#so tired... save me from the crumb prison

[ino]

i think i should have an army of roombas because my biggest sensory thing is dirt particles on the floor i can feel the tiniest crumbs and i hate wearing socks/slippers at home and we don't do shoes indoors here

so i vacuum and sweep and mop like an incredibly stupid overkill amount and i'm TIRED

[ilona2nerrie]

What if the justice leuge broke up due to a clash? And when dark side attacked, the only member who came was Bruce.

(Rät by Penelope Scot, read at discretion, enjoy.)

“Your… the only one who came?” Darkside said, starring at the man.

“You all can barely defeat me together. And you expect to survive alone?”

Bruce stared back at him. He was tired. Just tired. He’s been trying to keep everything together, keeping the world safe, dealing with his kids, and with the absolute mess that’s been left behind. 

“No. But I’m the last chance they got.”

The villains brow furrowed as he looked down at the other.  This… wasn’t what he expected. But, he could humour the human.

“Last chance, hmm? Tell me, why are they worth saving?”

That threw Bruce a pause. He finally met the gods gaze, with a questioning one of his own.

“I’ve grown up here. This is my home. I come from scientists and atheists and white men who kill God.” Bruce started. His voice pained and stoicism behind the mask crumbing.

“They made technology, high quality.

And complex, physiological, experiments and sacrilege in the name of ‘public good’s.

It taught me everything, just like a parent should.”

The villain listened, and waited. He hadent heard a cultish speak like this before. He had half a mind to just take the human then demand the others come to his rescue. But humans were allways fun to work up. He could let this one work himself up. It’d make him esiar to take prisoner.

“Mmm. go on.”

Bruce wasn’t even thinking at the moment. He’d been up and down with barely any sleep for the past week, trying to run the justice leuge alone. Which shouldn’t be bad since he was the only one who stayed, but was just that her because everyone had gone back to their own place. Heros were at an a time minimum and he had stepped up because of some damn complex. He wasn’t even able to take care of Gotham anymore, he left Dick and Jason with that.

“And it was beautiful, and vulnerable. Gave us power and success. God damn, I fell for it, the fame and words, their tunnels and tech. I studied hard, because I wanted to do one thing great, or two. And the real tragedy? half of it is true.” Bruce said getting more and more worked up. He was done trying to be strong. He was just gonna vent to someone, then leave and have a nap. Seemed the best option right now.

“But we’re all so fuckin' mean, we're elitist, we're as flawed as any church. And this faux-rad West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth. I bit the apple 'cause I loved it, and why would they lie?

And then I realized it’s all just as naïve as I am.”

Bruce took a breath before continuing, tears brimming despite himself.

“Well, I don't want to eat the rich, I'd have to eat my heroes first.

And my tuition's paid by blood, I might deserve earths fate or worse.

But I don't need that goddamn money, I don't need jack shit, that’s true. So when I speak, you bet your life my words are trues.

Let me level with you, man, as someone guilty of the game, I took the help, I took the cash, I would've taken his last name.

So if any guy on Earth should get to make a call about this, It should be me, and as I see it, life’s a dick.”

[shimmerbeasts]

"You act like a pilot fish, but you're a predator. Hunting." - Caitlyn / Jinx

Caitlyn stared at the woman in the prison cell, far in the corner as if she had lost a bit of fight in herself. Though Caitlyn knew, the predator would never disappear. At this point, Caitlyn had grown tired of hunting Jinx, to the point she hated herself so deeply. Because how could she hunt Jinx anymore when Vi had been right : She was just like her.

Her eyes glanced at the food Jinx wasn't eating, and she knew why. That fruit, the porridge and sandwiches; it wasn't the kind of food she needed. Its why the tray Caitlyn left this time had some tenderized cook meat, from the dark market thanks to Jericho. The irony: She had ensured it was a piltovan meat she found, as if to show Jinx she understood in some ways.

"Why are you acting like this," Caitlyn questioned, as she hit the bars of the cell, trying to elicit some kind of action. "you act like a pilot fish, just sitting there. But your a predator, hunting. I know you, Jinx, more then I ever thought I would," Caitlyn spoke and took a breath as she let her arm lower. "We're not so different after all. Strip away the piltovan garbs, status, title. I'm a predator too, and perhaps... that leaves so many questions answered," She paced slightly from side to side in front of the bars.

"Vi is alive, I need you to know. She's awake, angry... but awake," And course she had every right to be, Caitlyn didn't dispute that. "So why are you so quiet?"

Psychological Prison||Accepting.

Even behind bars, it seemed Jinx would never escape the judgemental, baleful stare of the other one. She remembered the harshness with which Caitlyn had inspected her during the fight in the abandoned Janna temple. "Move! She's not getting away again!" That willingness to hurt. No, not just willingness. There had been a desperate eagerness in it all. A sense of self-righteous retribution. Caitlyn needed to hurt her, needed to see her bleed, brought down to her knees, caged - and dead.

Well, she had now what she wanted, but she did not look happy about it. Jinx could not even be bothered to peer in Caitlyn's direction. She did not need to. Her fine nose could easily detect when someone was happy, just by how they smelled. Caitlyn was not happy. She was frustrated, and maybe even a bit bitter. Jinx could not bother to soothe that ache. It was not her job anyway.

She fiddled around with her claws near her foot. The Enforcers had done everything in their power that she could not sharpen them, save for filing them down. Jinx could not even find it in her to be surprised by this behaviour, even though under normal circumstances, she probably would have been. But right now, the world passed by like a shitty dream. Fog was everywhere and even the boiling of her blood had chilled down to a sizzle. After all, what was the point in any of it, now that she was gone?

