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leveloneandup · 6 months ago

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Christen Press on returning to soccer following ACL tear, season three of The RE—CAP podcast

Christen Press, the all-time leading goal scorer in Stanford history, has starred for club and country since graduating in 2010. With the USWNT, she has won two World Cups and scored 64 international goals. Press has played overseas professionally, including a stint at Manchester United, as well as in the NWSL with the Chicago Red Stars, Utah Royals and currently with Angel City FC.

After tearing her ACL in June 2022, Press required four surgeries and an arduous recovery. She returned to her first training session on Tuesday, after which she spoke to SBJ about her rehab and the new season of her podcast. Along with Tobin Heath, Megan Rapinoe and Meghan Klingenberg, Press founded a media and lifestyle brand called RE—INC in 2019. She and Heath are the co-hosts of the RE—CAP podcast, which returns for its third season on Thursday. The first episode includes appearances by USWNT legend Abby Wambach and author and podcast host Glennon Doyle.

On returning to the pitch . . .

I am currently in the car driving home from my first training. I would say the road to recovery happens very slow, and then yet it happens all at once. I have been back in the team environment for almost four months. So it's been a long time that I've been integrated into the environment, and it took four months for me to get ready to be in a warmup and a passing pattern — really simple, basic stuff. And I felt very ready for it. I felt almost underwhelmed by how easy it was because I've done a lot more complicated things, and yet it was also entirely overwhelming and joyful to be so connected to my teammates and be celebrated in the way that I have been these last two days.

I'm very grateful for that. They say it's the hope that kills you, and as I drive home, I just have this big smile on my face because I can't help it. I can't help hoping. I can't help believing that I'm going to make it back, and it's going to be everything that I see in my head. I'm relentlessly optimistic, I'm naively positive, and I like that about myself, and I'm not I don't intend to change it. I think the way that it left me feeling was just like, yes, I can do this.

On monitoring her rehab . . .

I'm a person of devices, so I have quite a toolkit, I'd say, of ways that we're tracking and measuring. The truth is we're really still working through issues with my knee, and I have chronic scarring of the knee, so I can experience some discomfort and some swelling that could lead to more scarring, which is incredibly rare, because most people don't scar after a couple months after their surgery. I'm now over nine months for my surgery and still at risk of scarring. So it just means that I have to try very carefully with how much impact my knee can take.

We're being careful, but we're progressing. In terms of my overall fitness, what my GPS has said is that I've got to like 60% of a match load, which is all that I really need to get in terms of volume. And yet, in the warmup and the passing pattern today, it felt like I played a 90-minute game. I was so fatigued. There's training, and then there’s really training. There's no way to get fit for football, except for playing football. And I've done a ton of running, I've done a ton of lifting, and now it's time to play.

On how deep she gets into data . . .

My performance staff would laugh because they said they've never worked with a player that cares so much. So right now, I wear a Polar Watch that I was given in like 2015 from the national team. It's just old school. And I wear my Apple Watch, which is connected to my GPS so I can see all my data live, from heart rate to distance to speed to all that. And then I do sleep with an Oura ring — although I'm not endorsing any of these products, I'm not connected to any of these products — but I do sleep with an Oura ring and track my sleep and my stress levels.

On season three of the podcast . . .

Our show really is about authenticity, and it's about creating a more inclusive space for sports and including diversity of perspective. And so that means we have hard conversations, and we have honest conversations and we have vulnerable conversations, and we have a lot of fun — the same spirit and joy that you saw last year during the World Cup edition of the show. We're back, and we're bigger than ever.

On the origin of the creating the podcast . . .

I never thought I would be in media. I think that's even more true of Tobin. There's two typical paths for athletes after soccer, and it’s coaching and broadcast. ‘So Christen, do you want to be a coach?’ ‘No.’ ‘So Christen, then you must want to be a broadcaster? I was like, ‘No.’

That's an interesting part of the story, but first and foremost, we decided to launch this show as current and active players, and that's unique and different. It's not really a stepping-back-from-soccer thing. It's current players trading stories and having a little bit more space to dictate the narrative.

And then secondly, we really approach this as business leaders. This is our business, this is our company. We are a 3C company: content, community and commerce. The most amazing thing about women's sports is the community, and we're trying to build the coolest women's sports community in the world in our membership, and we're feeding that with amazing content.

And I think because we have such an authentic and vulnerable relationship with our audience that we've developed over the last five years that we've been building this business, it made sense for Tobin and I to be our first piece of content that was really more large scale and more widely accessible. But the plan will be to find like-minded people that sit at the intersection of sports, progress and equity, to continue to hear stories from an insider's perspective. It really disrupts the industry in that way.

On topics they plan to cover in season three . . .

We're going to be talking about women's health, particularly in sport, which is obviously a really hot topic, and representation in sport — how we make it more diverse and equitable for more people, be it across the gender spectrum, the orientation spectrum, across different races and classes. I think that's incredibly important. Soccer in America is an upper-middle class sport, and almost everywhere else in the world, it's a very accessible sport that's found on the street. That's really the spirit of football, so that's really important to us.

On the role of athletes as activists . . .

The interesting thing about the community that surrounds women's sports in particular is they care about a lot more than the sports, and the values transcend beyond the pitch. And that's about diversity, inclusion, progress. And I think that's just inherent because it is disruptive in itself to see women embodied, powerful, unapologetic and also very celebrated the way that you do in the professional sports world today. The people that it's drawing in are the same people that want to march, and they want to create change and they want to stand up for what they believe in.

It's so embodied in the Angel City culture. The professional team that I play for has just nailed it. And when you're in the stadium, it's electric, and win or lose, it's a different type of vibe than any other sports arena I've been in because there's a connection point for all of the audience. They care about more than the X's and O's. They care about what we represent to them, the progress and the opportunity that we as women athletes represent.

On the versatility of women athletes . . .

It's always been that way in women's sports, and it's just becoming more popularized. I think the expectation is that we would always be multifaceted as women and expected to do multiple jobs in multiple roles, if we were going to have careers. And so it really did take to me and my personality to be a player and also be a leader off the field, on the US women’s national team, going through the Equal Pay lawsuit, going through the reestablishment of our players association.

For me, it was such a balancing sense of purpose that I continue to create space in my life for that, and I think that's what we've done with our business, RE—INC. RE—INC is reimagined, incorporated. We set out, in 2019 when we started this company, to reimagine the status quo, to reimagine the way women are seen and experienced in sports. And it's a very bold and ambitious goal, and we do it in a multifaceted way. And I'm really, really proud of that.

#christen press #angel city fc #article #interview

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yona049 · 11 months ago

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𝕄𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕆'𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪

On a earth across the vast multiverse Miguel O'hara leaves a wife behind to grieve for him, she takes on the roll of Spiderman 2099, little to her knowledge another Miguel O'hara is about to find himself on her earth.

𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩🕸️𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪

Disclaimer°˚

>mention of death/Funeral

>slight intrusive thoughts

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Miguel O'Hara. A son, A Friend... A husband." This was all Y/n heard before her ears started ringing. Her brain scattered as she looked down at the freshly dug grave and clean polished tomb stone.

This wasn't right at all. Her whole body burning with anger when she saw only one or two friends had shown up to her husbands funeral. They'll never know what he did for this city! The pain he drove himself through, mentally and physically. Nueva York wasn't and never will be thankful for all his efforts.

Once she returned home she dropped down on the couch wearing the black clothing soaked in the rain that continually poured outside.

A once Happy household filled with laughter or the occasional fight, felt quiet. Unlike the house, the city outside was busy, traffic ushers angry drivers to a psychotic honking fit. This wasn't unusual, tho it was more active since the once hero disappeared without a trace.

Feeling drained of all emotion, Y/n looks over to the still filled trashcan. Bandages and futuristic heath packs filling it to the brim. That one horrible night is what brought this nightmare to life.

Y/n stood up from the couch and walks right by the bin and down the hallway.

When she stops in the hallway and looks at a hologram picture of her and Miguel at some vacation resort, hanging on the wall. She clenched her fists and grits her teeth. "Lyla, open the door, please."

The holographic picture quickly switches off before suddenly swapping to Lyla, wearing her usual white fluffy coat and pink heart shaped glasses. As she floats in the air in front of Y/n, she slowly removes the glasses. "This room is for Miguel's eyes only-" Lyla is suddenly interrupted by Y/n's sudden loud exclamation. "Miguel isn't HERE anymore!" This makes Lyla flinch back before she finally sighs quietly. Her eyes fill with sadness and sympathy as the pixels she's made of slowly fades out. A small opening starts growing bigger and bigger from where there was once a wall and finally Y/n walks through the doorway.

Once in the room, Y/n looks around at the walls with an infinite illusion of blackness. Completely empty and void of any objects she quickly calls Lyla again.

"Lyla, show me everything. Every file, every piece of tech, everything in this room that's hidden." she folds her arms into a protective self hug.

Slowly the infinite void starts to fill up with furniture one pixel at a time. Bits of suites in the making, a Soldering Iron and a motherboard laying on a desk.

Digital monitors watching all corners of Neuve York. Among all the digital things was real paper pinned to a cork board.

Y/n walks up to it and gently runs her fingers across the red thread. Just like she'd seen in all those old detective movies. She followed the thread to each pin seeing alot of different news paper cutouts. Tyler Stone, Carnage and Proteus. All classic villans of the great hero Spiderman.

Y/n finally spoke after a long few minutes of stareing and thinking. "The fate of Nueva York rested on his shoulders. He broke bones, scarred muscle and almost lost his life numerous times! And these people barely bat an eye. His efforts for them, all of this for THEM!"

Y/n makes a sudden scratch across the cork board! Papers are sent flying and pins drop to the ground, red thread hooking onto Y/n's fingers. This was anger, deep and uncontrolled anger. She kept clawing at the board. Ripping everything off and to pieces not bothering to take a breath or stop. When the board was finally free of all it's pins and papers, Y/n stopped, out of breath and not bothering to flinch at the holes the pins left in her hands and fingers.

