#how can i charge them more if those were the prices they saw?

[electricpurrs]

i want to raise my commission prices since everybody seems to say they are way too low, but the thing is that my commission post with the current prices already got reblogged a bunch so if i raise them now thered probably be a conflict with the two different prices going around ....... so idk what to about that

[thoughtportal]

Opinion Here’s how to get free Paxlovid as many times as you need it

When the public health emergency around covid-19 ended, vaccines and treatments became commercial products, meaning companies could charge for them as they do other pharmaceuticals. Paxlovid, the highly effective antiviral pill that can prevent covid from becoming severe, now has a list price of nearly $1,400 for a five-day treatment course.

Thanks to an innovative agreement between the Biden administration and the drug’s manufacturer, Pfizer, Americans can still access the medication free or at very low cost through a program called Paxcess. The problem is that too few people — including pharmacists — are aware of it.

I learned of Paxcess only after readers wrote that pharmacies were charging them hundreds of dollars — or even the full list price — to fill their Paxlovid prescription. This shouldn’t be happening. A representative from Pfizer, which runs the program, explained to me that patients on Medicare and Medicaid or who are uninsured should get free Paxlovid. They need to sign up by going to paxlovid.iassist.com or by calling 877-219-7225. “We wanted to make enrollment as easy and as quick as possible,” the representative said.

Indeed, the process is straightforward. I clicked through the web form myself, and there are only three sets of information required. Patients first enter their name, date of birth and address. They then input their prescriber’s name and address and select their insurance type.

All this should take less than five minutes and can be done at home or at the pharmacy. A physician or pharmacist can fill it out on behalf of the patient, too. Importantly, this form does not ask for medical history, proof of a positive coronavirus test, income verification, citizenship status or other potentially sensitive and time-consuming information.

But there is one key requirement people need to be aware of: Patients must have a prescription for Paxlovid to start the enrollment process. It is not possible to pre-enroll. (Though, in a sense, people on Medicare or Medicaid are already pre-enrolled.)

Once the questionnaire is complete, the website generates a voucher within seconds. People can print it or email it themselves, and then they can exchange it for a free course of Paxlovid at most pharmacies.

Pfizer’s representative tells me that more than 57,000 pharmacies are contracted to participate in this program, including major chain drugstores such as CVS and Walgreens and large retail chains such as Walmart, Kroger and Costco. For those unable to go in person, a mail-order option is available, too.

The program works a little differently for patients with commercial insurance. Some insurance plans already cover Paxlovid without a co-pay. Anyone who is told there will be a charge should sign up for Paxcess, which would further bring down their co-pay and might even cover the entire cost.

Several readers have attested that Paxcess’s process was fast and seamless. I was also glad to learn that there is basically no limit to the number of times someone could use it. A person who contracts the coronavirus three times in a year could access Paxlovid free or at low cost each time.

Unfortunately, readers informed me of one major glitch: Though the Paxcess voucher is honored when presented, some pharmacies are not offering the program proactively. As a result, many patients are still being charged high co-pays even if they could have gotten the medication at no cost.

This is incredibly frustrating. However, after interviewing multiple people involved in the process, including representatives of major pharmacy chains and Biden administration officials, I believe everyone is sincere in trying to make things right. As we saw in the early days of the coronavirus vaccine rollout, it’s hard to get a new program off the ground. Policies that look good on paper run into multiple barriers during implementation.

Those involved are actively identifying and addressing these problems. For instance, a Walgreens representative explained to me that in addition to educating pharmacists and pharmacy techs about the program, the company learned it also had to make system changes to account for a different workflow. Normally, when pharmacists process a prescription, they inform patients of the co-pay and dispense the medication. But with Paxlovid, the system needs to stop them if there is a co-pay, so they can prompt patients to sign up for Paxcess.

Here is where patients and consumers must take a proactive role. That might not feel fair; after all, if someone is ill, people expect that the system will work to help them. But that’s not our reality. While pharmacies work to fix their system glitches, patients need to be their own best advocates. That means signing up for Paxcess as soon as they receive a Paxlovid prescription and helping spread the word so that others can get the antiviral at little or no cost, too.

{source}

[found-pham-ily]

I love supportive parents Fentons. We're they good parents? Not always but they are trying. More so now that they knew how they'd failed Danny. They did a 180 on their research going from Ghost are evil to ghost are just people. Though some ghost wish they still just acted violently rather then stalking them to ask so *so* many questions.

Danny is happy, his parents are trying and while the GIW are still around as a nuisance he doesn't see then as actually a threat. Everyone in Amity had started treating him better both in and out of Phantom form. He is thriving.

Enter Constantine, there on league business. That business is decommissioning the GIW. The acts had been repealed and the group was supposed to cease activity. But they kept those things from Amity park and everyone there. How the league found out about it was just superman overhearing the agents brag about how they still worked in Amity.

Constantine had a fine time with the civilians there until he mentioned working for the league. Suddenly everyone turns on him. They don't harm him but they ice him out, over charge anything he buys, and hurl insults. He was also pretty sure his string of bad luck was caused by them too not just the obvious things.

So the hellblazer has no choice but to ask the local heros. Phantom tell him to leave, that he had it all covered. Red huntress is luckily more forth coming. If by forth coming you meant telling the truth while insulting a person and group so bad it makes him want to retire. Seriously he knew teens could be vicious but this is special levels of vitriol.

Once he finds out the situation, he can feel a migraine coming on. Not only did the league not answer a call for help repeatedly, but the local heros were two teens who think the league was for the anti-ecto acts. Plus neither of them were *good* at hiding their identities. Phantom was a palate swap and used a pun on his own civilian name. Red huntress Aka Valerie was *proud* of being red huntress and saw no real reason to hide it anymore.

The town is shocked when the league member in town starts taking down the GIW. Even more shocked when he told everyone the acts were repealed. They don't warm up to him though. Well things are better priced again at least.

As he finishes up and prepared to leave, he is stopped by the town mad scientist. They're smiling at him but he just knows this was about to be bad. Which is only proven when the lady pulls out a note pad and pen and he is being given the third degree on how magic works.

Constantine tries to leave he really does. But the man Jack has him body blocked via side hug he can't escape from. They wouldn't take his non-answers as answers and he felt his day get *worse* when they ask him to teach them.

The Fentons want magic only so they can figure it out. Magic doesn't exist so what ever power the hellblazer has has to be ecto based! And they need answers! It could help their son master his own powers and they could finally join him in fights on equal footing. A family that fights evil together stays together. Danny would be so proud of them!

Constantine doesn't want to deal with possible future magic rogues so he hits his s.o.s beacon in his pocket as he goes for a cigarette. He'd get shit for it later but he could handle a Bat lecture not what ever this was.

[mirangel]

aspectabund.

pairing: sampo x afab!reader

genre: smut

cw: prostitution but not, sampo whimpers, sampo breaks into your house, fingering, usage of pussy and cunt, sampo has dick piercings, marking

word count: 2k

how much would sampo charge for one night? that’s a question you’ve always asked yourself, and one little mishap earns you the dream come true.

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

You can’t help but open your mouth sometimes, for the better or worse. Today seems to be both, when you’re talking with a friend of yours about the wanted criminal list in the newspaper, as always. You two have this fun game, where you try to guess their backstory just by their image alone, it’s just meant to be lighthearted really, just fun and games.

You find the most infamous one on the list, Sampo Koski, a household name for people you should avoid. But you were always a sucker for danger, and so you can’t help but comment, “He looks like he’s into some freaky shit.” Your friend leans in closer, tracing the smug grin he has on his face with their fingernail, and you continue, “I’d pay that man to fuck me senseless.”

They gasp, hitting your arm with mild surprise and playfulness. “You dog! We’re out in public! What if the Silvermane Guards overhear?” You shrug off the teasing remark, winking at them instead. “Let them hear for all I care, I got money, and I want a criminal’s dick. How much do you think he charges?” Your friend elbows you in the stomach with a shriek, unaware of the lurking shadow in the alleyway.

Emerald eyes pierce your form, a sly grin on his features. My, weren’t you interesting! The criminal is all too used to hearing demeaning comments about himself, but to hear those sweet words from someone he’s never met before? It brings a tear to his eye, well, almost, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way you look. This business trip can wait, he thinks. You look like you need a good ol’ friend to pay you a visit after all.

You can’t help but glance at the window every couple of minutes as you get ready for bed. There’s a sense of excitement building up in your veins, nervousness too, but why of all times does it have to appear now? There’s a quick shuffle from somewhere behind you as you bend down to reach for a fallen pen, and you quickly turn around, pen still in hand. Your gaze meets his almost immediately, a man leaning comfortably on your own bed, a smug expression on his face. “Nice ass.” He chuckles, flipping the azure fringe between his eyes.

You quickly stand back up straight covering your ass with your hands, but the damage has been dealt. “This afternoon, you said you’d pay to fuck me, hm?” Sampo tilts his head, but you can’t help but blink nervously at him, opening your mouth before closing it, and opening it once more to question, “How did you get in my house?” He shrugs, the sly smirk you saw on the newspaper returning again. “Don’t worry about that, how about we fuck and figure it out the price along the way? I’m sure we can satisfy each other, trust me on this.” His voice is smooth like silk, and he discards his coat, tossing it to the other side of your room as effortlessly as persuading others to give him extra money.

“Really? You’re… willing to fuck me for cash?” You’re bewildered, your jaw dropping as you can’t help but walk closer to Sampo, who stares back at you with a cat-like grin, slowly blinking as if he had all the time in the world. But the only thing he says is, “Sampo Koski never goes back on his word.” That’s a lie, you can recall at least ten accounts of him conning others in Belobog, but in this current state, do you really care? This is your once in a lifetime opportunity, and you’re damn well going to take it.

You pounce on him almost immediately, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a passionate kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, slotting his leg in between your knees, pushing you to kneel as he sits up. His returned kiss is teasing, egging you on to try to steal more from him, just like he has to several others. Sampo sneaks a calloused hand up your night shirt, ghosting your skin before cupping the back of your head, pulling away just an inch before whispering, “You really know how to make a man wanting, don’t ‘cha?”

But before you could speak, he kissed your lips once more, pushing you down on your mattress, taking the control you once had before. He pushes his tongue past your lips, exploring his newfound territory, looking for the treasure that lies within. He leaves you no room to fight back, pinning your hands above your head with a sly grin. “I’m a greedy man, you know?” Sampo tilts your head upward, exposing more of your neck. “I’ll be sure to indulge, you don’t mind, right?” He begins peppering kisses, humming when he hears the whines you make as a result. “So good for me, so needy.”

“Sampo!…” You sigh, gripping his hair with his hands when his own trails down your body, mapping out every little detail, every curve, and the texture. He grins when he feels your wetness from prodding at your panties, and he shifts them to the side, inserting his middle finger inside. He adores the way you moan so lovingly at the intrusion, “So pretty, can’t believe you wanna pay a man like me to fuck your tight pussy.”

He can’t help but admire how messy you are for him, even with just one finger inserted you’re already coming undone for him, and he smirks, watching as the slick you produce gets all over his hand, your thighs, and he just gets so hard looking at you. “Naughty, so naughty.” Sampo inserts his ring finger inside, and there’s an obscene squelch as he thrusts his fingers inside you, “Do you hear that? Your pretty pussy is making all that noise just for dear ol’ Sampo.” He quietly laughs, taking in how darling you look to him.

Your face contorted with bliss, sweat running down your features, and he especially notices the quiver of your lips as you moan, and he almost jumps when you jolt, but not without a loud moan. “My, so sensitive, huh?” Sampo teases, humming when he drags his fingers down your most sensitive parts inside you, and you shake like a leaf, whining. “Sampo… more please!” You plead, gripping his arm. “Patience, love. Gotta stretch you out, y’know? Wouldn’t wanna get hurt.”

Sampo lowers the hand used to pin your wrists above your head to unbuckle his belt, watching as you gulp nervously at the large bulge shown on his boxers once he drops his pants down to his ankles. “Nervous?” You can’t help but laugh awkwardly, nodding. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit.” His sheer confidence was so unbelievably attractive to you, and with that wink of his? Simply unbearable.

When he lowers his boxers to reveal his true glory, he’s well endowed, and the tip of his cock is a rose pink, with a frenum ladder right underneath the tip of his cock. He removes the fingers he had inserted into you, and you whine when you don’t feel so full anymore. But you weren’t disappointed for long, as he wraps his slick covered hand around his cock, pumping it in display. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, leave it all to Sampo, alright?”

You salivate looking at him, a tinge of crimson on the tip of his ears and under his eyes, he lets out an airy laugh, “My my, you look as if you’re about to devour me.” You can’t help but stammer, struggling to come up with a response to his observations. “…So cute.” He mumbles, lifting your legs to his shoulders, tapping the tip of his cock against your clit, chuckling when he sees your body jolt at his ministrations.

“Hurry up and fuck me already!” You cried out, and Sampo truly can’t help but laugh when he sees your lips form into a pout, and he delicately places the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip, using the side of his index finger to tilt your chin upwards. He slides himself into your tight, yet welcoming cunt, letting you slowly adjust to him. The way his piercings drag across your walls is intoxicating, and you can’t help but plead, begging for more. “Fuck— You’re so tight…” Sampo groans, gripping the sheets besides your head until his knuckles turned white.

He pushed himself further, until both of your pelvises touched, and with that, you both couldn’t help but let out a whine, clinging to each other as if you two were lovers. Sampo slowly begins thrusting, as if he was refraining himself from being rougher with you. He kisses your collarbone, leaving you with far too many love bites for your liking, but you can’t complain, not when the drag of his heavy cock along your insides makes your mind melt, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you find the words to express your desire.

“Sampo…. please fuck me harder…” It comes out barely a whisper, but despite that, he nibbles on your earlobe, speeding his movements, adding more force to his thrusts, hitting deeper inside of you, until he can make you scream his name. He hits your most sensitive spot inside you, and you clench around him, and Sampo throws his head back, whimpering. “D-Don’t do that… so suddenly.” He narrows his eyes, but his signature smirk returns shortly after, thrusting with a desperate need to bring you both to you overstimulation, fucking you as if his life depended on it.

The heavy weight of his balls smacking firm against your ass, the stench of sex and sweat in the air deluding you, making it appear as if it was a dream. His breathtaking kisses drive you insane, and the way he stuffs your pussy full, you couldn’t have wanted anything more. “You don’t mind if I do a little magic on you?” Sampo’s honeyed voice by your ear whispered, a gentle, yet confident chuckle followed shortly. You nod, desperate to reach your orgasm. With that, Sampo flips you onto your stomach, pressing your legs together as he uses his weight to keep you down, letting you bite and drool over your own pillow.

And heavens above, it felt so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever come faster than you did with Sampo, forced to mold to his whims as if you were the one being paid to have sex. He tilts your head back by inserting his middle and ring finger into your mouth, watching your eyes roll behind your head as he continues to pound you, watching you taste yourself on his fingers. “So naughty of you!” He sneers, but he then continues, “Ah… I might cum soon if you keep this up… you’re so sexy.” Sampo whispers the last statement, using his free hand to lace between your own hand from behind.

You could barely think with how good it felt as you convulsed around him, yet remained still under his body weight, and Sampo simply chuckles, nibbling and tugging at your earlobe, leaving more hickies and small bruises on your neck like a touch-starved man, all the while using your body as if it was a toy, and you loved every moment of it. “Fuck— Sampo! It feels so good please please please! Please more!”

Sampo buries his head into your neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathy whimpers so loud and clear echoing in your head. But he then detaches himself from your body with great reluctance, pulling himself away from your needy cunt, thick strands of his spent decorating your lower back. You can’t see it, but to Sampo, it’s the greatest sight he could lay his eyes on, besides credits of course. “My…” He mutters, spreading his cum over your back with his hand. “You look beautiful like this.”

