#i must have scrubbed their scenes from my memory

[riickgrimes]

rick and jessie irk me to my very soul

[soulofapatrick]

All The Time In The World - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: You got kidnapped and in the aftermath you need Hotch to erase it all

Words: 3.3K

Warnings: mentions of attempted r; hurt-comfort; ptsd; fluffy and angsty

Notes: I need to be stopped 🤣 I do plan on writing more Spencer but Hotch has my whole attention rn 🤣

Y/N’s POV

I stand under the cascading of water, the heat searing my skin as if it could burn away the memories etched into every fibre of my being. The events of the last few hours replay like a horror film in my mind, each scene more vivid than the last. 

I can still feel his hands, vile and invasive, creeping under my shirt, his putrid breath hot against my skin as he loomed over me with that twisted grin. The terror of those moments claws at my insides, threatening to consume me whole. But just as I thought I couldn’t fight him anymore, voice raw from screaming and back burned from the carpet below me as I fought to escape, my team burst through the door like avenging angels, their precise shots shattering the nightmare and saving me from the abyss. 

The water pounds against my skin, relentless, as if trying to wash away the stain of his touch. I scrub furiously, desperately, but the memory lingers, staining my skin with it’s foul residue. The sob claws it’s way up my throat as I scrub and scrub. I must have made more sound than I realised because Hotch’s gruff voice, filled with concern, pierces my cloud of panic. 

I manage only a small sound in response, my arms still wrapped protectively around myself, a feeble attempt to shield myself against the unseen horrors that haunt me. 

“Do you need anything?” His voice, usually firm and commanding, is now softened with empathy, a balm to my wounded soul. In that moment, I realise what I truly need. Without hesitation, I find the courage to voice my plea, a fragile whisper that hangs heavy in the air between us. 

“Join me.” I choke out, the words barely escaping my lips, carried by the trembling breath of desperation. I long for his presence, for the solid warmth of his body to chase away the chill of my fears. In him, I seek refuge from the darkness that threatens to consume me whole. I hear the hesitant shuffle of footsteps outside the shower curtain, a tentative response to my plea. And though the moment hangs in fragile uncertainty, I cling to the hope that he will hear the silent plea beneath my words, “Please, Aaron.” I whisper, the weight of my anguish heavy in the space between us, a silent prayer for him to bridge the divide and offer me solace in the midst of my despair. 

The bathroom fills with a heavy silence, broken only by the soft exhale that escapes Aaron’s lips. I hear the subtle rustle of fabric as his shirt hits the floor, followed by the metallic clang of his belt buckle hitting the tiles. Each sound sends jolt of panic coursing through my veins, a stark reminder of the nightmare I’ve just escaped. 

But then, like a lifeline cast in a storm, his arms wrap around me from behind, strong and steady, pulling me back from the edge of despair. I release a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, the tension in my body melting away as his chest presses reassuringly against my back, a silent promise of safety in his embrace. 

His touch is gentle deliberate, as he silently pries my hands from where they cling desperately to my shoulders, nails biting into flesh in a futile attempt to anchor myself against the chaos within. I have to close my eyes against the onslaught of memories, tears slipping unbidden down my cheeks, each drop a testament to the agony that lingers beneath the surface. The scent of shampoo fills the air as Aaron reaches past me, his movements fluid and sure, retrieving the bottle provided by the hotel. 

I can’t help but tremble as his fingers thread through my hair, the sensation both soothing and agonising in its tenderness. His touch is a balm against the rawness of my wounds, a silent offering of solace in the world torn asunder by violent and fear. He works in silence, his hands moving with practiced ease, each stroke a silent prayer for healing, for redemption in the wake of tragedy. And though the tears flow freely, each drop a testament to the pain that will hold me captive for a long while, Aaron’s presence a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that he found me and saved me. 

But, even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSub’s touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. It’s a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing. 

As Aaron's hands tenderly cover mine, completing the ritual of washing away the remnants of terror that cling to my hair, I am consumed by a wave of overwhelming emotion. His touch is a lifeline in the darkness, a steady anchor in the storm raging within me. But even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSub's touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. It's a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing. 

And then, in the aftermath of my turmoil, Aaron’s arms encircle me, drawing me close as if to shield me from the pain that threatens to consume me whole. The weight of his presence is both a comfort and a burden, a reminder of the fragility of my own resolve in the face of unspeakable horror. 

My knees buckle beneath me, the weight of my grief too heavy to bear alone. I am lost in a tempest of sorrow, screaming sobs echoing against the tiled walls of the shower as Aaron cradles me in his embrace. Sobs so loud I’m sure the rest of the team can hear them from where they’re waiting on the other side of the bathroom wall, scattered across Aaron’s room. Aaron… He sinks to the floor with me, a silent promise that he will never let me fall, never let me drown in the darkness that threatens to engulf us both. 

In the sanctuary of his arms, I find release, the floodgates of my anguish opening wide as I surrender to the pain that has haunted me for so long. I’m adrift in a sea of memories, each wave crashing against the fragile shores of my sanity, threatening to pull me under. 

"It- I-" I choke on the words, my chest heaving with the weight of my sorrow, and yet Aaron waits patiently, his steady gaze a silent reassurance that I am not alone in my pain. And then, with a tenderness that takes my breath away, he presses a kiss to my wet hair, a silent vow to stand by me no matter the cost, "I can still feel him," the words are a whisper, barely audible above the rush of water, but they hang heavy in the air between us, a reminder of the scars that still linger beneath the surface.

“Do you trust me?” Aaron’s voice is a gentle murmur, a question whispered against the nape of my neck as his stubble brushes against my skin. I don’t speak, but nod, allowing him to pull me gently back to my feet. 

He turns me gently to face him, his russet eyes holding mine with a tenderness that belies the weight of the world we carry between us. There’s a gentlemanly grace in the way he looks at me, a silently acknowledgment of the wounds we both bear. And then, with a steadiness born of resolve, he reaches for the body wash, his fingers brushing against mine in a fleeting caress. 

I unfold my arms from around my was it, revealing the bruises and cuts that mar my skin, souvenirs of the darkness that still lingers within me. Aaron’s breath catches in his throat, a harsh exhale that echoes the pain written across his features. But there’s no hesitation in his touch as he picks up the shower sponge, his movements deliberate and unhurried, a silent promise of healing in the wake of devastation. 

He cleans me with a gentleness that borders on reverence, his hands tracing the contours of my body with a tenderness that speaks of love unspoken, of wounds too deep to fully comprehend. Each kiss he leaves upon my tingling skin is a testament to the intimacy we share, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights. 

But, even as the water prickles against our skin, a reminder of the heat that still burns within us, I find solace in the sanctuary of his embrace. His arms envelop me, a fortress against the storm raging outside, his face buried in my hair as if seeking refuge from the pain that threatens to tear us apart. 

I lean into his embrace, my head resting against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the chaos that surrounds us. In his arms, I feel small and fragile, but of so safe, cocooned in a love that knows no bounds. I want to hold onto this moment forever, to lose myself in the warmth of his touch, in the safety of his arms. But, reality intrudes, a harsh reminder of the world waiting beyond the confines of our sanctuary. 

“The girl?” My voice is a whisper against his chest, a question that hangs heavy in the air between us. He acknowledges it with a sound, a subtle shift in the air that speaks volumes of the burdens we both carry. And then, with a tenderness that pierces the silence like a knife, he steps away, turning off the water and pulling back the curtain. The moment is over, a fleeting glimpse of paradise in a world torn asunder by darkness. 

In the soft glow of the setting sun, Aaron stands like afire carved form marble, illuminated by the golden rays streaming through the window. His silhouette is a study in strength and face, even contour etched with the delicate touch of twilight. The light dances across his broad shoulders, casting shadows that play upon the sinewy muscles of his arms as he dries himself off, a vision of masculine allure bathed in the warmth of dusk. His dark hair, tousled and unruly, frames his face like a halo. His hazel eyes, molten gold in the fading light, fix upon me with a tenderness that steals my breath away, the corners crinkling with the ghost of a smile that sends my heart ablaze.

I can’t help but drink in the sight of him, from the proudest arch of his brow to the curve of his lips, each detail a testament to the beauty that lies within. My gaze lingers on the expanse of his muscled chest, the rise and fall to his breath a hypnotic rhythm that draws me in, until my eyes trace the line of his body, down past his happy trial to the heavy length settled between his thick thighs that has my eyes widening as he’s big. My mind going to what that would feel l-

“Eyes up here Princess,” his voice, low and commanding, pulls me from the reverie, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a command that I dare not disobey, though the temptation to linger upon the sight before me is almost unbearable. With a sheepish smile, I lift my gaze to meet his, the warmth in his eyes melting away the chill that lingers within, “Let me just get dressed, then I’ll give you a hand, okay?” His words are a  a gentle reassurance, a promise of solace in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty that threatens to engulf us both. I nod in silent acquiescence, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of his footsteps as he crosses the room.

Each movement is deliberate, purposeful, as he slips back into his clothes, the fabric falling against his skin like a lover's caress. And as he draws nearer, his presence envelops me in a cocoon of warmth and safety, a sanctuary in the midst of chaos. Every touch is a symphony of tenderness, a silent declaration of love that transcends words. In his embrace, I find refuge from the storm that rages within, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us whole. 

As Aaron kneels before me, his touch a gentle caress against the bruises that mar my skin, I’m overcome by a flood of emotions too powerful to name. Each stroke of his hand is a silent prayer for healing, a testament to the depth of his compassion in the wake of tragedy. His lips leave sweet kisses in the wake of his touch, a balm against the wounds that still linger beneath the surface. I watch as his eyes flutter for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in the depths of his gaze, and in that fleeting moment, I see the depth of his love reflected back at me. 

With trembling hands, I cup his face in my palms, the warmth of his skin a welcome embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. There is a tenderness in his touch, a reverence that speaks volumes of the bond that binds us together in the aftermath of despair. And then, with a courage born of desperation, I guide his face down, my heart pounding in my chest as our lips meet in a chaste kiss. It is a moment of vulnerability, of raw emotion laid bare in the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief.

As Aaron pulls away slightly, his eyes search my face with an intensity that takes my breath away. In the soft glow of the dimly lit room, I see a myriad of emotions flickering in the depths of his hazel eyes – love, longing, and a hint of vulnerability. 

