She looked Geppetto in the eye and refused to back down. The old man chuckled and let his hand slip from his son's shoulder.

"You sure picked a strong lady, son."

P chuckled, "Indeed, I did."

The young parents walked away from the old man, and headed towards the library where they could comfortably sit down on the couch and calm their son. 

"He has never cried this much before." P murmured as he rocked the baby, who was finally starting to have pauses in his cries, "I wonder what's wrong?"

Gloria was leaning against him, exhausted after the earlier ordeals and carrying his son around. She mumbled her reply, "Babies are extremely sensitive. He feels my discomfort and your father's..." she was trying to search for a nice word, "lack of sincerity."

"Just say what's on your mind, please."

"Your father's bullshit." she whispered and glanced around to make sure no one heard her, "I have never seen someone so dishonest about seeing their long lost son. And the lack of enthusiasm for a grandson." she crossed her arms and was pleased to find that Carlos' cries were now much quieter, "Something's not right with him."

"He's just lonely. He went through a lot." Carlos now calmed down and silently looked between his parents.

"I know lonely." she stroked Carlos' cheek and wiped away his remaining tears with her thumb, "He is angry and disappointed. And he certainly doesn't approve of you starting a family without him."

P looked at her in disbelief, "You only met him for a minute and already assume this much?"

"Body language and actions speak truer than any words, honey." she said sadly and nuzzled her face into his neck, successfully muffling her next words, "Hwe'fs a dwick"

The raven raised an eyebrow with an amused smirk, "You're not mincing your words today."

She leaned away from him to look into his eyes, "Not when I'm protecting my family, no."

He sighed, "Look, he is my father, he will come around." Gloria quirked an eyebrow, "Also, this hotel is the safest place we can be right now. Can you try and get along with him, please?"

"I can't pretend I like him when I don't."

"Gloria, please."

"And what will happen next?" she put her arms around herself, "If we find a way back home, will you leave him here, or would you bring him with us?"

P blinked. He didn't think about this, but now that he did, there was only one answer, "We'll take him with us, of course."

"Of course?"

"Where else would he live?" P looked a tad bit irritated, "He is my father, I will not abandon him."

"Honey." she began sadly, "I don't think... he wants to leave. He also doesn't want YOU to leave. Just Carlos and me."

P opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly his father's voice came from the Stargazer nearby, "Son, may I have a word with you in my office?"

The puppet looked at his partner sadly, "Looks like I have to go." he then handed Carlos over to Gloria, "I think he heard the peace and quiet and decided he waited enough. We'll continue this discussion later."

They both stood up and Gloria brought a hand up to his cheek, "Honey, please be careful and come back to us."

He chuckled and cradled his hand around hers, "I'm just going to talk to him. I will be back soon." He gave her a small kiss on the lips and on his son's forehead, "You two are my world." he whispered against her lips and kissed her again. She smiled against his lips,

"Where's this kind of enthusiasm when you are on diaper duty?"

P snorted out a laugh and pulled away, "You know how to ruin the mood, honey."

"I'm improving it." she smiled, "Now go and talk to your daddy."

"Please, don't call him that." he smiled and walked away nonetheless to talk with the old man. Again, as he walked through the hotel, the silence and lack of staff unnerved him. Where was Venigni? Eugéne? Polendina? He turned ontop of the stairway to the left and walked across the familiar corridor. He glanced at the column, that usually had a pile of luggages next to it, where the hotel's cat sometimes observed her territory. Come to think of it, where was Spring?

He looked around and the silence grew suffocating. His head felt a little bit off as well. 

As he opened the door to his father's study, a strong smell struck his nose - again, this was odd, since he had his artificial body again- and he recoiled on the threshold. The smell was strong and unpleasant. His mind prickled. This smell was very familiar. What-

"Ah, son, there you are." His father stood up from his chair with a warm smile, "I take it, my grandson has calmed down?"

"Yes." P replied and mirrored his smile, "This situation upsets him."

"Understandable. Little children are very perceptive." he said fondly and walked up to him, with open arms, "I am so glad you are here, safe and sound, son." the old man embraced him and P was eager to reciprocate.

"You have always been a good boy to me." he felt the old man pat his back, then gently pried himself from his embrace, but slid his hands on his shoulders, "And look at you. You get away from your old man for a little while, and manage to start your own family, by yourself."

P couldn't bear to look at him, as he felt a little anger radiating off from him and nodded.

"I'm not angry at you, son." he chided gently, "I am just surprised." he chuckled, "You disappear for two years, and when you return, I learn that I'm a grandfather. Try to think of it from my perspective."

"I'm sorry." was all P could muster. He felt a bit of shame, but what could he have done? He was stuck in that world. A world where he found family, friends and happiness. Not constant yearning for more love and attention.

"Like I said, I am not mad." he put a hand ontop of his head which made him look at his old man. His smile seemed sincere, "Tell me about my grandson. I already know he has strong pair of lungs."

"He is only six months old." P said fondly, "He was a big surprise, I thought Ergo wouldn't let me have children."

"That is a new concept to me, as well." his father straightened up and put a hand to his chin, "So you say you were a human in that world?" He received a nod, "And now you feel like you are a puppet again?"