“…How much do I owe you?” You mumble, barely finding the energy to turn your head to even face him, to look him in the eyes. Perhaps that’s better, because he has a shit eating grin on his face right now, watching his cum spill down your sides as he continues to spread it around. “Well… that was fun for me too. My only payment is that you keep this relationship going with me.”

You nodded, and Sampo lays down next to you, petting your head with the same grin he always sports.

Yeah, keeping this up would be fun for the both of you.

[malleusarcanum]

⚠️: make sure you're not eating

Mc: *pulled the wrist of Sebek vigorously* you owe me a brief discussion about-

Sebek: Human! Why would you come up with such uncommon subject.

Mc: What? I haven't said much...

Sebek: don't underestimate my knowledge my human friend. I already know what your discussions about.

Mc:....

Sebek: do you really want to discuss this.

Mc: Ahh.. yes that's what I'm here for

Sebek: Well if that's what you desire

Mc: ???

*Sebek looked at his pants and starts to unlock his belt*

Mc: what are you doing?

Sebek: discussing about my brief---

*almost unziping his pants*

Mc:what?!!! THE HECK!! THATs NOT IM---

*stopped after hearing the creak of the door then looked who opened it*

Riddle: Disgraceful...

Trey : Why only...the two of you?

Deuce: What..

Cater: the...

Ace: F***

Vil: the bird is ready to soar

Rook: Je n’en reviens pas!

Epel: the horror

Jack:?!

Leona: Why not mine?

Ruggie: Not the time for those

Azul: My contracts are available for memory erasure...

Floyd: this is more worse than on tv

Jade: you just said what's on my mind.

Ortho: hey I can't see! *Jeered while struggling to take off Idia's hand on his eyes*

Idia: some things in this world are not meant for little ones

Jamil: We should have rescheduled this meeting

Kalim: So that's why they're missing

Silver: I wish this is just a dream.

Lilia: Mc! Sebek! How could you?!!!

Mc: T-this was j-just a misunderstanding!!

Jade: tsk, tsk tsk looks like she is no longer innocent

Floyd: Off all creatures?! Why Sebek!

Sebek: Well she said about brief discussions....

*all of their heads turned to Mc waiting for an explanation with eyes almost aching to kill*

Mc: not in a literal way!!! it means I need to talk to him about something!!!

All of them: about? *Eyes still fixing on Mc with disbelief*

Mc: about..... * Doesn't want to tell the secret only Sebek knows. That they broke the queen of hearts statue.*

Leona: alright I'll forgive you as long as you ask mine?

Riddle: as if she'd ask to a potato sack.

Ruggie: speak for yourself tomato head!

Ace: No one talks to riddle like that! Except me...

Jack: were you saying something? *Said while punching his fist together*

Deuce: Why can't you shut your mouth in times of trouble? *whispered to ace*

Ace: I can't stop when I'm pissed!

Deuce: then control yourself! I'm not a babysitter watching out a kid bragging nonsense.

*they started to fight and all of them watched as they do*

*Floyd secretly hold the hand of mc out of the meeting room*

Floyd: Let's get out of here shrimpy

Lilia: Hey! Where'you taking her?!

*Lilia's voice is too loud it reached everyone's ears and their eyes fumed once they saw Floyd ready for battle*

Vil: So this is a battle to whom apple will do it.

Mc: D*mmit just stop the nonsense

Azul: can't hold back to such divine price

Kalim: Charge!

*they fought at each other, throwing various magic while speaking sharp interactions that filled the room with war like scenery*

*Mc wrenched it jaws*

Mc: When I count to three and no one stops!

*Thinking of what can make them stop*

Mc: No one will receive a lick on a neck from my own tongue!!!!

Mc: one!

*they already stopped*

Mc: .....

Mc: Curse you d*mn brain

Malleus: Mc! Want to taste my egg!

*exclaimed after entering*

*all of them turned their heads on him ready for another round*

Malleus: what did I miss?

*tilted his head while holding a plate of well cooked and mouth watering omelette*

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Congratulations on the new milestone, my dear Scarlet! For the celebration, I want to ask Spencer x Reader with Home by Goo Goo Dolls (I adore this song!). Love you!

Hello lovely! I originally had this written and queued to post but 12 hours later I decided I hated it. I adore you and your writing and you deserved better, so this my second attempt! Also I had an urge to write a 5+1 fic.

Send me a song lyric from my list to celebrate my follower milestone 🎵

Home

Gif does not depict the appearance of the reader.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - The five times Spencer took you home and the one time he needed you to return the favour.

CW - drinking, drunk reader, vague hint at a spicy activities but nothing explicit, slight argument, break up, mentions of the Lynch case and hospitals, make ups.

WC - 4.3k

One 

The aggressively roaming rainbow coloured lights that revolved around the room, lighting up previously dark corners at a moments notice. 

The heavy thrumming of the bass-heavy music that shook the walls and vibrated the floor, up through the soles of his feet and into his bones. 

The thick crowds of sweaty, inebriated bodies constantly bumping into one another, bumping into him and encroaching dangerously on the germaphobe's personal space. 

The expensive cover charge and even more extorinante drink prices which made him glad for once that he didn’t drink. 

The constant goading from his friends to loosen up and have some fun, or at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself. 

Those were just five of a hundred reasons that Spencer Reid deplored clubs. 

Usually he would avoid them like the plague, but tonight it was Emily’s birthday and she’d all but demanded he come along with the rest of the team. 

A crowded room full of empty faces. Conversations filled with lies. Another night with all his friends, wondering if they saw through his thinly veiled disguise. 

He clung to the sidelines like the wallflower he was and after a socially acceptable amount of time had passed, he offered his apologies to the birthday girl and said goodbye. 

And that could have been the end of his night. 

Pushing open the front door he sucked in a huge breath of fresh air the second his feet hit the pavement. The air in the club had been stifling, alcohol mixed with perspiration had overwhelmed his fragile senses. 

He felt dirty. He needed to go home and take a long, hot shower. 

But as he turned to head down the street, conveniently Emily had chosen a club just a few blocks from his apartment, he stopped in his tracks when he found a body slumped on the ground. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was an FBI agent and he was also a gentleman and he couldn’t in good conscience leave a woman alone like this. 

No matter how much he wanted to go home.  

He cautiously stepped closer to the woman, who was leaning against a wall, legs drawn up for which a head rested upon. It didn’t take a genius to figure the woman was drunk. 

“Excuse me, miss? Uh, are you ok?” He asked with a frown as he approached. 

Your head snapped backwards, narrowly avoiding slamming into the wall and you looked up at him with large, misty eyes. 

“Hmm? Me? I’m fine.” You nodded, proffering your hands towards him. “Little help? 

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, wanting to avoid any more unnecessary contact with strangers tonight but you clearly needed help. 

Somewhat reluctantly he reached out and took hold of your hands, pulling you to your feet with absolutely no help on your part. 

You stumbled a little but managed to correct yourself before Spencer had to intervene. You looked up at him through your lashes, the moonlight overhead reflecting on your irises.

“You’re really pretty.” Your lip quirked into a smile and Spencer’s stomach coiled into knots. 

He’d been thinking the exact same thing about you. 

“Uh, thanks?” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Where do you live? I can get you a cab?”

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged, wobbling on your feet. 

“No, no I don’t. We just met, remember?” He was frowning up as your eyes cast up and down the street as if you were searching for your own home. 

“Around here somewhere. I think.” You nodded, but then added, “where are we?” 

Spencer exhaled between parted lips, knowing he couldn’t leave you to fend for yourself. And despite his better judgement, he spoke anyway. 

“I live round the corner, you can crash at my place until you sober up.” 

“You’re going to take me home, pretty boy?” You winked suggestively at him and he couldn’t help the way he felt his crotch stir. 

“Not like that!” He quickly shook his head. “I just…just come with me.” 

It was slightly concerning how easily you followed a complete stranger home. Maybe he’d have to give you a lecture on the dangers of it in the morning. 

But for now, you slung your arm around his waist, something he would normally hate but found he rather enjoyed when you did it, and he led you home. 

***

Spencer slept on the couch and let you take his bed with very little protest from you. He was already awake and reading a book when you emerged wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of his he’d lent you last night. 

You were squinting against the onslaught of light in the room, hand cradling the side of your head. Your eyes landed on him and your eyebrows knitted together. 

“Uh…hi?” You croaked, grimacing in the pain caused simply by speaking. 

“Good morning.” Spencer set his book down and got to his feet but he didn’t come any closer to you. 

“Did we…?” You trailed off hoping he would catch your drift. 

He didn’t. 

“Did we, what?” 

“Sleep together?” 

“What?” He squeaked, his cheeks instantly flushing bright red. “No! You were wasted.” 

“That wouldn’t stop most men.” You shrugged sadly.

“I’m not most men.” He shrugged too. “You were drunk and I didn’t want to just leave you on the street so I let you crash here.” 

“Wow.” You nodded, eyes sparking a little. “Maybe there are some good guys left in the world.” 

“I try.” He shrugged once more. 

“What’s your name? I’m sorry I don’t remember.” You padded a little closer to him. 

“Oh, we didn’t get around to exchanging names. I was too busy trying to stop you bumping into everything I own.” He offered you a tight lipped smile. “I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.” 

“Y/N.” You stepped closer and when you offered him your hand to shake, he didn’t even think twice about it. 

***

Two

“And I realised I hadn’t had company in…five years? So I thought I better at least crack a window.” He was rambling, god help him he was rambling. 

You leant against the dining table with an ever growing smirk on your lips as he awkwardly spat out words, clearly not noticing your amusement. 

“I guess I should feel privileged?” You cocked your eyebrow at him. “Five years, huh?”

The way in which he said the word company, told you exactly what he meant. Obviously he’d had people around his place, you’d been here not a few months ago yourself. 

But he hadn’t had company. Company of a woman in his bed. And as if to prove this, a blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks which told you the answer before he spoke. 

“Yeah.” He chewed on his lip, feeling as though he needed to explain himself. “I throw myself into my work. I’m busy, you know? And even when I’m not I, uh…I’m not very good at talking to women, in case that wasn’t abundantly clear. And women don’t tend to gravitate towards me. So yeah, it’s been five years since I…you know.” 

God this was mortifying. 

It was your fifth date and the first time he’d invited you over since he’d helped you out when you were drunk. You’d been for dinner and when he’d suggested you come home with him, his intentions had been clear even if he hadn’t meant them to be. 

“That’s freaking adorable. I really do feel special.” Your smile grew.

“Adorable? Great, just what every man wants to hear from the woman he wants to…” he trailed off. 

“Wants to…what?” You took a step or two closer to him. 

“I think it’s safe to say you know exactly what I mean.” His blush deepened with each step closer you got. 

“For argument's sake, let’s say I don’t.” You were really close to him now, your arms snaking up and around his neck. 

“Come any closer and you’ll likely find out.” He croaked, somehow getting even redder. 

You smirked, pushing your body flush against his and quickly ascertaining just what he meant. 

He was hard, straining against his slacks and his erection pressed against you now, showing you what he was talking about. 

You giggled a little, edging your face closer to his, feeling his breath on your face. Just as you were about to press your lips against his, giving over to the sexual tension between the two of you, you were disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing. 

“Goddamnit.” He growled, pulling back from you and fishing his phone out of his pocket. Garcia. “I’ve gotta take this, I’m so sorry.” 

Spencer had never cared less about serial killers and murders in his life. He just hoped he would have another chance to take you home. 

***

Three 

Spencer grumbled as the ringing of his phone roused him from sleep. He was used to it by now, used to work dragging him from his bed in the middle of the night. So he was surprised to say the least when he saw your name on the screen. 

He panicked for a second as he brought the device to his ear and answered it. 

“Y/N?” He sat up in bed, pulling the duvet up to his chin. 

“Hey, Spence.” You replied. 

It had been almost a month since work had rudely interrupted your alone time and the two of you hadn’t seen each other since. You’d talked mostly through text but Spencer had started to get the impression he’d blown his chance with you. 

“It’s three am, is everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I just…can’t sleep.” You shrugged. “I hope it’s ok that I called.”

“Y/N, believe me when I say you could wake me up from half a world away and I’d be grateful.” 

“Can I…” you sighed shakily. “Can I come over?” 

“Always.” He was quick to reply. 

“Ok.” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be over soon.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” He smiled, before hanging up the phone. 

***

This time when you came into his home, when you went to kiss him, there was no interruption. In fact there was no intrusion of work calling him all night long. 

It gave him the time he needed to worship every inch of you, to show you what a goddess he thought you until the sun was peeking in through the crack in the curtains. It was without a doubt the best night of Spencer’s life and by the time he was through he never wanted you to leave again. 

A house was just four walls but he now realised his home was wherever you were. 

At some point that night, somewhere in between the sheets, he gave his heart to you. And he never wanted you to give it back. 

***

Four

His apartment had never felt more like a home than when you were in it. But even after the night you’d spent together he still felt nervous asking you over.

Maybe he worried that now you’d had sex you would think it was all he wanted from you which couldn’t be further from the truth. 

But even still, when he picked you up from work on Friday, one of his rare days off, he felt scared to invite you round. 

“So what’s the plan tonight, Doc?” You asked with a bright smile as you slid into the passenger’s seat of his car. 

“Uh, I was thinking we could get take out and watch some movies. At my place. If you’d like that? We can go out though, if you’d prefer. I don’t mind.” He smiled awkwardly at you. 

“Why would I want to go out when I can have you all to myself at your apartment?” You gave him a mischievous look that caused his pants to tighten. 

“You…you really want that?” He swallowed. 

“I really want that.” You giggled, patting his knee and sending a jolt of electricity through his whole body. “Come on then Doc, take me home.” 

***

Take out and movies quickly became a long forgotten memory when you were climbing into his lap on the couch and stealing his attention away from the TV. 

Your knees either side of his thighs, you wrapped your arms around his neck and played with a stand of his curls. 

“You really are deliciously pretty, have I told you that before?” You gently rocked back and forth in his lap, feeling him growing aroused. 

“The night we met, you called me pretty.” A blush spread to his cheeks. 

Was he going to blush every time the two of you started to get intimate?

“Did I?” You laughed. “I can’t say I remember. But you are. Very, very pretty.” 

“And you are beautiful, my love.” He whispered, a gentle smile on his lips. 

He closed the space between you and kissed you, causing you to hum against his lips, whilst continuing to playfully grind down into his lap. 

You didn’t make it to the bedroom, didn’t even remove your clothes. Spencer simply shucked your dress out of the way and moved your panties aside while you moved his slacks just enough for his member to be freed. 

By some stroke of luck the BAU didn’t pull a case all weekend and you didn’t leave the confines of his apartment for two full days. 

You spent a blissful forty eight hours eating junk food, watching movies and having Spencer read to you along with making love in just about every inch of his abode. 

By the time Sunday night rolled around you had to physically drag yourself away from him so you could go back to your own apartment. Spencer was just as reluctant to see you go. 

“It’s not the same here without you.” He spoke as you kissed him in his doorway. “It only feels like home when you’re here.” 

You agreed wholeheartedly. 

You’d fallen head over heels with Spencer in no time at all and being with him in his apartment, you’d never felt more at home. 

Maybe one day you’d be able to share it. But for now you had to leave, despite everything inside of you begging you to stay. 

***

Five

Between both of your busy work schedules, it left little time for the two of you to be together. Every time Spencer was dragged away on a case he missed you more than the last, usually less than a hundred miles from you but feeling like a million.

You spoke on the phone whenever he was away, the shattered light transmitting your voice but being so far away, you sometimes didn’t have a choice. All you wanted was for him to come take you home again. 

After weeks of missing each other, whilst working a local case, he received a phone call from a number he didn’t recognise. He’d been staring at a map pinned to the board in the round table room at Quantico well into the early hours of the morning, when the phone buzzed in his pocket. 