Her purple eyes flitted over the two trays with the meals the guards had brought her. Jinx had not touched a single crumb on them. Sandwiches, fruits and porridge? All useless for someone like her. Jinx huffed and buried her face into the crook of her arms. She did not move, could not even bother to flinch as a loud banging sound shook the bars through. Instead, a quiet, rough and hollow voice came out of the dark of the prison cell: "If you want to starve me to death, don't bother bringing in food I cannot eat. It's insulting. Otherwise, just finish what you have come here for."

There was a new smell in the room. Jinx shuffled around to examine the source of it. A new plate. This one had nothing but a slab of sharply grilled, chopped-up meat in a brown sauce in a little metal bowl. Jinx squatted down in front of it. Reaching forward with a finger, she brushed over the edge of the meat. Her nostrils twitched and she absentmindedly swallowed a little bit of drool.

"It's a Piltie", Jinx recognised quietly. Her lips quivered. "He, he, he..." The laughter at first was quiet as if her mind still had to connect the dots fully. Then however she thrust her head back like a rearing animal and began to properly laugh. A full-bodied, loud sound, which rang across the dungeons with all the melodic eerieness of a laughter of pure and unfiltered madness.

"Hahahahahahaaaaahhhaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"I've never seen such a case of self-deprecating irony", Jinx said and finally her voice regained some of its strength as she mocked Caitlyn, "You went through the whole trouble of gassing our streets, all in the effort of shutting down the Chem-Barons and yet here you are, returning to those same streets, that same decrepit market to get the very meat, you were trying to shut off!"

She scoffed. Jinx put her foot beside the two trays of useless food and shoved them back outside of her cell through the hatch at the bottom of the door. She said: "I recognise you are a predator, but that does not make us kin." And of course, Vi was awake and mad. Jinx did not expect anything less. Good to know Tiger Mummy still has her priorities straight.

At the question as to why she was so quiet, Jinx merely replied: "What do you want me to say to that? You came here for a reason. For some absolution. For some closure. Don't pretend you care about me. You don't. You just want answers. Why should I give you a crumb of anything?"

[halfelven]

(this is just a document called Legolas Gimli crack that I wrote when I was like 16/17 and I am probably never going to do anything with it, but! there are several parts that make me laugh so I'm sharing for those)

‘Gimli!’

‘Oh, no, it’s an Elf,’ Gimli said. He was hunched over the fire warming his hands.

‘Gimli!’ Legolas sounded a little upset. But not nearly upset enough. The chirpy happiness had not left his voice. ‘I’ve missed you!’

‘Really? You saw me five minutes ago.’ Gimli poked at the fire.

‘Did I? Must have forgotten. I missed you, Gimli.’ Legolas dropped down next to him and threw his arms around him. Gimli nearly fell into the fire.

‘Careful!’ he snapped.

‘Sorry.’ Legolas pulled him away from the fire and kissed his cheek.

Gimli grunted. He still hadn’t gotten used to all the Elven affection. He doubted he ever would. It involved lots of hugs and kisses and proclaiming your love at least every other fortnight.

‘Gimli, I think I’m in love,’ Legolas said.

Gimli thought Legolas was in love with all his friends. He was always hugging them and rubbing his cheek up against theirs and saying things like, ‘you’re the best!’

‘I had the most amazing cake,’ Legolas said. ‘And I think I fell in love with it. Too bad it’s all gone.’ He pouted.

Gimli looked away. ‘You didn’t save me any?’

‘No, I had to fight off, like, three people for that last piece. And I ate every crumb.’ He dropped onto the ground next to Gimli and smiled up at him. He looked like a sunset. ‘You have a beard,’ he said.

‘I know.’ Gimli shoved him over with his foot.

Legolas rolled over and jumped to his feet. ‘I’d look like this if I had a beard!’ He pulled his hair in front of his chin and laughed. ‘I love you.’

Gimli sighed. Gimli had had enough. Gimli was going to take Legolas to visit Dwarves and be sensible.

‘Legolas, I’d like you to meet my family.’

‘Oh, this is serious, isn’t it?’ Legolas pushed his hair back and beamed. ‘I already met your father, and your uncles…I locked them in prison. Well, my father locked them in prison. Whatever. It was funny.’

‘It was not funny.’

‘It was.’

‘Was not.’

‘Was.’

‘Was not.’

‘How would you know? You weren’t there.’ Legolas tossed his hair.

‘I want you to meet my mother.’

‘You have a mother?’

‘Yes, I have a mother.’

‘So, your father didn’t carve you from stone?’

‘No!’ Gimli roared.

‘Oh, figures. He probably would have made you prettier.’

Gimli pinched the bridge of his nose. Gimli took deep breaths.

‘What are you doing? It looks funny.’ Legolas laughed.

‘I’m cursing you.’

‘By breathing?’

‘Sure.’

‘How does that work?’ Legolas dropped down cross-legged in front of him and cupped his chin in his hands. He smiled up at him expectantly, waiting for the answer.

‘You laugh one more time today, and you’ll turn into a Dwarf.’

Legolas laughed. ‘What?’

A moment passed. ‘GIMLI!’ Legolas had shrunk a foot and a half. He touched his face.

‘Now you know what it’s like.’

Legolas whipped out a pocket mirror. ‘My face! What have you done to my face?’

‘I cursed you,’ Gimli said.

‘By BREATHING?’

‘No, by saying the curse.’

‘That was a curse?’

‘Yes.’

‘It was very straightforward.’

‘Most Dwarven curses are very straightforward.’

‘But it didn’t even rhyme!’ Legolas wailed.

‘Yep.’

Legolas jumped up on his sturdy, little legs. ‘Oh!' he cried. ‘Turn me back!’

‘No,’ Gimli said. ‘I’m tired of you mocking us. You need to walk at least a mile in my shoes.’ Gimli took off his boots and handed them over.

Legolas took them and dropped them. ‘These are heavy!’

‘They’ve got steel toes,’ Gimli said. ‘Very handy when you work in metal and stone.’