P seemed hesitant. That smell once again hit his nostrils which made him flinch a little, "Well, I can smell something." he said, and raised his mechanical arm, "and my Legion Arm is back, so I'm not sure."

"Smell something?" his father echoed and P could see this troubled the old man.

"Yes, something weird." P looked around. His father scratched his head awkwardly,

"It might be some rot. I... didn't do much maintenance work on the hotel."

"I see." P nodded but he still wondered, because this stench he smelled was not of rot. "Why is the hotel and town deserted?"

His father's eyes had a sad glint in them, "After your disappearance, the monsters vanished, and the puppets just... ceased to function. All the survivors have escaped Krat. I remained behind." he turned away from him and took a few steps towards his desk, "I thought my grave should be shared with my son." he sighed and turned back to him, "But now that you are back, with a family no less," his smile was warm, "we can start over and I can do what's right."

P felt a sting in his eyes as he quietly replied, "I would like that very much."

The old man chuckled and motioned for him to sit in the old chair he used to receive upgrades in, "I am glad you agree, son. Will you let me do a health check on you? You could tell me more about my grandson."

The moment his father asked him to do that, alarm bells rung in his mind. To not trust him, that his partner was right, and something was obviously wrong. Something prickled at the back of his mind, something urgent, and he felt like he was forgetting something. Alas, he was happy his father was paying attention to him and his family. He nodded and obediently sat down in the chair, the sensation familiar and oddly discomforting. His father immediately began inspecting him, but that didn't stop him from asking questions,

"Your lovely lady friend has mentioned earlier, that she had Ergo in her. What did she mean by that?"

P felt something click in his chest, which was rather painful but he endured. He couldn't see what his father was doing, but he felt like he was just inspecting, as he said he would, "She meant that while she was pregnant, she had Ergo in her blood."

The raven felt something being shut inside him, then more tinkering, "And what about your boy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does your boy have Ergo in him?"

"Yes." he replied quietly, "A moderate amount, and it's harmless."

P heard an acknowledging hum, "Fascinating. So your boy is a wonder of two worlds. A human, born with Ergo. More stable than Listeners and more human than puppets would ever be." Geppetto said in hushed awe, "He is truly one of a kind."

"My son," P began quietly, "Is just human, nothing more. Ergo or not." He didn't like his father's voice when he spoke about Carlos being a fascinating creature. He fidgeted in his seat, "Thank you for the inspection, I'd like to leave now."

His old man glanced at him, then looked back to what he was doing, "Yes of course, there is just one more thing I have to close and I am done." he chuckled, "Seems like you have become something akin to a human in a puppet body."

"Indeed." P replied. He wanted nothing more than to leave this chair and get back to his family. And god, that stench-

That... stench. He smelled it when he fought-

Before he could finish his thought, he heard a loud click, then he felt his whole body go numb, and slump forward in the chair. He wanted to frantically look around, but none of his muscles were responding to his commands.

"Did you really think I was going to let you go again?" his father's voice was quiet and cold, and P felt his skin crawl. He wanted to shiver, but his body wouldn't move an inch. He couldn't see his father, his head was lolled forward when he lost all control of his body. "You finally came back, my most precious creation." He felt Geppetto's hand on his head "But how do you return? With a filthy wench clinging onto you."

That made P's blood boil and he wanted nothing more than to get up and teach his father to respect his beloved, but all he could do was listen, while he agonized internally. He felt the old man closing the maintenance hatch on him.

"I created you, so you could bring my son back." the old man now knelt down, so he could eye his artificial son, hand now on the side of his face, and the young puppet's eyes shone with unbridled anger, "But you break free instead and create a spawn."

P saw red and he wanted to hurt his father for calling his precious son a spawn. How dare he?! He tried to move any muscle he could, but his body didn't move. His family was in danger, and he couldn't lift a finger to protect them. A mirthless chuckle left the old man's lips, "Still functional, I see. Since you are not entirely a puppet, you will not switch off instantly. You still have some time left."

The old man rose from the floor and headed somewhere P couldn't see, "But luckily, your spawn has one very important quality." He heard shifting, and a lock opening, "He has Ergo in him. And being born from you, my greatest creation, means his heart is better than that P-Organ you have." P felt his entire being go cold at that, and the silence surrounding them got deafeningly loud. Every shifting his father did sounded ten times louder in his ears. He heard a metallic clank sound that felt eerily familiar and the stench grew unbearably strong.

"I will just have to wait until he gets to Carlo's age and then I can take his heart instead."

Metallic footsteps followed as Geppetto's voice grew louder, "Which means, he cannot be with his mother either."

P wanted to scream. To break free and escape from this nightmare. He desperately tried to kick his body back in action, but he just lay there limp, paralyzed and could only see the carpeted floor in front of him. The stench now made his stomach churn and if he could control his body, he would be vomiting.

"Oh? Looks like your brother is curious." Geppetto's voice changed to a commanding one, "Don't hurt him, we might need him later."