It was your best friend, he’d heard a lot about her but never met her. It had instantly sent up a red flag which was warranted because she went on to tell him you were drunk and refused to go home unless Spencer was the one taking you.

Emily had been extremely gracious and let him go, he thanked her profusely as he’d run out of the door. He drove downtown as quickly as he could to the bar your friend had told him you were at. 

On arrival you had thrown yourself in his arms, giggling wildly and repeating in a slurred voice, you came, I knew you would. Come take me home, Spence.

It wasn’t until the morning that you regretted this decision entirely.

Much like that first morning you found Spencer on his couch and your head throbbed angrily. He looked much less awkward than he had that first time though, if you weren’t mistaken you would think he looked annoyed. 

He stood up and exhaled noisily through his nose and shook his head a little. 

“I was at work.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Right in the middle of trying to catch an unsub who is terrorising DC. You can’t…you can’t have your friends call me when I’m working, Y/N. I shouldn’t just leave my team in the middle of a case to come and pick you up when you’re drunk.” 

“They’re always going to come first, aren’t they?” You surprised him with your words. 

“What? Who?” 

“Serial killers. Your team. I barely see you because you’re always working.” 

“You knew what I did for a living before we started dating. My job is my life.” He shrugged. 

“And there’s no room in that life for someone else.” Your lip quivered slightly. 

“I didn’t say that.” He dropped his arms to his sides. 

“You didn’t need to.” You whispered. “I don’t think this is going to work out, Spencer. I need more from a relationship than you can offer.” 

“No, don’t say that.” He whined. “Please, please don’t say that.” 

“I’m sorry.” You shrugged sadly. “I am crazy about you Spencer, but when I love someone I love them with my entire being, they become my whole world. And I have to be theirs too.” 

“You…you love me?” He gasped slightly, feeling his chest tighten. 

“Of course I do.” You sniffed. 

“I love you too, Y/N. You are my whole world.” He took a few steps towards you but you held your hands up to stop him coming too close.

“No, Spencer. The BAU is your whole world. I’m sorry, I have to go.” You moved past him hurriedly towards the front door. 

“Y/N, please don’t do this.” He tried to reach for you but you slipped by him. “Y/N!” 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You sobbed as you threw the door open and fled. 

Spencer stared at the closed door, eyes welling with tears. He stumbled a little, before collapsing on the couch. 

The walls of his apartment felt like they were closing in on him, making the already small room feel tinier under the weight of your absence. 

For a while these walls had started to feel like a home. But now you’d left it was nothing but bricks and mortar. 

***

One 

Months passed and you ignored every single one of Spencer’s phone calls. And he felt utterly lost without you. 

He threw himself into his work more so than ever, getting a little more invested in the Lynch case than he needed to. 

When he’d sent up the order for the cops to breach the house, his head hadn’t been clear and as such he hadn’t figured it out until it was too late. 

As the explosion sounded all around him and he flung backwards to the concrete, his mind was still awash with thoughts of you. 

And he’d know when he hit the floor, debris raining down around him. 

He’d known when he’d collapsed after returning to his apartment and started convulsing. 

He’d known when he’d woken up in hospital and you weren’t there by his bedside like he wished you were. 

He’d known when Emily came to visit him, exactly what he needed to do. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” She smiled sadly at him as she meandered to his bed. 

“Kinda like I got blown up.” He shrugged. “I’m ok, or at least I will be. I, uh, I realised something. Just as the explosion went off and I was sent flying, I realised something.”

There was a calmness about him that Emily didn’t think she’d ever seen on him. He looked at peace, eerily content. 

She took hold of his hand, already knowing exactly what it was he was going to say. 

“You’re leaving the BAU, aren’t you?” She whispered. 

“How’d you know?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“I just do.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You seem like a man who’s come to terms with a really hard decision, but one that you feel lighter for making.” 

“I hate it when you profile me.” He rolled his eyes playfully. 

“It’s not profiling, it’s just knowing my friends.” She chuckled. “So what’s her name?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Don’t even think about lying to me, Reid. For a while you were happier than I’d ever seen you. And then the last few months you’ve been struggling. You met someone and presumably it ended because of the job? Now that’s profiling.” She smirked. 

“One of the many reasons I am not going to miss you guys.” He joked. “Her name is Y/N and you’re spot on. Emily, does it make me a complete idiot for giving up my life’s work for a shot at love?” 

“Not at all.” She was quick to answer. “You’ve been through a tremendous amount of trauma in your life, Spencer. It’s about time you got some sunshine after so many years of black clouds. As long as you think she’s worth it, it’s not stupid at all.” 

“She’s…” he sighed contentedly trying to think of the right way to word it and only coming up with one simple term to describe you. “She’s like coming home.” 

“I’m happy for you.” She gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go. “The doctor said you should be discharged tomorrow. I’ll make sure someone’s here to pick you up.” 

“Thanks Emily. I’ll bring my badge and firearm back once I��m back up on my feet.” 

“No rush. Get some rest.” She smiled as she left the room, already pulling her phone from her pocket and dialling a familiar number. 

Penelope Garcia answered on the second ring. 

“How is he?” She hurried to ask. 

“He’s good, on the mend.” Emily nodded to herself. “I need you to find a number for me Penelope and I need you to not ask me why.” 

***

The following day Spencer was discharged but no one had to come to his room for him. 

He dressed in the clean clothes JJ had dropped by last night and signed his hospital papers just as his phone chimed within an incoming text. 

📱 Emily Prentiss: Your ride is waiting for you out front. Time to go home. 

He frowned at the slightly cryptic message as a nurse came in with a wheelchair to take him downstairs. 

He tried to fight it but he didn’t have the energy and so, despite the fact it made him feel feeble, he allowed her to wheel him out. 

In the elevator, he sent a reply to Emily. 

📲 Any hints as to who I’m looking for?

No sooner had he hit send, a reply came in. 

📱 Emily Prentiss: Nope. All I’ll say is: you’re welcome. 

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it as soon the elevator reached the ground floor and he was being wheeled out into the parking lot. 

It was a good job he was sitting down because when he spotted you standing a little awkwardly by your car, his legs immediately started to tremble. 

You spotted him and offered him a shy wave as the nurse took him over. When they reached you, she helped him out of the chair and handed him his duffel bag but was soon leaving again. 

Spencer regarded you curiously as you toyed with your hands in obvious discomfort. 

“Emily called you.” He smiled apologetically at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask her to.”

“I know, she said you had no idea and that you’d probably kick her ass if you did.” A smile played on your lips. “I can’t imagine you kicking anybody's ass.” 

“No, but I seem to continually getting mine kicked.” He gestured vaguely to his injuries. 

“She told me what happened. Are you ok?” Concern laced your words. 

“I will be.” He nodded. “I really am sorry she dragged you here. I can get a cab.”

“Spencer?” You stepped closer to him, gnawing on your lip. “Did you leave the BAU because of me?” 

“Yes.” He nodded. “I mean also, it was time. I’m getting older and I can’t keep winding up in hospital beds. But ultimately, losing you was worse than losing my job. And it might be too little too late but I am choosing you. If you’ll still have me.” 

You tilted your head to the side a little, reaching out your hands and taking hold of the lapels of his shirt. You took a second to just breathe him in, relish in the moment of being reunited with the only man you’d ever truly loved. 

“Spence, I have done nothing but miss you for months. I never expected you to quit the BAU, I just wanted to know you saw me as a priority. And I see now that you do. I love you and I am also choosing you.” 

“Oh thank god.” He breathed out heavily, chuckling as he did so. “I love you so much.”

With that you drew him closer by his collar and slammed your lips against his. His arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you close and afraid to ever let you go too far again. 

The kiss was tender and loving, all your feelings for one other being spoken silently against each other's lips. 

When you pulled back, he stroked back your hair and he was giving you the kind of smile that could light up the whole damn world.

“So where’d you wanna go, Doc? My place or yours?” 

“How about we go to my place? Only from now on we call it our place?” He knew it was soon, probably way too soon. He could have very well ruined things again before they had a chance to begin. “I tried to be so strong, but you see the cracks. My defence is gone. I want to take you home for good.” 

His house was just four walls. It wasn't a home unless you were there. 

Slowly your lips curled up into a smile, one that reached all the way to your eyes. 

“Sounds good to me.” You nodded, placing another chaste kiss to his lips. “Come take me home, Doc.” 

[britt-kageryuu]

The stream has started, and the scene changes over to Donnie, model dressed in a purple to black ombre suit, black shoes, and his bandana with goggles, standing on a stage like he was about to give a presentation.

"Greetings Balemates! I'm sure many of you saw our post about an announcement. Well don't worry it's not very big. We're just releasing access to a game that many in the Patreon discord has known about since the private game servers were launched." Donnie grabs a tablet to que up the reveal, "Now those on the servers know that it's not what you're playing, but I don't think the legal team wants to try fighting the company that owns the original that's on the server. Clears Throat. Well on to the announcement."

On a screen next to them is art of a bunch of cartoony turtles, with different accessories, infront of three different environments, a small city, a sewer/subway, and a pizzeria. There's a mock up of a game name, there is clearly a sign that reads 'Club Turtle' underneath a taped on piece of paper that says 'Placeholder: Turtle/Reptile/Amphibian City'.

"So many of you saw me working on the mock up on stream not to long ago. And Yes, it is a blatant Club Penguin clone, with some differences of course. It initially was just going to be Turtles, but as you can see, we're thinking of adding more varieties of possible avatars." Donnie switches over to a video.

The video is just basic gameplay of a Pink Dressed Turtle goes into a shop and buys a new outfit, then the same turtle in its new outfit goes to play a mini that was a simple ball toss. The video goes on to show the turtle buying a 'house', they chose a Train Car, and do some basic customization. Then the video follows the turtle to a small crowd of other Turtles who are doing different emotes, before a spray paint can goes across the screen to cover a 'Club Turtle' sign with Turtle City(W.I.P.).

"Well as you can see, it's not going to be a highly, how do I word this? Original? Super high quality?" Donnie stops to mutter about his wording, and then goes on a slight under his breath tangent about not writing a full script and only going off bullet points. "Anywho! The game is basically a free to play game, but really the only thing that paying and money with do you is the 'VIP' shop features, and customizations. Heck you're not buying any in game currency, the shops with just have an extended inventory of VIP items."

Donnie brings up an example, showing how with a VIP pass there's like 10 extra items on the daily inventory. Because this implies a rotating inventory of different items, there was even a tab marked 'seasonal items' on the shop menu.

There are mixed reactions to this announcement, if only because of some confusion on how this will work. While others are questioning if the VIP pass is like a one time thing, or subscription type thing.

"I see some questions, and to answer the one about the VIP, the price hasn't been figured, but it will be a monthly thing. It's inclusion is mostly because some people can't grasp a free to play game with no adds, or some weird way to work in making people pay." Donnie looks to their side, and after a second glares at something, and gives a gesture that reads 'well what should I say?!', "Sorry, one of my siblings was commenting on how I would make a FTP game, and not find a way to charge the players lots of money. Well the answer is. We needed a legit semi waste of money to offset something weird, finance wise. Yeah it makes no sense, but it's nothing illegal, just... the finance people are weird. They sometimes make no sense, even when I can understand them."

After another short rant Donnie remembers that they're still live, on stream, to multiple people who are now going to think their possibly doing something illegal.

"Clears Throat. Once again, this may not be the most original idea, but it's the best way to give our audience a Club Penguin like experience. We don't have all the expansions figured just yet, and it won't be live until we finish getting the servers set up, and properly secured." Donnie switches the screen to show a web page with the w.i.p. logo and a coming soon with multiple robot turtles moving wires, circuit boards, and boxes around the page. "This page is live, but there is no connection to the game yet. I hope you all will enjoy this, and give us feedback on what you think."

Donnies model suddenly changed clothes to his hoodie, tech pants, and boots. They let out a breath, and look a bit more relaxed. The background changes to the studio with beanbags, pillows, and blankets.

"Now that that announcement is out of the way! Alright everyone get in here, we're playing that sidescroller beat-em-up I found with the turtles!"

Raph, Leo, and Mikey quickly claim their seats, and controllers eager to start the game.

----------------

Masterpost

I had multiple Club Penguin videos recommended to me by the algorithm, and I thought about Donnie making his own version because of how popular it was. Yeah one of the secret patreon game servers is Club Penguin.

And the weird finance thing is just some odd logic that was made up, because I don't think Donnie would actually trust investors, but there is technically a finance person on staff.

[bomberqueen17]

WWII museum

So, New Orleans-ing proceeds apace. Tried to go to the Southern Food museum, the website said it was open, the door said it was closed. This was a rather crushing blow as I'd walked about as far as I could walk to get there, and then had to turn around and come back. Don't think I'll be able to try again.

My sciatic nerve has had it with me, and I'm able to get around during the days but it's just hurting so badly at night I sleep in five-minute increments, then have to wake and roll over, and if I'm lucky I can fall back asleep before it hurts too much for me to sleep through it, and if I'm unlucky I lie there until i can't stand it and get up and stretch and try a new position. So that's not great. Stretching stops it from hurting while I am actively stretching, but does not particularly help if i assume literally any other position. No, I cannot sleep in the stretching position. I've tried. I can't even sit in that position, so it's not a very useful method of relief.

Ibuprofen doesn't touch it and neither does Aleve. Those are the only options I have with me, so.

Anyway. I'm getting around fine but really not getting a lot of rest.

Last night we went to a show at Preservation Hall, and they charge literally double for your ticket if you want to sit on the hard wooden benches, and I weighed the odds and the bench was likely to give me sciatica anyway, so I stood and saved myself $25, but it was agony and I paid the price. So today we went to the National WWII Museum, and I asked at the admission desk if they had loaner wheelchairs, and they do.

I have learned that nobody cares why you're in the wheelchair. They have many, you are not snatching it away from someone who needs it more.

It is its own punishment, however. The pathways are marked at the stairs; if you go find the elevator, you then have to wander around trying to find where you're meant to go next. People don't get out of your way and you spend a lot of time staring at the asses of people who don't care that you're there and can't get through and can't see anything. One woman, we asked politely if we could get through, and she made no attempt to move, so we squeezed by, and clipped her foot with our wheel, and she got very angry with us. There was no one close to her, she easily could have shifted her foot, she could both see and hear us. We could not have gone any other route, she just didn't think we had a right to pass.

And some sections of the museum have artfully-designed floors that are rough, with chunks of fake-broken concrete. These are really punishing to try and roll over, and are wildly uncomfortable to bounce along over. Especially in a crowd of people. I understand the aesthetic choice but with the number of visitors with mobility impairments for whom that provides a tripping hazard, I super super wonder what the fuck they were thinking. I saw several elderly folks with rollators and I don't know how they got through those rooms. It was several of them.

One whole section, we could not get to unless we went back through the crowded exhibit to the halfway point to find the elevator again.

As far as the content.... I studied that era extensively in my youth, Dad was obsessed with military history and had a lot of books in the house, and I read several of them cover to cover and back and forwards. One in particular-- my sixth grade social studies teacher was obsessed with the Pacific war in specific, and during the year I was there, he was engaged in hand-painting a huge mural of the Pacific battles on a map on the classroom wall. I was allowed to help stencil on some of the letters. So I found that I knew most of the general conduct of that war, and the book I had obsessed over in specific was a compilation of primary sources, news articles, contemporary firsthand accounts, of many of the major actions of that war. I was astonished at how much I remembered. I also had read a very detailed account of D-Day, similarly, so I was able to rattle off an overview of the thing to Dude while we were staring at a line of people's asses who wouldn't let us through.