His lips brush against mine once more, a silent question lingering in the space between us. And then, as if drawn by an irresistible force, he leans in again, his kiss infused with a newfound passion that ignites a fire within me. I feel the heat of his touch against my skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine as our lips meet in a tender embrace. There is a hunger in his kiss, a longing that mirrors my own, as we lose ourselves in the depths of our shared desire. 

But even as the intensity of our passion grows, the kiss remains gentle, tender, a silent affirmation of the love that binds us together. In the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief, we find solace in each other's arms, our hearts beating as one against the darkness that threatens to consume us whole.

“That’s enough Princess, you need your rest. We have all the time in the world for this.” Aaron breaks the kiss, albeit reluctantly to help me finish getting dressed as my heart jackhammers in my chest but this time not from fear but from anticipation. 

With his help, I slip into clean underwear and a pair of his oversized tracksuit bottoms, their warmth a comforting embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. He tends to my hair with a care that speaks of love unspoken, his fingers deftly weaving it into a bun as if to shield me from the chaos that threatens to consume us both. I make a mental note to ask him where he learned such a skill, a reminder of the mysteries that still linger between us, waiting to be unraveled in the quiet moments between storms. 

And then, with a quiet resolve that belies the weight of our shared sorrow, he holds out his shirt from the day before, a silent offering of strength in the face of adversity. I meet his gaze, the unspoken bond between us a lifeline in the darkness that threatens to tear us apart. With trembling hands, I slip my arms through the fabric, wincing at the ache that still lingers beneath the surface. He helps me button it up, each touch a reassurance that I am not alone in this battle, that together, we can face whatever demons may come. And as he leads me towards the door, the rest of the team awaits, their concern a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the aftermath of tragedy. 

As Spencer's eyes meet mine, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirls within their depths, threatening to spill over in a torrent of tears. His words hang heavy in the air, suspended between us like a fragile thread on the verge of breaking. JJ's grip tightens on Spencer's arm, her own expression a mirror of his turmoil, while Emily's hand flies to her mouth in a silent gasp of shock and disbelief. 

Morgan's jaw clenches with a fierce determination, his gaze a steel blade slicing through the tension that hangs thick in the air. Rossi's expression is stoic, a mask of controlled fury that belies the storm raging beneath the surface. And yet, despite the turmoil that threatens to consume us all, they remain steadfast by my side, a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the face of adversity. 

I shift uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of Aaron's embrace. His arms are still wrapped around my waist, a shield against the storm that rages within and without. 

"I-I don't want to be alone tonight," I whisper, the words a tremulous plea that hangs in the air between us like a fragile thread. And in that moment, it's as if a switch is flipped, the rest of the team springing into action with a sense of urgency that borders on desperation.

Morgan and JJ move with purpose, their movements swift and sure as they push the two double beds together, creating a makeshift sanctuary amidst the chaos that surrounds us. The others disappear from the room, only to return moments later with armfuls of pillows and duvets, their hands a flurry of activity as they arrange them with meticulous care. 

With a courage born of desperation, I turn to JJ and Spencer, my voice a tremulous whisper in the stillness of the room. "Will you sleep with us tonight?" The words hang in the air, laden with unspoken emotion, a silent plea for solace in the midst of our shared grief. They nod in silent understanding, their expressions a mirror of my own turmoil. Rossi takes the couch without complaint, a silent sentinel in the night, while Emily and Morgan settle themselves on the floor amidst the pillows and duvets, their presence a silent reassurance in the darkness that threatens to consume us whole. 

I nestle my head against Aaron's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the silence that surrounds us. Spencer's arm is thrown haphazardly across my waist, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights, while JJ's fingers brush against my hip in a gesture of comfort and support.

That’s how I fall asleep: My team, my family, surrounding me and the hope of something growing between me and Aaron in the future. Those words echoing in my mind. 

We have all the time in the world for this.

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka @alexxavicry

[slexenskee]

What are the heroes opinions on No Scrubs music? And are there certain songs that some of the pros empathize more with?

Been pretty curious about this since Erasure and the Detective talked about how there are plenty of off duty pro's in the crowd of a No Scrubs concert.

Ahaha should I just go down the list? Tbh idk if I'll ever get to most of these reactions so it's a good thing this was asked haha

Echo: Biggest stan. He can do no wrong. She was shocked to hear he's Dabi, but also loves the more chaotic No Scrubs songs (I Write Sins not Tragedies, But it's Better if you Do, Jesus of Suburbia etc) and is like, nahh that checks out. Her favorite album is "Good News for People Who Love Bad News".

All Might: listens to them during his hospital stay bc Naomasa recommended it to him (the troll lol). He loves them on first listen, bc he really digs american alternative music and is shocked he's only first hearing them now. His favorite album is Death Before Decaf by a landslide. He worries about his Satoru-shounen, bc some of these songs deal with a lot of trauma. Also is like... wait a minute Semi-Charmed Life is my favorite song and why is it about crystal-meth??? Satoru-shounen?!

Eraserhead: thinks "... this guy has a lot of songs about women, for a guy who historically has never slept with a single woman." His favorite songs are 'This Ain't a Scene it's an arms race' and 'Sugar we're going down', bc he appreciates the irony of some of the lyrics

Present Mic: loveesss the vibe of Glass Onion Heart, as he's a pop-fan. He was really surprised to find Ru-kun and Dabi are the same person, but he respects the hell out of Ru-kun and adores his music and has also mad respect for Dabi after he saved the kiddos on multiple occasions, so he's a major stan. His favorite song is Tokyo, or Moving to New York, bc they both have that 'electropop sound'

Midnight: Her favorite song is Misery Business, or Thanks for the Memories. She's more of a peripheral fan than Present Mic, but she enjoys their music. She adores Dabi/Ru-kun's 'aesthetic'.

Endeavor: doesn't know how to feel. Is very overwhelmed. Somehow he could handle watching his son blow up a terrorist cult on live TV but has heart palpitations watching him perform in a wig and a Sailor Moon outfit. there's too many songs for him to parse out. He tries the acoustic album first because it seems less overwhelming, and it just makes him kind of sad. And full of regret in a way. His son is so talented and Endeavor had always been so full of himself that he'd never realized. His favorite song is No Such Thing - he identifies with it a lot and lowkey hates himself for it bc he 'realizes' how similar he and Touya must be to go through similar circumstances. He also really likes Notion from the same album. He hasn't managed to branch out to the other albums, but he always listens when the songs are on the radio. He only really dislikes hearing Say It Aint So, for obvious reasons, even though the whole alcoholism and step-father thing confuse the hell out of him.

Tensei: Obviously has a soft spot for the acoustic album he bullied ru-kun into making, but his favorite is Good News for People Who Love Bad News, bc that's the album he first found them through and he feels nostalgic about it, but he absolutely adores all the songs/subliminal messages of Death Before Decaf. I'm Not Okay is his favorite song, although it's a tough call. He obviously was the first hero to find out Ru-kun and Dabi are the same person, and he's also lowkey moonlighting as an online forum warrior defending Dabi to his dying breath lol. He'll be very embarrassed if anyone finds out his screen name.

Best Jeanist: Not his kind of music, but he digs the ✨aesthetic✨ and is obsessed with some of Ru-kuns more performative outfits, even the ones that aren't jeans. He's actually a lowkey fan of Mitsuya's designs (but doesn't know his real identity) and can spot one from a mile off. He would absolutely slink up to Dabi at a random event and ask him where he bought his jeans.

Miruko: Also not her kind of music, but once the 'SixWings' stuff drops she's curious enough to give it a listen. She likes Glass Onion Heart the most bc of its more pop sound. She definitely just wanted to be nosey and see if any of the songs were blatantly about Hawks, but is a little confused to see most of them seem to be about women.

Edgeshot: Actually digs their latest album Infinity On High. Has a soft spot for the Green Day songs, Jesus of Suburbia, Holiday, and Hitchin' a Ride - although he's emphatically not an anti-establishment rebel like those songs would suggest lol.

Kamui Woods: Lowkey another major stan that keeps it lowkey like Tensei. Also has a gay crisis over Ru-kun. 1979 is his favorite song. He's unknowingly a Smashing Pumpkins fan, so he likes Today, Cherub Rock, 1979 and Mayonaise.

Hawks: I mean we'll def get his reaction in the fic but yes he's a fan, once he starts listening to it. His favorite is Mayonaise... for what will be obvious reasons... and also Island in the Sun for similar reasons lol. Outside of those he's actually similar to Endeavor (which he doesn't know how to feel about lol) in that the acoustic album is his favorite and specifically No Such Thing and Notion. Although when he turns 23 he changes his ringtone to What's My Age Again.

Not really heroes but do the students count??

Jirou: Favorite song is Misery Business, but her favorite album is Thanks I Hate it Here. She's a massive fan of all their songs, but with her keen ear for music she's especially fond of the really great riffs in Death Before Decaf. Her second favorite would be Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Katsuki: His favorite song to play is Reinventing The Wheel to Run Myself Over, + he likes that song in general bc he just identifies with it lol. He also really likes Homesick at Space Camp, again becuase it's just a fun song to play on the drums. Most repeated No Scrubs song on his spotify is actually My Heart Is The Worst Kind of Weapon from Ru-kun's acoustic album... bc he's a massive simp and is absolutely obsessed with ru-kun's voice. Like he'd buy random super racy bodice-ripper audiobooks narrated in a language he barely understands just because Ru-kun was narrating them.

Hagakure: Immediately downloads all the albums after the news breaks bc she stans Dabi and omgggg he's a sexy rockstar on top of that?! Yeah she's a bandwagonner and she'll fight you about it. She really loves the fun, teenage-rebellion type songs - What's My Age Again is a personal favorite, even though she's not 23 lol. She also likes Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner, a Little Less Sixteen Candles, and Sugar We're Going Down.

Ashido: Fellow bandwagonner who stans Dabi and now stans Ru-kun. She and Hagakure absolutely nerd out and giggle in their rooms listening to their favorite villain/artist, and Jirou sometimes joins them. Yui finds the whole thing embarrassing and pretends she doesn't notice them. She's also obsessed with the acoustic album (thank you Tensei lol) bc she daydreams of Ru-kun one day serenading her with his guitar. She likes the classic Fall Out Boy From Under the Cork Tree teenage-romance-angst-drama songs, Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner, a Little Less Sixteen Candles, Sugar We're Going Down + Thanks for the Memories and This Ain't a Scene from FOB's Infinity on High.