P felt a metallic hand grab his hair and yank his head up, so he could see the source of the ungodly horrifying stench that was tormenting him. P was now facing a moving corpse, which had no mouth, no eyes and yet, the puppet could feel this undead creature was beholding him with curiosity. The body was sickly palish blue, and he looked like he got sewn together from different bodies. He was- He-

P felt his mind prickle again. He saw this monster before, but where? By the gods, the stench-

"Kill the woman, but don't hurt the infant." Geppetto instructed, and P felt the monster let go of his hair, making his head fall back against his chest with a sickening thud, "After that, bring the spwan to me."

NO! P wailed in his mind and continued to thrash against the invisible barriers against his body. Please, don't! he screamed in his mind, Don't kill her, please! but unfortunately, the nameless puppet couldn't hear him and he heard the heavy metallic footsteps get distant. Moments later, he heard her scream and the sickening sound of flesh meeting metal, all the while his son's cries started up again, louder than before.

No... he thought again, and he felt weak. His family, destroyed by his own father and his-

A loud guttural sound cut through the atmosphere. Everything went silent after that. What in the...?

He heard it again, but this time, it was a bit muffled. He then felt himself slip sideways, any all the colors and everything just faded away and he was left in darkness.

...What in the world..?

He felt himself in lying position, and surrounded by softness. His eyes shot open, and was met with an unfamiliar room and a pressure behind him.

"Oh, shoot, sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

Wake him? He blinked and slowly his brain caught up with him - he was no longer at the hotel, he was at home, probably in the dead of night since it was dark, and his heart was beating a million miles an hour. He groggily moved his arms and looked behind him, and saw Gloria - all healthy and not dead, in her white nightgown - sitting up on the bed and her hands were at her lips.

"Hngwha?" was all he could muster, as he still was in stupor. 

"My stomach was burning, and I couldn't go back to sleep, I needed to sit up and burp and it was a big one and I am so, so, so sorry." she squeaked sheepishly and hid her face in her hands.

"Did..." his brain was still processing this, "Did you just burp me awake?"

"Yes." she squeaked.

"I love you." was all he said and basically pounced on her and gathered her in his arms, squeezing her tightly, and kissing her wherever he could reach - her hair, her forehead, her cheek, her nose, her lips and then crushed her against him.

"Dwiffd fwou haff a naiiffmff?" she asked against his chest and managed to embrace his torso, albeit she hit his elbow first. Despite her nearly undecipherable question, he understood she was asking wether or not he had a nightmare.

He squeezed her tighter, "Mhm."

"Mm-mm!" she frantically tapped against his back and Pino eased up on the embrace just enough so she could come up for air. She inhaled deeply before she continued, "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No. At least, not now."

"Alright." she brought a hand up to his cheek and he melted against her touch, "We're here, you're okay. We're safe." She then put her other hand on his other cheek, "And we love you so much." she whispered and kissed him gently on the lips. He closed his eyes as he exhaled. They are safe. He is safe. She is here, she is not dead, she is very much alive.

He slid his hand on her shoulders and pushed her back on the bed, his body following hers and immediately covering hers with his own and started giving open-mouthed kisses to her neck, making her moan and gasp in surprise,

"Wha- Whassgotten into y-" he immediately covered her lips with his own and all she could do was melt.

"I need you, now." he whispered against her lips and held her face. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes were filled with unshed tears, "I need to know you're alive. I don't want to lose you, ever again." he whimpered and this time, Gloria launched herself against him and kissed him fiercely, ignoring the way her back her from the awkward position,

"I will always be by your side." she promised against his lips, heart beating at a rapid speed.

"As will I, by yours." he promised as well, in a hushed whisper.

The two lovers shared a very passionate night.

Much to Kanra's dismay, who was only put in sleep mode on the bedside table, so he heard every single noise the couple made that night, and all the AI ball could do was count the minutes until the couple was done.

He counted 98 minutes, 35 seconds and 0.00034 milliseconds until the couple finally went back to sleep. 

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Visions And Voices"

Maul returns to be a menace and freak both me and Ezra out.

Obligatory "I've already done a live reaction version of this episode" link.

From the very beginning, with just the washed out dingy lighting and the whooshing wind sound effect, this episode already feels unsettling. The atmospheric touches here with the storm and lightning and the camera movement and shot choice once things start happening evoke a horror movie.

The way they have Hera's voice fading out and going watery every time Maul calls to Ezra, the way Ezra keeps squinting and blinking and the tiny headshake he gives like he's trying to shake off some fatigue or jerk himself alert, make himself stop seeing things...

He looks so frightened. :(

COURSE I DON'T BLAME HIM WITH THE APPARITION OF MAUL LOOKING LIKE THIS.

Kanan and Zeb both trying to shake him awake after he faints. <3

I mentioned in my original liveblog but this episode gives me major Teen Titans 2003 "Haunted" vibes, with the plotline about a character being menaced by an imaginary villain only they can see. Rebels ultimately diverged from that parallel but my mental "If I had a nickel for every time" associations linger.

Something I loved about this episode was just how present everyone was for Ezra, how worried and concerned they were over him. Like here, all the members of the crew, even Chopper, are crowded in Kanan's room waiting for him to wake up.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: How Ezra touches the back of his neck like he's trying to rub out some stiffness or ache.