‘I don’t know how to smith,’ Legolas complained.

‘What do you know how to do?’

‘Embroider and sing and cook and clean and I can garden and shoot really well, and I’m pretty good at killing giant spiders.’ Legolas wrung his hands. ‘Oh, look at me! I’m a freak!’

‘No, you’re a Dwarf.’

‘One of the stunted people!’

‘Do you have any empathy?’

‘Yes,’ Legolas sniffed. ‘I have lots. I just never thought I’d be this ugly!’

Gimli sighed.

‘Turn me back?’

‘Nope. Not until you’ve walked that mile.’

‘You don’t know how, do you?’

‘Not really.’

‘Ooooooohhhhh!’ Legolas fell in a fit on the ground. ‘I’m going to go see Gandalf!’

‘Can’t. He sailed to the undying lands.’

‘Radagast then!’

Gimli shrugged. ‘He’ll probably turn you into a squirrel.’

‘At least I’ll be able to climb trees and look pretty!’ Legolas stamped away.

‘He’s got interesting priorities,’ Gimli muttered and followed him.

*

Radagast looked at the two of them. ‘What do two Dwarves want from me?’ he asked.

Legolas burst into a fresh burst of tears. ‘I’m not a Dwarf!’

‘He thinks he’s an Elf,’ Gimli said.

‘I’m Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Greenwood. I’m under a curse!’

Radagast nodded. ‘Of course you are, you poor boy.’ He turned aside and whispered to Gimli. ‘This happens all the time.’

[collecting-stories]

2am - Daryl Dixon

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write something similar for Daryl as your one shot "small talk" maybe set in another night of that time where they were on watch, the reader telling daryl about something (some random fact about anything she learned before, i was thinking about sleeping cycles but it's totally fine if you use any other idea) until they finish their shift and go to sleep (1/2)

(2/2) if it helps you can use one or some of your prompt lists: “I saved a piece for you.”“It’s 2am, I think that’s enough of that.”“Tell me again.” “You’re so cute when you’re tired.”“Your hair is so soft.”

A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind? Really just some drabble/fluff.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The screen door creaked shut as you slipped out onto the porch of the house that you were squatting in. The group looked a little different these days but everything else felt the same. That lingering sensation, that loss was just around the corner. Waiting to catch up if you let yourself be too happy too often. It shouldn’t have even been a possibility, the uncertainty of the future looming just ahead, but as you stepped outside you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.  

“Want some company?” You called, keeping your voice low. The woods around you were virtually silent but you were cautious anyway, just in case an unexpected walker was lurking behind the trees.  

“Ya should be sleeping,” Daryl replied, turning his head just enough to look over his shoulder. “We can’t keep lingering here and I ain’t listening to ya bitch about walking through the woods cause yer tired.”  

“I do not bitch.” You sat down beside him on the steps of the porch, pulling a saran-wrapped piece of cornbread out of your cardigan pocket for him, “you should be showering me with compliments Daryl, I saved a piece for you.”  

He looked at the piece of cornbread for a moment, as if he was confused about where it had come from, as if he hadn’t been sitting in the kitchen with you while you made dinner from scraps that had been gathered and hunted. After a beat, he took the cornbread from you, unwrapping the corner so he could take a bite and wiping crumbs away when they clung to his chin afterward.  

You took a seat, turning in close so that you could watch him and looking more like a couple enjoying the night air than two people on watch for walkers. “I used to get cornbread from Whole Foods all the time; it was addictive. This is the first time I’ve made it myself...”

“Ain’t hard ta make.”  

“Have you made cornbread before?” You asked, pulling a second piece out and unwrapping it.  

“Ya sound surprised.”  

“You aren’t exactly Gordon Ramsey, I mean...the most I’ve seen you cook is meat and that’s usually just to char it over an open fire. No offense.” You tried to imagine another world, one where Daryl could cook more than a rotating animal carcass over a fire pit, but it wasn’t easy. He had never struck you as the “baking in the kitchen” type though you were sure he scrounged up his own food the same way back then as he did now.  

“Dunno who that is but cornbread’s pretty basic.” He shrugged, attempting to play off the admittance that he had cooked before as nothing special. He certainly wasn’t going to go around announcing the skill to everyone there.  

“I can’t believe you can cook.” You still sounded in awe of the idea, “will you cook me something sometime?”

“Not a lot ta cook around here.” He replied, “this ain’t bad.”  

You glanced at the cornbread in his hand, a beaming smile crossing your face at the simple compliment. Pulling any conversation out of Daryl was tricky but a compliment felt next level, especially these days. He’d felt more reserved than before, maybe not around everyone else but around you.  

“Why thank you, what a compliment.” You teased. “So, will you cook me something?”

“Cooked ya squirrel that time at Hershel���s,” he mentioned, scanning the perimeter.  

“Again, roasting a squirrel over an open flame isn’t exactly cooking Daryl. I mean like with spices and shit,” you replied. “Like a proper meal.”

“Might be a can a dog food left over, could pour some dill in it for ya.” He scoffed when you smacked his arm, “go nice with the cornbread.”  

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you,” You muttered, scooting closer to him.  

Daryl turned his head just enough to look at you, a scrutinizing expression as if he had never heard the words before. In the early hours of the morning, when he was just starting to wake up or right before a run that threatened to be the last time the two of you saw each other you might say it, just above a whisper, but never so casually, never while you were out on watch, talking about cornbread.  

“Tell me again,” he asked, voice quiet in the dark. He looked away quickly, biting at the tip of his thumb out of nervousness.  

You smiled, hand slipping around his arm as you leaned in close to him, “I love you.” You said, brushing some strands of hair behind his ear so you could kiss his cheek. “Your hair is so soft.”  

“A’ight, I think ya need sleep, yer losing yer mind.” He replied.  