Uraraka: feels like she has to get into it bc all the 1-A girls are into it now. She's too embarrassed to ask Yui about it directly the way Ashido and Hagakure sometimes do (Yui usually just hedges the questions off) but she always listens to the girl's answers whenever they do. Her favorites are Dance, Dance and Tokyo.

Tamaki: had totally been a fan before realizing Ru-kun and Dabi were the same person, had the usual gay crisis about it, was mortified to realize he'd made such a terrible first impression on one of his favorite artists and goes on to sulk in a corner for a lil bit but gets over it. His favorite song is My Own Worst Enemy, just loves the all around vibe. He also really likes Jesus of Suburbia and Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Mirio: Had heard of them bc of Tamaki, but had never gave them a real listen until after the news dropped. He likes a classic rock sound so his favorites are ones like Cherub Rock, In One Ear, and the assorted Green Day songs. He also loves Dance Floor Anthem though, just because it's such a fun song.

Nejire: Same as Mirio, it's not really her usual bubble-pop so she's heard of them through Tamaki but otherwise has never really listened to them. Accordingly she likes the acoustic album (omggg Ru-kun's voice is so sexy ~) and Glass Onion Heart's more pop-ish songs like Dance Floor Anthem, Dance, Dance and Tokyo.

The general consensus is very "???" and also "man this guy has been through some shit and has some bad vices about it but damn does he have a great voice" and frankly, take one look at him and think he lives a very appropriate rockstar-esque life lol. Ru-kun has definitely given everyone the impression that he drinks/does drugs/sleeps around with a hell of a lot more women than he actually does (or in the case of drugs and women, does at all).

[bucks-daddy-issues]

Please please tell me about the Hitman's Bodyguard AU!!!

Heya!! Thank you for asking (and just the once because I definitely wasn’t silly and accidentally deleted your first ask or anything, nope) I talked about the basic plot of this here but I have lots more snippets I’m happy to share!!

For context, the below is after they’re both attacked and they had to dive into a river to get to safety. This is them back at a motel washing up. Sorry if any of it doesn’t make sense all the scenes I have are super long so I tried to cut it down as best as I could. 😊

TW/CW: there is a very brief line that hints of Buck being hurt/tortured by Doug, nothing is actually described.

-

“You want some help?” Eddie asks, tugging Buck up to stand. Buck finally stops staring at the shower to look at him. He seems so unsure, so small despite the extra inches he has on Eddie. “You can ask for help.”

“Yeah.” Buck croaks, clears his throat and repeats“ Yeah I- I’d like some help please.

Eddie keeps his eyes up as he begins to undress Buck, Even the shirtless expanse of his chest seems off-limits right now, when Buck is so vulnerable.

Bucks skin is cold under Eddie’s fingers, but soft as he drags them down to feel for waistband of his jeans.

“Hands on my shoulders.” he directs and Buck is still shivering as he follows the instruction, hands shaking either with cold or nerves, or both, Eddie can’t tell. He keeps his eyes looking over Buck’s shoulder as the other man steps out of his pants and underwear, leaning down to remove his socks.

His huddles Buck under the spray, continuing to keep his eyes up, focusing only on the way the water pours over his hair and the back of his neck, the solitary stream that runs over his lips-

Bucks mouth is open and panting, his eyes glassy, in any other context Eddie might have thought he was- but he’s not, it’s not the fast heart beat of arousal he feels against his fingertips, it’s panic.

“Is it the water?” Eddie whispers, he gets splashed a bit as Buck nods.

“Don’t like- bad things always happen-“ Buck bites his lip. “-Doug used to-” there’s a long pause, Eddie can connect the dots. He grabs the shampoo, Buck grabs his shoulders again without prompting.

“You don’t need to say it, if you don’t want to.”

“You must think I’m the most pathetic hitman ever. Afraid of the dark and water?” Buck huffs.

Eddie scrubs his fingers through Buck’s hair, sudsing it with cheap motel shampoo.

“You’re afraid of water and you still jumped into a river to save my life, I definitely don’t think you’re pathetic. I think you’re one of the bravest men I know”

He thinks back to Buck, the slick, easy way he moved, like second nature to him to command the area. In the skewed version of his memories, there’s a spotlight on him like he’s the main character in a stage play, he’s glowing from the inside out. And then the halting, jarring feel of cold water smacks Eddie’s back and he’s sure- he’s sure.

In his mind Buck’s hand pulling him out is the only warmth in a thousand miles of ice, his grip the only lifeline Eddie has to save him from floating out to space, his eyes boring into Eddie’s when he can finally open his own is like the first sight of the sun on the horizon.

Eddie tips Buck’s head back, letting the suds run out of his hair, his arms are soaked, but he’s okay with changing his shirt again, it’s worth it.

Buck sighs, slow, heavy, like he’s letting out all the weight he was holding in his lungs. “Thank you.”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hello! If you are writing for Ettore could you please write a drabble or hc of him with a hypersexual!reader?? I’m infatuated with him aside from that one scene. If you are uncomfortable with this ask, there is no worries at all😊totally understood, thank you!

Hello! I am indeed more than happy to write for Ettore. I hope you don't mind, but this will be a part two to this request.

Warnings: Smut, violence. Word count: ~1200 Part one Series masterlist

It has been two weeks since the night of her little "deal" with Ettore, and she is plagued by the memory of the feel and taste of him in her mouth. It has awakened something primal in her that has her core throbbing for what she is certain only he can provide.

Her use of The Box has increased dramatically. Before, she had used it a couple of times a week to ease tension; now every spare moment she has she finds herself in there if it isn't already occupied. Thoughts of Ettore's body against hers, and all of the depraved things she'd allow him to do to her bring her to release each time, before she exits with her cheeks flushed and heart filled with shame.

The other inmates aboard have all commented upon her recent frequent usage of the masturbatory aid - not that they have any right to judge, it is an amenity used obsessively by everyone - so she is sure Ettore must have noticed too.

He hasn't said anything, but she knows he is trying to torture her. His work duties, that she wouldn't have batted an eye at him doing in the past, he now performs without the top half of his scrubs. She finds herself staring at the way his naked chest and biceps flex as he kneels to scrub the linoleum floor. She struggles to regulate her breathing, her mouth runs dry at the sight.

She has never experienced such unadulterated lust before and wonders if he is as affected by her as she is by him. Cursing under her breath, she turns on her heel and heads towards The Box. She spends the next half an hour toppling over the edge imagining his pectoral muscles tensing as he is above her.

Exiting, she runs straight into Ettore and she visibly flinches, shrinking backwards with a gasp. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment, her heart hammering in her chest, but he merely glances down at her, saying nothing. He brushes past, his expression unreadable as he enters the now vacant Box and closes the door behind him. She is silently hopeful he'll think of her, and a fresh wave of mortification washes over her.

There is a part of her that feels spurned by the fact he's made no further attempts to engage with her following that night. Though the rational side of her mind knows there is no privacy aboard the ship and sex is prohibited, it does nothing to slake her desire.

They are criminals, destined to die in outer space, nothing more than walking lab experiments for Dibs' twisted intentions. There is no happily ever after for her and Ettore, she is aware of that. She is not expecting them to ride off into the sunset together, however, his darkness calls to hers and she is all to willing to answer. Perhaps that is the issue; Ettore likes taking what isn't freely given and the novelty has worn off now that he knows she is willing.

The following morning she busies her hands and mind with tending to the plants in the garden. Tchemy is helping out in the lab, so for once she has the green space to herself. She relishes the tranquillity of it, it reminds her of being back on Earth, she can see why Tchemy spends so much time here; it's comforting.

She straightens, brushing soil from her hands onto the trousers of her scrubs. Her shocked yelp is muffled by a calloused palm clamping over her mouth, as she is pulled backwards by her throat into a familiar hardened torso.

"Stay quiet." Ettore orders in a murmur, his hot breath tickling the shell of her ear.

He spins her to face him, renewing his grip on her neck and forcing her to look up into those sinister icy blue eyes of his.

"I hear you." He says lowly. "Hear you moan my name through the door in The Box when you're getting off."

Her answer is a mere whimper, unable to speak through the intensity with which he's restricting her airway. It's painful and yet it sends a throbbing ache straight to her centre.

"Gonna have to do something so you stop going around the ship like a bitch in heat. Can't have you getting me into trouble."

He hooks his foot behind her ankle and pulls back, sending her toppling to the grassy floor. The wind is knocked harshly from her lungs as her back makes impact with the ground. Before she's had time to fully register what's happening, he's on top of her, pulling at her waistband.

"Ettore, what the fuck?!" She cries out, struggling beneath him. She attempts to kick out her legs, but he is too tall and heavy for her to budge.

The sharp crack against her cheek sends her head reeling to the side as he slaps her hard across the face, a hot stinging sensation instantly blooming across the skin.

"Shut the fuck up!" He hisses. "You're gonna get us found out."

She stays quiet, drawing in ragged breaths as he pulls her scrubs and underwear all the way off. She could cringe at the arousal that's pooling between her legs at his manhandling of her, but this is what she's been craving and now she's finally going to get it. It seems pointless to continue fighting it.

Ettore doesn't even bother to pull his trousers all the way down, simply lowering them enough to free his stiff cock before stuffing it inside of her.

She whines. Despite how wet she is, he's done little to prepare her and the sudden intrusion and stretch is painful.

As he begins to thrust inside of her, she turns her face to kiss him. He is quick to stop her, pressing his hand against her jawline and pushing her away.

"Don't do that." He says darkly, picking up the pace of his movements.

He is brutal with her. His hips snap against hers in quick, hard strikes, animalistic and relentless. There is no regard for her pleasure, and yet she finds herself enjoying it.

She angles her hips upwards and the head of Ettore's prick begins to bully at the spongy spot deep inside of her. She knows she won't last for much longer. She has been pent up for too long and this feels too good.

As the coil within her lower belly begins to tighten, she elicits a breathy moan.

"Oh fuck...I'm so close!"

"Keep your whore mouth shut!" Ettore barks back at her, never faltering as he continues to rut into her.