Oh hang on, did I just stumble across another Kanera-Sabezra mirror?

I DID! :D

Getting a little ahead of myself though, gotta appreciate this moment here with Ezra's fond little smile as Sabine bullies AP-5 about the munitions they're taking.

Also Sabine's "Can you believe this guy?" look lol.

Sabine immediately knows to send Chopper for Kanan. (Oh look, the two of them being the Most Important People in Ezra's life again. :D)

Sabine is very worried and alarmed this whole scene. She knows this isn't like him and oh ouch there are those Teen Titans "Haunted" feels come back to stab me again.

It's not actually clear what Maul was doing with this whole making-Ezra-see-him-everywhere trick--and you know it was deliberate, Ezra wasn't getting anything useful out of his end of the mind bond--but honestly the visions going unexplained are effectively creepy and unsettling enough. Personally I think it was one part to scare Ezra, make him doubt himself and his own mind, make him and everyone else think he was going crazy, and one part to manipulate him into doing something horrible he'd regret so that the Rebels would cast him out and drive him to Maul.

:((((

Hera understandably takes Ezra off the mission in light of events and heads it up herself. There's very soft worried mom energy radiating off her in this scene.

I'm kind of amazed Kanan and Sabine putting a tracker on Ezra without telling him didn't get any rancid takes complaining about how ~cLeArLy tOxIc~ it was. Maybe people actually remembered the part of Ezra's characterization where he tends to impulsively go off half-cocked to save people and figured, "Oh, Kanan's taking some obvious precautions in case he does that." Or maybe they decided given two previous kidnapping attempts Kanan was allowed a little paranoia over his kid.

Aaaaaaand this is the first we've heard Ezra's theme in a while.

(Note: Sabine has already painted one of Ezra's new Scout Trooper helmets, which he decides to wear to see Bendu. Even though the last time they rode the speeder into the Bendu's hollow he didn't bother wearing a helmet at all. Upgraded your comfort item/security blanket metaphor there, Ezra, eh?)

Full on horror strings here as we pan up to Maul just chilling like a creeper at the top of the hollow.

The way Ezra almost steps between Maul and Kanan. <3

Something I loved this episode was Ezra consistently rejecting Maul's attempts to touch him, smacking or shoving his hand off his shoulder, deliberately stepping away and keeping a distance.

Since a straightforward request was denied, Maul resorts to blackmail, threatening to broadcast the location of the base to the Empire and oof, Ezra's face.

Maul then dangles the "key to defeating the Sith" carrot in front of them, which activates Ezra's Hero Complex and hyper-responsibility and is what makes him agree to go. See, Maul is his responsibility, it's his fault Maul is even after them in the first place, so Ezra feels a sense of obligation to take care of him as a personal problem.

Love how Kanan says Phoenix Squadron will just wholecloth pack up and move to a new base in order to keep Ezra safe. I don't think it works like that Kanan, lol, but the spirit is appreciated.

Ezra's awfully confident that Maul won't hurt him and, ngl, that is not a risk I would have taken. But Kanan decides to trust Ezra and so the snippet of Ezra's theme that's been playing (marking his gesture of self-sacrifice) gives way to the same cue that played when Vader was descending on top of the TIE Advanced in "Twilight of the Apprentice", kind of an auditory callback to Malachor and the start of this whole arc.

Sabine's already getting the Phantom II prepped. <3

Dathomir looks appropriately hellish. Twisted gnarled trees, barren rocks, broken architecture, drenched in deep red with fog obscuring the horizon.

It's subtle at first and grows more obvious as the episode carries on but Maul is a little bit, ah... bipolar in his actions and displays of emotion here. He oscillates between speaking calmly, growling in frustration, outright snapping at Ezra sometimes, cackling to himself randomly, and of course dropping his voice down into that soft, vulnerable cadence that's his go-to whenever he wants to garner and play to Ezra's sympathies. Ezra takes his erratic behavior in stride, for the most part, doesn't flinch or comment on Maul's mood swings.

Really do love the environment work Rebels does. <3

Ezra flippantly dismissing Maul's murder hoard as "junk" lol.

"Fun" easter egg to note: The scrawled Mand'oa on the wall spells KENOBI.

Aaaaaaand our introduction of the plot device that is the darksaber, displayed prominently under a cubist painting of Satine, whose theme plays as Ezra examines the darksaber. This reference is pure fanservice for TCW fans. It basically means nothing to me emotionally, I was never a fan of Satine or her romance with Obi-Wan, so mostly I just feel offended and creeped out on her behalf that a painting of her got hauled to Maul's murder cave and defaced.

(Interesting to note that the slashes of... paint?... blood?... stuff crosses out Satine's eyes and cuts her throat. Is Maul reveling in his murder of her, trying to relive it by destroying her image? Did he stub out her eyes to stop her from "staring" at him? Who knows.)

Okay I lied, Ezra flinches precisely once, right after Maul yells at him not to touch the darksaber.

I like to think it was possibly calling out to him, the kyber crystal inside a natural siren song to Force wielders, and that's how Ezra knows it's some kind of lightsaber and not just a weird stick.