A few moments passed. Lyla took this opportunity to appear again. "Y/n, your hands will get infected. I suggest disinfectant, and ointment. Please."

Hearing Lyla's worried tone, she slowly looks up though the loose strands of hair. "Lyla, I'm sorry. I-I'm.." she trails off as the warmth of tears cover her red puffy face. She sinks to the ground, hands too heavy to lift. All she could do was cry. A messy bundle of black makeup, tangled hair and bleeding hands.

After her hands were bandaged up, she was sat in the secret lab in her home. Dressed in one of Miguel's shirts with a cup of strong coffee. She looked around once more, the suit on a mannequin. No blood on the holographic suit, Only a large gash of broken pixels on the chest.

She looks back at the monitors now streaming some camera footage of all dark ally's or known crime hot spots. Her ears perk when she hears two guys waking down a particularly dark street and talking.

"This Spiderman hasn't shown up in almost 3 days now! Absent punk is binging all hell back to the city!" says a man wearing an irish cap.

His friend with a cigarette between his lips snorts and agrees "Yeah! No kidding. Well, it's not like much changed, villains always came back after he supposedly 'saved the day'. What a waste."

Y/n look a deep breath and exhaled a growl, she tried staying calm, but the anger in her boiled up once again. Her eyes seemed to redden before she looked right at the holographic suit.

Y/n Aggressively Brings the mug down onto the table.

"Lyla! That suit can be shaped to any body type right?"

Lyla looks at Y/n, not sure what she's suggesting. "Yes, but it's still a little damaged."

Maybe it was a chuckle of anger that escaped from Y/n's rapid exhales and inhales, but this ushered her on to stand up quickly and walk right up to the much bigger suit.

"Let's change a few things then."

°°

The men on the street are still chatting the night away. Taking about how they could easily be the Hero! How that would get them all the girls and money.

The cigarette smoke from the man, drifts up past the harsh gleaming street light. This is where Y/n hid. Ontop of a streetlight, effortlessly balanced thanks to the suit she wore.

Atone to her figure, the suit was no longer fitted to Miguel's large shoulders. The large opening of pixels still remained on her chest right below the collar bone. But something was different, the once blue and red suit now flipped in color. A blue symbol for Spiderman and a fully scarlet body.

Listening, seething with anger. They undermine her husband so easily. In the moment she was ready to charge, to use a powerful blow against these pests who dare to complain.

But something stopped her dead in her tracks. A melody she recognized instantly.

A small song being played on a very old radio by someone down the dark ally by a dumpster fire. A song that was playing the night she and Miguel met.

She had been invited to a bar to celebrate a colleges promotion, still being relatively new, she didn't know alot of people from Alchemax.

The rain was falling onto the glass windows. The bar stood out among the white plastic and blue lined technologies of the future, because of its original wooden texture and orange lights. The bar's "vintage night" a mixture of music and drinks they used to use in the far past.

The band played vintage instruments, and there it started, a guitar solo with a slow pace.

One by one everyone went to slow dance, long time friends and colleagues laughing their way onto the dance floor.

Y/n watched from the corner of the bar, no drink in particular, just whatever the others got.

She looked down at her phone for just a second when thunder suddenly struck. She lost her grip and her phone went flying across the bar.

"¡Oye, míralo!" a voice exclaimed.

Y/n Quickly collected herself and rushed to her victim.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, the thunder caught me off guard!"

Her eyes land on the hand holding her phone and as soon as she grabs it she looks up into his eyes.

A very tall man with incredible build and intense stare. Brown, near red eyes looked down at her curiously before letting go of the phone.

Y/n brings the phone to her chest looking a little worried.

"Did it hit you?" she scans his face for any obvious brushes.

"No, I have really good reflexes." he finally speaks with a dark chocolate voice.

Y/n nods and reaches to put her phone in her bag.

"Again I'm very sorry-" The sentence gets caught in her throat before she could finish when another bolt of lightning strikes.

Miguel seems to notice her distress before delicately offering his hand.

"The music is louder on the dance floor. C'mon!"

A little taken a back Y/n smiles and takes hold of Miguel's hand.

Finally on the dance floor Miguel places his hand on her side and takes her other hand. She clears her throat awkwardly before placing her hand on his shoulder.

"First I throw you with my phone, now you have to inconvenience yourself with me."

He smirks at Y/n's remark and shakes his head quickly.

"Its really the opposite." they gently swing side to side with a respectable distance between them.

"I was actually looking for a dance partner to celebrate my promotion with."

Y/n looks back intro his eyes before finally feeling more at ease and smiles.

"Y/n L/n" she introduced herself.

"Miguel O'hara"

°°°

Finally being brought back to her scenes, Y/n looks back down at the men she was fully prepared to charge at.

Her breathing was rapid, eyes ready to bring down a thousand rain storms. She lifts her hand and the electric webbing shoots from her wrists.

Swiftly she lands on a rooftop but as soon as her feet connect to the ground her knees give way.

Finally she gives in to the waterfall pushing her eyelids and yanks the mask off her head. Messy mask hair and puffy wet eyes.

With the sunrise rising over the city, her cheeks gleam in the orange light.

"Miguel... How can I bring you back to me?" She whispered with barely enough energy to go above a whisper.

After some distant staring, her eyes get a flicker of an idea.

"The spider serum!"

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #my fic #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099

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lupa-von-wolf · 5 months ago

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I very rarely make serious posts on here, but this is a very serious one, and I need it to be shared as quickly as possible.

Friday, June 28th, the US Supreme Court overturned Chevron. What this means is that the Supreme Court will now have ANY and ALL power over any decision that has any generalizations that has come through congress. Previously this has been delegated to federal agencies that specialize in these generalizations, such as the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), the Occupational Heath and Savety Administration (OSHA), the Federal Avian Administration (FAA), just to name a few.

Previously, the levels of harmful objects found in food, such as rat droppings or pesticides, were monitored and maintained by the FDA, going forward it will be up to the Supreme Court to decide what these levels will be.

And this is only exacerbated by the fact that the Supreme Court has also made it legal to bribe them into deciding in your favor (as long as the "tip" comes after the decision). They've made it legal to be bought by corporations so they can turn a blind eye to the safety hazards that they'll be allowing.

The vote for overturning Chevron AND the "tipping" decision were both 6-3, with all 6 conservative justices voting in tandem, 3 of which were appointed by Trump during his presidency.

This election is more important than just "I'm going to show how I feel about the state of things by not voting." Rights and safeties are deteriorating before our very eyes.

Trans people are going to be forcefully detransitioned, and in the state of Florida, the state officials can rip apart families if *anyone* in the house is trans. Being trans in the state of Florida, if there are children present, is considered a sex crime, which can be punishable by execution. Trump has already stated that he wants to eliminate term limits if he wins again, and make it so he can't be removed from office. He wants to force the country into a theocracy and is complete against abortions, no matter what, including loss of life, ectopic pregnancies, or impregnation by rape or incest.

Refusing to vote, or choosing to vote for Kennedy is choosing to vote for genocide. It's choosing to vote for Trump, because we all know each and every one of his cultists is showing up. It's choosing to vote for the death and annihilation of your friends, your family, and America.

Yes, Biden is fucking terrible. But he's not Trump.

#election #election 2024 #vote biden #president biden #fuck trump #traitor trump #fuck biden too #stop the genocide #usa is a terrorist state #trump is a threat to democracy

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jewishrizahawkeye · 7 months ago

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hello fellow members of the tortured poets department.

today i enter into evidence so long, london and analyze it.

previous days: fortnight, THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT, my boy only breaks his favorite toys, down bad

oh… where to start.

so long, london is a song we’ve all discussed and talked about so much (because it’s so beautiful and heartbreaking) so most of what i’ll say might be redundant. but i still have stuff to say.

the song is done with so much intent to not only connect it heavily back to songs on reputation/lover/midnights etc. but also to really show just how much work taylor was putting in over the years and give hints into what led the relationship to ending.

the opening sound like the echos of church bells that you’d hear on a wedding day because she was left waiting at the alter for him to follow through on his promises and prove he loved her… similar to the reimagining taylor did of her life in its nice to have a friend where it ends with her being carried home from the wedding by him (and since that was a reimagining it can almost now be interpreted as a dream she was telling herself as she waited because she expected the end to be real but maybe none of it actually was).

the repeating of “so long, london” as if she’s telling not only him but herself, over and over, that it’s over… like they’d called it off before but he came back so all the past goodbyes are coming forth all at once

of course the repetitiveness being similar to the opening of death by a thousand cuts with “my” where in that song she would list parts of her he had touched so it felt like she just kept saying my over and over describing the loss. and with how taylor left all she knew for this place and made a new life here it would be like he touched every aspect of her life.

and even the first official line of the song reaffirms the idea of taylor picturing the future of past to get through the present

“i saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist/i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away”

fairy lights here can represent two things:

a bright warm and safe future. like in christmas tree farm where taylor closes her eyes and is taken away from the stresses of the modern world and imaging a cozy christmas with her lover surrounded by fairy lights or the christmas we see in the lover music video with the future of her lover and her with their child. so even through the worst moments where doubt was clouding her mind and worries for the future she just kept thinking if that warm bright future and kept trying to fix their issues while he was pulling back or glancing at others and possibly cheating on her. she just kept their future in her mind to keep pushing through the now

it’s another reference to how she constantly rewrote and looked back on how the beginning was to get through now. that he may be pulling away but he came in on a white horse with the winds of fate and he’d come back around if she kept trying. she just kept reminding herself of their love in its purist form before it started to die so she could keep trying to revive it

another interesting line connection i can’t stop thinking of is “stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped drying to drill the safe”//“stealing hearts/and running off/and never saying sorry” because taylor was doing everything to get his heart because he had stolen hers but he wouldn’t let her in to either let him love her or help him. also with cowboy like me in mind this hits hard because taylor saw herself in him and that’s why they could work and fall in love together… but he was the conman who didn’t leave his boots underneath her bed.