She realises that besides the occasional pant, Ettore has been completely silent. However, as her inner walls begin to tighten and spasm with the onslaught of her orgasm, she can't help but feel a small swell of pride at the grunt that escapes him.

He stills and she can feel from the pulsations inside of her that he's reached his own end. She has little time to bask in the afterglow, as he quickly pulls out once he's finished, standing and readjusting his clothing.

"Thanks for that." He shoots casually over his shoulder, as he walks out of the garden, leaving her laying there bewildered and half naked.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Ooooh I’d love to hear about Dark for the wip game if you’re still playing!

Hi friend, of course! 💖

Dark is a placeholder title, accurately describing the tone of a fic -- mostly outline -- accompanying @sparrowmoth's serial killer AU all this (but heaven too). This fic haunts me in the best way. Secretly, I love darkfic and this one in particular satisfyingly scratches that itch. Sparrow gave me permission to write about their AU so that I could explore some of the moments between the scenes.

Not much is written in for yet. It's mostly an outline of ideas, random yet awful snippets of Wylan's experiences living on the road with serial killers/his captors. I had started writing one scene, but then something Sparrow wrote in their author commentary about the fic made me pause and re-evaluate the scene with the conclusion to tread carefully when I start writing it again.

I'm still undecided about writing it in my voice or trying to mimic Sparrow's style. Both ideas interest me (because I'm a nerd), so I'll probably play around to find which snippets work better in my voice and which are best echoing the original voice/tone.

More details below the cut. SERIOUS WARNING for dark content. The original fic involved serial killing/murder and sexual assault/rape/noncon. And while nothing below the cut is graphic, it still references those same topics.

The scene I started writing was (a rough draft) about Wylan attempting to disassociate while being raped.

Miggson groans, pleased with himself. He loves getting a reaction out of Wylan. Anything. Vocal. Physical. Sometimes Wylan thinks it’s to prove that he isn’t another one of their corpses. Maybe if he was they would stop fucking him. Why the fuck is he still here? Fade. Float. Wylan tries again to disappear, to let his mind wander out of the bed, past the hotel room to somewhere far away. He thinks, of all things, about the ice cream parlor he used to visit as a boy. The clerk used to let him taste the flavors on tiny wooden spoons. He hides in the memory of those little spoons.  His body adjusts to the unpleasant rhythm and Wylan goes limp again. Miggson must notice. Suddenly, he digs his thick fingers into Wylan’s unwashed hair and yanks, snapping his head back at a sharp angle.  Wylan’s gasps, returns. The spoons disappear. His eyes water. His scalp stings.

Other bullet points in the fic include:

Wylan waking up screaming from a night terror, disoriented that Prior/Miggson's hand is clamped over his mouth, only to realize the sound ringing in his ear is his own screams

Sleeping arrangements

Wylan attempting to sneak into the bathroom in the middle of the night in order to clean himself up with a wet washcloth, scrub his teeth and mouth with a washcloth

So. Much. Fast. Food.

the tender torture scene Sparrow referred to in the author commentary -- which I'm sure would be 100% better if they wrote it, but this is my stab at it: forced snuggling, head petting, being hand fed popcorn, and Wylan bizarrely realizing how few movies he's ever seen

other punishments and "obedience training"

Wylan enjoying sleeping in a bed because he gets to wrap the sheet around himself, cover himself and pretend to have a privacy despite being naked

[number1villainstan]

On the stage, a little girl is being screamed at by a mother who refuses to understand the nature of an accident. Off the stage, two figures stand--one human, one not.

"Why must you show me this," the human says.

"Because," the not-human answers. "You have something to learn."

"I lived through it. What more could I learn?"

The not-human scoffs. "You lived through it, yes, but you hardly saw it clearly."

"What did I do to deserve this?" the human groans.

"How many times have you told your Expendables, Kai? It isn't about deserving." The not-human extends one of their many arms, points to the sobbing little girl on stage, her messy brown hair falling in front of her face and her knees as she curls up in an attempt to withstand the mother's rage. "Did that little girl deserve to be punished so harshly?"

"It was your fault. We destroyed an entire wall."

"I had come into consciousness as a new being mere seconds before. I had no memories. I knew nothing of the world. To reach out and to experiment is a universal instinct among the young; how was I to know that we would be punished so harshly for it? Neither of us were at fault for this."

Kai wraps its arms around itself. "Someone still had to be punished."

The not-human sighs. "Is punishment really so necessary? When an operation went sour because Nemoto's intel was wrong, did you punish him? When Tabe made a mistake because he couldn't fully understand your instructions, did you punish him? When Sakaki relapsed as he struggled to fight his addictions, did you punish him?"

Kai says nothing. Its silence is damning.

"But if you are so eager for punishment," the not-human says, unfolding several more of their arms and spreading them in gestures impossible to describe using normal human anatomy, "then let us watch something that is indisputably your fault."

The scene on stage changes, but not really. The little girl's hair is now white, longer than before, and there's a tiny horn on her head; instead of the trappings of a house the figures are now surrounded by concrete and machinery; instead of a mother it is now an uncle, a father-who-is-not-a-father. But still, the girl cries; but still, the father rages.

Kai shudders, draws itself away. "Overhaul. Please, god. Not this. Not after that."

"Overhaul is the name humans gave me, and the name you gave that horrible persona, the one you thought would save you. Call me Alchemy."

"Fucking--fine. Alchemy. Just make it stop."

"I can't do that. We may not have enough time."

"For what? So that you can torture me? Take out all of your hatred on me now that I'm defenseless and no one cares enough to try and snap me out of it?" It falls to his knees, fingernails digging into its upper arms, unwanted tears falling from its eyes.

"I would have every reason to, wouldn't I? You denied my sentience, my very existence, until I dragged you here and forced you to see me directly. But no, I don't hate you."

"Then why?"

"Because you will be stuck the way you are until you learn."

"It hurts."

"It's the surgeon's scalpel."

Kai sighs. "And there's no such thing as emotional anesthetic." It leans back, scrubs the tears off of its cheeks. "But what does deserving even matter? People in power will use any excuse to hurt those they hate. I--" it says, gesturing to the stage, "--am proof enough of that. You're proof of that."

"I just said I don't hate you."

"Forgive me for not believing you after all of this."

"'All of this,' as you put it, is to make you learn. As I said before. You will be stuck the way you are until you learn."

"What's so wrong with that?"

"You are miserable the way you are. Both of us are. Do you truly want to be static and stuck and miserable? For any period of time? To change is to live. To be static is to die."

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die."

"Kai. For fuck's sake. What was the first law of the streets?"

Kai looks up at them. "To survive, first and foremost. But we're not on the streets."

"You weren't on the streets while you lived with the Hassaikai, but you still lived by that rule. Every living creature lives by that rule. Why should you be different?"

"Fucking--I don't know. Maybe the world would be better off with me dead."

"Who gives a shit about the world? Your Expendables wouldn't be better off, and you care about them more than you care about the world."

Kai is silent again.

Alchemy sighs, placing their hand on its head. The scene on stage changes again, really changes, from the little girl and the angry parent to a boy now, older, more experienced, sitting across a low table from an older man, with smile lines creasing the edges of his eyes even as sadness drags them down. The boy and man are talking, dancing on the edge of argument, digging through the weeds towards something they both need to say.

Kai frowns. "This never happened."

"It might have. Now hush," Alchemy says. "Watch. Study this. Learn from it. And change."

[spreadyourwingsc]

Sy and Saoirse- Chapter 11

Summary: Sy and Saoirse figure their way through their relationship, before, during and after Sy is deployed.

Disclaimer: This is the first story I have ever written and published. Captain Syverson is not my own.  Saoirse is, I don’t intend to offend anyone or anyone's culture with my story, if you feel that this content belongs to you or anyone else, please let me know and I will delete it. This is purely fiction and not an actual representation of things!

TW: This story contains: violence, attempted SA, PTSD,  strong language and mature scenes, please proceed cautiously, you’d been advised. If there’s something I missed, please let me know

AN: I’m open to any suggestions and advice, I don’t know where the story is going yet, but if you want to help me write it, or better it!Please let me know!

TW for his chapter: Recreational drug use, PTSD, Anxiety, war flashbacks. etc

Chapter 11

The sun peeked from the windows curtains, first thing in the morning, the birds were chirping and it was quiet, so quiet, Saoirse was used to waking up like this on the weekends, reaching beside her on the bed only to find the empty spot. she sighed, as usual the early riser that Sy is, it was no surprise for her.  She rolled over, still facing his empty side of bed and let her mind wander, thinking how she had let him in so easily, it just made sense, how her heart and her mind aligned when she saw him. Even when she thought she would never forgive him for what hes done, she’d been scared to get hurt again, not again, because she never actually expected him to come back. 

Then he said all those things about his time abroad, she knew he was hurting, she knew there were things that haunted his thoughts everyday, and he would never let on, she knew he was thinking how to get out of it, but was he really?. The fact that they had fallen into this picket fence fantasy, where he just moved in with her, or well at least he was sleeping there all the time, but none of them were to address that elephant in the room, and there was a herd of elephants to address. But it all felt so good, at least for a moment.

Throwing the covers off herself, she went on to find some coffee after cleaning herself up. The house was eerily quiet, just the sign of the still hot coffee pot, she served herself a cup, and opened her backyard door. 

Sy was scrunched down with his legs crossed in front of him, shirtless, with his back leaning against the wall on the deck, looking at the rows of trees that went past her backyard fence, looking so lost and out of touch. But what surprised her was the joint he was holding in his hand, he turned his face to watch her, eyes bloodshot and the scrubbed beard, he looked terrible, and she felt her heart tug.

“Really Sy, weed?”. She approached him

“Helps me cope, sit”. he demanded, and she did, she sat next to him, took the imposing stick from his hand and took a drag of her own. 

“Naughty girl” he draped an arm around her shoulders.

“Had a guy in college, was his side job”. he raised his eyebrow at This, and that moment he realized how much things have really changed and how much he had missed. 

“Really…” 

“Yeah..I kinda.. went a little too hard on those frat parties, but I guess I was just mad and trying to overcome a broken heart…i guess”. 

“Hmm”. 