Love the drums in this music cue. It's got some exotic-sounding eastern instruments in it too, I think I might hear a bit of didgeridoo?

Subtle animation appreciation moment: How Ezra screws up his face in preparation to down the potion, it obviously doesn't smell or taste very good lol.

The music turns frantic and rushing when we cut the Sabine and Kanan landing out, like it's telling them to hurry. More exotic instruments, some kind of tinny percussion, cymbals maybe?

Right, so this episode was clearly another Halloween special right? Has all the perfect trappings of one lol.

Maul strays into Dangerously Genre Savvy here; he never intended to pay for using the Nightsisters' magick himself and his dialogue to Ezra seems to indicate he didn't intend to sacrifice Ezra to them either. So his plan was either to evade the spirit witches long enough to get away scott free, or he was counting on other members of the Spectres to come after Ezra trying to save him.

Either way, it leads to one of the creepiest scenes in the show.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The bewildered way Kanan's head jerks around right before the Nightsister spirit possesses him, like he can tell that something freaky is there but he can't tell what or where.

The unnatural character movement the animators use for Possessed!Kanan and Possessed!Sabine is really good; they're limp like puppets for a bit before the spirits take full control, and even afterwards move in jerky, inhuman motions.

And thus a half-dozens angst!fics were written lol. (And still not nearly enough.)

Ngl, Maul technically does show Ezra how to save his friends buuuuut he gets no points for that since he clearly thought Ezra would just write them off and come with him.

I'm still amazed he didn't just kidnap him right there. Kenobi obsession too strong I guess.

Other people have already pointed out the irony of Maul screaming at Ezra to forget the past and his attachments while himself being obsessed with the past and clearly trying to use Ezra as a Replacement Goldfish for Savage but I'll mention that anyway.

You know, the Fridge Horror of this episode is really unsettling. I know at least one fanficcer and @better-call-mau1 have asked the question of how, exactly, does possessing Kanan and Sabine allow the Nightsisters to rebuild their clan? They're either going to use Kanan and Sabine to perform some kind of freaky necromancy ritual, use them to lure other Rebels in (seems like it'd have limited effectiveness, eventually Rebel Command would decide retrieval isn't worth it), or they would rebuild the clan using more... ah... conventional means.

Add that unsettling thought to how possessed Sabine seems to stalk Ezra, specifically, while the possessed Kanan returns to the altar and fkhkhffjhjhgggfgjjjj--

Yeah.

"That doesn't belong to you!" "Then take it from me, Jedi!" Are they talking about the darksaber or Sabine's body?

...Yes.

This music cue is amazing. Possessed Sabine scrabbling on the ground like a feral animal while Ezra just calmly Force Pushes her out of the threshold is excellently staged.

Well that's a heart eyes expression if I ever saw one lol.

Sometimes I like to listen to different language tracks for specific dramatic parts of shows or movies, to see how other actors do it, compare performance notes and kjsahfkajshfkajh one of the Chinese Nightsister-possessed Kanans was one of the most horrifying scary things I've ever heard.

This scene is just heartwrenching. A lot of this episode was spoiled in the trailers so this maybe didn't have as much dramatic impact as it should have had at the time but I still found it pretty gut-punching. A little short, maybe. That's about it.

This is one of Ezra's finer moments, frankly, outsmarting and defeating the Nightsister spirits. You really feel the care he has for Kanan. Love it. <3

From the moment Ezra said that the answer to destroying the Sith was "Obi-Wan Kenobi" I think I knew it was a false flag and what Maul had manipulated him to see. Because, obviously, they key is Luke.

Interesting how Ezra thinks if Obi-Wan doesn't, eventually, fight, that the Sith can't be stopped. He's pinning a lot of hopes on a man who doesn't, ultimately, wind up being the narrative Chosen One who accomplishes that task. Again, more on that later in "Twin Suns".

Ezra seems to pay Sabine a glance as he passes, aww.

*PORTENTS OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT*

This episode is one of my favorites, and the "Haunted" mental connections are only one of the reasons why. It's got great dialogue, creepy suspense, adorable subtle Sabezra moments, furthering of Maul's slow mental degradation and descent into full ruin, and Ezra gets to be amazingly self-sacrificing, brave, and awesome in it. What's not to love?

[jetwhenitsmidnight]

Beyond the Bounds of Infinity: An Anthology of Diverse Horror

Release date: 10 July 2024

Genre: adult cosmic horror anthology

Synopsis

Welcome to a world of horror viewed through a kaleidoscope lens. Embark on a journey to untangle the writhing tendrils of human terror in a dimension where the possible and impossible blend; an unstable realm where comfort can be found in the coldest pits, and dark gods feast upon the sweetest suffering, where infernal sounds birth silent letters that drift along midnight shores and the unexplained lurks beneath crumbling urban structures. Step over the edge of what you think you know, and find yourself…Beyond the Bounds of Infinity!

Featuring stories by L. Marie Wood, S.A. Cosby, Jessica McHugh, and Mary SanGiovanni. alongside newer voices like Cassius Kilroy, Jessica L. Sparrow, and Vicky Velvet—Beyond the Bounds of Infinity offers a collection of weird fiction and cosmic horror stories that are diverse down to the cellular level. From Taíno folk horror to the horror of identity in a world that just doesn’t understand, from cozy to apocalyptic, and everything in between, let these authors show you what fear really is, and what it means to them.