“I’m not,” you insisted, “just making a point. Besides, I came out here to finish up watch with you, I’m not gonna bail.”

“I can finish watch, ain’t nothing going on.”  

“Yeah, but when I wake up again in the morning there will be something going on and,” you shrugged, silently conveying that once things got going in the morning there wouldn’t be a quiet moment for the two of you for hours. There were things to do, responsibilities of being part of a group out in the open but you couldn’t help feeling a little selfish. Longing for the days in the prison when you could sneak off to a quiet corner for a few minutes with him.  

He nodded his head but didn’t say anything. Daryl was never very forthcoming with how he was feeling and you hadn’t expected any sort of explanation in return.  

“I read this article once about this woman who slept in cycles instead of sleeping straight through the night.” You mentioned, laying back on the porch and looking up at the sky. There were more stars than you had been used to years ago but you weren’t sure if it was the dwindling population or just the fact that you were in the country. You hated thinking of the former, it felt a little too much like eugenics. There was still a lot out there, more ground that you hadn’t covered, new woods that you hadn’t surveyed, and keeping watch just felt like something that was supposed to happen. “I don’t remember it totally but I think she did like 4 hours of sleep and then 8 hours awake. Wouldn’t that be nice...four hours of undisturbed sleep.”  

“Ya slept through last night.” Daryl replied, “think ya got plenty a shut eye.”

You turned your head to the side, looking over at him. “How would you know? You were on watch for most of the night.”  

“Don’t like being locked in with everyone else.”  

“Should I be offended by that?” You asked, “or am I the exception?”

“It’s 2am at least, ya oughta sleep. Certainly had enough a this nonsense.” He replied, though when he looked down at you there was a hint a grin on his face. Too dark for you to actually see him but it was there.  

You sat up again, moving into your previous position so that you could lean against him, enjoying some physical contact before anyone was awake to see it. “I’ll go in soon,” you promised, knowing that he was right, you were feeling tired, “just wanna spend some more time with you.”

-

taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily 

[gingerquakes]

I am Woman

Before one I experienced

My first domestic violence

I was crying too much

My mom rushed me to the hospital

Her sin? Protecting me.

I didnt see my father for 14 years

Prison is a hell of thing.

Six, I experienced

My first suicidal intention

I just lost a tooth

But my mom lost her will to live.

I was the only one small enough

To fit through the crack of the door.

It was my turn to protect her.

Nine, I experienced

My first sexist comment

My step dad reiterated it for many years

That I would never accomplish anything

Because I was a stupid whore

I was a straight A student with aspirations

To become an astronaut then woman president.

10, I experienced

My first death threat.

We lived in an apartment complex

I was screaming for help, dialing 911

When he wrapped his arm around throat

A thin blade pressed against my skin

It was my turn to protect my mom.

11, I experienced

My first heart break.

My bags were packed with the sunrise

Everything was my fault, I had to go.

I begged her to come with me.

"The only person you can count on, is yourself."

Was my mother's goodbye, my grandma's hello.

13, I experienced

My first mental breakdown.

I couldnt go back, I couldn't go back.

Guilty conscience, guilty mother.

My grandmother was too tired to raise me.

I had to make a statement, a declaration.

1 plan, 2 blue socks, 3 searches later: success.

15, I experienced

My first taste of bliss.

"One pill makes you larger

One pill makes you small"

Drink me, eat me, down the rabbit hole.

What a beautiful thing, peace.

Fleeting happiness in chasing dragons.

16, I experienced

My own version of men.

What a foolish and naive girl I was.

I'd already seen the reality of the world.

Blinded instantly with bare minimum effort.

Oh how I swooned for the crumbs he left me.

I scurried right into the mouse trap, damn cheese.

17, I learned

What my mother felt like when she hit the floor.

How to conceal bruises with clothing and make up.

What it meant to be seen and not heard.

How to comply and obey, fulfill his needs/wants

Whenever, however he pleased.

I was not a person, not a woman, I was just his.

18, I snapped

Staring down the barrel of a gun

He loaded it front of me, and aimed.

Either you or I will die tonight, I cried.

Holding the muzzle to my head.

I watched the fear wash over his face

"I am fortunes fool"

19, I lived

Successful escapee, new life.

My life was saved by Uncle Sam.

Sure it had it's ups and downs, but I was alive.

Dare I say, I thrived- new beginnings were constant

I was strong, I had to be the best, prove myself

Again, and again, and again, for I am but a woman.

20, I found love

7 long years of.....love

Lies, lies and lies, broken dreams.

Cupid Im still unworthy.

I wasn't enough, I could never give enough.

My body, my heart, my life, my soul-worthless.

Discarded like a piece of trash wasted.

23, I experienced

Motherhood aburptly.

Life changed instantly- do this or leave.

Adoption of his family, I stood by his side.

"Mother is the name for God,

On the lips and hearts of children."

So, I followed diligently, their life for mine.

24, I deployed.

Married, but not supported.

No letter, no box, and the only calls: fights

I leaned heavily on my friends, now family.

My grandma, my in-between, the sand and home.

I ubered to her house from the airport.

No happy faces, open arms-why did I come back?

25- I experienced

What it meant to be a closet alcoholic

Bad decisions made worse.

I fought everyday to want to live.

I need to live, I still have "kids".

Its not a problem until people notice.

It helps me survive "saving my marriage."

26- I learned

What rock bottom looks like.

Crossed lines a woman shouldn't, she knows better.

I learned what my husbands rage felt like.

I needed the world to know my pain

I cheated, I lied, I contemplated the end of life.

I have to feel something, anything, please.

27- Im living again

I tell my truth and accept responsibility for my sins

I stopped drinking, I got help and he ran.

Karma still has her way with me, I accept this.

Always learning the term for inner peace.

"Your wounds may not be your fault,

But healing is your responsibility."

See me, hear me:

I am a single mother.