As we went through the Pacific wing, in the background there was this weird repeating bit of ambient music that I actually recognized as Brian Eno's An Ending (Ascent), and I was like fuck, I bet I know what that is, and I was horrifyingly correct: that's the room where there's a huge wall-sized enlargement of the devastation at ground zero of Nagasaki, a couple of little things along one wall explaining what happened, and nothing else, it's just this big huge space and the music.

I guess it's tasteful, I guess going into more detail wouldn't help, I guess that's not the place for it; leaving it a big bleak horror serves the purpose and tone. The museum was generally pretty good-- very, very American-centric, but acknowledging various issues of racism and misconduct and propaganda and such in sort of minimal but very present ways. There were repeated mentions of the segregated US armed forces, repeated discussions of what the Black soldiers still managed to achieve, and it especially hit because the group that was the most polite and considerate of my wheelchair was a school group of almost entirely Black high school kids from, clearly, a local-ish school, who were impeccably-behaved despite being kids and horsing around and such-- I timidly said "excuse me" to one and she leapt out of my way and tapped her friend's shoulder, who instantly stopped horsing around and said "oh excuse me!" and also got out of my way and told her friend and the children just all melted out of my path and reformed after me, unbothered, resuming their horseplay, poking at the interactive exhibits, paying surprisingly good attention and also roasting one another, as young teens do. And I thought, as I went on to read about Executive Order 8802, of these kids reading that placard, looking at that exhibit, thinking about what has changed and what, horribly, has not.

(Link is to the museum's website. There are a lot of resources there. There was meant to be a cool feature where you follow a specific veteran's story, but i was assigned Bob Hope and don't care about him so I didn't use that feature. Dude got Robert Capa, though, and I immediately was like "i know all about him" and from across the room was like "that photo on that wall is from your dude" and he was like "what" LOL. I know photographers ok.)

We lasted about five hours. We did not see as much of the museum as I would have on foot. But I also know even just the line to get in would have utterly destroyed me on foot. So we made it through to V-E day and then to V-J day and I sat in that room with the Brian Eno loop and was like You know what, I'm good. I'm good. I can't do any more.

So we went and got frozen margaritas at a fast food joint down the street and now I am recuperating. My sciatic nerve is not great, it won't let me nap either, but I will be able to walk and get dinner, which I wouldn't be if I'd done that museum on foot.

I highly recommend, even if you're mostly in good shape, if you have trouble making it through a museum and get footsore, just borrow a wheelchair, and then switch who's pushing halfway thru the museum. If it's that or cut the visit short.... We did not switch pushers, but Dude found a great deal of relief by leaning on the back of it, and I was able to carry the water bottles without much trouble.

Most museums don't have decoratively-uneven concrete floors.

I did realize, despite my obsessive reading on the topic as a kid, while I know the names of most of the German high command, i could not tell you the names of really any of the Japanese officers of similar rank. I recognized a few, from the placards, but generally I don't have the same level of knowledge there. On the one hand, I feel i should read more Japanese history of the war. On the other hand.... I think my days of being able to absorb that sort of thing might be over. Fourteen-year-old me would have loved this museum and read every placard, and would have been on foot to do it. Forty-whatever I am year old me was interested but horrified, even though I generally knew most of it already. But hearing about the estimated 100,000 Filipino civilians massacred in Manila during the battle for that city meant one thing when I was 14, and now means... well, rather a lot more, I have more context and I can really understand, now, what that means. It wasn't that i didn't understand as a kid. But I had no context.

Well, we'll see if I manage to scrape together enough brainpower to look into it any further. At any rate, the museum is worth a visit but is A Lot. Very American-Centric, but not as Patriotic as I was worrying. Not as obsessed with Big Machine Phallic Symbol as I was worried, either; it's not that there's none of that but it's largely in the context of discussing how US industrial capacity rapidly switched over to manufacturing war materiel. (Frank admissions in several cases that our stuff was inferior quality/design to both German and Japanese items, but was infinitely more numerous and in several cases it was simply that intelligent users worked out ways to use the items' defects to advantage, or to minimize their disadvantages anyway.)

And the website, linked to above, is pretty informative, with a wealth of images and citations. So there's that.

IDK, I have no like overarching message here, the bit of my sciatic nerve just inside my knee is fucking killing me and i can't think clearly about anything else for a bit, so. There's that, lol.

[ryaiga]

The One God Forbade

Chapter 1

Pairing - Captain Price X GN!Reader X Lieutenant Riley

MDNI 18+ PLEASE.

WORD COUNT: 6.3K

Summary: You survived an interrogation but don't remember anything except the pain you endured and Captain Price saving you. Once you recovered, you were left with more questions with seemingly no answer.

AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE END! 

WARNINGS/CWS/TWS: GRAPHIC SCENES(DETAILED GORE, there will be a warning and a spacer just for it so you can skip), Military terms that might be wrong, Drinking, Childhood trauma, mention of abuse, death and mentions of death, talks of scars, implied rape.

Spacers/Headers by: @mmadeinheavenn , @imlevis , @animatedglittergraphics-n-more , @wanwanparty

{(N/n) = nickname}

It was a surprise Kortac didn't sign you from the get go. You knew of a couple of their members, König and Horangi specifically, only by mere whispers. You were the new recruit on base. Anyone and everyone would kill to have your spot, a vacancy was opened and granted to you to join Task force 141. Nobody saw it coming, you'd always thought it was the best soldier from your squad who'd be nominated, but everyone including you was blindsided by the choice. 

You were home, on leave for only a week after a grueling mission your platoon had to complete and after recovery. Intel was needed and special ops teams Alpha, Delta and ,your squad, Echo were tasked to gather it, eliminate all threats if faced and by any means get said intel. Other squads joked (some meant what they said) that you didn't belong in the army, but rather a mercenary group like Kortac. The lengths you'd take to accomplish a mission gave you that title. It was a switch, something even you can't control. What lays in your wake is the multiple sights of mangled and bloodied corpses, those whose faces were intact belonged to people you have never come across once in your life.

That mission made your attempts to sleep futile, it haunts you every night when you rest your head. You were separated from your team, trying to exfil but ended up amidst an ambush. Everyone knew how skilled a soldier you were, but never had taken you for the type to sacrifice yourself for the means of your fellow squadmates' safety. You'd make headway to a couple of your injured comrades, shooting at enemies who’d even think of taking a step forward. Dragging them back to the safety of the group, you’d left them to get first aid, hell you even threw your back up kit on top of one of the injured before running to the last man. The few before him received shots to their limbs, nothing that would render them dead, but the last man had more than just a shot. 

Rodney was Echo team’s Field Team Leader(FTL) and had been by your side pulling the injured and returning fire on the enemies. That was when a stray IED happened to go off, you swore that a pebble triggered it but you didn't have the time to think about it. Luckily for the both of you, it wasn’t close to do deadly damage but it was enough for the building in front of you to shake and a piece of rubble had fallen onto Rodney’s leg as he was trying to get up after the explosion. You had been scraped by flyaway shrapnels but one happened to embed itself into your thigh, right above your knee. Seeing that he had it worse, you made it a priority to get that injured comrade out of the way first so you can focus on Rodney after. You’d almost — or hell quite literally — thrown the man to safety and dashed for Rodney, using the momentum, you attempted to kick the rubble off and thankfully it did. Placing a tourniquet on Rodney’s leg so he didn't bleed out. 

You'd only manage to drag him halfway to the group, before a crazed hostile came charging at you with a knife. Stupid as it was to bring a knife to a gunfight in a literal sense, you reached for your pistol and raised it to shoot the hostile, hearing a click instead of a shot going off. An empty mag, you chuckled. Shouting for Rodney to crawl the rest of the way and yell for someone, you holstered the pistol to exchange for your trusty karambit. You've been in hand to hand combat for training but for some reason this was different. You found yourself on the ground quicker than ever, despite being top in your batch. 

The man stood over you with a sinister look, with a grin stretching from ear to ear. “Another American added to my collection, I won’t kill you so soon. Not yet at least, we still need to know how you found this place. And dear little soldier, oh how much fun I’ll have torturing you and keeping you barely breathing.” He proceeded to plunge the knife into your side, somehow missing everything vital but you convinced yourself that it would be blood loss that kills you at this point. You’d rather die quiet than betray the military. Blacking out due to the shock, the last thing you heard Rodney yelling for the rest to fire at the man and not just stand there with their dicks in their hands. At last it was too late, the team had to exfil but not without calling it in and letting the team who was aiding us with the mission about the situation at hand. A rescue mission for a fellow soldier.

 Neither you nor your team knew that the intel was for Task Force 141’s next deployment, you were the bait Laswell had deployed. It was to ensure that the ring leader didn’t take the situation seriously, a random military team out on patrol happened to stumble upon a measly little operational base they had out in the sandy town, a perfect bait. Bringing back the intel to the team at base, Laswell gave Price the details of your rescue, unbeknownst to you of course.

TORTURE SCENE AHEAD, AVOID IF YOU AREN’T COMFORTABLE WITH SUCH

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

You woke up to the sharp and pulsating pain in your side, vision blurred and arms shackled to a metal table, you remembered what happened. You braced yourself for the worse, nothing like good old torture. The next 8 hours felt like hell, from waterboarding, branding you with a metal rod that was heated to the point of it glowing bright orange, to nails being pulled starting from your toes then to your hands, you endured every second of torture being thrown at you. Sure it was horrible, but you kept your mouth shut by any means possible. Every time a nail was pulled ever so agonizingly slowly, you bit your lips to the point that blood dripped down your chin and that the pain was now numbed, you no longer felt it. You closed your eyes, counting every second.

1, 2, 3, 4- “How did you find this compound?” 9, 10. 30600. 1, 2, 3- “I know you can hear me!” 7, 8, 9, 10. 30610- Another slow pull of a nail, this time it was your right pinky toe, no nails on the right foot 8 hours, 35 minutes, 20 seconds into being kidnapped. Yeah they took a whole 5 minutes to torture your pinky toe for information. 

1, 2, 3, 4, 5- the door to the room opens again, a different man enters. This time with a trolley with surgical tools. You could see a scalpel, clamps, retractors, suction, staples and energy systems, you could tell this man enjoys the torment he inflicts. With the orchestra of surgical tools laid out in front of him, he was the conductor who was gonna lead your screams into a melodious conforment of the perfect harmony, a symphony to his ears. 45950. 

1, 2, 3, 4, you felt him cut open the top of your hand, using the clamps on the nerves and playing with them, all without anesthetics, you growled as your face contorted to the pain. Cauterizing the incision, “You know, I had enough sessions like this, I could get a medical license just from how talented and skill I am with my tools.” Deranged as he sounds, you kept counting. 50400. It is now 50401. You had enough when you felt him grab your belt buckle. That’s where it happened. You blacked out. The last that you remembered.

Back at base, Laswell called for the last mission briefing after Price gathered the boys and informed them of what was going on. After which Price and the few members of Task force 141 geared up. He led them onto the helo and they flew out to the sandy plains you were left at. 3 hours after the incident was called in. 

Laswell had informed him of the prestigious yet silent soldier that was being considered for his team. He’d lost a recruit in an earlier deployment, one he took to heart. Like many from the past, another scar added, that lay permanent by his chest and the haunting that left him shaking and restless at night, another one failed by his very leadership. Making even the unshakeable captain wake in cold sweats and trembling and to his vices in the attempts to be grounded to earth once more. So to hear that he was getting a new member that was as or more skilled than the one before, meant that the military was willing to sacrifice yet another valuable asset if it meant that his team was complete from every angle. A well trained sniper, hardy in hand to hand, a versatile team player yet nothing more than your skills were known. Similar to his lieutenant, you were an enigma. Not even a drop of ink was placed about your past and how you came about the military. Your file had a picture, a battle hardened soldier who completed every mission with ease and precision of high caliber, but no other name besides (N/N). You hadn’t been rewarded with a callsign, no one knew enough about you to even give a title to your talents, unlike Soap or Ghost. Price read up on your previous missions, but to his disappointment (or amazement), every debrief on the details stated that no one saw how you executed. It was always done and over with by the time the rest came to you, and it happens within mere seconds. A regal display of crimson red, a mural of your skill assets that leaves even your FTLs in fear of ever being your enemy. However, No one was ready for what was to come. For you’d gain a title like no other, a prestige as high as the greatest artist known to man, the difference being that it came not from art. But from your ungodly fits to kill and survive, a display left out to strike fear in any person who wronged you.

Price and his team sat in the helo, adrenaline slowly creeping along their nerves as they awaited for the pilot's call to jump. “Hope we get there in time, wouldn't be good if we found ‘em KIA. Laswell seemed rather fond of the enigma.” Ghost briefly spoke, an utter breath that Price barely caught. Nodding in response, Price wanted to see what you were. How you handled the predicament you were in, knowing full well if it was one of his men, that they wouldn’t even think of breaking. Could he blame you? Not even your platoon had knowledge that you were against a group of skilled mercenaries guising as cartels selling American weapons on middle eastern soil. He’d seen what they’ve done to the soldiers before you, they never made it home and if they did, it was a closed casket ceremony. 

Needless to say you were in desperate need of saving if you even want to think of coming out alive. Ghost reminds the rest that they aren’t to hope too highly of your chances, another tag and body bag might be amongst them on their return. A slim chance that you’d even be crawling out that hellscape. It was a bad omen that Price hated, he didn’t like the thought of a rescue being a failed attempt before it even began. Before he could even try to save the person. The helo landed miles away from the building, too many for the team’s liking. It meant time was wasted traversing the dunes, and time was not on their side.

They managed to reach the building on the 14th hour, Gaz situated at a high vantage point and taking out any guard that would alert the others and prevent the team’s entry while Price and the other two got closer. Price split the teams, Gaz with him and Soap with Ghost. Ghost and Soap would make the initial breach, having that Soap was their demolitions expert. Gaz made his way to the other side of the building with Price to flank and surprise any enemies with the possible off chance of stumbling into you during the sweep. Over the comms, he gave the signal. A blast shook the building, he’d hear a handful of footsteps rush towards the other two, giving it a second before kicking the shitty metal door open. Entering the 4 story building, they cleared the first floor with ease before coming across a walkie talkie on one of the now dead tangos. “Goddamn it! Kill whoever that was, we need to handle-” the person on the other end was cut off and without a second for Price to ponder what the situation was, more enemies came barrelling down the steps, managing to count 6 as they entered a room for cover before a gunfight ensued. Soap deployed a 9 banger - a flashbang that would go off 9 times back to back - a headbanger experience for the poor dead men walking. Using that as a distraction Gaz took out 3 enemies before Ghost and Price eliminated the remaining few. 

Ghost and Soap rushed to the second floor while he and Gaz went to the third. ‘Faster’ echoed in the back of Price’s mind. The team only managed to clear 3 rooms when a gut wrenching cry and a shot going off not long after was heard. It came from the fourth floor, He waited for the two below them and got into formation. Leading his men into the unknown, they hurried up the flight of stairs. Looking down the dimly lit and putrid corridor stood 4 rooms, only one of which was closed, something wet leaked from its crack but the lighting made it hard to distinguish what it was. After clearing other rooms of hostiles, Price had Gaz stand guard by the stairs, Soap covering his and Ghost’s six. His clothed hand slowly reached the grimy steel knob, twisting and pushing it open to find that it was locked from the inside. You had to be there, surely. He tapped Soap and motioned for him to breach with a thermite. Bracing for the explosion, the thermite goes off rattling who stood by the door no doubt, using the initial explosion as a distraction, Price enters. 

He’d heard of soldiers crawling away from death’s grip, but nothing he’d seen or heard would have prepared him for what he had just walked into. Before Ghost could turn to clear and call out on the comms, Price stopped him and the other two from entering. A war torn soldier wasn’t an unusual sight but the horrors he’d just laid his desensitized eyes on was enough to remind him of what he once feared back when he was a young recruit in the SAS. A trolley with surgical tools and a lone pistol stood at arms reach of a small figure wearing a familiar uniform, hands busy with what he could only assume was the soldier’s face, chains jingling as they continued with what they were doing all whilst embracing the sun’s warm grace. That wasn’t what shook him, a metal table typically used to interrogate people stood to the right of the room. The chains that held you down were broken, the spot where the chains were welded to the center of the table had an upwards dent - you ripped the chains off the table with sheer force.