another one being taylor saying “i left all i knew/you left me at the house by the heath” because not only did she runaway with him but she left her country and old life behind. being an incredibly public celebrity who had her life monitored constantly to a life of complete solitude and finding different ways to get around together without being seen to not draw attention to them. this hurts harder when she says “and im just getting color back into my face/im just mad as hell cause i loved this place”. she is using london the place as a metaphor for him as she was living in his world for years and she did it because she really loved him. she would’ve stayed forever if he’d been there but he never came back…

and i’ll lastly touch on the boat line that i mentioned yesterday in down bad’s post. “and you say that i abandoned the ship/but i was going down with it/my white knuckle dying grip/holding tight to you’re quiet resentment.” this line feels like it’s referencing titanic, where rose was with jack until the end, even as the ship sank deep into the water and and was floating on a door that could only fit one and lost her love. it feels like taylor was on the boat until the very end and with the added line, didn’t even give up on it until she was taken away by someone else. who then kicked her off his ship and her waving desperately for him to come back but he left her alone to.

this song has so much more that i can’t touch on cause it’s so straight forward that i just say it and you know as well as just being an all around masterful song. it’s a truly gut wrenching track five. and with taylor’s monotone singing where she just sounds deflated and defeated through out it. just everything about it was done so perfectly and i can’t explain anymore without it being over kill cause like… yeah you get it when she says two graves one gun or saying she was the odd man out in her own lovers life. like even some stuff i said here is so straightforward i don’t need to add more cause you get it. its plain and straightforward cause at the end everything was so obvious to her.

list of parallels that i didn’t elaborate on/plan to elaborate on in the future:

“fighting in only your army/front lines/don’t you ignore me”//“my spine split from carrying us up the hill/wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill”//“i just don’t understand/how you don’t miss me in the shower/and remember how my rain-soaked body was shaking”

“is this the end of all the endings?/my broken bones are mending/with all these nights we’re spending”//“i think there’s been a glitch/five seconds later im fastin’ my self to you with a stitch”//“for so long, london/stitches undone”

“and the old widow goes to the stone everyday/but i don’t, i just sit here and wait/grieving for the living”//“you swore you loved me/but where were the clues?i died at the alter waiting for the proof”

“i can’t find a pulse/my heart won’t start anymore/for you”//“i stopped cpr. after all it’s no use/the spirit was gone. we would never come to”//“and my friends said it isn’t right to be scared/everyday of a love affair/every breath feels like rarest air/when your not sure if he wants to be there”

#kelly babels #so long london #ttpdminutes #song analysis #taylor swift #the tortured poets department

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covid-safer-hotties · 4 months ago

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Covid cases still rising and could go higher later in the summer, scientists warn - Published Aug 5, 2024

Covid cases are close to their highest level for more than a year after numbers started rising again, new figures indicate.

Scientists are warning, however, that they are likely to go even higher in late summer and early Autumn as people return from the Olympics and the school year resumes.

The latest government figures suggest that Covid infections rose by approximately 2 per cent in the week to Sunday 28 July as the proportion of people in England with symptoms testing for the virus in hospitals rose from 12.2 per cent to 12.4 per cent, according to the UK Heath Security Agency (UKHSA).

This is the second highest level in more than a year, just behind the 13.2 per cent figure recorded a fortnight earlier, on 14 July.

The proportion testing positive dipped slightly following that high before rising again the following week.

Although the data is for England, Covid levels have been broadly similar across the UK throughout while separate wastewater monitoring in Scotland also indicates “an enormous July spike” scientists say.

The current elevated levels of Covid infections are driven by waning immunity built up from vaccines and previous infections, lower uptake of the spring booster among eligible groups and the continuing spread of so-called FLiRT variants.

Scientists cautioned that these figures cannot be taken as a precise estimate for the level of Covid in the general population.

However, they say these ‘positivity rate’ figures are the best indicator of trends we have for the virus more generally across the UK after the government stopped the Winter Infection survey in mid March.

And they point out that estimates of Covid prevalence based on tests taken by the general population are increasingly unreliable as testing rates have halved since January and were far below peak levels even then.

“This third Covid wave of 2024 tells us once again that this virus remains entirely unpredictable and shows no sign of slowing down,” Professor Steve Griffin, of Leeds University, told i.

“The scale of infection, though difficult to tell, seems at least as bad as the winter peak, and could be even higher according to waste water monitoring in Scotland.”

Covid hospital admissions, meanwhile – another key indicator of the virus – decreased slightly to 4.24 per 100,000 in the week to 28 July, compared with 4.69 per 100,000 in the previous week.

As an indicator of prevalence, hospitalisations typically give a picture of infection levels a few weeks earlier than admittance as that is the length of time it typically takes for the infection to become serious.

Experts said the small increase in cases last week suggests infections are stabilising but they warned that levels remain high and that they could well start to rise more sharply in the coming weeks.

Read the rest at either link! (CovidSafeHotties skips the distracting in-text ads, if that's your bag.)

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #public health #wear a respirator

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wildissylupus · 1 year ago

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Sojourn Cinematic Analysis

Ok, there are going to be a few things I want to talk about so this is just a basic analysis with just my thoughts on the cinematic itself, along with some details I noticed on my first viewing. More Analyses are going to come out cause there are a few things I want to look at in more detail.

So let's get started.

First of all, I appreciate that they didn't dramatize Sojourn. What I mean is that a lot of her appeal to me is that, compared to all the other heroes, she's normal. Just a regular, grounded person. Though to us her being completely cybernetic is cool, in the Overwatch universe that's normal. Hell she didn't even get cybernetics for battle, she got them for her heath and to make living her life easier.

I think a big factor about this for me is the beginning few shots when she's getting coffee;

Both of them have cybernetics and both of them had them either fitted or altered to fit they're occupation. This is a normal thing and I love that!

Not only that but it also disproved what I personally thought and that is Sojourn didn't do any vigilante work and just quietly retired, and though it seems like that was the initial idea, it didn't stay that way. At the very least when Sojourn heard Null Sector was up to something she started to step in, do her own research, collect her own data.

Does that sound familiar?

She is doing the same thing Jack is, but I don't think this make them parallels. I think this makes them foils.

Jack has been gathering data on Talon in order to fuel his crusade, a crusade which multiple people call out as an unhealthy obsession. Sojourn on the other hand gathered this data out of necessity, she knew something bad was going on and she knew that the regular law enforcement wouldn't be able to handle it, so she took matters into her own hands.

Now let's talk about Sojourns guilt about testifying and how the public seemed to react to it. It seems that some people saw Sojourn testifying as inspirational. Meanwhile Sojourn herself sees it as a sacrifice, something she needed to do. A necessity.

Sojourn is one of the three characters we see who join the new Overwatch who were disillusioned from the organisation long before it's fall, the other two being Cassidy and Angela. One of which also testified against Overwatch. All three of them believe that the original Overwatch lost it's way but only two of them needed to be talked back into joining.

Despite everything Sojourn is re-joining without any outside influence, yes, she initially refused the call but as we see in the cinematic, she get quarterly visits from the police. It wouldn't be smart to accept the initial recall because she knows she's being monitored. Again that theme of necessity.

I haven't read her book yet so I might update on this theme after in it's own post but now let's get back into what I thought of the cinematic itself.

As always the lighting, animation and colours were beautiful. I think it functioned really well as a "calm before the storm" type video, meant to show how quickly Null Sector acted while also showing the little seeds of trouble that were brewing beforehand. I was honestly hoping we would see Pharah's dad but that was more of a me thing.

The set up showing that Sojourn knew they were coming for her after what she the night before was amazing. It was a fantastic set up!

Anyway, stay tuned cause there are a few more things I want to talk about because of this cinematic but they might take awhile. So I hope this was enjoyable and I can't wait to continue this analysis in future posts!

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch lore #overwatch headcanons #analysis #sojourn #overwatch sojourn #vivian chase #calling cinematic overwatch

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sanyu-thewitch05 · 1 year ago

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Hunter seeing his little wife wearing the pretty lingeries he gifted her. He can hardly hold himself when he went home and saw his little wife in the sexy lingerie he likes~

"Darling, you're wearing the lingerie I gave you?" Hunter asks, putting down his work bag.

"Yeah, all my other clothes seem to have disappeared," You reply, trying to cover yourself up.

Your clothes were hidden in Hunter's closet. Heath and Henry broke in while you were showering and hid everything away. They learned you were on a sex strike to protest Hunter, making you miss the latest sequel release to your favorite book.

"Well, would you like to wear mine?" Hunter suggests, unbuttoning his shirt. "You know, you look beautiful in that red lace."

"No."

"Please."

"Absolutely not."

"I'm your husband!"

"And I got married to a weirdo jock at 18 in my first year of college!"

The room goes silent, and you turn over in the bed. You pull the covers over your body, hiding yourself from him. The bed creaks as Hunter climbs onto it and wraps his around your waist.

"Leave me alone!" You yell, tossing a pillow at him.

"Y/N, I know our marriage isn't the best, but could we please get along. If not for us, then for our little angel in the next room. Nobody wants to see their parents fighting," Hunter says, rubbing your back.

You hated it. You hated that word. Angel. It's what got you into this mess in the first place. If Heath and Henry hadn't seen you at the Halloween festival, perhaps you would've had a different life? Maybe you'd be with someone else? Someone kind, like Charles.

"Don't call her angel, please."

"Sorry. If it makes you feel better, they told me about the Halloween festival performance a month after we started dating. I never knew you were in it until then."

You turn to your husband and kiss him. His hands go to your head and rub your hair.

"You're the best wife a man could ask for," Hunter compliments, wrapping his legs around your waist. "God, you're so hot in that lingerie!"

"Why don't you take it off then?"