“I got shot” -She sat up and turned to look at him quickly. “…on m’ stomach and leg”. He lowered his sweatpants to show her the marks, she moved her hand to touch it, hand hovered over it for a second, he flinched but then put his hand on top of hers, grabbing it and bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss on the back of it. 

“Sy-” She’d seen the marks, there were too many, but she wouldn't dare ask, not right now, not ever, she knew it must not be easy to relive those memories.

“Was on the end of the line, tis other private, dumb kid…but he saved my life, there was no anesthesia, nor nothing to numb the pain…this motherfuck’ lights one up, and hands it to me the only thing he says is “blow up cap”... starts sewing bullets wound cold blooded". 

“Sy..”

“I don't want to go back Saoirse, I want nothing more, to stay here with you, to share this space, but I have to,  and it's your space and i get it, I cannot ask you to wait for me any longer…it’s it’s not fair”, 

“Sy I want to…i love you” She knew what she was getting into and while seeing those words she wasn't entirely sure if she meant them. Was she really willing to wait?. But what else would she do? 

She found herself comparing every other guy to Sy, even Rick, the junkie from college, he was good, but that's all he ever was, a junkie, and while Saorsie was no crazy ass rebel, she was no church girl either. She needed balance, and that balance always seemed to resemble Sy. 

“I love you too baby”. Kissing her temple.  He said knowing he wouldn’t convince her otherwise. 

No other words were passed that day, they spent the day on the deck, smoking eating and drinking, and at some point they headed inside. but things seemed a little bit easier now.

--

Thanks for reading! 

Also I don't have a posting schedule, I literally just write and post as inspiration hits me!, but if you’d like to be notified when I post, I can make a tag list of some sorts. Again, please bear with me while I figure all this out! thank you so much! 

-BloodyinspiredFuck.

[crazy56u]

Currently batting two for two in the “Have to watch the new episode after the fact due to work” category, yay for me!

We open in on a pregnant woman in a parking lot.

Ben legitimately almost had a panic attack when face with having to deliver a baby.

The quickest, cleanest baby delivery.

Now if only the rest of the Leap was this easy.

And Addison decided to just rip the bandaid off and say the episode’s title.

If only Ben leap into the grunge scene instead of the ER scene…

I don’t know how to feel about the asshole she’s talking to being a Stephen…

Dr. Turk. …so, basically, this is Scrubs.

“Why are you here past your shift?” “I delivered a baby! :D” “Yeah, get off the high horse, pal…”

“You can’t save everyone.” That moment they telegraph the moral three minutes in.

And as Ben learns he has to save multiple lives, the sound department decides to crank the knockoff Creed!

Nurse Carolina, not to be confused with Nurse Nebraska.

Thank god for that white coat, otherwise Ben would be looking shifty right now.

Annnnnd they ain’t in the system yet, so in about 10… 9… 8…

“Code trauma.” Ding!

What if those two ambulances did a head-on collision just then?

Okay, so question: Why didn’t they have Ben leap in to stop the train crash?

“If they can walk, they can wait. If they are currently standing, fuck ‘em!”

Ben was about to black out then and there.

“Ziggy says there’s a 100% chance all three were on that train!” Tell Ziggy “No shit.” for me.

Okay, not for nothing, but if they said she had shrapnel in her fucking heart, I don’t have high hopes for her…

Watch as Nurse Carolina decides to brush off the fact that the resident, from her perspective, predicted three of the train victims prior to them arriving.

…is Dr. Harper’s first name “Stephen”, by chance?

In the 90s, hospitals were just playgrounds for mad science experiments, I guess…

Ah, so this hospital sucks, glad to know!

Addison, so what if they “didn’t know” Respiratrex was dangerous. People didn’t know Thalidomide was dangerous in the 50s, and look what happened there!

50/50 odds on her survival, glad to know God’s about to flip a coin in this bitch.

Ben’s logic: “Fuck it, I’m a better doctor than Harper, and I’m a time traveler, fuck his paper!”

“If Dr. Harper finds out you changed his script, he’ll Nike your career!” “Dr. Turk, you won’t understand this saying for a couple decades, but ‘YOLO’.”

[Okay, legit, Peacock crashed after I did that.]

…I think she forgot the actual line, and just ad-libbed that “Bold”…

Meanwhile, in 2023, everything is somehow worse!

I still stick to my theory that they locked Janis in a broom closet last week, her being in the interrogation room changes nothing.

I love how Magic is just playing the Sam card right out of the gate, he is done with her shit.

Okay, I half expected Janis to immediately make a break for it once the cuffs came off.

“I wanna talk to Ben, and I don’t care if he’s currently doing hospital resident train crash victim shit.”

“Hey, you, I have a working memory, did you predict there was a train crash?”

It is in my strongest belief that the second Carolina learns of the third victim, she is going to punch Ben in the arm.

Okay, cool, so the episode’s depressing depressing, got it.

Being told you have a concussion is the shittiest way to learn you have a tumor, goddamn…

And Eli just wants to die, okay, what a fun episode to enjoy immediately after a long night of work, yay me…

Oh! Goody! He’s Sandra’s dad!

It feels weird having barely missed the pager era…

“Okay, look, I’ll keep your tumor a secret, you fucking stay put.”

[I just paused. Why are they not showing the right half of Louis’s head?]

[OH FUCK]

“Hey, audience? Tell me? Do I got something on my face?”

Ben must engage in casual chit chat, or Louis will fucking die.

Ben, this is the worst time to forget you are supposed to be a woman…

Okay, cool, one out of three so far…

And so Janis and Jenn get crunk.

About fucking time we remember the cowboy existed…

Again, why didn’t we have Ben try and stop the crash?

Why does it look like Ben is trying to invent Wikipedia?

“Got a patient with a brain tumor?” “Yep, and it ain’t your dad, so don’t worry a thing about it.”

“Man, I sure do have a patient with a break tumor, so, hey, on an unrelated note, wanna talk about your dad?”

So, in other words, Eli is the Saul Goodman of Quantum Leap.

MORAL OF THE STORY: If you suck at being a dad, you will create doctors.

Okay, in another life time, Ben is the guy who does the quick side effect reading during medicine commercials.

“Look, I know this drug has bad side effects, but the FDA helped me pay off my car, so I say you’re wrong.”

“Look, I know I can’t prove how I know she has an undiagnosed medical condition, but fuck off.”

I love how Dr. Harper thinks he’s the hero in this story.

Okay, at this point, I hope Dr. Harper slips on a banana peel and falls on his ass.

And there’s the rub: In order to stop the use of a shit drug, a daughter must make amends with her dying father.

“Look, I know I said I’d stay, but fuck it, I’m out.” “Eli, if you leave, the FDA will win!”

I really want to see the “Better Call Saul”-style spin off involving Eli…

“Maybe this cancer is the way the universe wants my story to end.” “Look, I already changed one script today, don’t you worry…”

[Okay, I was joking earlier, Ben legitimately practically told Eli “if you leave, the FDA will win”…]

…and now we have a character being declared brain dead… … …okay, I know that coincidences exist, and I am reading too much into this, but how in the fuck is this the second Quantum Leap story this month I have experienced involving this shit?

Man, Ben, this week just sucks for you…

BOY DO I LOVE HOW LIGHT HEARTED THIS EPISODE IS BEING RIGHT NOW, BOY OH BOY

“Hey, good news, the depressing scene is over!”

Episode, why are you insistent in turning the screws on Ben right now?

Okay, it’s defibrillating time.

Why am I now hearing “How To Save A Life” in the back of my head?

And speaking of depressions going back to baseline!

“Hey, are you psychic, tell me now!” “So, about your dad’s tumor-”

“So, what do you think?” “Man, Jenn, I dunno, this episode’s fucking depressing…” “Magic, I was talking about Janis.”

Is the endgame of Janis’s plot arc just hiring her onto Quantum Leap?

Wait, was Ian even in the episode yet?

Also, calling it now, the dead wife’s gonna be the heart donor.

“FUCK these papers!”

CALLED IT

I choose to believe that this is Ben himself admitting he should’ve been allowed to prevent the train crash.

Now watch as Dr. Harper tries to fuck up the heart transplant…

CALLED IT.

Is Ben about to fist fight Dr. Harper, please god say he is…

“Look, I’m still processing my dad has a tumor-” “TOO BAD, DR. HARPER IS ABOUT TO KILL KIMBERLY”

“FUCK THESE CROWDED HALLWAYS!”

WHAT THE FUCK, BEN?! “Look, if you don’t hear us out about the murder drug, THE IV BAG GETS IT!”

Just fucking saying, Sam Beckett never fucking held a person’s life hostage in order to save the day, so that’s how you know Ben has bigger stones.

Ben got so pissed off with the sexism, he forgot the plot.

“Look, if she had that stupid disease, we’d know by now!” “(practically slaps him in the face with the chart) Bet.”

“…okay, fine, fuck it, use the other drug, I give. Now, just let the IV Bag go.”

Honestly, Ben should’ve been allowed to keep the scalpel, he earned it.

What if Eli already left?

I love how Ben didn’t leap yet, so now he’s chilling in an ambulance.

“What if all of this was for nothing, and I let you down?” Ben, the show got renewed, you’re fine.

Also, calling it now, the situation with Addison is revealed in the season finale.

“Stop being afraid.” “Oh, okay. (leaps)”

“Okay, look, I just got done with helping Ben stop the FDA, so this better be good.”

“Look, I ain’t happy with this situation either, Addison, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with this shit.”

“Tell Ben to shut up, or the Secret Leapers will get us all. Yes, I know this sounds like conspiracy theory bullshit, but I am being legit.”

And now Ben is in the elevator from Speed, I already saw the promo, I know the punchline.

…is Ben in fucking Chernobyl?

So, just to reiterate: Ben defeated the FDA by holding an IV bag hostage, and Janis is a borderline conspiracy theorist.

It is a legitimate crime we have to wait three weeks for the next episode…

[jcmarchi]

Nobody Wants to Die Review - A Beautiful But Limited Mystery - Game Informer

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/nobody-wants-to-die-review-a-beautiful-but-limited-mystery-game-informer/

Nobody Wants to Die Review - A Beautiful But Limited Mystery - Game Informer

Nobody Wants to Die’s world terrifies me. Set only a few hundred years in the future, it paints a dystopian society where humanity has unlocked the secret to immortality, but instead of eternal bliss, it paved the way for the government to have full legal control of our bodies. The world is as fascinating as it is upsetting, and a high-profile murder becomes the catalyst for a gripping (though not always actively engaging) mystery within it. 