A man in surgical garments sprawled on the table, innards now turned out for all to see. A spectacle made out of human intestine, organs pinned outside the man’s body by multiple scalpels that went through the metal and blood viciously splattered around his corpse. Price wished he could say that was it but the gruesome art went beyond just insides turned out. The man’s entire nervous system was intricately laid out around his organs, decorating the entire table in a mix of thin blue threads barely visible amongst the puddle of red. The nerves still connected together in a web, not severed in any section, the extreme precision to carry such a brutal butchering left Price speechless. The scene was as if it paid homage to the Blair Witch Project, or worse a page from a sacrificial ritual. Price could only hope that the man was dead when all of this was carried out.

Another, laid on the floor not too far between the man on the table and inches away from the door. A pistol in his mouth, brain matter laid out on the ground, his face frozen with a plea for mercy. That was what he was standing in, and what had seeped out the door crack. Yet another lay in front the soldier Price was facing, neck snapped and his dead body laid to rest sitting up right by the wall in front of the aforementioned soldier, a metal rod shoved into his mouth and the sharp end had protruded out his torso. Price took another step forward before he heard a whimper to the left most corner of the room, their target - the head honcho of the operation - sat bare and huddled. His clothes on the ground at arms reach yet the man was too afraid to take a step forward. As though he would meet the same fate as his men if he took even a breath of air.

“(N/n)? It’s Captain Price, Laswell sent Task Force 141 to rescue you.” Price spoke softly, not wanting to surprise you, unsure of the current mental state you were in. Especially after what was laid around you and the torture you went through. “Are you injured?-” You didn’t answer, instead opting to slowly turn. Price made the right call, the state you were in was dire. “Ghost, call for exfil ASAP, (N/n) is alive but in serious condition.” Price called out to his right hand man with urgency and a slight tremble in his voice. 

Your eyes. He’d thought that when he first met Ghost, that his eyes were the epitome of cold and soulless. But somehow yours went beyond that, for a lack of better words. A frigid cold looms behind those dull and matte black pupils, reminding of the cold he once faced during a deployment in Russia during a winter’s snow storm, striking his very core cold. Bangs sticking to your bloodied face by sweat and grime from the hours of torture you endured. A chunk of your skin hanged off your face, a knife cut and what looks like one of the man’s attempts to rip the skin out and off your face. It started right above your eyebrow traveling down to your lips. He was hopeful that it was repairable, it wasn’t a wide injury, barely missing your eyes and narrows down where it ended in the middle of your upper lip, still connecting at both ends to your face by what looked like a thin fishing line. You were stitching your skin back to your face. Your hand had a butchered attempt to stitch a wound close with one hand, nail beds down to your knuckles had trails of dried up blood. Uniform stained a dark red, mixture of your injured comrades blood from the fight and yours, the side of your torso had a big patch of blood. Sleeves rolled up, bright red burn marks running down your entire forearm, the man before you had branded you with the very metal rod that was now embedded in him. On your other arm were 12 lines stitched into your skin, 8 weren’t freshly stitched in, leaving Price confused and curious as to what it was. 

END OF TORTURE SCENE

Price could see the soldier mouthing something softly. His ears strained to hear the soft word, or numbers when he realizes that you were counting out by tens and adding to a bigger number before repeating. The hours you were torture. He slowly approaches you, calling out to you. It took a solid minute for you to realize what was going on. Signs of a soul return to your eyes, glossing over as soon as you hear your name. Arms slowly raised to surrender and it starts to tremble when before they were as still as though belonging to the world’s best brain surgeon. Tears drip down your cheeks, face still emotionless. You were dazed. The sound of the chopper’s propeller came to earshot, fresh sunshine scalding your back through the glassless window.

Gaz calls out to Price, “They’re here! Let’s go!” Price immediately takes off his shemagh and drapes it over your head, covering your face before standing to your left. He gave you a shot of morphine he had on hand to help with the pain. Grabbing your left arm, wrapping it over his shoulders, bending both of you and carried you bridal style as you were in no condition to walk - your toenails gone from the torture and the piece of shrapnel still in your thigh, he could only imagine the pain you were going through. He carried you out the room, ordering his team to escort the two of you to the safety of the chopper. Before he could descend the stairs, you spoke softly. “My karambit. Find it, I can’t lose it. I won’t leave without it.” The team shoots Price a confused look before turning to each other. “What are you waiting for? You heard the soldier. Quickly find it.” Price commands, he feels your breath starting to get labored, he hurries the guys and tells Gaz to follow him out.

The medics on board administered emergency first aid, shooting you with a dose of adrenaline to make sure you stay awake during the flight. They had laid you down on a stretcher. Not long after you, Price and Gaz enter the chopper, Ghost and Soap follow suit with your karambit in hand. Soap walks to your side, kneeling before he places your Karambit safely onto your chest and grabs your left hand to be placed on top of the knife. “Rest easy now (N/n), you and your karambit are safe.” Soap shot you a comforting smile as he spoke with a tone to reassure you.

Beeping. You hear the sound of a heart monitor beeping to the same rhythm as your heartbeat, however it was muffled. Eyes fluttering open, squinting due the harsh and glaring light that was directly over you. Consciousness returns to your still body. A body that didn’t feel like yours, sore all over and strapped down to the bed, limiting your movement. Your vision blurred, you attempted to analyze the room. Aside from the continuous beeping of the heart monitor, the fluorescent lights that had basically served as a flashbang buzzed like white noise. Reminding you of the time when you were living in that shitty college dormitory, but there wasn’t that stale air that was permeated by the pungent scent of body odor from athletes who freely roamed the halls. Instead, it was the smell of disinfectant that was greatly welcomed. The A/C hummed quietly, you soon realized it was a hospital or medical bay that you were in. 

Something was off. How did you get from that dry and sweltering room that was stained with the smell of mold and bodily fluids to this clean environment. You scrapped at your foggy memory, who came? Was it the military who came to your rescue or did the fuckers who tortured you, who sold you off as a token and bargaining chip to a client? Panic creeps up your leg, feeling it coursing through your veins. You quietly looked for a way to get out of your restraints, not wanting anyone to hear you scheming away.

Your eyes spotted a paperclip that was left right on top of your cover, probably dropped from a clipboard. You started to shimmy under the tiny metal paperclip, it inches to your reach and soon you popped it into your mouth to bend it in a way that allowed you to lockpick the 4 locks that held your restraints against the bed. You hurried, taking off the restraints that were on your hands and started to work on your foot. 

You only managed to free one foot when you heard someone walk into the section of the medical bay that housed you. Your heart starts beating aggressively quick, the sensation made it as though your heart was in your throat and actively trying to suffocate you. Before you were able to formulate a plan, someone was sliding the thin curtain aside. "They should be out cold, that wasn't an average dose of sedative Capt. Had to get Alex to hold 'em down with me and he just got back too." Scottish man but he wasn't alone, you glared at the curtain to gauge how big the Scot was. Standing at 6'2(1.88m), nothing you haven't encountered, a build fit for a soldier. You weren't gonna take your chances though.

You leaned to grab the flower vase that stood tall on the bedside table, readying your other hand with the paper clip to fling it at the man as hard as possible once you distracted him. The curtain pulls back and sure enough he was distracted talking to the other person accompanying him. You threw the pot straight at the Scottish man's face, catching him by surprise and stumbling onto the ground with his hand on his nose. The pot didn't break, if you weren't trying to escape and it was safe, you'd be laughing in the back of your mind. Immediately turning your attention to the other man who merely looked at his buddy on the ground groaning in pain. You took that as a free opportunity to get the man. You flicked the paperclip hoping to at least get it embedded into the side of his neck.

However, to your horror, he leaned back just in time to dodge the clip. It pierced the concrete wall next behind him. Before you were able to do anything, he turned to you and pinned you down against the bed. Your wrists in his hands and above your head, you tried to pull away but to no avail. You started to buck your body against his, trying to get him off. This only causes him to yell at his comrade, who's whining and rolling on the ground in pain. "Soap if you don't get up and help me pin their legs or hell, even get the doc, so help me I will ensure the lavys are nice and grody just for you to clean till next month." The man that you almost stabbed in the jugular with a goddamn paperclip has his body on your torso, just so you’d stop struggling, had an annoyed look similar to a dad reprimanding his son for breaking a glass and not bothering to help. 

“It’s Captain Price- Calm down Echo 2, we aren’t going to hurt you. You're back at base and safe.” Captain Price? Price? You heard of his name. Rodney had mentioned that name before, something about a transfer. You stopped fighting back, as he mentioned you’re safe now and realized you nearly killed a higher up, you apologized. He slowly got up, wary that you’d try to pull something. Especially after that stunt. “You had woken up several times the past few days, manic on several occasions. We had Soap watch over you in case you woke up and chose to attack the Doc.” 

“Permission to speak. How long was I out? And are my platoon mates safe?” You asked after Price gave you a nod. “A week, your body was weak from blood loss. The doctors helping you had stabilized you. Removing the shrapnel in your thigh, stitching the remaining skin that you hadn’t stitched back onto your face, treating your stab wound and the burn you had from the branding. Your platoon was brought back safely thanks to you Sergeant (N/n).” It came back to you. The ambush during exfil, dragging injured man back, Rodney, the counting, the questions, and you don't remember much after that. Funny how it all went down within 24 hours.

The doctor came in with a Soap who wasn’t too happy to open the curtain. Doc ran a couple of tests to make sure you were clear for rehab. Your recovery was a speedy one and rehab was smooth sailing. The platoon came to visit you, those you saved came to show their gratitude. Some silently cried as you laid in the comforts of your hospital bed. You were still trying to register what happened, how you got 3 more stitches on your left arm. You had 8 on your arm from your past, marking those who wronged you. 

One belongs to your deadbeat dad who abused you and your mother when you were younger, he died mysteriously. All you recalled was the newscaster covering his death as a brutal and grotesque murder that the nation had witnessed in years. Your mother knew what happened but she never disclosed that information, not to the cops and especially not you. You had stitched a blood red thread into your arm.

Another was a friend who left you to die after a crash that nearly rendered you paralyzed, you remember crawling with only your arms trying to get help. 

Six belonged to each member of a jock clique who trapped you in the college’s equipment shed and took turns abusing you in too many ways yet you didn’t remember how. All you could remember was limping away in your tattered clothes covered in bright purple bruises that covered your body and a permanent red line that went around your neck. 

The last one belongs to a guy who was close to one of the jocks, he somehow had entered your dorm room and attacked you after coming home from a long study session in the library. A scar ran from the back of your right bicep down to its shoulder blade. What amazed you was that you never remember what happened after those traumatic moments. All you knew were they’d end up dead one way or another.

You ran your hand over the stitches, something about it is soothing to you. Last thing you remember was seeing Captain Price walking up to you, and the mangled bodies scattered around you. Before you could get lost in your thoughts, Rodney came to visit. “(N/n)? How you holding up?” He pushes the curtain aside with his crutch and sits on the chair sat beside your bed. “As good as I can get Echo 1. How’s the leg?” The two of you made small talk, he told you that the rubble had broken his leg and that the medical team had to place a metal rod in there to treat the issue. He also mentioned something about gifts being dropped off and placed in your cage. Shocking considering you weren’t close to the team, “You know, if it weren’t for the bandages covering your face, I wouldn't know what you’re thinking. But your eyes speak volumes, it was thanks to you that we got to come home safely. At the expense of your own safety. I don’t think any of us could show just how grateful we are and could never repay you for it.” you didn’t say much, purely unsure what needs to be said. You simply reached for his shoulder, resting your hand on it. “Rodney, it's my job as much as yours to keep the rest safe. The least I could've done.” Rodney looked up at you with great admiration.

“I came here to let you know something. All I can say is that I left a good word in for you.” You were confused by what he just said and was about to ask what he meant by ‘left a good word in’ when he got up. “The platoon is waiting for you to fully recover, they want to head to the bar. I know what you’re about to say, ‘It's fine FTL, I’ll sit it out’. Not this time Echo 2, we’ll be celebrating your return before we get some down time.”

About 2 weeks after the incident with Captain Price and Sergeant Soap, you were given the all clear to head back to cages. The stab wound was still limiting your range of movement but at least you weren’t bound to the hospital bed or the confines of the rehab room. Being able to wear your uniform felt good, however you had to stop by the base’s surplus store to buy more balaclavas considering the huge scar on your face. You weren’t one who loved being stared at or given attention for no reason. When you walked in the surplus store, the lady working the cashier stared at you the entire time. You didn't hesitate to grab a couple pairs of gloves while you're at it. You immediately wore one of the all black balaclavas, walking out with a new cap as well, it didn't hurt to add a cap to your wardrobe, especially since you didn't want to look like a clothed bald. You chuckled at the thought, now you don't have to worry about your hair not meeting the requirements, you could even grow it out if you wanted.

You made your way to the cages, finding the aforementioned gifts on yours. The platoon had gotten you new clothes like multiple thin long sleeves to wear under your t-shirts or uniforms, balaclavas, a bunch of hats. A lot of gifts for a second in command that hadn’t bonded with the team much despite being with them for years now. What caught your eyes was a trophy, you picked it up. It reads ‘Best 2IC of the year’. You felt eyes staring holes into your back, “You guys know that you can’t sneak up on me right?” you turned to see the platoon hiding by the doorway, they came charging in. They picked you up and started to toss you up into the air, clearly happy that you were back. They never once seemed to like you until now, you can’t deny it, it felt good to feel appreciated. But you’d never show it.

They let you shower and change out to something more comfortable. You had chosen to wear some cargo pants, one of the thin long sleeves under a windbreaker you owned, not forgetting the balaclava and cap you bought. Once you changed, they carried you out to one of the trucks Rodney drove and hopped in after you. The drive to the bar was chaotic, the boys were singing alongside the handful of ladies who braved war alongside you. Music blasting through the truck, you could barely hear your own thoughts. The truck halts to a stop, now at the infamous bar that every soldier from base would frequent, The Old West. They were known for their top shelf bourbon and scotch. The guys dragged you in, the bar had an oaky scent that was somehow comforting. You and the platoon had taken up the biggest table and since the bar offered food, you ordered some mozzarella sticks to share with them. After sitting and chatting with the platoon, Rodney bought everyone a beer to celebrate. A cheer was called for and it being a weekend, the bar soon became loud with everyone joining in to cheer you guys. 

After a while, you needed a moment to yourself. You had made your way to the bar, sat on one of the bar stools and had ordered a shot of vodka and a glass of whiskey. You didn't realize it but you were shaking, you weren’t used to being in a ‘huge’ crowd. Thankfully you had sat at the end of the bar and somewhat away from the noise. That's when you spotted Captain Price. He was talking to the bartender and hadn’t noticed you, how could he especially with how you looked now. And you’d like for it to be that way, still feeling bad for nearly killing him. You down the vodka with ease, nothing you weren’t used to considering how it was one of your many vices that helped you forget about the atrocities that you had committed over the years. You pulled your phone out to scroll the news, blankly reading it and enjoyed the whiskey.

“Care for another soldier?” Somehow you didn’t see the captain saunter his way next to you. The bartender had placed 2 drinks in front of you, that was the talk that he had with the bartender. Not wanting to be rude, you humbly accepted the drink. “At ease soldier, I'm here to enjoy a drink just like everyone else.” He turns to you and shoots you a smile. You simply nod. It stayed that way for the remainder of the night, with the occasion of either of you calling the bartender over for a refill. It wasn't as uncomfortable or awkward as you thought it would be.