Review

Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC!

This book begins with a foreword by the editor about how he was inspired to create this anthology; to put together a collection of diverse cosmic horror stories by diverse authors to push back against the genre's racist and xenophobic origins.

This anthology does exactly that. There are a good variety of authors of different races, orientations, genders etc. and the stories are also incredibly varied in terms of character diversity, plots, and Horrors™️. This anthology recasts marginalised people as the protagonists of their stories, with some stories even subverting cosmic horror's xenophobic origins to portray the oppressors as what they are.

My enjoyment varies from story to story, as do the writing styles, but for the most part I found most of the stories to be at least interesting and engaging. Some of the stories take on more experimental approaches to storytelling, though some attempts are more successful than others.

I'm going to go ahead and shout out some of my favourite stories from this collection, in no particular order.

My personal favourite was The Silent Letter by Chris Nelson. The author does an excellent job of setting up the premise and nails the writing. I was totally unnerved reading it and had to take short breaks between sections.

Effigies of Monstrous Things by Pedro Iniguez begins quite straightforwardly, but the set up pays off big time. The twist is excellent, and the gore was gruesome. I am not good at visualising in my head, but the descriptions were so vivid it gave me the ick. In a good way!

Another story I quite enjoyed was Fractures of Her Reflection by Amanda Headlee. Although I found it to be among the less terrifying stories of this collection, the premise is really interesting, and I found the protagonist to be rather compelling. I wish there was more of this story, I would love a whole book of this, but I suppose the beauty of short fiction is that it makes you crave more. Unrelated, but while I was reading the hospital scene the song Chihiro by Billie Eilish came on, and it was like watching the epic climax of a movie with an amazing soundtrack, which elevated my experience of this story for sure.

The Things We Did in the Dark by Julia Darcey was rather straightforward, but surprisingly tender and sad.

In the House, There Were Teeth and There Were Eyes by Ichabod Kassius Kilroy is super weird, possibly the weirdest story here. I have no idea what's going on, but I liked this. I think. (Also the author has the coolest name ever.)

I have included the list of stories, as well as content warnings, although it's possible that I may have missed some, and I'm straight up not sure how to warn for some things without giving spoilers, so do be warned.

The Birth of Sound - Timaeus Bloom

CW: none?

Fractures of Her Reflection - Amanda Headlee

CW: gaslighting from a medical professional, medical content, hospital, injury, past death, car accident mention, past abuse

Live Free or Die - Danny Brzozowski

CW: transphobia, hate crime, blood, injury

The Silent Letter by Chris Nelson

CW: death, coma, gore, body horror

Effigies of Monstrous Things by Pedro Iniguez

CW: body horror, gore <- every other story has this, but take this one seriously

Six Underground by Vicky Velvet

CW: death, violence, confined spaces

You Have Joined the Livestream by Jessica McHugh

CW: sexism, misogyny, implied murder

Cracks by Mary SanGiovanni

CW: death, injury

The Things We Did in the Dark by Julia Darcey

CW: blood, death, darkness, confinement, confined spaces

In the House, There Were Teeth and There Were Eyes by Ichabod Kassius Kilroy

CW: blood, death mention, body horror, blood, bodily fluids

A Dampened Embrace by Christopher Hann

CW: death, body horror

24 Points by S. A. Cosby

CW: death, gore, body horror, injury, self-mutilation

On the Shores of Midnight by Marnie Desdemona

CW: death, starvation, vomiting, drowning

Like Ants We March by Jorja Osha

CW: death, off page police brutality, gun violence mention

Burning Slumber by Jessica L. Sparrow

CW: self mutilation, eye gore, colonisation, mentions of sexual assault, murder

Passage by Cyrus Amelia Fisher

CW: death, starvation, non-graphic cannibalism, self harm for ritual purposes, blood

The Comfort of a Cold Pit by Michelle Tang

CW: past physical parental abuse, non-explicit eye gore

Gyges by Vaughn A. Jackson

CW: blood, fire, severe burns

Beggars Can't be Choosers by L. Marie Wood

CW: a little blood, held hostage

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

god loves you (but not enough to save you)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HLXc9Sx by confessionsofanoldcassette " 'What year is it?' She asked, and there was urgency in her voice that startled him slightly.   '2017.' Jon said and saw as the expressions on the two women’s faces turned to something between fear and horror.   'I need to sit down.' Qualit said."   -   Two women show up to the Institute claiming to be avatars, but not of any Fears. The Archivist and his assistants are unsure if they can trust the mysterious inhumans, but as the Unknowing draws ever nearer, they may need all the help they can get. Will the two women be able to make their way back to their universe, or will they be trapped in a universe of fear? Words: 1628, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, M/M, Multi Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Original Female Character(s), Martin Blackwood, Melanie King, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Nikola Orsinov, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus, Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Gertrude Robinson(mentioned), Sasha James (mentioned), Not-Them (Mentioned), The Slaughter (The Magnus Archives), The Desolation (The Magnus Archives), The End (The Magnus Archives), The Beholding (The Magnus Archives) Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Basira Hussain & Melanie King, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker Additional Tags: I throw my ocs in s3 for funsies, what could go wrong, Angst, Canon Compliant, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, tim stoker lives, The Unknowing (The Magnus Archives), This Author Regrets Nothing, space lesbians go to London, Everyone gets along cause um I need friendship, I constantly drop oc lore and yall enjoy it (you better), Avatars, Magic, How Do I Tag, Unexplained Time Travel, There Was Only One Bed, (it was a cot but shhh), religious trauma, Title from an Ethel Cain Song, Might be OOC, No beta we kayak like Tim read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HLXc9Sx