I am worthy.

I am a warrior, in many different terms.

I am successful.

I am a woman of spiritual means.

I am a believer.

I am a human with many names.

I am a survivor.

[boredoverlord]

Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient. 

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW:   Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly 

 Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

  That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately.   It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

 You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

 So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here.  Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.” 

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

  “Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action,  that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

 “He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

 When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom. 

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded. 

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one  of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.  

 You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye, 

 “Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

 Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered. 

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric. 

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…” 

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat. 

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

 The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

 His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece :  the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

 You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

 You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring,  sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

 In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower. 

[staliasjeronica]

Riverdale S5 Ep11 Thoughts *Spoilers*

thoughts under cut to keep tag from being cluttered :)

- Oh yeah I forgot that Chad was blackmailing Veronica about the dirty dealings in her company even though it’s not her at all (unless it’s just been so long and I’ve forgotten but she’s my baby and I feel like I would’ve remembered but-

- Hiram and this dumb prison is one of the worst things for this show it’s a constant plot of people escaping and it’s so annoying like sure Hiram owns it and he was in the jail but no one has, like, taken him back to jail…??? Hiram is a fucking disease smh

- “back to remote learning” why didn’t you just stay that way though… like even right now in covid schools are opening back up and kids are complaining because it’s still not safe so like… just… go back to it??? I’m so not built for this world fasdhfkahf

- Veronica and Smithers 🥺🥺💞💞

- the way Veronica hugs Archie is so cute bc she’s so tiny but like she always gives her all and Archie is just 😐 never giving anything ahjfsdfsh it’s quite sad you can tell how done KJ is with Varchie lol

- “I really hate that I’m dragging you through this.” … what about constantly pulling him into your mob boss father mess that the writers refuse to allow you to escape from?

- “until you and Chad are officially done, I think we should keep our distance.” Varchie bones!!! you just KNOW that Archie has been looking forward to this because that man is whole heartedly in love with Betty and has been since forever and that while Chad prolongs the divorce papers, Archie will not be waiting for Veronica considering he doesn’t want her. Varchie = bones we love to see it!

- now who tf would join Penelope Blossom’s ministry… no one, realistically.

- can Cheryl stop being given the craziest and usually most boring plots ever please...

- Not someone holding a gun to Tabitha literally don’t hurt Riverdale’s best girl weirdo

- these bitches really haven’t aged huh…. poor Veronica though being robbed but like they stole some watches or something and the opal like that’s all you take..?? okay-

- Fangs 💞💞💞💞💞 also rip to him having to work with his ex tho

- STOP HAVING ARCHIE GO TO HIRAM WE’RE TIRED

- You know considering the whole reason why Hiram is still here as the villain and ruining Veronica’s life/growth to keep her in his plots al because Mark is a big soap opera celeb and apparently brings in money, you’d assume they would give him GOOD shit instead of everything he’s gotten. If they hadn’t of hired Mark can you imagine how much better off the show would be if they didn’t have to keep him around bc of his status????? God why-

- Reggie’s always there for Veronica muah…. oh fuck me I guess fjasjkdf

- “I work for one Lodge and it’s not you.” lmao okay??? you acting like that’s a flex, and that you’re working for the better Lodge who literally left you to die after the Serpents thought you shot Fangs so-

- MARTY BEING WHY REGGIE IS WORKING FOR HIRAM…….. YOUR DAD IS ABUSIVE LET HIM HANDLE HIS OWN DEBT??? God both Veronica and Reggie are always fucked over when it comes to their parents huh

- don’t you just love when they make characters act ooc for a plot ahhhhhh it’s totally fun to watch and totally not frustratingly annoying

- “FOR OLD TIMES SAKE.” 💞💞💞 we love Veggie even though they made Veronica act ooc and hurt him back then and they weren’t given an actual chance.

- “don’t be such a Betty” now why is Betty so surprised she only ever had fun when she was with Archie, when she’s with Jughead all she did was do what she wanted and order him around so likeefjhakdfh

- “he shouldn’t really be my problem anymore.” BUGHEAD BONES YASSSSS

- I know it was just a sound they used but like that squish sound when Darla kicked Tom’s face… did she like smash his face in damn what is this The Walking Dead?

- see the problem with them randomly bringing characters/parents in when they need them is that they’re never around so like no one really cares… like they could have utilized the parents so much (and Skeet and Marisol never would have left) and it would have been so much better than random appearances that make them look incompetent and awful parents because they’re never there during all the other times their kids need them. but we have to see the two toxic parents that won’t go away constantly??? literally what the fuck

- Betty calling Jughead’s writing cringey wbk she’s never liked his writing she was just stroking his ego bc she was his gf and had to be supportive lmaoo

- why are these 60+ year old men beating up Jughead like for why???

- so they just forgot that Tom was checking in on the convict huh gotta love dumbing down characters for plot!

- Fangs with his switchblade muah

- jealous Tabitha muahhh over a password

- “wait THE BETTY?"

- Cheryl looks so good

- Find meaning in his death… girl didn’t you not care that your husband killed your son over the illegal maple stuff I forgot the plot but it was something illegal and dumb

- “drain the vein” …...

- Reggie helping muah

- Why is Archie acting like an ass? like sure he doesn’t know that Chad is abusive and toxic but c’mon fucker you cheated on her and never apologized and you don’t even wanna be with her in the first place so why are you acting like you’re personally hurt sit down

- God Archie really hates Veronica huh… I don’t even blame him considering the shit she’s brought him into time and time again.

- Jughead was kicked like maybe five times yet he was fine falling out of a two story window and the serpent imitation but now he needs antibiotics..? plot convenience!

- literally don’t remember anything about Doc tbh or him talking to Donna and Bret like—

- ever since Negan people are obsessed with bats with barbed wire.