Rodney spots the two of you and comes to say hi, “Captain, sergeant. Hope y’alls enjoy yourselves as much as the rest of the bar.” he chuckles, arm around your shoulder and beer in his other hand. “Hope this one right here will do you good captain, it’ll be sad to see ‘em leave. But it's for a better cause. Anyways, (N/n) the rest wants to leave in a bit, thought to let you know!” Rodney walks back to the rest, albeit a little wobbly than you’d like. You turned to ask Price what Rodney was on about but he was already up and had paid. ”Drinks on my soldier, see you the next time we meet.” 

So many questions, yet nobody answers them.

A/N: Raiga here! This is the first chapter of the TOGF series, heads up that this will predominantly focus on your rs with Price, I might change the way this is heading as I do have a couple ideas on how to carry this story. I want to preface that the dynamic is not going to be too romantic. All this while writing my first GN! oh so many first! so do give feedback as it is greatly appreciated. If you’d like to be a beta reader, shoot me a message as it would help with releasing each chapter faster. 

The first chapter was mainly to give you an idea of the ‘mc’s’ behavior. Sorry if it’s much, most of it is based on my experiences. So if you happen to dislike it, I wouldn’t fault you. But I do hope you are able to enjoy the story! I’m also trying to avoid having the boys be OOC too much, I want it to feel more authentic as it can get if you were to fall in love with your captain despite it being forbidden.

Till then, that’s all from me! Raiga out.

IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, LEAVE A REPLY!

Taglist;

@thychuvaluswife @tiny-kasper

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: How much price in blood does one can drown their past?

Pairing: Ramakor (Night Lords) x Perpetual

Genre: Drama/smut

TW: Blood, drama, NIGHT LORDS PLEASE BEWARE OF ALL THEIR SHIT, ITS THE NIGHT LORDS, non-con (please for the love of all that is holy do not read it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, it is the one of the two works here that will have this, promise)

Goblin tag squad (lemme know if you wanna get tagged too): @finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @jaghatai-khock @artemisareia @echo-of-damnation

Oh boy, all for character evolution sake....

"I'll be with you always"

M30, Horus Heresy era

"Hey! Who the hell is that?!"

The moment the guardsman squinted their eyes in the darkness around them, their faces changed. They all pulled out various kinds of guns and swords, shivering and looking at each other

"Hey....hey that's enough! One more step and you're dead-!" One of the men yelled, his voice cracking due to the fear.

However, the figure ignored them and continued walking towards them slowly. The guardsman kept their word as they fired their weapons at the night, but the bullets merely bounced off whatever armor the shadow had. Panic started to settle in as one by one they began howling in pain, being ripped apart by bolter shots and feeling their flesh being violently ripped apart of their own body. The figure didn't even seem fazed as he approached them.

"Holy shit...it's a Marine...!" One of the soldiers said, backing away from the chaos. "We gotta get the hell out of here!!!"

"Like hell we are! We're not gonna let some heretic beat up on us like this!" Another guardsmen yelled, his voice shivering by te adrenaline and fear, reloading his weapon. "If we're going to go down, then we're going down fighting!"

"Where the hell is the commissar?!?! Why hasn't he come out and fight this thing too?!?!" Someone shouted between all the carnage.

As the Imperials tried to fight back, a gunshot could be heard, as one of the guardsmen dropped dead.

The Marine was finally able to catch up to the remaining foes, and with a quick swipe of his arm, he took down another one. Then, pinning one against the wall, a sinister laughter accompanied a dried inhuman voice "Where is your master, Imperial dog?"

The guardsmen struggled to speak, but managed to spit out, "H-he's probably hiding somewhere! I don't know where the commissar is! Please let me g-""

The marine didn't even flinch, just tightening his grip, clearly not satisfied with the answer.

"Alright, alright! I-I'll tell you where he is! Just let me go!" The man pleaded, his face turning pale.

The marine released him, allowing the man to fall to the floor from a height that broke both of his legs. He pointed towards a building that was nearby, "He's in there! I swear, I'm telling you the truth!"

Only receiving a nod from the heretic, the man saw the last moments of his life down the barrel of a bolter.

"Wait-!!!!" The young guardsman yelled before two shots were unloaded into his face. Then without another word the Marine walked towards the signaled building.

Under the moonlight, the heraldry of the Night Lords shun on the pauldron of the marine, he tilted his head to the right, seeing how every window of the building was full of those Imperials aiming their guns directly at him, the gates closing and automatic turrets coming back online. They weren't going to go out without a fight, but they knew they couldn't match against the Chaos Marine in front of them, they would go down in minutes, so they prepared themselves for what would be their last battle.

There was a moment of eerie silence, the Night Lord didn't move from where he stood, blood dripping from his long black hair and his armor. The Imperial guard didn't dare to move either, prey to the dread the marine filled their heads with.

Suddenly, the Marine burst into movement, charging straight at the building with such force that it made the ground tremble. The movement was so sudden not every enemy managed to pull the trigger in time.

The windows shattered into pieces and bullets started to rain down on the Night Lord, but he didn't stop, even though some bullets did pierce through his skin. With each step he took, the ground cracked under his feet. He was directly headed to clash against the gate, his arms raised to his head bracing for the incoming impact.

When he reached the gate, he collided against it with such force that the entire wall was completely destroyed. The Marine momentum allowed him to jump off from the wall to the second floor, landing with enough force that made the ground quake. He was already surrounded by a dozen of guardsman, but that didn't stop him, he charged straight into the crowd and began to tear them apart with his own hands, not caring about the bullets that were landing on his armor and some even piercing to his skin. It was like seeing a cloud of death and blood get bigger as the Imperials numbers began to diminish in a matter of minutes.

As the Night Lord tore through his foes, they continued to try and stop him, but their efforts were in vain as the Marine rip through them like paper. Soon, there was only one man left standing separating him from the commisar's room, and he looked terrified.

"Please...please don't kill me..." He pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

The Night Lord said nothing, just walked up to him and kicked the man so hard the door broke down.

The guardsmen flew across the room, hitting the back wall before falling to the floor with a thud. He let out a cry of pain as he tried to get back to his feet.

"You..." The commisar gasped as he recognized the Legion of the Chaos Marine covering the whole doorframe "I....I..." He stuttered, trying to come up with a excuse to keep breathing.

"Sir! Sir! I'm sorry! I... we couldn't stop him...!" The guardsmen cried out, tears streaming down his face as he gasped his final breaths.

The Night Lors slowly made his way towards the commissar, crouching to lift the corpse from the ground and ripping it's head clean off, collecting the tongue and eyes of the fallen, tossing the head when it had no more use for him. He liked his gloved hands with his long and hideous tongue, savoring the taste of blood and letting it run down his cheek.

"I am sure we can talk this out like people...I...I have a family...I can negotiate an alliance...a servitude, please-" The man pleaded, his heart racing on his chest, his body shaking uncontrollably, and his voice quivering in fear.

The Night Lord said nothing, just reached out and grabbed the man by his shirt, lifting him off the ground. The commissar gasped for air as he felt his windpipe being crushed.

"I beg you I....I can give you anything you want..." He struggled to speak as his face started to turn blue.

The Marine just stared at him with his cold, lifeless jet black eyes.

The officer felt himself losing consciousness as the grip around his neck tightened. The man had passed out and was about to be gone forever until a woman's scream snapped the attention of the Night Lord. There, under the desk and holding on tightly to an Imperial Aquila a woman who seemed no older than 40 years old with glassy eyes looked at the scene happening right above her. The Marine lowered the commissar to the ground and walked over to the lady, crouching down and attempting to reach her with his hand.

"Get off me!" She yelled, trying to hide even more under the desk.

For the first time, the Night Lord took out his helmet, showing a row of sharp teeth forming a frightening smile. He slowly retracted his arm and stood up. Taking a step back, his hand slowly reached for his gun. The woman noticed his movement and quickly ran to the commissar's side, wrapping her arms around the unconscious man.

"Don't hurt him!" The woman shouted at the giant in front of her.

"You want me to spare him, are you his daughter?" The Marine made a sinister laughter, lifting a leg and then bringing it down with force unto the chest of the commissar, piercing through his body like it was nothing, as she screamed of horror and called out to the man, the Night Lord pressed a button on his left gauntlet and three other Marines came out of the shadows surrounding the woman

"No…no no no…" She whispered as she tried to wake up the man in vain. "Come my dears, let's see if the Imperial's hospitality is as good as they say." He said with a wide grin on his face. The three Chaos Marines surrounded the woman, and each grabbed an arm or a leg, leaving her left arm dangling. "Kirliam!!! Wake up!!" The woman yelled without strength, as the responsible for all of her misery cup her face with one hand and spoke again

"Allow me to introduce myself...I am Ramakor, my children here call me Tormentor" His voice was elegant, rising and lowering his tone of voice to mark words in a flourish "You do not know what is going to happen, you're scared...it's okay, it's okay...I'll explain"

Ramakor then looked to the others and nodded, the Night Lords pinned the woman to the ground, they unbuttoned her uniform, yanked the underwear away, tossing it to a pile of her belongings that (in an extremely show of ironic malice) they made right besides the dead commissar. Then, they left the Tormentor in the room alone with the woman, going out to hunt more prey under the cloak of the black sky above them.

After a few moments of tense silence, the smile of the Tormentor dropped slightly, he could see the woman acting strangely calm after her clothes had been removed, she wasn't resisting; she looked at him with teary eyes. It made a slight deja vu in the deepest part of his heart, like he knew that look from somewhere else, from someone in his past. He blinked to get the feeling out of his head.

He took one step, two, three, four and finally the fifth one that closed in on her; a hand went to her cheek and held it with strength, his nails digging into her skin, she shifted her gaze to face his, the other hand of the Night Lord slid down her body, touching neck, breast, stomach and finally reaching between her legs; his long fingers making their way towards her insides, she bit her lower lip to not give in to the temptation, to the sensations betraying her mind. His lips made contact with hers, there was no subtlety in his approach, it was direct, more for him to savor than to her, his tongue going deep into the woman's.

The scene lasted three minutes, three long, eternal minutes. Ramakor when he had hs fill pulled away from the woman already beginning to disconnect himself from the act he had just done; it was part of the usual modus operandi, no different from other previous "prey" he had before and would have in the future. Ramakor left her there on the ground panting, covering her shame, not even helping the woman to stand or handing her something to cover herself with. He sighed, feeling the excitement of the "act" pass and with a more than practiced motion aimed a bolter to her head. As he placed his finger on the trigger, the lady raised her head to directly look into Ramakor's eyes, their eyes connected, the Night Lord felt his hand shake lightly.

He could do this, he had done it a thousand times before, even worse things than that one, killed, maimed, burn, tortured, all of what a "proper" Night Lord had done since the days they had been recruited in Nostramo and Terra. But there was something different with that woman, he had felt it and suppressed it while having his way with her; it wasn't just her eyes, it was her "presence", the feeling he somehow knew her, the odd behavior, accepting her fate once he had her.

"I thought you had changed Ramakor..." She wept, not breaking the eye contact

"You think you know me?" The Tormentor laughed until he noticed she was serious, his smile dropped "You do not, Imperial scum-"

"Nostramo, our first night together-" She continued

"Shut up" Ramakor for the first time in his life felt a knot in his stomach

"You don't want to remember" Only now did the Night Lord understood why she was crying

"Be quiet!" Ramakor barked the order, his finger still on the trigger of the bolter

"How many men and women have you done the same thing to? Searching for the thrill you felt that first time...with me-" She raised to her feet

"You're dead...you are dead...I killed you, I killed you!" Ramakor shouted, his eyes opening widely

"You still don't believe that I am one of the Perpetuals? Oh Ramakor, you're still so naive" Her voice, her voice was just too similar

"You died that day screaming in pain as you bled, you dammed-!!!!"

The Night Lord fired his bolter, once, twice, three times; the woman dropped in an instant, blood spilling from the wounds; he was terrified, he did not wanted to believe what was happening. He turned to leave, but the sound of a labored breath made his head turn once again to the "dead" woman. Her eyes were still open, looking up at him. There was no doubt, she was Blairey. The first, the catalyst of it all, he had taken her more than a hundred years ago; she had fought him but he at the end had his way with her.

He approached her, she was still alive, he kneeled there, pressed his hands on her wounds and closed his eyes.

[drkineildwicks]

Okay so let’s talk about Palworld

Because I really do gotta talk about it this thing blew up

Apparently the guys who made it were expecting to sell like 300K the first week and ended up selling two million

They’re having to run damage control on the servers because the servers legit cannot handle the traffic

Last time I saw a game look like this it was Temtem on its first days

Because literally everybody underestimated how much game freak ticked off its fanbase

Which brings us to the Donphan in the room

Pokémon VS Palworld

Look we all knew going in that this was going to be a meme factory, whenever we talked about it the game is Pokémon: Gun

But it was also one of those games that popped up when GF started its stunts with dexit, reused assets, releasing half-baked games, etc.

People made fun of it and it’s stayed off the radar until this year, when it released

And yes caution should be exercised because this developer’s other game is still in early access so people are on the lookout for a scam

Not to mention the whole thing about using Pokémon assets, apparently aping Legends’ UI, the AI stuff, NFTs, a ton of other stuff

There’s apparently a whole thread on Twitter comparing and contrasting Pokémon designs with Pal designs and you can easily pick apart where assets were, if not outright stolen, were closely copied

So going in there’s a lot of weighing of pros and cons and some actual moral dilemmas as opposed to the whole fabricated BS of Hogwarts Legacy

Yes it was terrible that Rowling said *checks notes* that biological women exist and that victimized women should be allowed to dictate who is allowed in their safe spaces, these are obviously reasons to cancel somebody please don’t slip on the sarcasm there

But I’ve been watching streams of Palworld and…I want to play it???

You can look at it and 100% name that Pokémon and go okay they got THAT idea from THIS game (watching it I can list BotW, Sunkenland, and a couple others) apparently it’s the Pokémon ripoff version of Once Human

Which also ticks me off because after watching videos of that one I want to play that one too

And originally the big reason for looking more seriously at Palworld is…game freak needs to suffer

They’ve been releasing trash games for years now, the only good Pokémon game as of late is Legends Arceus and do not get me STARTED on the state that ScarVi released in

And then them having the gall to charge the price of a full game for DLC

So in order to play the ‘full game,’ you have to pay for BotW, TotK, and possibly a Mario game on top of it

Ain’t nobody got funds for that

Also the shills

I was telling Mom about all this earlier and when it came to discussing Pokémon games, even comparing them to previous Pokémon games, discussions online go like this anymore: “Well it’s not MADE for you!  It’s for kids!  Go find something else to do and quit picking on the poor multibillion dollar franchise! uwu”

And thus the people who grew up with Pokémon move on to other games, like Nexomon, Temtem, Cassette Beasts, Kindred Fates, Coromon, Palworld, etc.

Shills: “Wait no that’s illegal”

Honestly it’s like the YouTube vs Rumble or Twitter/Tumblr vs Conservative/right-wing websites thing—if you chase them off, what did you think they were going to do?

And then the design thing…a big fat part of me does not feel sorry about that

Because every single other game I listed?  The shills will look at those designs and go “what ripoffs they’re obviously Pokémon but not friend-shaped so ugly!”

So basically anything’s a ripoff, you might as well go full ripoff because the ‘fans’ are going to hate on it anyway

Also if anything even remotely shaped like a Pokémon is a ripoff, then Flamigo angers me even more because that is such a lazy design yes I’m still mad

Most of Gen IX legit looks like they asked an AI to spit out some Pokémon-shaped stuff and called it a day maybe a quarter of the ‘dex is salvageable and that’s being generous

And having spent the past year or so designing ‘mons for the DA group I help mod…three people doing designs have no problem filling a ‘dex out, the most time-consuming part of creating new Pokémon ought to be modeling the thing and once that’s down you’re good

Which means that Pokémon…has honestly asked for Palworld

Because let me tell you something—when I look at this ripoff of a game, this scam game that comes from people who think that NFTs and AI scraping and plagiarism is a good thing, that claims that every Pal that escapes from a ball had parents that never married, and I STILL want to play it over Pokémon?  When the scam game released in a better state than ScarVi?????