[scullysexual]

You're Never Just Anything To Me (9)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

IX. X-Cops.

Since discovering the truth about Samantha, their relationship had evolved, changing for the better. Mulder no longer felt hunkered down or constantly obsessing over the event which took place almost 30 years ago. Scully no longer felt she was going to lose him. Work was as normal as it had ever been- they were still witnessing horrors and the paranormal on a weekly basis- but at home, they could really discuss their future together without the fear that it never happen. Skinner had also kept true to his word, never uttering anything about their relationship as long as they kept the personal away from the professional which they did, they found a easy balance between the two.

The ring still sat in Mulder’s drawer, he still hadn’t asked. He wanted to wait, when they learned that the IVF has worked, when they are overjoyed and smiling, after they fall into bed and believe the baby was conceived the natural way, that is when he’ll ask.

“When’s the appointment again?” Scully asks, the hairdryer in her hand. She waits until he’s answered before she turns it on.

“At 9:30. I’ll go into work late,” he answers. It was his first meeting with Dr Parenti today and, for some unexplainable reason, he felt nervous.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Scully had asked this when they first made the appointment. It felt unnecessary for her to go, she would only be waiting around.

Now, Mulder gives her the same answer. “I’ll be okay,” he says. “You go to work. We don’t want Skinner thinking we’re both skiving off.”

Scully grins. “No, we don’t.” And their conversation ends with the loud whirling of the hairdryer.

He sees her out the door when it’s time to go.

“Don’t have any fun without me,” he says smiling.

“If I ever could,” she replies back and Mulder knows she means it.

…

He is taken to a private room by one of the nurses and is given an opaque cup.

“Hand it in when you’re finished,” she says all professional.

Mulder nods and enters the room. The door is closed and he locks it. In the room there is a bed, a chair, and even off to the side a small bathroom. He opts for the chair, hoping the familiarity of a seat rather than the bed would make this easier for him. He closes his eyes, thinking back to this morning.

He had woken her up with his mouth on her breast. He couldn’t help it, the way it peaked out above the covers when she had rolled over. Scully let out a little breathy sigh, her hand coming to comb through his hair as he moved over to her other breast. She had stayed like that, dozing in and out of sleep while he made her body come alive.

His fingers dipped into her folds between her legs, feeling her wetness coat his fingers.

“It’s half 6 in the morning, Scully,” he says in surprise, two fingers venturing inside of her.

“Women go through cycles of arousal, too,” she answered sounding a little breathy.

He pulls his hand away from her, eliciting a small whine from Scully that he smiles at. He rolls her onto her back and positions himself between her legs.

There is no resistance, her body welcoming him into her. Her legs wrap around him and he can’t believe it, even after all this time, that this is Scully, his Scully, and that he gets to have her like this, love her like this, be with her like this.

Back in the little hospital room, Mulder furiously pumps up and down, he can feels her around him, the incredible heat of her, the perfect squeeze of her, her lips and her tongue in his mouth, on his neck. His balls clench and he comes, remembering at the last minute to aim into the cup.

His heart rate slows as he stares at the cup in awe. This is a baby, he thinks. Their baby.

…

Scully had had a very boring day. She had heard more rumours about an audit, as she had been hearing all year, but they were starting to get harder to ignore. Finally, she had asked Skinner and while her boss didn’t confirm the rumours, he didn’t deny them either.

It made her anxious and with nothing to do, no Mulder to distract her, Scully found her thoughts wandering. She reclines back on his chair, her bare feet propped up on his desk and stares at the pencils embedded in the ceiling tiles, counting down the minutes until Mulder returns.

There’s activity outside, the door is pushed open and Scully pulls her feet off the desk, slipping them back into her heels, and sits up straight.

Mulder gives her a weird look.

“Do you often make yourself at home when I’m not here?” he asks her, taking off his coat.

“Always,” Scully nods. She returns to feet, bare footed once again, to the top of the desk. “You gonna make me move?”

His eyes are dark. He sits down in the chair opposite. Her feet are near him and he reaches out to scrape the back of his nails down the centre of her sole. It tickles and her foot flexes in response. She coughs.

“How did the appointment go?”

“Pretty well,” he says, turning his attention back to her. “I thought about you.”

Scully feels herself growing hot but she tries to ignore it.

“Really?” she asks though she isn’t surprised.

“Yeah. I thought about this morning.”

“Did you?”