- also! yes please kill Hiram <3 I know they end up saving him bc of the opal but c'mon

- they searched basically nothing for five seconds wow such great detective work you guys!

- we know you just want his manuscript Jessica

- Cheryl with her rainbow skirt how cute!

- “daddykins” girl you’re like 25

- Veronica acting like she cares about Hiram fjsadhkfhas these guys thinking that they’d kill Hiram even though they need him lol

- bad bitch Ronnie we love her even though she’s gonna have to save her father to save others and get her opal </3

- not Veronica calling Archie first and not Kevin considering Kevin’s dad is there…. this is the pandering va fan service bs we have bc it makes no sense and it’s so forced

- Fangs knowing Archie rides with tools in his truck mmhm that’s a little sus idk how but archiefangs agenda coming through!

- no one would actually believe that Jessica ashkjdfsj and they take this bait…??? you gotta be joking lmao

- Jug got to help doc this time 🥺😭

- …. tell me why when he said boyfriend I immediately thought of Reggie I hate myself for wishing fahsdjkfsafj

- okay as cheesy and corny and awful the fight scene is since they posted a clip of it, them working together is so refreshing and nice we love leader!Veronica bc she’s so good at it. but the show only cares for Betty which is funny since she’s an awful detective fbahsdjfj

- my god enough with Jason’s body!!!!!!!!! you burned his body please let him stay dead let his body rest

- okay but the back and forth from Betty and Jessica is so good like I wish we could get that kind of rivalry drama type stuff all the time. too bad they refuse to let Veronica act like a normal person and get angry at being cheated on and such :/ when will Veronica slap the fuck out of Betty

- he’s not a blameless victim but Betty take responsibility for how awful a person you are PLEASE

- THE VOICEMAILLLLLLL Jughead only speaks the truth! it’s weird that he only realized what we all knew about Betty after but whatever, finally he gets upset like damn. also jeronica crumb he’s the only one to ever include Veronica smh ALSO Cole acted the fuck outta this voice mail muah

- the way Betty just sits there uncaring… she really is a freak huh god when will someone punch her in the face and take her ego down a million notches she’s so annoying

- “that’s darkness.” …?? what?

- the way bh’s relationship parallels jughead’s with Jessica though. the unhealthy habits, the bad energy, etc. except Jessica left it and Betty didn’t and it turned Betty into whatever the fuck this is. I miss s1 Betty :/

- so when will they sue Jessica for drugging them? mmhm probably never

- poor Tabitha being the only one who cares about jughead tho

- oh no I forgot there was a random musical number…

- you’re gonna have Betty and Tabitha act like THAT and not put them together so rude

- when will Cheryl be free from her mom. is was like turned on by abuse or something sigh why do the toxic (and most boring!) parents get plots and screen time and everyone else doesn’t...

- Veronica would be able to do Moree than pepper spray but whatever only Betty is allowed be “badass"

- fangs being fangs ugh so sexy my babyyyyy

- Trevor Stines is so attractive it’s a shame they only bring him back for five seconds to traumatize Cheryl over and over again though </3

- wow varchie in a pop’s booth what season is this again??

- god it’s so upsetting how amazing varchie would have been as just friends…

- the way he smiled at Veronica was so contradicting to the blank, “please don’t” expression when she was telling him she was gonna get divorced as fast as possible. why can’t he just admit he doesn’t want to be with her!!!!!! my god they’ve put off barchie long enough just let them be together so their characters can finally act in character and stop being so awful and annoying

- “this cause” what cause you fucking weirdo

- not Hiram threatening the mayor he could literally be your downfall if we had good writers fjasdkjfasf

- jughead how would you have killed him with a small wooden basket

- I like doc so much but I know we’ll never see him again until we randomly need him seasons from noow

- Betty wasn’t hit by the drugs until after the message though… how would she not remember? it didn’t seem to be doing anything to Betty until the bunker

- hopefully since they’re friends now Tabitha can make Betty act like a decent human being <3

- the way Tabitha looked at Betty please stop doing this to me...

- maybe we can finish that dance!!!!!!!!!!!!!! jabitha rising bughead dying we love to see it!

wow that episode felt like it was two hours long but thankfully I finally finished it… don’t have many actual thoughts but anyways hope you enjoyed my live blog of my thoughts!

[samwisethebitch]

The Bizarre World of “Feel Good” Murder Mysteries

When I think of murder, I don’t typically think of warm, fuzzy feelings. If you’ve been following my blog, you know I’m a fan of all things gritty and gory, so a lot of the books I read fall into the thriller/suspense subgenre. But not everyone likes their mystery novels with an extra helping of blood and guts — in fact, there’s an entire subgenre of mysteries designed to make readers feel good.

According to Wikipedia, “Cozy mysteries, also referred to as ‘cozies’, are a subgenre of crime fiction in which sex and violence occur off stage, the detective is an amateur sleuth, and the crime and detection take place in a small, socially intimate community.” Think Angela Lansbury a la Murder, She Wrote. It’s a very PG approach to a genre that is usually a hard R.

Like romance, the cozy mystery is a subgenre mostly read by women. According to cozy-mystery.com, a website dedicated to this type of book, “Many cozy mystery readers are intelligent women looking for a ‘fun read’ that engages the mind, as well as provides entertainment.”

Any time a genre is marketed to one gender over the other, I automatically wonder why. Is it because women are seen as less likely to enjoy “hardboiled” detective fiction than men? Is it because women “have weaker stomachs” or “can’t handle violence”? Is it because everything made for women needs to be cutesy and fluffy?

To try to answer these questions, I read three different cozies to see if I could determine why they’re so popular and why they’re marketed to women. Here’s what I found.

And Then There Were Crumbs by Eve Calder

Quirky settings seem to be a recurring theme in cozies, with more than a few of the subgenre’s beloved heroines doing double duty as amateur detectives and small business owners. In And Then There Were Crumbs, the small business in question is a bakery nestled in a ridiculously beautiful beachside town.