Pokémon drove every single customer to Palworld and because of it Palworld deserves every single one of those two million purchases

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Hi. I think you're super cool and awesome. I have figured out that you like Destiny and Skyrim, what other video games are you really into? Do you have OCs about games other than Destiny as well, and can you talk about them?

Aaaahhhhhh I LOVE YOU!!!!!! Thank you oh my gooooddddd!!!!

I absolutely have tons of OCs, mainly for The Elder Scrolls, Destiny (obviously), and Minecraft. I'll do my best to summarize their stories, but there's A LOT!!!

I'll go ahead and uhh... put the characters in a read more so I don't make anyone scroll for 15 miles to see the next post.

For Skyrim, my absolute BABY is my first ever character and my main, Hagen Dovahkiir/Zoorjunin. His creation is shrouded in mystery, so much that even Hagen himself doesn't remember anything but flying the planes of Tamriel to hunt and survive, though he's not sure for how long. He is a man who takes on the form of a half Nord and half Dragon, bearing the horns, wings, tail, and scales of the Dovah, but the rest of himself looks Nord. He's the Dovahkiin of legend, and his first truly vivid memories are of being captured by the Imperials and placed on the prison cart.

Hagen spent his time in Whiterun doing deeds to try gaining the favor of its people, and the jarl took a liking to the man, especially after Hagen wandered entirely by chance into Jorvaskr and joined the Companions, then wound up being their Harbinger. This earned the man, who, given everything happening with Dragons, felt as though Skyrim would view him as a monster. But Hagen continued his deeds throughout many holds, ultimately taking on Alduin and succeeding.

This, with his Harbinger position, earned Hagen fame and heroism like no other, but still the war plagued Skyrim. Balgruuf, closest jarl to Hagen, watched this half Dragon hone his Dovah prowess until, eventually, the man could take on the form of a full Dragon, shifting between forms at will. He was granted the name Zoorjunin, but Hagen refused to give this to any old person. Only to those whom he trusted most, limited to his husband, Farkas, and jarl Balgruuf whom he viewed as a brother.

And when Balgruuf outright Shouted for "Zoorjunin", Hagen knew grave danger was afoot, and flew forth to his brother wherein, gathered inside the halls of Dragonsreach, every hold's jarl except for Ulfric, bowed. They needed a king. None were more fit for this position than Hagen. And Hagen wanted NOTHING to do with this, but they convinced him no less. Hagen went with the forces of all holds at his back, charging Ulfric's castle and Shouting him off the throne wherein he challenged the false king to combat until submission. There, Hagen took the crown and throne, and with the help of all jarls, all allies, all friends, he eventually eliminated the Thalmor from Skyrim, and then Tamriel as a whole.

Before he knew it, he'd unified the land under an empire of his own make. After countless years, the Dragon of old tales became so powerful that new legends were written across the winds of time itself, and it's said these reached the Divines because, soon enough, Hagen ascended. He was named Zoorjunin, the Divine of Benevolent Change.

----------------------

Next up you have my sweet man, Ragnar, aka Varlor.

Ragnar began his story as a Nord. He was Skyrim's most famed bandit, determined to form a throne of his own to sit upon so tall that none could tear him down. But his infamy gained the man a bounty in all nine holds, with the price of murder for each. Ragnar eventually was captured and brought for execution. But on his way to be executed, a Dragon ransacked the carriage and killed all but Ragnar, who saw this creature flying toward Whiterun. He was free. But so many died. And countless more were going to. Ragnar was no murderer, and in fact he hadn't really killed anyone unless he needed to before. So he went to Whiterun's gates and warned them of the attack, surrendering himself under the promise that they'd go and kill that thing.

It was here that guards brought Ragnar to a holding cell, and the man knew he'd meet his end. But when jarl Balgruuf approached, he offered the bandit a deal.

High King Hagen, his brother, was off fighting the Thalmor in the east. He could not take down the Dragon for these people. But if Ragnar could, then Balgruuf would ask his brother Hagen to clear every bounty on Ragnar's head in all holds.

Ragnar took this chance, killed the Dragon, and was a free man. He swore to make the most of this. Thus, he went ahead and chose to do something with his life for once: join the Dawnguard. Ragnar freed Serana and ventured forth with her for many months, and each time they visited a town, Ragnar would pray to Talos's shrines, but each prayer seemed more hopeless and desperate. Everything he asked for, all wishes for safety and ease, were met with peril and fright and ruin. Ragnar was broken, with only Serana and the Dawnguard to comfort him.

Eventually, Ragnar and Serana reached Knight-Paladin Gelebor, and was told to take on the trials of Auri-El. Frustrated, he went ahead no less and began the arduous journey across the Forgotten Vale. But oddly enough, with each scoop of water into his ewer, Ragnar felt a sense of fulfillment and peace ever growing inside. And when he finished, Ragnar almost felt an embrace of warmth within. Like the sun existed in part inside himself. He went on to kill Arch-Curate Vyrthur, and Lord Harkon, but the entire way that warmth just stuck.

Ragnar went to Gelebor and spoke to him of this. How everything changed when he entered the Vale as if it called to him. Here, he learned that Auri-El was Akatosh, the Dragon Father, but also the Divine of Light. And it was a Dragon that gave Ragnar his freedom and drove him to be better. It was ultimately this path which led him to the Inner Sanctum of Auri-El where he was FINALLY at peace. He didn't know what this meant.

Though his answers became more clear the more Ragnar studied Auri-El and the Snow Elves, and he worked with Gelebor to find others. Gelebor couldn't leave the Sanctum since it was his sacred duty to remain there, but Ragnar went ahead and began finding the remaining survivors, bringing them home to the Vale and temple. And with each journey, Ragnar grew closer to the light of Auri-El until, one day, he awoke within it as a Snow Elf, the voice of Auri-El not audible but there in the form of destiny. He bore upon his back the wings of light carrying runes of his people, the Snow Elves, and within his grasp was the sword of Auri-El himself granted to Ragnar so he may fight forevermore as the god's champion, and a symbol to his people that the light lives.

They live.

Thus he was granted, by his people, the name Varlor, or in Falmeris "symbol". And now, Varlor works to revive the Snow Elves in Skyrim and Tamriel as a whole, bringing them home to the Vale to be one with their god Auri-El at long last.

----------------------

My last Skyrim blorbo is not as developed. Idk where I'm going with his backstory really, but he's an ancient Dragon Priest named Moroviik.

Essentially he rose when the Dragons returned to Skyrim once more, and here he honored the new king of Skyrim, Hagen/Zoorjunin, for the fact that he was a Dragon. Moroviik walked the land, curious to see what changed over thousands of years, but stopped when Draugr attacked a castle on the edges of The Rift hold. He found within the walls, one minor king who was fighting these Draugr and cursed Moroviik for causing these relentless attacks.

Moroviik, however, had no idea what this was or who this man was. He went ahead and, with magic and blade, slew the Draugr.

The king was astounded at the Dragon Priest's power, seeing as these undead were relentlessly laying siege to the castle for months now. He offered Moroviik riches and enchanted gifts if he could delve into the catacombs below and destroy whoever was spearheading these attacks.

Of course, Moroviik was up for a challenge and agreed. He ventured below, and met his match with a VERY powerful Draugr lord. One who nearly downed the Priest where he stood. But Moroviik succeeded regardless, and slew this Draugr, returning to the king with its sword as proof. So the king and his subjects celebrated in joyous glee as they enjoyed their freedom at long last.

But this was FAR from over.

The entire castle shook from beneath to above, its courtyard grounds splitting open in a giant rift as hundreds upon hundreds of Draugr climbed out, and charged.

The king led his people to safety, and Moroviik saw as the lord whom he had slain before rose once again and swore him out, damning the Priest repeatedly. It escaped into the fray and charged for the inside of the castle, and Moroviik fought. He fought all he could, taking down the Draugr quickly for the most part, and eventually made his way inside.

There he found, upon the balcony, the king bloodied and weak, impaled by his own sword. Moroviik BEGGED the king to keep living, but the king asked the Priest if he would defend these people eternally and uphold the good of the castle. Moroviik said he would. And there the king passed his crown to the Dragon Priest's hands, and died.

From the fray with a thunderous cry, Moroviik charged with the king's blade in hand, crown upon his head, and took the Draugr lord, driving the sword through its chest and slicing it upward through the face and skull, ending the terror and plight at last.

That night, the castle mourned, for their king was dead. But a new one had been crowned. And upon the gates of this castle, Moroviik put the old king's armor, and forever lived as its defender.

----------------------

For ESO I've only got the 1 OC. Khyrus Morn Dynar/Nenalata Dynar.

Khyrus had a Nord name that's been lost to history now. He was born to his Nord parents as a child, unwanted and unloved. When finally he was old enough, Khyrus told them he loved men and wanted to go into the city to find a boyfriend. But his parents were abhorred and demanded their son not return from that city unless he had a wife and children for them.

Khyrus signed up with the Ebonheart Pact for shelter, pay, food, and purpose. He abandoned his Nord name here, and gave the Pact his new one of Khyrus Morn, and thus began his adventures across Tamriel.

The Nord achieved many great things, saving the Tribunal and befriending them all greatly. He'd earned the favor of Skald King Jorunn, Queen Ayrenn, and ESPECIALLY King Emeric.

When he learned he was the Vestige destined to end the Planemeld, Khyrus had to enter Coldharbour, and so he did. Here he'd met the last Ayleid king, Laloriaran Dynar, whom Khyrus befriended GREATLY. The king and Khy confided in one another, but more Khyrus in him. And soon enough, the Nord found a comfort he hadn't known in Laloriaran, almost as if the man was a fatherly figure to him. He began inquiring about the Ayleids and their history, their lives, their language, and the king was all too happy to impart his knowledge upon Khyrus.

Furthermore, Laloriaran granted Khyrus knowledge in the way of the Templar, giving this lonely Nord the light of the gods to wield as his purpose.

But when Khyrus charged Molag Bal, and slew the god, many casualties were wrought including that of Laloriaran Dynar. Khy fell to the king and grasped him, begging him to stay, calling him "Ata" or "father" in Ayleidoon. But it was the king's end, and he passed his sword to Khyrus calling him "kynde angua" or "my son". Laloriaran made Khyrus promise to keep fighting for the good of all the Aurbis, and the moment Khyrus swore he would, the king passed.

Khyrus was broken and lost. Distraught beyond measure. He returned with his soul to Tamriel, to his boyfriend Emeric, but he was VERY different. And for all his journeys taken, Khyrus would wander the ruins housing deceased Ayleids whom he'd try communing with to find his father. Yet the more he spoke, the less he heard, and the weaker the light he wielded grew until, one day, the Ayleids were silent, and his light all but gone.

The Nord swore to himself he'd never touch a mead bottle, but in desperation, he grasped one and downed it, falling unconscious. Here he woke, dreamlike, in an Ayleid ruin he'd not seen before, and found a golden ghost clad in armor that guided his way through. When it merged with a tomb, making it glow, Khyrus reached for this tomb and touched it himself, sobbing as he apologized to his lost father for having abandoned the light and his purpose. He was lost as well, and there was nothing he could do.

But a familiar voice promised to be his light, then, and thus Khyrus became embraced, in reality, by Laloriaran Dynar who appeared entirely to hug his son. Together, both returned to Tamriel, and Khyrus's light returned, himself a templar once more.

But it was the Ayleids with whom Khyrus truly connected. Their ways of martial prowess, and his father's desire to bring them justice and a good name and legacy of equality, this had all been passed to him in a sense when Laloriaran gave him the sword. Khyrus was the most honorable and just man, more powerful than any gods could rival. But he was lost, never liking being a Nord because it tied him to the parents who abandoned him entirely.

And thus answered the gods who, as for Ragnar/Varlor, they granted a peace to Khyrus in his sleep, and when he woke, he'd become Ayleid himself. And so he was crowned by his father, before the remaining Ayleids who'd gathered to their king, as Prince Nenalata Dynar.

Nenalata went on to marry Emeric, and Count Verandis Ravenwatch, and obtain MANY more male lovers including two Daedra: Rynkyus and Torvesard.

He, too, becomes an Aedric god. The Aedric god of New Beginnings.

----------------------

Minecraft is my baby, my comfort game, and a few years ago I'd made my first full survival playthrough without commands, cheats, or changing modes, despite playing since release more than 10 years beforehand.

Thus began my Minecraft universe with Fengel and Hamod!

Fengel is the Hero of the End. The one who defeats the Ender Dragon and whatnot.

Basically, the story is a LOTR/Minecraft crossover, since I gave Fengel a Nazgul skin and it took off from there. He was a Nazgul, but forsook Sauron after the downfall of Gondolin from which he hardly fled from alive. Here, the Nazgul escaped and found himself in a strange world of blocks, needing to craft and forage to survive. He'd been given white wings, his bones much lighter than they were before, and began to set up a small shack where he landed upon arrival, thus making a way to survive.

But it wasn't long before monsters closed in and attacked, many blowing him up. No less, Fengel woke each time where he'd last slept, since he held his Ring of Power still, which maintained the power of revival.

Soon enough, Fengel was approached by curious Villagers who asked for his assistance. They claimed Fen looked strong, and that his wings could carry him high for his immensely great archery, which would help shoot down Pillagers that plighted their lands.

Fen was hesitant. He feared failing these people, but they insisted. Thus he went ahead, and prepared to defeat a raid on the nearby village. But as hard as he fought, he died and died and died again and again, and one by one the Pillagers took the Villagers until not one remained, and these monstrous beasts retreated.

Fengel mourned. He'd failed the people who needed him. He was broken and torn, returning to his shack in great sorrow.

Time and time again, villages approached Fengel to gain his help, and every time the Pillagers won and destroyed all lives but his own. This ring was a curse, but Fen couldn't be free of it.

Yet finally he discovered one place wherein he could save its people: The End. And so Fengel ventured into the Nether, across fortresses and gathering all he could, forged himself armor and went ahead to the End portal which he opened. Finally, he went into it, and fought the Ender Dragon to its death, succeeding as he'd liberated all and took home the egg as a prize.

A newfound might filled Fengel, and Pillagers took notice, coming forth to his shack in attempt to end him. But the Nazgul hero would not give, and he slew them. And the next band. And the next. Soon he'd forged the Bannerfield where he kept every banner of every Pillager attack, as a warning to all who dared enter his territory that he could not be defeated. And the field grew to well over 100 banners. Fen built walls to keep them out, extending these to the villages nearby which survived raids, and thus Fengel formed his empire of safety for all.

New Gondolin.

The Pillagers weren't happy with this, obviously. One band reached through the walls one night and attacked Fen's home. The hero fought them off, but one fled. Fengel killed the remainder, and tried to go inside his home only to find that fled Pillager looking for a fight. Here, Fengel trapped him inside a stone structure from which this lone enemy couldn't escape.

No less the Pillager tried to shoot Fengel repeatedly until his bow broke, and then his spirit. He cried, knowing his life was forfeit from here on. He'd not died with his band, and he fled from them when they were killed. He was a coward, and soon other Pillagers would come for him to end his life for this cowardice.

But to his surprise, Fengel began to build... something. A wooden structure around this trapped Pillager. One with windows? And bookshelves? And a bed???