Hunter blinks, and then he laughs. Before you even realize it, he's removed your bottoms and stuck his index finger inside you. You bury your face in his chest, too embarrassed by the feeling of lust you've felt since dating Hunter.

"Oh, come on, baby~ You've had sex with me plenty of times since high school. You even gave birth to a whole baby, and you still can't have a single digit in you," Hunter teases, fingering you faster.

You moan with pleasure into his chest and gently ride his finger.

"You know, our sweet daughter said she wanted a sister. I promised her I'd give her one. Maybe I should knock out two birds with one stone and fuck so much your womb just accepts my sperm?"

"Well, I did want another child to keep me company for when I'm home and not working."

"In that case, I have no choice but to oblige."

Hunter unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock. You put it inside of you and ride him. He grabs your hips and helps you bounce your ass on his cock.

"You feel so good!" You moan, your breasts clacking together.

"I know! That's why you stayed with me!" Hunter replies, speeding up the pace of your riding.

Before you could finish, he suddenly thrusts in you three times and paints your pussy white. Your back arches in pleasure, and you fall onto Hunter.

"You did good, darling," Hunter compliments, rubbing your back.

"Thank you," You say, relaxing at the sound of his heartbeat.

The baby monitor on the nightstand clicks to life.

"WAAAAHHH!" Your baby girl cries, giving Hunter and You a reason to get changed.

"I'll get our clothes," Hunter says, pulling out of you and getting out of bed.

"I'll clean up really quick," You reply, getting up and walking to the bathroom.

#hunter oc #yandere jock #rich yandere #sanyuthewitch05 #asks #also sorry if it's a bit angsty in the beginning

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alex-the-bard · 7 months ago

Text

new draft

Disclaimer: The following content is not suitable for small children. It contains topics such as violence, mutilation, self-harm, depression, and PTSD. As this is a work designed to evoke fear in the reader, I would also not recommend reading this before bed. By proceeding, you acknowledge that though this book may seem fine at first, it gets incredibly dark incredibly quickly. If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, depression, or anxiety, help is available. Call 988.

Chapter 1:

Expedition

The cold was biting as Garrick Heath trudged through the snow towards the door of the shelter, certainly colder than London. Why couldn’t they have done this when it was sunny and bright out? Well, he didn’t suppose it would get any better, considering they were in the Arctic Circle. He’d just have to live with it.

He’d gotten the call two months ago. They offered him a job, working an ice drilling rig in the Artic. He had accepted. The pay was good enough and he was assured the bunker would be warm and the coffee strong. Now it was time, and he was here. He opened the door and a blast of warm air from the heated shelter enveloped him as it rushed out into the cold. He hurried inside and shut the door, no sense in letting the heat out. He looked around, seeing six other individuals sitting in a sunken seating area in the center of the large room playing cards. They greeted him as he entered, gesturing for him to sit down.

“Well then, now that we’re all here, I suppose we’d best get started” said a man in hiking gear, his voice layered with a thick Swedish accent. He stood up, the fabric of his clothing rustling as he did. “I am Jonas Pourison, I’m the NOAA representative on this assignment. My job is to monitor the samples we take for anything significant.” He gestured to the woman to his right, wearing warm clothes and a beanie with a red cross on it. She sipped her coffee and said in a faint Texas drawl “The name’s Darcy, and I’m here to make sure none of y'all die.” Having spoken her piece, she returned to her coffee. The next to introduce themselves was an Australian man named Ivakov Hill-Gray, the technician on the team. When he spoke, it was with a dry, gravelly voice. Next came a geologist, Olivia Runnisdöttir, another Swede. “We’ve had some reports of volcanic activity in the region, and I’m coming along to check it out.” Ryan Kurchatov, a paleontologist spoke next, he said he was tagging along from Russia to investigate possible Neolithic ruins in the ice, which could completely rewrite the timeline of human habitation. Walter Heyman, a Canadian, was the team’s guide, here to make sure no threats of the Arctic claimed them. Lastly came Garrick, who spoke with a heavy British accent. “I’m Garrick Heath, and I’m here as the historian to complement our good friend Kurchatov here.” As he spoke, he gestured to Ryan, who nodded curtly.

Once the introductions were done, Jonas spoke again. “Now that we all know eachother, the helicopter’s waiting. Let’s go.” They all sighed, finished their drinks, and trudged out of the shelter to the waiting helicopter. They took off without incident, and no words were spoken during the flight. Indeed, no one could hear each other over the sound of the aircraft. When Jonas finally landed the helicopter an hour later, they were all too happy to stand up again. They entered the bunker, where they would be living for the year, glancing around at the welcoming decor and furniture. Darcy spoke first: “Y’know, as far as subzero shitholes go, this is top notch” she said as she plopped her bags onto the ground. The group nodded in agreement. Walter found a bottle of wine in storage, and poured drinks for the team. As they plopped onto the couches, Olivia asked a question: “So, do any of you have families?”

“Yes, actually” Ryan replied, “a wife and two lovely daughters.”

Walter set the bottle down and dug into his pockets, searching for his wallet. He eventually found it and he took three photos of it. He also pulled a body camera from his bag and clipped it to his collar. As he unfolded the pictures, he said “I hope you don’t mind me recording, our patrons want records of our stay out here.”

Garrick arched an eyebrow at Walter. “And who exactly is financing this operation? This level of equipment certainly can’t be cheap.”

While Garrick was talking, Walter had started passing around the photos from his wallet. They were of his family. His husband and their dog. One photo showed them on the bow of a cruise ship, smiling and laughing. Another was of the dog, Niki, staring at a Christmas tree in wonder. The last picture showed Walter saying goodbye at the airport before leaving for Sweden.

Walter cleared his throat before answering Garrick. “We are being funded by several different agencies, but this rig belongs to Permafrost Group. This is one of twenty-seven they have across the world. Most of them are at the poles.” Garrick nodded, satisfied with the answer.

The time passed quickly after that, with the team swapping stories and sharing drinks and good-hearted laughter. Jonas told them a story about the time he was stood on a sinking research vessel. The engine had exploded, and the hole in the boat's keel was filled with rushing water. Just as they were about to be pulled under by the currents, a group of fishermen spotted them and pulled them out of the water. He made it sound as if it were just another day in the life, and not an extremely perilous situation.

After a night of revelry, they all retired to their bunks. After some tossing and turning, the seven of them drifted off to sleep, comforted by the soft humming of the bunker’s generators

++7 HOURS LATER++

Ryan awoke to a pounding at the door, the dull clang of metal reverberating through the concrete and rebar of the bunker. He stood up, putting on his jacket and boots before wearily staggering to the door. He slid the shutter aside, looking out through the bulletproof glass that covered the peephole. He saw a man in a tattered ski jacket collapsed in front of the door. Ryan hurriedly unlocked and threw open the door, and saw the man was completely drenched in blood, the red liquid seeping into the snow around him. “Shit” Ryan hissed, before shouting back into the bunker, saying: “Darcy, Jonas, come quickly!” He started dragging the man inside, and shut the door. Darcy and Jonas rounded the corner, grumbling. Their objections ceased when they saw the reason Ryan had called them.

Jonas rushed to help Ryan carry the man to the infirmary, while Darcy muttered a few Southern expletives and grabbed her first aid kit. Jonas and Ryan set the man down on a cot in the infirmary, and Darcy cut his jacket off, much to the objection of Jonas. “It’s fucking cold in here, he’s gonna need that later!” Darcy started wiping the blood from the man, replying through gritted teeth “There ain’t gonna be a later if he’s dead!”

The man’s injuries were brutal. A large section of his torso was slashed, with scraps of broken skin dangling limply from his mutilated chest cavity. His right arm was bent all the way in the wrong direction at the elbow, with a bone protruding from his wrist. His face was a horror show of shredded skin and muscle, his eyes were clouded, milky white orbs in a pit of red.

Darcy finished cleaning his wounds, sighing heavily as she readied bandages. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but somehow he hasn’t lost anything important.”

The man’s chest was wrapped, his arm splinted, and his face bandaged, but every bandage they put on was quickly soaked with blood. The rest of the team had been awoken by the commotion, and they staggered groggily into the infirmary. Olivia and Walter both had mugs of hot coffee. Ivakov was furious, storming into the room. “What the hell were you three doing out here!? I thought there was a goddamn-” He paused when he saw the injured man. “Oh fuck.”

The man started awake, screaming “No! No don’t take them! Don’t take them!” He winced as he sat up, looking around the infirmary, and then to his own injured chest. “Where- where am I?”

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You were in a pretty bad shape when we found you.” Darcy answered, trying to calm the man. “What’s your name?”

“Isacc. Isacc West.” The man replied, his hands shaking. Darcy turned to whisper to the team. “At least he remembers his name, eh?” She then turned back to Isacc. “What happened to you?”

“I was with a tour group, we were up here to see the Northern Lights. We were on our way back to our camp when something attacked us. Long, sharp fingers. And blood. Oh God, so much blood...” He shuddered as he spoke, as if reliving the horrors he had experienced. “I ran, but one of those fucking things caught me, tackled me. It did this to me.” He gestured vaguely at his injuries. He whispered one final sentence. “I don’t think anyone else made it out.”

In the bathroom, the group heard Olivia vomit.

“Well then” Darcy remarked, “since I suppose we ain’t gettin’ any sleep now, might as well start the work.” The rest of the team murmured agreements and went to get ready for the day. Madman or not, they had a job to do.

Chapter 2:

An Ordinary Day

The team shuffled into the rig, ready for the day and running on caffeine, adrenaline, and seven hours of sleep. Isacc was still in the infirmary, as he was in no condition to move. As the first core came up, Jonas stepped over to examine it. Ivakov played Sudoku with Ryan on the upper level of the rig deck. All was well.

“Thirty-one!” Garrick exclaimed as he slammed his cards to the table. “Read em’ and weep.” Olivia and Darcy groaned. “That’s the third time in a row,” Darcy grumbled, “let’s just play poker.”