The mystery is not the main focus of this book. Really, it’s about Kate recovering from a messy breakup and trying to save a small-town bakery from going under. The murder is just icing on the cake, so to speak.

Unfortunately, the mystery was the weakest part for me. It’s not bad, by any means, but it does feel a little too clean. I’m the type of reader who likes to try to figure out the mystery alongside the characters, and this story didn’t really let me do that. There aren’t any compelling suspects to speculate about, and the solution is only possible after Kate stumbles onto a missing clue that brings everything together. This is a device used a lot by shows like Murder, She Wrote, and it’s always been a little bit of a pet peeve of mine.

The rest of the plot is well-written and full of warm fuzzies, but as someone who was mainly interested in the whodunnit I was a little disappointed.

One thing I will say for And Then There Were Crumbs is that it made me crave cookies so badly I had to bake a batch of snickerdoodles after finishing it. That’s gotta count for something.

Final Rating: 💀💀💀 (3 skulls out of 5)

Sinfully Delicious by Amanda M. Lee

Like in And Then There Were Crumbs, the mystery is not the main focus of this book. Sinfully Delicious is, at its heart, a second chance romance about a down-on-her-luck author who moves back to her hometown and reconnects with her high school sweetheart. That she happens to discover a dead body on her first day back, and that the previously mentioned high school sweetheart happens to be the police officer investigating the case, is incidental.

As I was reading this book, I noticed another running theme in the cozy subgenre. Both And Then There Were Crumbs and Sinfully Delicious go out of their way to establish that the murder victims were very, very bad people. Of course no one deserves to be poisoned or stabbed in a back alley, but if anyone did, it would be these guys. In a way, this makes the murders less disturbing since they almost feel justified.

Sinfully Delicious spends even less time on the mystery than And Then There Were Crumbs — at times, it almost doesn’t feel like a mystery novel. The romance really is the main focus here, and I had serious issues with it. Stormy’s ex-boyfriend/love interest has a girlfriend, and there is definitely some emotional infidelity — what Bustle calls “micro-cheating.” To make us feel better about this (and to keep Stormy a sympathetic protagonist), the author makes the girlfriend so unbelievably bitchy and unlikable that we can’t help but hate her. I’m very tired of girl-on-girl hate being used as a plot device in romance novels, and this book is one of the worst offenders I’ve encountered in a while.

The murder subplot was pretty standard. The last minute reveal that pulls the whole mystery together appears once again in this book, followed by a conclusion so outlandish, it actually made up for some of the lackluster buildup.

I did enjoy the fantasy elements in Sinfully Delicious. Stormy discovers that she is a witch and possesses magical powers, but like a lot of other cool things in this story, the witch stuff gets pushed aside to make more room for the romance nobody asked for.

Final Rating: 💀💀 (2 skulls out of 5)

Agatha Raisin and The Quiche of Death by M. C. Beaton

The Agatha Raisin series is a staple of the cozy subgenre. With 30 books and counting, the series has been going strong since the early 1990s. Because this book (the first in the series) is quite a bit older than the other two I read, it isn’t quite as formulaic. It’s definitely heavy on the Agatha Christie inspiration (in case the protagonist’s name didn’t make it obvious), and it’s all very, very British.

Once again, the mystery isn’t the only thing going on here. This book is about Agatha, a fifty-something-year-old business woman who sells her PR firm, goes into an early retirement, and buys a cottage in the Cotswolds, only to realize that village life will be a harder adjustment than she thought. She feels torn between her new village, which isn’t at all like she imagined, and her old life in London, which is quickly moving on without her. Oh, and one of her new neighbors dies of poisoning after eating a quiche Agatha entered in a local baking competition.

I really liked Agatha as a character. It’s nice to see a single, middle aged woman who enjoys being single, and it’s interesting to read a story that deals with themes of getting older and planning for retirement. Agatha is also kind of a bad bitch, and I enjoyed reading about her aggressive, take-no-prisoners attitude.

The story really reminded me of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple series, which I’m sure is intentional. I can just imagine the author thinking, “But what if sweet Miss Marple was replaced by a London businesswoman?” and then writing this book. The supporting characters are all quirky and eccentric in some way, and some moments are genuinely humorous.

The murder mystery plays a more central role in this book than the first two I read, with Agatha doing lots of good, old fashioned snooping, breaking and entering, and harassing suspects. The conclusion was a little bit of a letdown for me — I think the author could have gone in a lot of different directions, but chose the most boring one.

Final Rating: 💀💀💀 (3 skulls out of 5)

Conclusion

I really can see the appeal of this type of mystery. These books are perfect for readers, both men and women, who want a fun mystery that they can try to solve alongside the protagonist, but who don’t want to read graphic descriptions of violence. I really do think there’s a place in the larger mystery genre for stories like this.

These books are also great for when you aren’t sure what genre you want to read. There’s a little bit of murder, a little bit of women’s fiction, a little bit of humor, and sometimes even a little bit of romance. It’s a grab bag of some of the most popular genres of fiction, and it speaks to readers with eclectic tastes.

Since I discovered the existence of the “cozy mystery” label, I’ve been using it to find books to read when I’m not feeling anything super intense. I read a lot of horror and thrillers, but sometimes I can get burned out on that type of intensely emotional (and often disturbing) story. When I want just a taste of intrigue without the blood and guts, cozies are a good option.

If you’re an avid reader of more intense mysteries, I recommend checking out this more lighthearted side to the genre. Who says a book about murder can’t be uplifting?

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Ambush

Pairing: Montgomery Scott x Nicole Scott

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Nic and the boys ambush Scotty with some fun

Tag List: @dancing-with-skeletons @selfshipfeelings @heavenshipped @hyperionshipping

A/N: This is my first time writing for Scotty, please be nice

In James’s room, he, his brother and their friend Demora were having a fun time playing Starfleet. Demora was the captain as she sat on top of a stool and gave ‘orders’ to the various stuffed animals Thomas had brought in from his room.