Since Blade Runner‘s release in 1982, renditions of a cyberpunk metropolis have been plentiful and familiar. Nobody Wants to Die’s bleak depiction of 2329 New York City stands out as one of my favorites due to its effective fusion of Art Deco. The game looks as if technology skyrocketed in the 1930s while retaining that era’s aesthetic; vintage cars soar across the polluted airways of the concrete jungle, and futuristic gadgets have a Tomorrowland-esque design. In addition to a strong art direction, the graphical fidelity is top-notch with beautiful lighting illuminating the densely detailed cityscape and interiors. Nobody Wants to Die is a gorgeous game, and a clever introductory reveal of its world ranks among my favorite moments of the year. 

The visuals invited me in, and the world-building kept me. After developing the ability to transfer human consciousness to different bodies, humanity has essentially solved death. People routinely live for centuries by switching to new, more desirable bodies, engendering a terrible system where citizens must pay a subscription fee to keep their original shell after coming of age. Failing to do so results in government seizure, where your consciousness is forcibly extracted and stored in a memory bank while your body goes up for sale. The less affluent 99% may have to settle for occupying aging or medically compromised bodies. If you can’t afford a new body, your conscious mind could be trapped in a bank for decades or longer. From Orwellian government promotions of a healthy lifestyle to prevent citizens from becoming damaged goods to reintroduction parties where people familiarize loved ones with their new bodies, developer Critical Hit Games has crafted an intriguing culture around this concept. Every lore detail, whether through new paper headlines or radio broadcasts, added substance to the presentation’s sizzle.  

[embedded content]

The politics surrounding immortality means morally dubious politicians and celebrities can maintain their status and control for obscenely long periods of time. In a world where true death is a rarity, the mysterious murder of one elite figure rattles the cages. Protagonist James Karra, a 120-year-old loose-cannon detective, is tasked with finding the culprit in an off-the-books case. The first-person adventure sees James visiting crime scenes and using a small set of high-tech forensic tools to collect clues and reverse engineer sequences of events. Whether using a handheld X-ray to trace a bullet’s trajectory, shining a UV lamp on hidden blood trails, or, most often, using a time-manipulating gauntlet to rewind and scrub through a chaotic moment, I enjoy assembling the pieces of smaller puzzles to form the big picture. 

Detective work isn’t difficult, relying less on deductive reasoning and more on thoroughly poking around and uncovering every intractable element available. I don’t mind this more guided approach, as finding clues can lead to insightful and entertaining conversations with James’ partner Sara, who provides remote tech support in his ear. The two share some fun, sarcasm-heavy banter, such as an optional exchange where Sara asks James to describe the smell of chocolate (which no longer exists). The performances, especially Sara’s, are strong enough to make their relationship feel genuine and endearing. Their back-and-forth also adds welcomed levity, though James’ hard-boiled noir detective act means he often spews verbose monologues with metaphors that sometimes make limited sense.

Connecting clues in a flow chart between investigations is a game of determining which piece of evidence answers the question at hand. In reality, you can cheese this by just slotting in every clue until the right one fits, but I always wanted to deduce the answer properly. That said, Nobody Wants to Die is ultimately a narrative-focused adventure that uses detective-inspired gameplay as a vehicle to tell its story. You can’t really get anything wrong, and so if you’re hoping for true agency in how you approach solving this conspiracy, you’ll be disappointed.

You can, however, steer the plot in different directions thanks to the choice-driven dialogue and significant decision-making moments, adding stakes to conversations. Some choices have timers and can be as simple as deciding whether or not to drink on the job; an inebriated James may open an additional dialogue option. Bigger decisions, like deciding whether or not to kill a suspect or to destroy or preserve incriminating evidence, alter the plot more significantly. While that provides a good incentive to replay the roughly five-hour adventure, you’ll have to trek through the entire game again since it lacks a chapter selection, which is unfortunate.

Nobody Wants to Die does an admirable job juggling three main story threads: the aforementioned murder, James’ struggle to remember and come to terms with a traumatic event surrounding his wife’s death, and a heartbreaking tale involving Sara I won’t spoil. These plot points are disjointed at times; I’d make a big breakthrough in the murder case I wanted to follow up on immediately, only for the story to shift focus on James’ problems for a period. A mysterious villain at the center of it all is menacing at first but winds up feeling too obscure by the end. Perhaps it’s a result of my choices, but I’m still not entirely sure what the antagonist’s true goal was or even who they were. Though the main threat falls a bit flat, the story regularly gripped me and sprinkled a few effective twists and revelations that kept me guessing until the conclusion. 

Nobody Wants to Die delivers a few hours of largely engaging storytelling, easy yet well-presented puzzle-solving, and jaw-dropping sights. It has an ideal length, as it wraps up just when the long investigation segments begin feeling repetitive since your toolset never changes. While I didn’t get to wear my detective hat as tightly as I wanted, I enjoyed my tour through this cautionary vision of the future.

[yzafre]

we're flying above the valley below | Interlude 7

AO3

First | Previous

Ienzo hunched into himself, crying in front of his mentor, who tenderly held his shoulder.  Aeleus was a step behind, stoic as ever except for the shimmer in his eyes, obviously affected by the return of the Master he’d once betrayed.  Dilan watched from the edges of the room, blank-faced, and Vexen stood beside the whole tableau, looking vaguely smug with a bundle at his feet.

Axel supposed it should have been a touching scene, but all it really inspired in him was a sickening sense of dread.

What the hell had they just walked in on?

All heads turned toward them as their corridor snapped shut, and Axel found himself shifting without thinking, placing himself between Xion and those gazes, familiar adrenaline sharpening the edges of his mind.  He felt Xion’s own attention crystallize in response to his own, going deadly still at his back.

“Is this a bad time?” he drawled, trying to cut through the tension, though he couldn’t keep his grin from being more threat display than humor.

“Axel!” Ienzo said, straightening up and scrubbing his face clear, “You’re back – and, it seems you found what you were looking for.”

“Mhm.  And I see we’ve got visitors.  Vexen, DiZ.”

“Young Axel,” Ansem said, tipping his head, voice rumbling with a paternal edge that had Axel bristling, “Though, if you will, I have cast that name behind me, as I should have long ago.  I am Ansem once more.”

“Uhuh,” Axel said, sliding his gaze between DiZ and Vexen, “How’d the two of you get here, DiZ?  Last I saw, you were Saïx’s problem – and on top of that, I don’t imagine the Organization would just let their body-builder go.”

“Hmph.  You think you have the whole situation all figured out, do you?  But, as usual, you are lagging far behind,” Vexen mocked.

Oh, Axel did not miss this guy.

“Is that so?”

“Indeed.  This moment was planned all along.”

Axel arched a brow, “You planned on finding the guy we all thought was dead?”

“Oh, obviously not,” Vexen bristled, “I meant my work with the Replicas, my return!”

“So, you’re a plant.”

“What - that is not what I’m saying!”

“And we should just believe you?”

Seething, Vexen marched several steps forward, poking finger in his direction.

“And why should we trust you – you murdered me in cold blood!  I, at least, have been putting my work to good use,” he said, swinging a hand around to gesture at Xion, “Use that has benefited you, I might add, despite what you have done to me.”

“Yeah, yeah – we've all tried to use and-or kill each other,” Axel groused, “We don’t trust each other, we don’t like each other, but we'll work together if it means taking down the Organization and because we feel bad about it, or whatever – is that the sum of it?”

“You - “

“Enough,” DiZ said, and every one of them fell silent, “This arguing will amount to nothing.  Besides, we have been impolite.  Axel, you have yet to introduce us to your young friend.  Although, perhaps we have met before – the memory is... shadowed.”

DiZ’s attention drifted down to Xion, who had slowly shifted around Axel’s side for a better view of the room, and Axel bristled, moving to step between them once more – only to be stopped by Xion’s hand on his arm.  Her eyes turned up to him, gaze resolute and a bit condemning, her heart echoing with both understanding and frustration, a current of resignation under it all that had him pulling up short.

He clenched his teeth, but knew she was right; he couldn’t... do this again.  Couldn’t try and keep her off the field, keep her tucked away and secret.  So, as much as it galled him, made something deep inside him snarl, he stepped back, letting her take the lead.

The grateful affection she passed to him made it worth it.

“We met once, briefly,” she agreed, turning back to DiZ, “You called me a ‘blasted puppet’.”

“Ah,” he tipped his head, regretful, and Axel grit his teeth, “Another sin, for which I must apologize.”

Xion watched him with cool eyes, her heart churning down their bond, and Axel waited for her judgement, ready to intervene if necessary.  Finally, she sighed.

“Help me find Roxas.  He’s the one that you really hurt.”

“Yes.  Yes, he is one of the ones I have hurt the most.  However, I believe we can begin to make amends in that front immediately,” DiZ said, turning to Vexen.

“Is that so?” Axel asked skeptically.

“Beyond tampering with the code intended to control Xion’s body – which, you’re welcome, by the way,” Vexen said, “Actually, now that we’re away from the Organization, “I really should take another look at the code in that body of yours, its - “

“No,” Axel said immediately.

“Axel,” Xion admonished, and Axel sighed, waving her forward with a rush of chagrin-you're right-sorry.  She nodded with easy forgiveness, turning back to Vexen.

“No,” she repeated, and Axel had to work quickly to restrain his amusement, tipping his head to the side and pressing a fist against the laugh trying to escape.”

“You - !” A vein pulsed in Vexen’s forehead before he regained control of himself, continuing with his voice tight behind gritted teeth, “I believe that it would be in your best interests to let me look sooner rather than later.”

Xion frowned, “I’d prefer not having anyone tampering with my body, anymore.”

“You don’t know  what you’re – “

“Fine, yes, you two can hash that out later,” Axel interrupted, “Your original point was?”

“Take a look,” Vexen said, waving a hand to the bundle on the floor.  For a moment, frustration merged with confusion, bubling heatedly in his stomach, but then Xion gasped beside him.  A quick touch of his heart to hers let her realization flow in to him -

A replica.

“To the point: while doing the Organization’s bidding, I was able to make one extra Replica,” Vexen said, “I thought it might come in handy.  You can thank me now.”