“The problem there is I’m the one who brought the cards and I know absolutely fuck all about poker.” Garrick chuckled. Darcy mumbled something in angry Texan under her breath.

Walter poked his head through the door, carrying several cups. “I brought coffee!” he said in a singsong voice. He placed the cups on the mess table, grabbed one for himself, and sat down on a bench on the lower deck next to Jonas. Walter leaned over quizzically, sipping the coffee and placing one next to the focused Jonas.

“Find anything yet?” Walter asked, taking another sip. Jonas sighed. “No, not yet. Just ice, ice, and more goddamn ice.” Walter arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes, but I thought I- Well I don’t know what I thought.” Jonas grunted the words from his mouth, as he hauled the next core onto the table. “Wait... Is that...? Ryan, Garrick, get over here!” The two men startled at their names and shuffled over. “What is it?” Garrick asked.

Jonas pointed to an anomaly in the ice. A long, off-white splinter, about as long as a thumb, was embedded in the frosty substance. “Is that what I think it is?” He asked. Ryan leaned closer, inspecting the object. “I’d have to cut it out to get a closer look and know for sure, but at least from here it does look like bone.”

Garrick leaned closer, trying to get a good view of the object. “There’s some equipment in the bunker, I could date this.” Jonas nodded, sipping his coffee. “Please do.”

Garrick chipped a sample from the ice, cradling it as he trotted off towards the lab. Jonas turned to Ryan. “Do you want to take over?” Ryan shrugged. “Sure, go rest your arms.” Jonas nodded and went to sit with Ivakov, who had finished his Sudoku and was doing a crossword. He glanced up as Jonas sat down. “Seven letter word, a distilled spirit originating from Scandinavia.” Jonas chuckled. “That’s easy, Akvavit. It’s kinda like shitty, cheap tequila. I think we’ve got some in storage.” Ivakov grunted his thanks, scribbling the word down. Jonas shifted to face Ivakov. “So, what’s your story?” Ivakov set down his pencil and leaned back in his seat. “Well, my mother was a park ranger, and my pa was an accountant. They’re both retired now. I’ve hopped around from job to job for the past few years after the mines ran dry and they didn’t need me to fix the drills anymore. Turns out a degree in electrical engineering doesn’t do you much good as a tour guide. I got the call for this job a few months ago, and I thought I couldn’t get any more broke. I signed a contract, so the only way I’m not getting paid is if I die. And what are the odds of that happening, eh?” Jonas shrugged. “I suppose you could always fall off the rig. But you aren’t that stupid.”

Garrick came back into the rig deck, carrying his laptop. “Alright, it was a bit of a pain, but I got the date for that bone. 523 BCE.” Ryan choked and spit out his coffee, the precious liquid becoming a fine mist. “I’m sorry, did you just say 523 BCE!?” Garrick nodded. Ryan stormed over, grabbing the laptop. “Let me see that.” His eyes panned over the screen, widening with amazement. “I’ll be damned.”

Walter looked over at Ryan. “Everything okay?” Ryan whirled to face Walter. “Okay!? No I’m not okay! This is scientific proof that humans inhabited the Arctic more than four hundred years before the Roman Empire was founded! This could make my entire career!”

Walter chuckled. “Alright, calm down. I just thought something was wrong. I’m glad I was wrong.”

The core drill had stopped, the motor overheating from the continuous operation. Ivakov glanced over at the halted machine. “Drill’s stopped” he remarked, “it’s gonna take a while to cool off. Break?” The rest of the group nodded.

The crew shuffled into the bunker, settling into the common room. Garrick sighed. “Since Darcy gets pissy every time I win at thirty-one, how about a movie?” Walter perked up at the mention of something to do other than play cards. “Yes, please.” Garrick flipped open his laptop, opening his library. “Let’s see... We have the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Incredibles, The Thing-” Olivia interrupted him. “The Thing, yes, that one!” Garrick shrugged. “Alright then!” He put the movie on as Jonas came back with a massive bucket of popcorn.

The festivities were interrupted by screaming from the infirmary, followed by shattering glass and the sound of tearing meat. The team startled at the noise, rushing to the infirmary, only to see a gruesome scene. Torn scraps of flesh littered the room, which was splattered with blood. One of the windows was shattered, allowing the storm outside to whip into the bunker. Isacc was missing, along with the spare bandages. The rig crew rushed to suit up to give chase to the screaming of Isacc. Walter grabbed his shotgun, Darcy grabbed the medical bag, Garrick retrieved his camcorder, and Jonas hefted his hunting rifle. Walter glanced back at the rest of the team. ”After we leave, shut and lock the door. Only let us in when we say ”Canada is just a bunch of ice.” Got it?” Olivia nodded. ”Good. Let’s go.” Walter grunted, hurrying out the door, which was slammed behind them.

Garrick yelled out to Walter, his voice shaking with fear. ”Walter, remind me again why we’re going out in fucking fifteen below to look for someone who’s probably already dead!” Walter replied through gritted teeth. ”Because “probably” doesn’t equal "is”, Heath.” Garrick grumbled assent, before shouting his response. ”Just because you’re right doesn’t mean I agree with you!” Walter just chuckled.

The wind from the storm whipped at the group as they reached the helicopter, still where they had left it. Isacc’s trail of blood went off into the void of impenetrable white as Walter stopped them at the aircraft. ”Fuck!” he hissed. “Someone trashed the damn helicopter!” Jonas hurried over, recoiling from the stench of motor oil and smoke, still detectable even in the storm. “One problem at a time Walter!” The group carried on, into the storm.

After trudging through knee-deep snow for several minutes, the trail of crimson they had been following through the snow went down into a cave in the ice. Walter shook his head. ”We’ll need the proper gear to go down there! We’ll come back tomorrow!” Darcy agreed, very openly. ”Let’s get back to the bunker. It’s colder than a northern night up here!” With that, the small group that had gone searching for Isacc began the trek back to the bunker, shaken by what they had seen.

@shrimpysstuff @eternal-nyxx

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matrixxsystem · 6 months ago

Text

Terrapin Soup Part 9 (4/7)

"Leo- I'm talking about real people here, like real ones with thoughts and feelings and families!" "You think regular animals don't have that?? You think cows and pigs and whatever else don't have emotions and connections? That they wouldn't want to die if asked? But that's not the case here is it?! I'm not saying its okay or that I wouldn't be.. Y'know, shocked to find something like that out.. Just that its not black and white, it's never that simple. I mean what if he grew up unable to afford food and hunted bad guys who no one would miss? What if he had a really fucked up childhood and just grew up doing that? What if it was normal and it was as common as being left handed or having red hair or something? What if.. What if he had some kind of brain defect that just made him that way? And no matter what he did he couldn't help it or stop? What then?" April took half a step back, she didn't expect him to get worked up about it like this.. She hadn't really thought of it like that though, in the human world it was pretty black and white. But in a world where it was hundreds of differed species all mixed together some starting from animals and others starting from people.. It wasn't as clear as it might be for others. "I.. Guess you're right. I'm not accusing them of anything either y'know, I just.. I worry a lot, not as much as Raph but I'm your big sister, I wanna look out for you guys. And if your boyfriends dad eats people what do you think could happen if he didn't like you? Or if they both did and him dating you was some horror movie plot to let your guard down so he could eat you too! I-I don't actually believe that, but I mean it could happen!" Leo rolled his eyes, the anxiety he had before quickly turning to anger. "You don't know what you're talking about, I love Usagi, and Usagi loves me. He'd never hurt me. And y'know what? Even if he did eat people, I'd still like him. You guys need to stop worrying about me like I'm too stupid to know whos good and whos not. I'm not as dumb as you all think so stop trying to protect me from problems that don't exist. I'm really happy with Usagi, I feel so seen and understood like I could make any mistake and he'd still be there, like I could be at my worst and he'd never hold it against me.. So as long as he doesn't hurt innocent people or my family I don't care what he does." "Leo…" April was about to say something else but Donnie's figure came into view, "Leo-! There you guys are, I got an alert that your vasovagal syncope might be triggered. Do you feel light headed at all or dizzy? Any vision problems?" "..My what?" Leo turned back to Donnie, his mood having yet to calm down. "An alert? Why the fuck do you know get alerts for my vitals?" Donnie's tech gave another ping but he quickly slapped his hand over to try and mute the sound, April put a hand to her neck trying to motion to Donnie that now was not the time for this conversation but he didn't understand the gesture in time. "I uh.. Well we all have them- Incase something were to happen, even dad has one of my state of the art chips somewhere super top secret so we can accurately monitor our heath and-"

Part 9.5 Part 1

TS Master Post

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hayleythecannibal · 3 days ago

Text

TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Twenty-Eight Primavera

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Pregnancy, Talks of tragic loss

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

HOSPITAL - WILL GRAHAM'S ROOM - DAY-

WILL GRAHAM'S EYES Slowly flutter open. He gasps, wincing as he draws air into his rib cage. He takes in his surroundings to find he is… A hospital bed holds him. Glowing monitors flank him. His abdomen is freshly bandaged and stitched.

His eye finds a WALL CLOCK. In his shifting, blurring vision, the numbers sag and drift onto the wall. Will stares a moment -- until the minute hand CLICKS. Time is passing and will continue to pass. This is no fiction of his mind. He gazes over at a Sleeping Y/N, One hand on a small bump and another holding his.

A FIGURE Until now unseen, moves at the foot of Will's hospital bed. A DOCTOR Inspecting Will's chart. He replaces it and turns and smiles, pleased to see Will is conscious.

“How do you feel?” The man's question seems almost alien in its simplicity. “Thirsty.” The doctor hands Will the hospital-issue cup next to the bed, and Will drinks slowly through the straw. The doctor looks to the open door of the ICU; an indistinct shadow indicates someone standing just around the corner.