Fengel broke down the trap and asked the Pillager for a name. When the Pillager said he had none, the hero called him "Hamod". A name of his people from the old Gondolin that had fallen ages ago now. He told Hamod he could stay here, work the farmlands since he needed some help with culling the fields and feeding the animals, and thus Fengel would keep him safe. But one condition: Hamod could never again raise any weapon for any reason.

For months, Hamod lived on Fengel's land, tending to the crops and animals, storing the food away and letting Fengel cook more than enough to feed them both. It was... strange. For the hero that hated Pillagers so much to be kind to one? Hamod didn't understand.

And one day, the guttural grunts of all too familiar sound approached, and Fengel found Pillagers gathered in a surrounding force around his home, demanding he submit to them for kidnapping their fellowman. Fen raised his wings to the sky and fired away, taking them down as best he could. But far too many came and overwhelmed him. The hero died and revived so SO many times, and meanwhile Hamod watched this in terror, seeing the man who had shown him genuine kindness for the first time be killed repeatedly.

As Fengel remained defenseless, alone, he was ready to give in to death endlessly until one arrow fired from the rooftop, and a voice cried out to let the emperor go.

The Pillagers and Fen looked only to find Hamod with a bow stored away by Fengel, and donning armor the hero forged. Hamod became ceaseless in his fury, shooting down the Pillagers as best he could to give Fengel the chance to fight back, too. And he did. And together they defeated the raid.

Hamod cried to Fen and apologized for betraying the promise made. But Fengel hugged Hamod and called the man his hero, kissing his cheek. He told the man to keep the bow and armor. He'd need it in the coming days.

Eventually, Fengel and Hamod began growing closer after this, with Fen teaching his new hero how to read the enchanting tomes, how to forge weapons and armor for himself, and so much more. And if ever Hamod felt scared or alone, Fengel was there to hold him and comfort the man.

One day, Hamod woke to being alone, with only a letter on his table that, inside, held a single ring. It was addressed with his name, and inside, said that Fengel went on an adventure. But he wanted Hamod to meet him. Take the ring, traverse the world, and find the hero emperor.

Hamod gathered his resources. Food, enchanted weapons and armor, arrows, torches, tools, and he went ahead across the world over snowy mountains, through deep caverns and into the Nether itself, coming out the other side to a gorgeous open field of flowers and a wonderful sunset. And sitting on the rocks he found Fengel waiting.

Hamod approached, and Fen took the ring from him, then took his own, and an enchanting tome. Here, he duplicated the power of revival to Hamod's ring, turned around, and knelt to the man, then gave a speech about how this empire of New Gondolin had been made with the sake of love and safety for all, but that he couldn't have done it without the love and safety granted by Hamod. This man was Fengel's heart and soul, and he refused to carry on without him. There, he presented the now enchanted ring, and asked Hamod to marry him.

The former Pillager agreed, and both held close as they embraced dearly and kissed. The two were married by a Villager priest, and forever lived invincible, the defenders and emperors of New Gondolin.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

I'm always baffled by patterns that call for more than 15 fat quarters (FQ). Why? That gets very expensive, and you would save a great deal of money by using yardage instead. I recently saw a pattern that calls for 40 FQs. That is ridiculous! When I saw the sizes of the various pieces used, it quickly became apparent the pattern would be ideal for a scrap quilt seeing as the largest pieces were cut 6x6 inches. If scraps aren't an option, be it lack of scraps or an absolute loathing for scrap quilts (one of my sisters hates them due to lack of symmetry), yardage would be far less expensive.

How about y'all?

Yes, precuts are convenient. It can cut back the amount of time it takes to cut all the pieces. At the same time, they tend to be a little more expensive than just buying yardage. I've seen stores that, if you bought the amount of precuts to equal a single yard (four FQs = one yard), the precuts brought the price to $4 more than what they charge for yard.

Only when I have a FQ bundle do I even consider making a quilt that calls for so many. I had a bundle of 20 FQs and used them for a single pattern that required so many + yardage for borders and sashing (sashing is thin strips of fabric between rows and/or blocks). I had also gotten the bundle 50% off because the store was closing for business due to the owner retiring.

I'm not criticizing anyone who wants to make quilts with so many FQs. What I would appreciate is a pattern with yardage alternatives for those who don't feel like spending a small fortune.

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Standing Sentinel

Blinding white and brilliant gold cut through the droids, putting an end to the Separatist operations on the planet. Two Zabraks raced up the outpost’s central control tower, setting charges and blowing through the opposition they faced.

The server coordinator, a very-much organic Rodian, shrieked when he saw the pair. Instead of killing him, Savage roared in his face and sent him scrambling.

"You've clearly gone soft, brother."

Savage shook his head. The The pair Force-jumped back to their ship and manned the guns.

“You took your time!” Feral dropped his visor and fired up the engines.

“Hmph. Your trial combat results clearly evidence your superiority. Now, I request your best attempt at Plo Koon’s record.”

"Yes, Commander Maul, sir!"

That statement was met with a groan. Taking off, the trio cleared the atmosphere with ships hot on their heels. A TIE-fighter glided in alongside them and gave cover fire.

“Someone rang?” Anakin’s voice came over the com-channel.

“Not in this star system!” Feral replied, smiling.

“You seem chipper, Skywalker.” Savage pivoted his battlestation hard left and disposed of two cruisers. A gunship entered the fray. Feral’s eyes narrowed, fixated on the viewport. He executed a barrel roll and swooped to avoid the fire.

“Nice! I’ll take it from here.”

Maul noticed how he loosened and beamed at the praise. Anakin’s ship effected an all-angles orbit, forming a defensive perimeter and taking enemy after enemy out of commission. They cleared the formation and made the jump into hyperspace.

At last, Chandrila and the outline of the Jedi outpost came into view. Obi-wan met them upon landing. He bade Maul speak with him privately, and his brothers peeled off to remain outside. Excited shouts filed the air as the younglings who had been outside spied them.

"Master Kenobi."

The man shook his head. Maul would not be himself without some degree of sarcasm. However, Obi-wan detected none of the true bite that would have lurked under it all those cycles ago. "Your margins of error grow slim."

"Simply the price of ascension in any order- much more so this one."

"We can send in support troops at any time. Do not hesitate to ask for what is yours by right."

"My gratitude, Kenobi. But you know the stores are better spent in recovery eff-"

"I was informed of the Garel incident."

Maul was silent. He'd spent almost a week in a bacta tank for the infections sustained. Perhaps an echo of his past life, but he'd never even considered contacting the Temple for backup or a medical supply drop. More than that, he half-expected they wouldn't. It would be an effective method of disposing of a liability. If there was one thing he could respect, it was efficiency. That made their seeming mercy all the more unsettling. Kindnesses extended themselves despite the fearful looks in some of their eyes. Despite the pain in Kenobi's even as he reached a hand to his former enemy. Those reserves of self-control were something of marvel to the Zabrak...

"How, Kenobi?"

The man’s brow arched. "The Council communication channels do have some useful information, if you'd lower yourself so much as to listen in."

Maul shook his head, the ghost of a smirk on his face. He'd let the misinterpretation stand. "I'd consider if they release an advisory on the trimming of unseemly facial hair."

"It has clearly been too long since our last duel!"

On exiting, he could see Feral and Anakin chasing the squealing children, gently Force-throwing them back and forth. Savage, expression devoid of strain, was letting some swing from his arms and sit on his shoulders. The scars of all three peeked through their robes as they flowed with the breeze. May the elders bear those marks, so the young ones did not have to.

Lying on the grass, he cast his eyes to the skyline and let himself slip- not quite meditating, but not quite conscious either. The Force bubbled with energetic pops from the little lives about. There was easy warmth from Savage that slowly bloomed in the fields of the metaphysical. He felt the relieved playfulness of Feral bounding from the remains of a fearful shell. He sensed the tumultuous roar of Anakin's fervour and Kenobi's darting, sagely mischief. And beyond them, his body sensed the dance of dozens, hundreds of the living. His weary spirit soared, reminded of for who-!

Feral flopped onto his stomach, followed by a giggling, squirming pile that knocked the air out of his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Savage smirk while taking a seat. Maul tried his best to scowl at the interruption.

The setting sun brought calm and appreciation for what he had now. The winds brought refreshment instead of the stench of corpses. No longer would he drift off plagued with a bloody fantasy he was not sure he'd realize.

Anakin and Obi-wan exchanged looks. He'd finally begun to see that which the Dark Side could never have given. True purpose and contentment had at last reached the brothers three. For they were now Maul, Feral and Savage Opress- Jedi Sentinels in the service of the Order and the galaxy.

[akehoshimystar]

Chapter 3

A few days later. After passing the screening, Kyoka-san has officially become a client. The request was to act as a groom and hold a pseudo wedding ceremony. Today we will start deciding who will be in charge and discuss our next action. Kosaka-san and I from the Main Office, Kou-san from the Simulation Dept., and…

Shizuka-san from the Watchdog Dept. have been summoned.

Yuzuru: The results of the investigation were not particularly different from what Yashiro-san and the rest had heard.

Kou: Her reputation from those around her is that she is "living for work."

However, according to an interview with her, she dated someone in the past few months.

Ito: Yes. Apparently, she felt a difference in values ​​soon after they started dating, so they only dated for a short time...

Her ex-partner was reluctant to accept the breakup, so I heard it was a bit one-sided.

Kou: I see. 

So that's why Shizuka-san is here today.

Ito: …….Yes.

Shizuka: ……..

When someone is involved with yellow flag situations or dangerous circumstances for a character acting substitution, the Watchdog Dept. will be assigned to protect them. This time, it's the latter.

Shizuku: After close inspection, the characteristics of the “man who stared at them from afar” that Mika and Aizawa saw on the day they first met the client were almost identical to that of the ex-lover.

They can't say for sure since it was from a distance, but both of them said they got a rather unpleasant feeling from him, so I think it doesn't hurt to be cautious. What does the client want?

Ai: Due to budget constraints, no security guard was requested. The precautionary measures should be included in the category of “necessary expenses to provide the service without any problems.”

Shizuka: How many people can I mobilize?

Ai: In addition to the groom, there is one other person, Yashiro, who will handle the store, and one more. That makes it 3.

Shizuka: Haaa... I kind of had a hunch when I saw her sitting here. Yashiro got herself involved in a delicate and dangerous request again.

Ito: My main job is in the store anyway.…. I will try to cause you as little trouble as possible.

Shizuku: Try not to get yourself hurt. We can handle the rest.

Ito: …………Yes. I'll do my best.

Shizuka: I hope you’re aware of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Ai: Give up, Fushimi. It’s a waste of time. Once Yashiro starts saying this, she won't yield. She just keeps saying "I’ll do my best" with a stubbornness that makes no sense.

Ito: (I will just assume that this is his way of saving time….)

Kou: Ahaha. Well, that's just how guarding works.

If she’s going to have a normal ceremony, she’ll need a fair amount of money and preparation, but this is just a small one, right?

Ito: That's right. It may not be large scale, but she wants it to be in a proper place, not a restaurant or rental space.

There are a few options within the budget, but... at the moment there is no place where I can make a reservation for the date and time she wants. Finding a venue is likely to be the most difficult task here.

Kou: Yeah, it’s pretty sudden after all.

We have no choice but to expand the range, but considering our client's mother, I don't think we should go far away from Tokyo, where her doctor is.

Ai: I'll take care of that.

Ito: Eh?

Ai: If I explain the situation, I’m more than certain the owner will cooperate.

Ito: (The owner... Ah.)

The venue for the next dress-up event?

Ai: Considering that he’s a wedding reception hall owner who asked us to advertise the place because he hasn’t received any reservations, we might as well start the ceremony right now.

That kind of structure should be enough for a pseudo-wedding ceremony if we work on the layout.

Not to mention, it’s very easy to negotiate the price.

Kou: Oh, I see. An acquaintance of His Majesty?

Ito: (Ah... I see. If one place can be used for two purposes, we could keep the budget down even further...)

Ito: Umm, Kosaka-san….

Ai: You can use the event supplies for this request as well. Make sure you discuss the use of costumes and other items borrowed from the venue.

Proceed with that in mind.

Ito: (That was fast...!)

Thank you.

Kou: Although things are coming together nicely, I have some unfortunate news from the Simulation Dept.

I just checked the schedule and everyone, including me, is booked for that date.

Ito: ……!

As I was thinking about what to do, Fushimi-san, who had been silent for a while, started talking.

Shizuka: Well, isn’t that perfect?

Kou: Huh?

Shizuku: I can't move much if there's only one guard.

It would be best if someone who can also be a guard took the role of the groom.

Kou: Oh….... I see?

Ito: (Two roles, one person...?)

Shizuka: Only if Kosaka is fine with it. What do you think?

Ai: Given the situation, it's a reasonable choice. I'll allow it this time.

……As long as that person is Aizawa.

Ito: !

Ai: However, this is a request outside of my responsibility. So I’ll give him the right to refuse. If that happens, as I said earlier, arrange one groom and one security guard.

Shizuka: Got it.

I’d prefer it if he didn’t refuse, though. I'll talk to him.

Ito: (Eh?)

Ai: You do you.

Kou: Then, I’ll leave the rest to you~

Ito: (...Was it just my imagination?)

(Does Aizawa-kun even have a right to refuse to begin with...?)

Chapter 4

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

Off @everyonehatestherisotto 's tags on my 80s skincare/haircare post:

#anyway op i need you to do one on how video stores work too#because i only have VERY small town in the 90s experiences#but i'm still bothered by the fic i read#where eddie had a movie for eight days#like it was library book#and the late fees he'd have been charged?!?!#FOR A NEW RELEASE?!?!!?#eight days#god my wallet

yeah, my experience was in New Zealand so I don't know if things may have worked very differently in the US, but a new release was something you rented for one night and returned in the morning, and it cost quite a bit more than a movie that had been out for some time. (The corollary to that was that the video store would have multiple copies of a new release to meet demand but typically only one of an older title so if someone else had it out you just had to wait.) My sister and I were sometimes allowed to choose a cartoon for the weekend (our favourites were always Ewoks and Jem and the Holograms, a show which has never received the appreciation, nay, adulation it deserves), but still only for the weekend because renting a tape for several days could get pretty extravagant.

You'd go into the store, browse the shelves where the clamshell video boxes were with the colourful covers, but actually they were empty, pick out the one you wanted and take it to the counter where you would get the actual VHS tape in a plain box with the store's sticker on it, or sometimes a black and white photocopy of the real cover stuck on, pay for your chosen rental time and take that home. As a kid I was always a little disappointed that we didn't get the colourful box.

You generally returned your tape by sticking it through a slot in the door the next morning, but if you were late (the cut-off time for returns would be posted on the door, and if you dropped your tape in after that time it counted as overdue even if it was the same day because the staff needed time to process those returns, check them back in on the computer and get the corresponding boxes back on the shelves, including checking the tapes had been rewound and doing it if you hadn't) you had to go in and pay at the counter or they would ask you to the next time you tried to rent something.

For an in-demand new release there was often a rule that they would only rent it to you for one night, regardless of your willingness to pay for longer, in fairness to everyone else who wanted to see it.

What else can I think of? I remember that it took considerably longer than it does now for movies to get a home video release after they finished their run in theatres, but that could also be a side effect of living in New Zealand. If you missed it when it was on at the flicks or you really liked it and wanted to see it again, you were in for a long wait.

Particularly in the earlier days when VCR players were a pretty expensive item, stores rented them out as well as the tapes to play on them, so again, that might be a weekend treat, but by the mid-80s prices had come down enough for many families to own one (we saw the Byerses had one in season 2 and they weren't well-off, although given Joyce was dating a total sweetheart who worked at Radio Shack maybe that was a gift from him?), so Eddie probably wouldn't need to do that.

In summary, Eddie keeping a new release movie for eight days overdue would rack up such high late fees that it sounds like the set-up for an "I can't afford to pay but maybe we could... come to some arrangement?" smut fic.