Axel and Xion exchanged a long, loaded glance.

Aqua stared down at the bowl of chicken noodle soup, stomach turning.

Something about the Realm of Darkness let her survive ten years without food, but her stomach was still empty for all that time.  When she woke up at Radiant Garden, one of the first things they did was bring her a full meal.

That first plate had smelled heavenly, but at the first bite she’d hunched over, hand skittering across the table and nearly knocking her water over, barely managing to swallow the bite down without gagging.  It had simply been too much, too much flavor and texture and weight.

The meals they brought her after that were much simpler, and supposedly easier on the stomach.

“Come on Aqua, you’ve gotta eat,” Ven urged, “I’ll get better the more you do.”

Cheeks burning and tension rippling up her spine, she methodically scooped up another spoonful of soup.

“I know.  Just… taking it slowly,” she said, immediately moving the spoon to her mouth, pausing to fight down the squeezing in the back of her throat, ignoring the static-like feeling as the chicken rolled across her tongue and forcing the whole thing down in one go.

It settled in her stomach like lead.

If she got the solids down, then she’d just have the broth left.  That was easier.  In a few days, she thought she’d even be able to enjoy it.

She kept her eyes locked on the bowl, powering through each bite.  Ventus tap-tap-tapped at the table where he sat catty-corner to her, a counterpoint to the tick-tick-ticking of the large, ornate clock against the wall.

His emotions were so loud.  A constant buzz of hope-happy-worried!-patiencepateincepatience-affection-distractions-fear-determination and on and on and on.  It alternated between comforting and overwhelming in turns.

He really didn’t need to be so worried.

She reached out, soothing over the mass of feelings with quiet now-assurance-you're safe-I'll take care of it.  Immediately he cut his eyes to her, sharply, a sharp spike of something that tasted of bitterness-frustration being quickly suppressed by a determined wave of hope-comfort-love as he smiled.

She blinked back in confusion.

Fake-fake-fake, a voice in the back of her mind hissed, recognizing the smile for a lie, Imposter, false, don’t fall for it.

She shoved the voice down.  It had no place here.

They lapsed back into silence, nothing but the clink of her spoon on the bottom of the bowl and that clock, still ticking away in the background.

“Hey, Aqua,” Ven said abruptly, “I’ve… been afraid to ask the others, since I woke up, but – what happened to Terra?”

Aqua paused, the food in her stomach going from a heavy weight to a writhing beast.  Swallowing the bit left in her mouth, she pushed the bowl away.  The locked door in her heart was suddenly a looming presence.  She refused to look. 

She couldn’t afford it.

“Terra,” she began slowly, picking over her words, “Xehanort took over this body - and infected his heart.”

“Infected?” Ven asked, nose crinkling, “What’s that mean?”

She shivered, a phantom sensation of thorns dripping poison digging in and tearing open cutting through her chest.

No, she told herself, shutting the memory away.  That was past – she was out of there, she could fix things now.  She didn’t need to go back to that.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she said, “I’ll take care of it; I won’t let Xehanort keep him.”

“Aqua – wait.  If you explain it to me, maybe I can - ”

“No, Ven.”

Her voice came out sharper than she intended, pinched by the vice grip fear had on her throat.  Breathing deeply, she sorted through her emotions till she could collect up both regret and firm decision, tossing them his way.  She didn’t mean to yell, but she couldn’t – she couldn’t.

He sent back tender acquiescence that couldn’t quite disguise the mutiny-worry behind it.

She stared down at the bowl.  There was still one more bite, but….

Pushing away from the table, she picked up the bowl and took it to the sideboard, where the tray that the meal had been brought in on was left.  Ven’s bowl was already there, along with some cups and a pitcher of water.

As she busied herself collecting the used dishware, she heard Ven stand up behind her, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor.   He gave a little hiss, and then –

A Dark presence, rising in the room.  It prickled over her skin, little hairs rising along her arms, the taste of it bitter and familiar on her tongue.  Heart pounding in her throat, she spun, eyes wide and teeth gritted.  She summoned magic to her fingertips instantly – wait, no, she had her Key now - !

She tried to summon both, and both fizzled out futilely.  No good, no good, where was the threat - ?

Ventus stared at her in confusion, hand poised like he’d been rubbing against his forehead.

“Aqua?”

It was Ven.  It was just Ven.  …Was it Ven?  What if –

No.  Pressing the thought down, she stepped over to him, slipping her hand beneath his to run along his hairline.

“Ven?  Are you alright?”

“Yeah.  I just felt…”

“Hm?”

“No, it’s nothing.  What about you?” he asked, turning those concerned eyes on her, “It looked like you…”

“I’m fine,” Aqua denied, “Don’t worry about me.”

Ven pursed his lips, eyes darting down to the ground.  Seeming to come to a decision, he looked back up.

“I think you should have this back.”  He held up a hand, light sparkling for a moment before Master’s Defender formed, “It doesn’t really sit right, with me.  And… you seem to be having issues with your normal Key, right?  You’ll need a weapon that works, with what we’re facing.”

“So, you noticed.”

Bitter, bubbling shame bit at her stomach.  Ven frowned up at her, brow furrowing, chasing after the echoes of the feeling until she shooed him away.

Hesitantly, she reached out, curling her fingers below Ven’s on the hilt.  Through the touch she could feel its connection to Ven, loose though it was, alongside its willingness to return to her once more. 

She’d forgotten how heavy it was.

Swallowing down her reluctance – she couldn’t just leave this burden with Ven, the Master had entrusted it to her – she firmed her grip, tugging resolutely and pulling its allegiance into her grasp, letting the responsibility nestle in her heart next to Stormfall.

“Alright,” she said, “You’re right.  We’ll need to be ready, for the fight ahead.  Where do we go to practice, here?”

Next

[atlanticcanada]

'I've lost everything': Homeowners lose everything after rural Shepody, N.B. home destroyed by fire

Two photo albums full of memories of her family. That's about all Lee Walker could salvage from the ruins of her home on Thursday. 

Lee and Mike Walker's house in Shepody, N.B., was destroyed in a fire Wednesday afternoon.

"Our pictures when we got married," Lee said to Mike as she flips through one of the albums.

Not only is their home and all their belongings gone, so too are their pets.

Their dog Harry and cat Hope were both lost in the fire.

"If I only could find Harry," said Lee as she continued to sift through the wreckage.

The house, which the Walkers guess is over 200 years old, had to be demolished by an excavator because of hot spots that couldn't be put out.

Riverside-Albert Volunteer Fire Department Deputy Chief Daniel O'Hare said the building was fully engulfed when they arrived shortly after 3:30 p.m. Wednesday.

"It was so dry," said O'Hare. "It really wasn't anything we could put out quick. It took a lot of water."

No one was injured in the fire.

Riverside-Albert received mutual aid from the Hillsborough and Alma fire departments.

Firefighters were on scene for close to six hours.

O'Hare said the cause of the fire is not yet known.

The couple has lost everything and now must start over, but it won't be easy because they don't have any insurance.

They were 40 minutes away in Riverview, N.B., at the time of the fire paying their property taxes.

"By the time we got back, there was basically nothing left," said Mike.

Mike said the pets are definitely their biggest loss.

"They're like kids as you get older," said Mike. "The funny thing is the little dog, he wanted to go with us yesterday."

Lee said both of her pets had a lot of personality.

"I lost everything. My babies I can't replace," said Lee. "Everything else, they're just material things."

The couple have spoken with their neighbours and friends and they appreciate their support.

"Albert County is a place you want to be. Everybody's friendly," said Lee. "We all help each other. We all pull together."

Michelle Walker, Mike and Lee's daughter, said they moved from Moncton, N.B., to Shepody 25 years ago when she was 15.

She found out from her daughter that her old home was on fire.

"I called my mom and she didn't answer. I called my dad. He said, 'I'm here, I'm just watching our house burn down,'" said Michelle.

Michelle's parents are staying with her sister for the time being. She said her mother works in home care with seniors in the Albert County area.

"She drives around and spends her days with the seniors in the community," said Michelle. "She said last night that she was going to go to work. She lost all of her scrubs in the fire. They didn't have anything. Just what was on their backs."

The Walkers are trying to figure out what they are going to do next.

They have a cottage in the Salisbury, N.B., area, but it isn't suitable for living in during the winter.

As for getting new pets, Lee isn't so sure about that right now.

"They're irreplaceable. They can't be replaced," said Lee. "You can't replace a life."

Michelle has started a GoFundMe page to help raise money for her parents. As of 3:30 p.m. Thursday, the fundraiser had raised just over $2,000.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/qjYyUIc

[linka-from-captain-planet]

I am so terminally bored today so here are some confessions

(not tagging shit so read at own risk - realistically nothing more extreme than appears in canon)

I truly believe that Florrick was made dirty and sweaty at Waukeen's Rest specifically For Me, so thank you to whatever Larian staffer lurks my blog and graciously decided to indulge my sweaty clothing kink. That dress is obviously pretty breezy on the bottom but on top? Even with the sheer panels, that purple fabric looks stuffy. Needless to say I would be IN IT any day of the week 24/7 but specifically the way Florrick is so uppity and prim yet unbothered by being absolutely drenched in sweat and also covered head to toe in ash... it's just top tier. I know she has better things to do than get sniffed up/tongue bathed but I would eat that sweaty thong for breakfast, lunch, and dinner no question

But obviously she's gonna need to wash it all off eventually right? Roadside sponge bath? Skinny dip? Make it all the way to the Last Light Lesbian Bar Inn all dirty so Jaheira can rub her sore singed skin down with aloe?? Many such scenarios - not even necessarily sexual, but I'm sure my queen would need to blow off some steam - and I would be a fly on the wall in all of them

semi related: Quartermaster Talli... why are you dirty? I want to give her a bath. Actually my Florrick/Talli concept was born out of a daydream of Florrick living out my fantasy of bathing Talli, specifically involving an extended scene of scrubbing her big, strong callused hands and cleaning her dirty nails. Then sucking her fingers

My unrelated very specific fantasy about Florrick is sort of hard to articulate but basically I want her to completely micromanage me. Not in a dom fashion, but just walk all over me in a sort of detached, thoughtless manner such that she's simultaneously overbearing but also borderline neglectful, because she's too busy girlbossing to realize she's casually steamrolling me 24/7. I want to be her afterthought but I also want her to gradually take control over every miniscule aspect of my life: order my meals at restaurants, set out my outfits, tell me where and when to be, etc. As a control freak, this would cause me great distress but I would comply anyway and let her unconsciously mold me into her docile waifu because protesting would feel even more vulnerable. IDK! I think this is actually the weirdest thing on this list.