“Feel well enough for a visitor?” The doctor exits through the door. Though it's still open, Will cannot see out it... until his visitor enters: ABIGAIL HOBBS Pale like Will, in a hospital gown of her own. She stands on the threshold, staring at him. Will stares back and his thoughts and ours are the same – Abigail is alive.

Abigail stands in front of Will's hospital bed, Taking Y/N’s Hand. Pillows prop Will up. They look at one another. A reunion neither thought they would ever see. After a moment: “They told me he knew exactly how to cut me. They said it was surgical. He wanted us to live.”

“He left us to die.”

“But we didn't.” Abigail averts her eyes, still looking for rhyme and reason. “He was supposed to take me with him. We were all supposed to leave together. He made a place for us.”

“Abigail…”

“Why did you lie to him?” Will has to consider that a moment, then: “The wrong thing being the right thing to do was too ugly a thought.”

“He gave you a chance to take it all back, and you just kept lying. No one had to die.” An almost-imperceptible wince from Will. “It's hard to grasp what would've happened, could've happened. In some other world... did happen.”

“Having a hard enough time dealing with this world. Hope some of the other worlds are easier on me.”

“Everything that can happen happens. Has to end well, and it has to end badly. Has to end every way it can. This is the way it ended for us.”

“We don't have an ending. He didn't give us one yet. He wants us to find him.” An awake Y/N murmurs in her stage of waking up. Strange for Will to hear that, and stranger yet to believe it.

“After everything he's done, you would still go to him?” Abigail quietly nods.

“If everything that can happen happens, you can't really do the wrong thing. You're just doing what you're supposed to do.”

EIGHT MONTHS LATER - NORMAN CHAPEL - DAY

The chapel's vast interior rings with the multiple languages of the travelers shuffling about the place. Among the TOURISTS, we find, A heavily Pregnant Y/N, Will, and Abigail as they enter. Abigail gazes up at the apse of the chapel and JESUS PANTOCRATOR -- "Ruler of All," an exquisite Byzantine mosaic.

Saint Andrew is depicted on His one side, Saint Paul on His other. The saints' tempera-painted eyes, their unfettered focus -- like Abigail’s -- on their savior. “Even in an enlightened world, we come here to feel closer to God.”

“Do you feel closer to God?” Abigail asks, as I adjust my FBI identification Badge. Because Will and Jack were forced to retire from the Bureau, I have become the Acting Head of the BAU. alongside some new profilers, Gideon and Rossi.

“God's not who I came here to find.” They move further into the chapel, admiring its beauty. Abigail notices a PRIEST watches them; she stares at him a moment, then averts her eyes. “Do you believe in God?” Abigail wonders if she does even as she asks it.

“What I believe is closer to science fiction than anything in the Bible.” Abigail notes the various people sitting and praying; she speaks low so only Will can hear her: “We all know, but no one ever says God won't do a Goddamned thing to answer anybody's prayers.”

“I'm sure answering prayers can be complicated, otherwise He would do it all the time. God can't save any of us because it's inelegant.”

“God allows bad things to happen because it's... elegant.”

“More elegant than stopping the universe to prevent an earthquake, put out a fire, cure cancer. Elegance is more important than suffering. That's His design.” I say as I stand from a Pew.

“You talking about God or Hannibal?” Abigail asks, “Hannibal's not God. Wouldn't have any fun being God. Defying God, now that's his idea of a good time.” I chuckle and rub my belly. Will raises his head, taking in the murals of saints and apostles that decorate the gilded ceilings.

“Nothing would thrill Hannibal more than to see this roof collapse midMass, packed pews, choir singing. He would just love it. And he thinks God would love it, too. Thats What Hannibal sees when he steps inside the frescoed walls of his own mind.”

“Do you feel closer to him here?”

“This isn't Hannibal, it's just where he begins. Beyond this, far and complex, light and dark, is the vast structure of his mind. A thousand rooms, miles of corridors. Everything he remembers, wonderfully and fearfully reconstructed.”

“Why "fearfully"?”

“Hannibal is well armed against the physical world, but there are places within himself he can't safely go. But we can. If we find them. And that's how we'll find him.” Will says as he moves my hair out of my face.

NORMAN CHAPEL - NIGHT-

A HORRIFIC TABLEAU In the center of the chapel's floor, constructed directly above the inlaid skeleton. At first glimpse, it appears to be A HUGE HUMAN HEART. But a second look reveals it's A MAN'S BODY, SKINNED -- limbs and back broken and folded to create the anatomical parts and chambers of the organ. The victim's head, hands and feet are missing, stumps portraying the muscle's severed vessels.

The faux organ hovers above the floor, supported by a makeshift tripod formed by a TRIO OF SWORDS run through the body. Down each blade, blood trickles. A bloody valentine awaiting its intended

NORMAN CHAPEL – DAY-

The white sheet belongs to a row of HOSPITAL PRIVACY SCREENS being erected around the broken and mutilated corpse. VARIOUS POLIZIA SCIENTIFICA AGENTS are busy working around the body. Camera FLASHES bounce off the white sheet dramatically. passing the priest speaking to a local officer, INSPECTOR DONAGGIO, in hushed tones.

Will and Y/N as they enter the chapel, moving with inconspicuous purpose through the CSI agents, reacting to the silhouette of a beating heart near the altar.

“Its him?” Before Will can respond, We’re rapidly approached by a Palermo poliziotto, named LAMANNA, who holds up a waving hand: “Per favore, signore. È proibito qui. La cappella è chiusa.” Will nods to the poliziotto, his eyes still on the display.

“I'm sorry, I don't speak–” Will says confused, I roll my eyes and am about to respond when- “The chapel is closed.”

“Signore…sono la dottoressa Y/N L/N, capo dell'unità di analisi comportamentale dell’FBI.” I try to introduce myself, But the Man is already gone…Me and Will turn to leave, trying to glimpse what we can of the crime scene investigation.

We see Inspector Donaggio talking with the priest, who is now pointing in Will's direction. Donaggio shouts across the chapel at Poliziotto LaManna and Will: “LaManna, non lasciarlo uscire. Voglio parlare con lui.”

“What did he say?” Will turns to me, “He said, he wants to talk to us.”

PALERMO POLICE STATION - BULLPEN - DAY-

past rows of desks, various POLIZIOTTI working in an office haze, some at their own desks, others gathered around Inspector Donaggio's desk.

Will and I sit in a row of empty chairs, a common area, waiting to be summoned for questioning. “Signor Graham...Dr. L/N….” We turn to see CHIEF INSPECTOR RINALDO PAZZI sitting down in a nearby chair. Even as he speaks, he sits facing forward as to obscure the obviousness of their conversation. “Chief Investigator Rinaldo Pazzi. Questura di Firenze.”

“You're a long way from Florence.”

“You're a long way from Baltimore. I read everything I can find on FBI profiling methods. I've read all about your incarceration. Its nice to meet the new Head of the BAU.” Pazzi says, shaking my hand. I smile softly.

“Keep reading. I was acquitted.”

“You come to Palermo and soon – very soon -- a body is discovered, sculptural in its mutilation.” Will doesn't respond. “The priest at the Cappella dei Normanni said you've been spending a lot of time there.”

“I've been praying. Haven’t you heard, I'm going to be a dad.” Will’s hand graces my lower back.

“There is some comfort in prayer. It leaves you with the distinct feeling you're not alone. Will studies Pazzi a moment, and then: “Signore…” Will turns to see Inspector Donaggio walking toward us, signaling for us to follow.

“Vieni con me.” As Will rises and follows Donaggio back to his desk, he glances back at Pazzi one last time. “Ciao.” I smile back, “Ciao.”

PALERMO POLICE STATION - STAIRWELL - DAY-

Will makes his way down the stairs, Guiding Y/N carefully toward Abigail who is waiting on the landing below. He smiles, happy to see her; she indicates Inspector Pazzi leaning against the bannister, a yellowing envelope tucked under his arm.

“Is Will Graham and The Head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit here because of the body at the cappella, or is the body here because of Will Graham and Dr. L/N?” Will glances at Abigail who moves off inconspicuously. “Why are you here?”

“I'm like you. I do what you Two do. We share the gift of imagination.”

“I've got the scars of a man who grabbed his gift by the blade.” Will says as he rubs my belly. “You grabbed the wrong end. Those moments when the connection is made, in that synaptic spasm when the thought drives through the red fuse, that is my keenest pleasure.”

“Knowing.” I say softly. “Knowing. Not feeling. Not thinking. You know who murdered that man and left him in the Cappella Palatina.” Pazzi looks at me, I tilt my head with a smile. “Don't you?”

“I met him twenty years ago. Il Mostro, the Monster of Florence. It was his custom to arrange his victims like a beautiful painting.” That gets our attention. “Il Mostro created images that stayed in my mind. I can still see his tableaux peripherally.”

“Like looking beside an object to see it in the dark.” Pazzi takes PICTURES out of the yellowing envelope tucked under his arm, hands them to Will.

“Twenty years ago, I was dwelling on a couple found slain in the bed of a pickup truck in Impruneta…...bodies placed, strewn and garlanded with flowers, the woman's left breast exposed.”

PALERMO POLICE STATION - STAIRWELL - DAY-

“Like a Botticelli.” I say, I rub my belly. I gaze at the macabre art made from bodies in front of me. “Exactly like a Botticelli. His painting Primavera still hangs in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, just as it did twenty years ago.” As Inspector Pazzi pulls another picture from his envelope...

BOTTICELLI'S PRIMAVERA; The painting depicting a group of mythological figures in an orange grove.A woman in diaphanous white is being seized by a winged male from above. His cheeks are puffed, expression intent, and his unnatural complexion separates him from the other figures.

“The garlanded nymph on the right, her left breast exposed, flowers streaming from her mouth as the pale Zephyrus reaches for her.” Pazzi Explains, Will looks at the picture of the Botticelli, and the dead couple who honor it.

“Match. Match.”