He nods. “And other mornings. And then I went to your apartment.”

This piques her interest.

“I took a shower and I thought about you again.”

She pictures him in her apartment, in her shower, masturbating to the thought of her. Did he squirt some of her body soap into his hand, did he come against the shower wall to the thoughts and smell of her. Scully adjusts herself in her seat, her can feel herself growing wet at the thought.

“I thought about you here,” he says and his voice is lower, his hand is back on her foot and the contact has Scully jumping. “I thought about what I would do to you in here.”

Of all of her rules, office sex was the one she had yet to allow be broken. She looks to the door. Lunchtime on a Tuesday afternoon people would probably be busy. If anyone wanted them (and really, who would) they would call down first.

“Lock the door,” Scully commands. Her throat feels dry and her heart pounds in her chest at what they’re about to do.

Mulder’s eyes widen and then are suddenly filled with triumphant glee as he bounds out of the chair and towards the door, taking out his keys and locking the door. He keeps his key in the door for extra measure.

Scully is about to ask just how he had pictured this. She knows it’s been a fantasy for a very long time- longer than he probably thinks she knows- but this is her rule and she has made the decision to break it, they’re going to do it her way, starting with his stupid desk.

She stands from the chair and moves around to the front of the desk. Mulder watches her, barely breathing, unable to move for fear this might be a mirage and one slight bit of movement would make the whole thing disparate.

Scully pulls off her underwear and sits on the edge of the desk. She spreads her legs slightly and can practically see Mulder salivating.

“What are you waiting for?”

He bounds towards her, his hands going for the belt unbuckle on his pants. She waits until he’s undone it and is about to move to the button of his pants before she stops him with a shake of her head. Disappointment is on the cusp and she points to the floor beneath her.

“Get on your knees,” she tells him and he does as she orders. She opens her legs wider and it takes no more commands for him to understand what she wants. His mouth is on her centre immediately.

Scully cries out at the first touch of his tongue. Doing it in here, on this very desk sends her into overdrive. She doesn’t want to lose the control but she can’t help but move her hips against his face, can’t help being loud when she knows she should probably not be. She wants to mark this desk, wants to come all over it, stain it as proof that she was here, has always been here, she wants Mulder to see it every day and be reminded that she belongs here too.

Her eyes open when he sucks her clit into his mouth. His fingers has joined his tongue, three of them, and they pump in and out of her. His other hand is around his cock, pumping in time to his thrusting fingers. It all sends her over.

She white-knuckles the edge of the desk, coming and coming and coming. There’s a hot rush, she hears Mulder’s “Holy shit!” as he briefly moves his mouth away only to place it against her again, licking every ounce of her up.

There’s a puddle on the desk and on the floor. Mulder is still kneeling between her legs, his dick now flaccid, his mouth covered in her. Scully falls back onto the desk, her legs still open, the tremors still running through her body.

“Holy fucking shit, Scully,” says Mulder. He zips himself up, he stands between her legs and leans down over her. “That was fucking incredible. Can we do it again?”

She doesn’t think she has another orgasm in her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have one in her again but hell yeah does she want to do that again.

“Later,” she answers. “I need a minute.”

…

“Okay so what are we watching?” Scully asks as Mulder hands her a beer.

He was so happy he had won Rock, Paper, Scissors this week. Scully had been on a running streak for the past three and he was worried she would take this from him as well. As it transpires, his scissors cut her paper and he couldn’t be happier.

“It’s a bit different this week,” he says picking up the TV remote.

Scully looks at him with caution. “It better not be porn,” she warns.

Mulder laughs. “I haven’t watched porn in months. I’ve got you.” He smiles, a full teeth showing smile, at her.

“I’m flattered,” she answers dryly. “So what we are watching?”

He switches on the TV and normal TV starts playing. He begins flicking through, trying to find the right channel. He’s timed it just right as the Cops theme tune starts playing.

“No!” Scully says instantly. “No, we’re not watching this.” She goes for the remote but Mulder holds it out of reach.

“It’s only fair. I won this week, I get to decide what we watch.”

She is half on him, trying to reach the remote. “Mulder, I am breaking up with you right now.”

“Scully, you look great on TV,” says Mulder and Scully turns to find herself on the TV.

“Mulder!” she yells.

“Those cameraman loved you, Scully. They couldn’t get enough of you.”

She’s given up on her attempts to reach the remote and sits, grumpily, in the corner of the couch, far away from him.

“Because I was antagonistic,” she says with a pout and eyeing the TV as if it was the worst thing she’s ever seen. Then she softens. “I forgot the part where we almost got arrested. That was your fault.”

“I didn’t know they were there,” Mulder says defensively.

Scully smiles. “It was fun, though.”

“Yeah,” Mulder agrees. Then, “Definitely showing the kid this.”

“You wouldn’t?!”

“I would! Look child, Mommy and Daddy are famous.”

Mulder pauses then as the show goes to an ad break. He realises what he just said. A smile crosses his face, a similar one crosses Scully’s.

“I like that,” Scully says quietly.

He looks at her, for the first time seeing the mother of his child.

“Yeah, I like it to.”

He arranges another appointment with Dr Parenti the next day.