I like to imagine a storyline in which Florrick was the one to pact with Mizora to save Baldur's Gate, not in an 'erase Wyll from his own narrative' way, but in a 'I must lesbionically sexualize this narrative' way. Everything Mizora did to Wyll that was terrible and shitty would have been extremely sexy and cool if she did them to a 40-coded-year-old woman instead. Florrick as a beleaguered MILF warlock pacted to the most obnoxious infernal lawyer imaginable would be so hot and they could only fuck nasty about it

Mizora/Florrick is also my Certified Problematic ship of choice because you can also cast a rancid yet titillating shadow on their vague interaction in act 3. "Lady Mizora told me to" is a very frustrating ass-pull the way it's presented, but what about expanding it? What if Mizora has been posing as a patriar and manipulating Florrick for these past 7 years? Or what if they never had met before, but Mizora uses her fiendish charm to plant false memories of Mizora being a patriar, or them being together, etc into Florrick's mind to force Florrick into believing her? And obvi they'd fuck under questionable circumstances. I find many noncon/dubcon situations tacky and boring but this specific magical/hypnotic manipulative/coercive flavor is like catnip to me

On this note, Viconia's Mapping of the Heart is such underutilized potential for what I feel are obvious reasons

Also on this note, I'm mixed on whether the Dream Lover would have been a better story than the Dream Guardian/Emperor, but it definitely would have been 200x sexier. Being constantly harangued and sexually harassed by a total creep of an imaginary hottie of my own invention would have been very fun for me, although I can certain understand why they went in a different direction. This also applies to things like Minthara and Z'rell taking advantage of the tadpole to push sexual/violent-but-sexually-evocative thoughts into your head. I'm so down

I'm not interested in Viconia/Shadowheart as a "ship" per se because I find their canon dynamic so compelling that adding fucking would only dilute it, however I also am convinced that their canon dynamic includes Shadowheart being plagued by a seething, psychosexual, borderline Oedipal obsessive crush on Viconia. It's very hot to me how quick she is to clarify that Mother Superior isn't her actual mother because it just makes her seem desperate to maintain this distinction, perhaps For A Reason. Having a somewhat gross fantasy that she's deeply ashamed of but can't resist indulging in what little privacy she can get is just a very tasty cherry to put atop Shadowheart's overall theme of religious indoctrination/abuse and lifetime spent in a weird voyeuristic cult

Related to this, Minthara/Shadowheart is the perfect ship to capitalize on this mommy kink. "Thinking of X while fucking Y" is always fun, and Shadowheart giving in to her darker impulses due to being overcome by her desperation for a mean debonair drow MILF's approval is *chefs kiss*. Shadowheart receiving the reward for raiding the grove... 30+ years of a pent up hopeless desperate shameful lust spilling out... bark bark. The fact that Shadowheart actually could earn Minthara's love and affection is extra fun because their relationship can be so romantic and so weird, which is the best way to be imo

Anyone I ship with Minthara is getting a muscle worship/musk kink projected upon them. She is my buff rat wife and all her training leaves her sooo sweaty and sore and in need of attention, clearly. Doesn't matter who - Florrick, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Jaheira, Viconia, etc etc etc. The lines between her abs and muscle groups aren't gonna lick themselves

Araj is so sexy and everyone who feels the need to qualify it with "even tho she's ebil and mean uwu" will not survive the winter and deserves to be fed to the wolves. I am superior and I am not afraid of her. I want to wake up in a bathtub full of ice, missing a kidney, in her nasty ass basement, an opportunity for which I would be grateful. Her batshit insane epilogue letter is the most erotic piece of writing in the entire game. My friend - no, my darling~!

Mizora's sex scene should have included her cute little devil lackeys

Learning that Jaheira was sort of a deadbeat made her 100x sexier to me just in general, like otherwise she would have come off too benevolent and heroic. But no like you'll run to the ends of earth for the Greater Good but won't even send your kid a birthday card bc you're too busy clinging to your heroic glory days?? Baby where do I sign up

I don't think I've ever brought this up because there's not too much to say about a character who explicitly dies after act 1, but Tilses is the sexiest tiefling in the game to me. She's like the Talli of Act 1, a handsome sturdy woman who would be such a good wife. Not to get inbetween her and Zevlor but I'm better

Also the sexiest other random NPC I bring up occasionally is Adrielle the hag victim. Something about a tense neurotic crushed under a self-inflicted nuclear bomb of unwarranted responsibility just appeals to me so deeply, especially with her angelic face and hair. I love it when really classically beautiful, feminine women are freaks - it is imo as god intended

I love those dirty/naughty confessional blogs but I could never contribute an anon to them bc I'm allergic to not taking credit for my own work, even if it's a deranged rant about wanting to sniff Florrick's dress and/or thong post Waukeen's Rest

also it would feel too obvious it was me anyway (see above)

[abstracthappiness]

microfiction, November 20 - 26

My finger hovered over 'skip intro', past the warnings. One hour in, the video showed people collapsing, having danced themselves to death. The Lord of Dance—rumored to be an actual god—looked directly into the camera. “Bring me more people,” he cried.

-

The blood spread across the hardwood—impossible to scrub out of the grain, she thought, and of course she’d be the one to—“Clean it up,” the Duke snapped, disappearing behind the tapestry. She darkly wondered what he’d do if he had to clean up his own messes.

-

She suffers from hallucinations, the doctors said. Of course there’s no monsters—she must have scratched her own face. You must tell her it’s not real— * Not real, she whispers—as it drags her brother away. Not real, she screams—when it comes back for her.

-

Everything spoke to me as I read the room. Maddening pulses of—light color sound—past present future—suddenly focusing on the subject, his bloody entrance and exit. My eyes snapped shut, cutting me off from the vision. “I know where the killer went,” I said.

-

She woke up in a locked room. Scrawled across the wall: Do You Remember? She couldn’t even remember her own name. And yet—grasping at the edges of memory—the wallpaper looked familiar. And that stain— She had been in this room before. She had *died* in this room before.

-

“I have the weirdest craving,” Kyra said, staring at the veins on Don’s wrist. Her sense of smell was sharp tonight. So was her hearing. “Her fangs are coming in,” Jess muttered to Win. “We’ll have to kill her soon, if we can’t find the vamp who bit her.”

-

“I don’t understand. I’m back on time—why hasn’t winter ended?” Persephone asked. “Where is my mother?” “Demeter is in the park,” Hermes said, “feeding the pigeons and cursing anyone who litters. She’s really into the role this year—she’s forgotten that she’s a goddess.”

-

A witch parks her shitty rental car by the side of the road. On the edge of twilight, a form crawls out of the forest; it’s accompanied by moths, dripping river water, reeking of decay. A claw taps the car window. “About time,” the witch says, stubbing out her cigarette.

-

“We’re looking for an expert in lupine behavior,” said the man in black. The witch beamed. “Lovely flower. Perennial. Bit late for planting—” His partner snapped, “Not the bloody flower! We’re talking about werewolves!” “Oh. Well, you could have made that clearer.”

-

He escorted his lady fair through a dark winter wood. Roses bloomed on withered vines as she passed, and his notice made the scene fracture. “Don’t let it trouble you,” his lady fair said, “lest the dream collapse around us—Let us be together a while longer, my love.”

-

The behemoth came from space, the size of a city; crushed by gravity and its own weight. Its flesh took a century to rot, its bones bleached by the reddening sun. Strange flowers bloom along its jawbone and ribs; children play in its wide open maw.

-

His quest was clear: travel to alternate realities and find parallel forms of the dying queen. But in every timeline, the female in question is not a natural-born human, but a clone of his dimension’s queen, each carrying the same virus that will kill her.

//

read more on twitter: kattra | prompts: FromOneLine / DarkMicro / vss365 / flexvss / vssHauntedHouse / whistpr / SciFiFri / SciFanSat

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

[babyspacebatclone]

So, I was talking about that scene where Entrapta was telling Adora about how “of course Entrapta can open a portal.”

And @coolmiddlename pointed out my memory and interpretation was wrong, and Entrapta was being very literal and not threatening in that dialogue.

So I actually scrubbed through the ep to find that one scene and, wow, I must be remembering a gif I saw because yep yep her voice acting is definitely “excited science nerd delighted to have the pieces to a puzzle.”

Which just - confuses the stars out of me, because I just don’t get why they did that terrifying “hair attack” thing then???

Like, Adora is obviously expecting to be hurt from that. That is the intended interpretation, before the twist of “no, just Entrapta being weird and creepy and goofy!!”

And I just - why?? Why put that in? Why animate it????

We have Entrapta’s conflict over the portal. She verbally distracts herself from thinking about the consequences she’s aware of - Hordak leaving and losing a very good friend - in the same scene immediately before all this!! She immediately listens to Adora when Adora provides a piece of data that may explain anomalies!

Why play up the “is Entrapta dangerously evil” thing when the show has not been the slightest bit coy about how dangerous Entrapta is - exactly as bloodthirsty as Scorpia (which is to say, contextually).

Why play with the idea that Entrapta might not help the princesses when the world is at stake and then immediately say “Nope, even she’s not that crazy.” (restrains self on further comments, please do same)

I just - what was the point???

My interpretation of “she lost her temper because Adora had humiliated Hordak [without realizing how badly]” has a purpose. There’s a reason for Entrapta’s apparent aggression, the conflict between what she wants (Hordak to stay) and what she believes Hordak wants, and Adora unfortunately symbolizes both what Hordak wants (providing the key he needed) and his humiliation (repeatedly trying to deny him).

And you can still read that, I guess, Entrapta recovering her composure before lifting her mask and going hyper nerd gush. It’s just - it doesn’t feel natural, when every other part of Entrapta’s internal conflict in the scene shows through in her voice acting?????

So why?????

…..

Anyway, this grin is totally Entrapta hoping Adora’s right and she gets to keep Hordak, fight me.