“At the Uffizi Gallery... that's where you met il Mostro.” I look from the bodies to Pazzi with curiosity. And he lived this long to tell the tale. Hmm.

“That's where I met this man.” Pazzi produces a BLACK-AND-WHITE PHOTOGRAPH from the yellowing file folder, and Will takes it.

Its subject – HANNIBAL LECTER- Twenty years younger.

“The Monster of Florence.”

UFFIZI GALLERY - DAY-

Primavera hangs in the sparsely-populated museum. “To find the inspiration il Mostro used was a triumph. I went to the Uffizi and stood before the original Primavera day after day, and most days… I’d see a young Lithuanian man as transfixed by the Botticelli as I was. As transfixed as I imagined il Mostro would be. And every day I saw him…”

“...he would recreate the Primavera in pencil, just as he did in flesh.”

NORMAN CHAPEL - TWILIGHT-

Somber shadows have replaced stained-glass daylight. Will and Y/N stand with Inspector Pazzi in the empty church. Evidence of the crime scene investigation is still present, but the sculpturally-mutilated body has been removed.

“I knew. It was the best moment of my life. A moment of epiphany that made me famous and then ruined me.” Will reacts; Inspector Pazzi is a pale, older version of himself, with an entirely-different history with the Monster.

“In haste and heat of ambition, the Questura nearly destroyed the young man's home, trying to find evidence.”

“He doesn't leave evidence.” I say knowingly…..Pazzi Looks at me. “No, he doesn't.” I smile; “He eats it.”

“Another man -- not an innocent man, but innocent of those crimes -- was a dream suspect. He was convicted on no evidence except his character.”

“Blame has a habit of not sticking to Hannibal Lecter.” Will says knowingly. “It has a habit of sticking to you.” Uncomfortable memories, all too raw. In the background, the DULL BANGING of a door as a POLIZIOTTO enters:

“No, no. La chiesa è chiusa. Questa è ancora una scena del crimine.” Pazzi hands Will a folder full of crime scene photos, and approaches the poliziotto, showing his badge.

“Commendatore Rinaldo Pazzi. Questura di Firenze. Sto consultando sull'inchiesta.” Pazzi guides the poliziotto to the exit. “Posso parlare con te fuori?”

We watch as Pazzi glances back over his shoulder one last time before disappearing with the poliziotto. Will stands there a moment, holding Pazzi's crime scene folder. “My love?” I say softly, “Hmm”

“Open the Folder.” Finally, almost reluctantly, he pulls a single photo from the folder.

He takes a breath, exhales, then closes his eyes. We hear the slow THUD of his HEARTBEAT keeping rhythm with the AMBIENT HUM of his CIRCULATORY SYSTEM. A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Will Graham's mind, keeping rhythm with his heartbeat. FWUM. FWUM.

His eyes are closed. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings behind Will, wiping away the evidence flags. FWUM. The police tape. FWUM.

The HUMAN HEART SCULPTURE. we are no longer in the picture -- The human heart sculpture stands alone as it was intended. Will circles the sculpture, studying it.

“I splintered every bone, fractured them... dynamically. Made you malleable. I skinned you. Bent you, twisted you and trimmed you. Head, hands, arms and legs. A topiary.” The human heart sculpture swells slightly with a low THWUB. “This is my design.”

THWUB-THWUB. The human heart sculpture appears to be beating. Will starts slowly to back away from it, toward the altar. “A valentine written on a broken man.” The body SHUDDERS. One broken arm strains against the cording holding it in place. SNAP! The cord BREAKS and the arm PULLS FREE. Another broken limb BREAKS THE STITCHES holding it fast... and then another...

Bowed in a parenthetical curve, it begins to STRAIGHTEN. Vertebrae realign, setting forth sickly POPS and CRACKS. He stumbles back, unnerved, tripping on the altar steps. More restraints SNAP as another limb realigns... and next, a leg. What resembles a nightmare flower blossoming, the body – still without hands, feet or head -- resurrects its form…

THE BODY, Unfolding now, approximating its original shape, starts crawling forward as its cording and stitching hangs and drags. It crabs forward on stumps and knees. THUD. SLIDE... directly for Will. . FROM THE STUMPS OF THE SEVERED ARMS AND LEGS Horrifying BLACK HOOVES emerge, scraping and pulling at the marble floor, almost fawn-like, as it moves toward Will.

FROM THE SEVERED NECK Two points SPROUT from the raw meat, growing, blossoming bilaterally into familiar shapes -- a PAIR OF ANTLERS. No head emerges to support them -- only the antlers. As the ANTLERED NIGHTMARE that unfurled from Antony Dimmond's corpse is nearly upon him…

NORMAN CHAPEL - NIGHT-

Will leans against the altar, sweating, breathing heavily. He opens his eyes to see Y/N and Abigail walking toward him. “I do feel closer to Hannibal here.” He suppresses a small, uneasy laugh. “God only knows where I would be Without you and Him.”

“What did you see?”

“He left us his broken heart.”

“How did he know we were here?” Abigail asks, In our shared delusion I know its not her. Its a figment of what we want to be reality.

“He didn't. But he knew we'd come.” I say softly. “He misses us.” Strange for Will to consider, but he remains suspicious. “Hannibal follows several trains of thought at once without distraction from any, and one of the trains is always for his own amusement.”

“He's playing with us.”

“Always.” I smirk softly, I take a seat on the steps. My back is killing me, between the heels and the belly. He tosses the photos of the broken man heart on the altar, steps in front of Abigail. “You still want to go with him?”

“Yes.”

“He gave you back to us. Then took you away. Lucy and the football. He just keeps pulling you away.” Will is contemplative a moment, then suddenly sad: “What if no one died? What if we all left together? Like we were supposed to. After he served the lamb. Where would we have gone?”

“In some other world?”

“In some other world.”

“He said he made a place for us.” Will fights back his emotion, then: “A place was made for you, Abigail, in this world. The only place we could make for you.” Abigail looks up at Will and Then to me.

the – NEWLY-HEALED SCAR On her neck DARKENS. The broad line of shiny tissue grows red, like a second smile drawn in lipstick. And then it SPLITS and starts to BLEED. And bleed and bleed. It's a mortal injury -- the same one that left Abigail dead on Hannibal's kitchen floor. Our punishment.

Red pulses down Abigail's front and neither me nor Will try to stem its flow. His eyes unwavering from Abigail's until we reveal no one is beside Will. No one but Y/N.

He's seated in front of the altar, hand on his Fiancee’s belly.

the chapel, finding the CHORUS OF SAINTS AND APOSTLES, a streaming drapery of figures painted onto the high walls and ceiling. CAMERA continues to prowl until it focuses on one figure in particular.

reveal the figure is not part of the extensive mural; it is, in fact, HANNIBAL LECTER. He looks down at Will and Y/N sitting stoically at the altar. Hannibal watching, not moving, part of the chapel...

NORMAN CHAPEL – NIGHT-

Pazzi enters from the back of the church, calling out: “Are you praying?” Will considers that, shakes his head, then: “Hannibal doesn't pray. But he believes in God. Intimately.”

“I wasn't asking Hannibal Lecter.” Will's eyes are drawn to the ceiling and the murals overhead. He strokes Y/N’s back as she rests her head on his shoulder. “I think my prayers would feel constricted by the saints and apostles and Jesus Pantocrator.”

“Not buoyed?”

“Not these prayers.” Pazzi looks to the ceiling, following Will's gaze. “I hope my prayers escaped, flown from here to the open sky and God.” Will stands and helps Y/N as he does so, exploring the vicinity of the crime scene. “Praying you catch him? You should be praying he doesn't capture you.”

“I didn't head the Questura di Firenze for nothing.” Will glances into the GATED STAIRWELL under the pulpit.

“You couldn't catch him when he was just a kid, what makes you think you're going to catch him now?” I ask curiously “You.” A small, polite scoff from Will, unable to take his eyes off the small stairwell to the catacombs. I roll my eyes.

“What makes you think we want to catch him?” Pazzi studies Will -- does he mean to kill Hannibal?

The volume of his CIRCULATORY SYSTEM rises in his ears, drowning out Pazzi speaking in the background.

the gate, OVER THE LIP OF THE FLOOR, to find a small series of steps leading to a WOODEN DOOR. A small gap between the door and the landing. BLOOD starts to seep under the door. He stares, the sound of his CIRCULATORY SYSTEM fills his ears with a rhythmic ebb and flow.

Will slowly turns back to Pazzi. “If you could possibly be content, I would suggest you let il Mostro go.” I say softly, “Can't do that any more than you can.”

“He's going to kill you, you know. Usually right about these things.” Will says, all politeness out the window. “He let you both know him. He sent you his heart. Where has he gone now?”

“He hasn't gone anywhere. He's still here.” Will's glance down the stairwell, to the catacomb door…

NORMAN CHAPEL - CATACOMBS - NIGHT-

The catacombs are flooded with BLOOD-TINTED WATER. through the long corridor, like exploring a sunken submarine, passing SUBMERGED CORPSES, Will floats in the flooded corridor, holding his breath. As he can't hold his breath any longer.

He squeezes his eyes closed, and we... He opens his eyes, no longer submerged in his subconscious, and takes a small breath, preparing himself. We are --

NORMAL CHAPEL - CATACOMBS - NIGHT-

Punic stone two millennia old. Will listens, carefully monitoring his breath. He sees the walkway, weaving through DOZENS OF MUMMIFIED CORPSES, leads down into a darkened maze, only partially illuminated by infrequent candlelight. Following the ancient fortress wall as it leads him deeper into less-aged corridors of the chapel's crypts and catacombs.

Overhead, bare bulbs occasionally light the way, but mostly the underground circuit remains shrouded in shadow. In the distance ahead, Will hears unhurried footsteps. “Hannibal.”

The unhurried footsteps stop as Will’s shout echoes along the passageways. No reply. A moment, then the footsteps resume their march.

Will arrives at a fork in the corridors and he considers his choices. Clicks of Heels behind him. “Y/N, are you insane?!?” Will turns around. “Honey, we know this already, I am no more sane than you.” I chuckle.

“This was stupid, you are 8 months pregnant. You shouldn't be down here.” I give him a look. Footfalls come deep from within the darkness; someone is there. Will runs after them, dogged, into the black. I slip off my heels and follow as quickly as I can.

A moment behind Them – PAZZI Arrives at the head of the walkway. He draws his gun and pauses for only a second before he follows Will and Y/N. As the black swallows him as well...

We Pause at a JUNCTION in the subterranean maze. It widens to include a SERIES OF PILLARS, adorned with MUMMIFIED CORPSES, surrounded by passages branching off in different directions. The clatter of footsteps changes. Due to the shape of the gallery and the conducting power of the walls, the sound RICOCHETS, seemingly coming from both directions...

Another beat and Will looks to his rear, realizing it’s no trick of sound -- someone is behind him as well… PAZZI Continues his pursuit as quickly as the darkness allows. His breathing is heavy and his gun leads him like a dowsing rod, his finger on the trigger.

PAZZI Hears only his own footsteps as he arrives at – THE JUNCTION

The same one Will and Y/N encountered. Pazzi slows, taking in the pillars and the many passages... any of which Hannibal or the couple might have taken. He pivots, the seasoned cop, but there are too many blind spots. Too many angles to cover.

“Signor Graham...Dr. L/N” Suddenly – We Approach from behind Pazzi; the inspector is spun around. We’re Calm, quiet, yet unnerved. “You shouldn't be down here alone.”

“I’m not alone. I'm with you two.” I laugh softly, like that would protect him. “You don’t know whose side we’re on.” Pazzi stares at Will, cautious. “What are you going to do when you find him? Your il Mostro?”

“I'm curious about that myself.”

“You and I carry the dead with us, Signor Graham. We both need to unburden. There's no arguing the point.”

“Why don't you carry your dead back to the chapel before you count yourself among them. Will drifts away from him. “You're already dead, aren't you?” ...disappearing in the dark. “Buonanotte, commendatore.” I dismiss him. He stands there in the dark, alone. Listening.

Hannibal has not slipped away. Still and silent as the stone itself, he waits like a spider for Pazzi to come his direction.

Pazzi takes a last look in the darkness where Will disappeared, and he starts back toward the tunnel entrance. He moves deeper into the catacombs. preceding him and, as Will passes the pillar where Hannibal was concealed, we see Hannibal is gone -- no one is there. Will pushes forward...

Will’s imagination has flooded the catacombs in blood-red water. Treading deeper into the tunnels, propelled by guilt. No one materializes and Will moves on nevertheless… No intermittent bulbs light the passage. The frame of the corridor is lost to near utter darkness. Will pauses again.

“I forgive you.” His voice RINGS down the depthless inky black. I place my hand on his back, softly scratching it. I forgave Hannibal long ago….I was just waiting for Will to.

HANNIBAL Stands, hiding among the mummified corpses. He hears the plaintive offering -- and the echo that answers it -- but he says nothing in reply. Instead, Hannibal takes a silent sidestep and is swallowed entirely by the shadows.

WILL Stands, forlorn, with only darkness behind him, awaiting a response that is not to come.

#hannibal nbc #hannigram #twistedminds #hannigram x reader #fem!reader #hannibal x reader #will graham x reader #will graham #hannibal lecter #criminal minds

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galaxyedging · 2 years ago

Text

Dieter Bravo

x f!reader

A little Wardrobe flashback.

Warnings: smut. P in V sex. Dirty talk. M!receiving oral. Sex toys. F!masturbation. Porn. Drug use. Vaginal fingering. Mentions of M/M. A little angst.

That's Tomorrow's Problem

WC:1.3k

"There you are!" Dieter pulled you into a narrow gap between two sets of monitors.

"Dieter! I'm busy." This thing between you was pretty new. Heat boiled to your cheek about anyone finding out. Partly in shame and partly with giddiness. Imagine people finding out that a gorgeous man like Dieter wanted you. He wanted you whenever he could get his hands on you. It was thrilling but shameful, right? You were still a married woman. His broad form crowding you in this small, public space shouldn't be this exciting.

Speaking of exciting, you happened to look down. "Dieter! My god.."

Dieter was certainly gifted below the belt and those sweatpants did show everything but he seemed big even for him.

"I mixed up my pills. I took a Viagra by mistake." With his hangdog expression making you feel sorry for him you managed to swallow your laughter.

"Well, you can't go walking around like that! We have strict heath and safety codes." Unable to keep it in any longer you added. "You could have someone's eye out."

"It's not funny."

"It is a little. We'll it's not little..."

"I thought being an asshole was my thing?"

"Hey!"

"Normally. I would laugh right along with you. But I have that scene in an hour."

"What? Oh. Oh!"

"Those things are already awkward to film. How am I going to explain having a ragging hard on before we even start?"

"We're all professionals, just explain you need some time."

"And cost the studio money. I'm trying to get a fresh start here."

"Okay so we have an hour."

"We?"

"Yeah. We."

Fifteen minutes later Dieter was still hard and your jaw ached from drawing one orgams from him. Tipping his case out onto his bed frantically searched for something.

"Dieter. Calm down."

"We have forty five minutes left and if that didn't do it...."

Opening his laptop he found the porn he had ready to go. A lesbian three way in an exotic poolside location. Pretty tame for his tastes, you though. He saw the look on your face. "I didn't want to play anything too dirty with you here."

"You've just spent ten minutes fucking my face."

"I was polite about it. I held your hair back. I even asked before I came."

"Then you told me to 'Fucking take it.' while you did."

"Should I have added 'please'?"

"My point is I think we're passed niceties. Tell me what you need."

"Can you sit on my cock and use these on me?"

Your eyes widen at the toys he recovered from his jumble of clothes. One was a vibrating wand. It was huge. You'd seen one in a store once. Just the sound of it terrified you. There was no way you could put that on your most sensitive area. The other was a curved vibrator. It was long and thin with a bulbous tip. That you could see yourself using. It wasn't too threatening.

As soon as you climbed on top of him Dieter started to thrust. "Do you want me to use these or not?" The toys fell from your shaking hands while Dieter drilled into you.

"Can't I have both? I really feel like I need both. I'm still hard as a rock."

"Fine. I always wanted to go on one of those mechanical bull things."

"Yeehaw."

Dieter fucked up into you harder as you managed to get the wand going. One touch of it to his balls had him coming. His fingertips dug into your thighs as he howled. You were very thankful that his trailer was so far away from everyone else. This was not something you wanted to be overheard. The slap of skin on skin, the rumble of the vibrator, the sound of your flooded pussy sucking him in with every thrust. Dieter was loud, even more so than usual. Even you were having a hard time keeping quiet as he thrust up into you like a man possessed.

"Oh, Dieter. Right there!" When you came you took him with you. One last blow of his load took the edge right off. He was soft enough to pull out of you and drop against his thigh.

"Thank fuck. That's a lot more manageable." He cupped his semi hard cock. "Right. I gotta shower. Twenty minutes to get ready." He ran off to the small bathroom next to his bedroom. For a moment you feel a little ashamed. Laying there being used by him. No, this is what this was. Just sex. No attachment.

Dieter was out the door ten minutes later. His porn was still on auto play. The deep grunts of two men fisting their cocks together filled the tiny space. Your day finished ten minutes ago. No one was expecting you anywhere. The long, thin, curved vibrator lay on the bed next to you. It didn't seem too aggressive not like the wand that looked like it could shake your soul out of your vagina. Finding Dieter's lube and cleansing wipes, Dieter always kept his toys clean but just in case, you prepared it. Changing Dieter's playlist, you found a woman using a similar toy. Laying down you relaxed, letting your knees fall apart and away from each other. Taking a deep breath you prepared yourself for the intrusion. The toy's head notched at you entrance, breathing and relaxing, you pressed it in further. A little maneuvering got it sat comfortably inside you. The speeds were on a dial at the bottom. It took a little wiggling but you managed to switch it on. The low setting wasn't too much. It didn't really do much for you either. The woman on the tiny screen seemed be enjoying it much more than you. Her toy was buzzing considerably louder than yours. Maybe the next setting? Sex toys came in all shapes, sizes and designs. A lot of thought obviously went into their design...so why in the ever loving hell did they have those stupid fiddly dials. A slip of your lube slicked fingers shifted the toy into it's highest setting. The vibration were strong, the sensations emanating from your core kept you pinned in place. It was so overwhelming all you could do was lay there with your head throw back and your jaw slack. Your body tensed and trembled. Your inner muscles started to bare down on the toy. Your body was balanced right on the edge ready to tumble down in to a blissful abyss, as it was you just hovered over it. The woman on the screen screamed like her life depended on it, enjoying her own orgasm. Lucky girl. This was the moment Dieter walked back in. A grin split his in two. It was like all his Christmases came at once. Reaching between your legs, he gripped the base of the toy. With a twist of his wrist he moved it in and out alternating the sensations inside of you. It was enough to push you over the edge.

"Oh. That's it." Dieter sounded proud as he rubbed your knee soothingly.

You let him lay next to you as you gathered yourself.

"Wait. Why are you back? What about your big sex scene?"

"That? I screwed the days up. That's tomorrow."

"Dieter!"

"What? I made a mistake! I'd much rather talk about your big sex scene."

"Dieter!"

"That was so hot. You should hang out in my trailer more."

"Dieter!"

"I notice you didn't say no." Slipping the toy out he replaced it with his fingers as kissed your neck.

In your post orgasm bliss it hard to resist his charms, hard to remember that you should be putting walls up between you and another man who could break your heart. Just for a moment you let yourself sink into his arms. Your fingers played with his soft curls as you even more bliss ebbed out from his fingers. Yeah, this man could be a problem but one you didn't have to solve right now.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x f!reader

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