Downstairs in the living room, Hikaru and his husband, Ben, were talking to Nic and Scotty as the four of them finished up some dessert. The Sulu’s we’re giving the couple advice on raising a daughter, something Nic and Scotty were both grateful for. Suddenly Nic started to stand, or at least tried to, and Scotty jumped to help her up.

“Let me take these for you guys,” she said as she leaned down to take the barren plates with only crumbs of vanilla cake left over.

Scotty quickly took the plates from her. “I got these, love, go sit and rest.”

“Can I at least use the bathroom, or do you wanna do that for me too?” she joked, already heading for the stairs.

Hikaru and Ben stood from the couch. “It’s getting late anyways. Can you send Demora down? We’ll need to leave soon.” Hikaru said.

“Of course,” Nic nodded and headed up the stairs. She stopped in the doorway to James’s bedroom. “Demora, your dads said it’s time to go.”

Demora and the boys frowned. “Five more minutes mum?” James asked.

“I’m sorry boy, but it’s getting late.” Nic told them sadly. “She can come over next weekend if her dads are okay with it.”

“Okay,” the kids sighed. Demora stood up and headed for the bedroom door.

“Bye James, bye Tommy,” she waved at them from the doorway. “Bye Mrs. Scott.”

“Bye Demora, have a wonderful night,” Nic told her as she watched the 7 year old run down the stairs.

Nic headed for the bathroom, and when she stepped out into her and Scotty’s room she spotted something on their dresser. She smirked to herself, an idea coming to her.

“Hey boys,” Nic smiled as she stepped into James’s room. The boys smiled up at their mom as she pulled the toy phasers Scotty had made a few months ago from behind her back. “Do you wanna help me mess with your dad?” Their grins matched hers as they nodded and she handed the phasers to them. “Be quiet and follow my lead. We’re gonna ambush him.” She whispered to them. Nic pulled her own fake phaser out of her sweater pocket and crept down the stairs, James and Thomas following behind her quietly.

She was halfway down the stairs when she called out to her husband. “Honey, have they left?”

“They have!” Scotty called to her as he continued to wash the dishes. Nic shushed her sons as the three of them quietly stepped down the stairs and prepared their attack. “They’re taking Demora to see that new kids movie, the one the boys wanna see.” They reached the bottom of the stairs and snuck farther down the hallway that led to the living room. “Maybe we can go take the boys to see it after school–”

Before Scotty could finish his sentence, Nic and their sons rushed from their hiding spot. They pointed the phasers at him and they lit up, a fake pew pew noise emanating from the toys.

“For the Federation!” James shouted.

“Eat phaser, Klingon scum!” Thomas shouted along with him.

Scotty jumped at the sudden ambush but grinned and shook his head when he realized what they were doing. “Get over here you three,” he said, quickly rushing towards them.

“Boys run!” Nic let out a laugh and shot the fake phaser in Scotty’s direction as James and Thomas ran behind the couch. She followed, although much slower in her current condition. The three shot the fake phasers at Scotty as he chased them, and they wound between the couch and coffee table, heading for the hallway that connects to the stairs.

“Gotcha!” Scotty grabbed onto Nic’s waist and held her close as the boys paused at the entrance to the hallway.

“Mum!” They exclaimed.

“Go on without me!” She told them, feigning distress.

They nodded and rushed up the stairs as they left her. Nic laughed as Scotty pulled her until her back was pressed against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“You’re sneaky,” he mumbled into her hair. “We’re supposed to be a team, you betrayed me!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” she teased. “But what are you gonna do to me? I’m your prisoner now.”

He chuckled and Nic felt it reverberate into her back. She felt her heart flutter and cursed to herself silently; his laugh always had an effect on her. “I have a few ideas,” he teased in response.

Nic couldn’t help the smirk on her face. “I was counting on it. Boys!”

James and Thomas erupted from the hallway with their phasers and foam dart guns that Kirk had gotten them to make up for taking their dad on the five year mission. While the fake phasers were harmless toys the boys used to play Starfleet, the foam darts became the bane of Scotty’s existence as they never failed to leave welts wherever the darts hit. The boys ran out with black marker on their cheeks and the best war cries they could muster as they fired darts at their father. As quickly as they appeared, the boys ran back to the stairs in a retreat.

“Oh now ye’ve done it,” Scotty said, taking the phaser from Nic’s hand and chasing the boys up the stairs.

She stood there unable to control her laughter as she watched her husband run after their sons. “Don’t worry boys, backup is coming!” She called between fits of laughter. She reached over and grabbed the toy phaser Scotty kept hidden behind the couch cushions for ambushes like these. Nic followed up the stairs as quickly as she could.

Two hours had gone by and the boys were still insisting on playing Starfleet. Nic bowed out of the game after a half hour, unable to keep up with the boys and Scotty. She had fun watching the boys run through the house while Scotty chased them. It was the best way to tire out them and her husband.

Scotty hid in the hallway with his back against the wall, phaser in hand. The boys had hidden behind the couch with the dart guns and it was currently a stand off. Scotty peaked past the corner and didn’t see the boys with their heads poked up. They must be waiting for him to strike first.

“Alright boys, ye’ve won! I surrender,” Scotty told them. He slowly crept into the living room, putting his hands up in a fake surrender. When they didn’t respond, Scotty gripped the phaser a little tighter. He quietly stepped over to the couch, and when he looked at the back of it he was caught by surprise. Thomas and James sat against the back of the couch, leaning against each other asleep. Apparently the standoff lasted longer than he thought it had. Scotty gently took the dart guns from their hands and put them on the couch along with the phaser.

He let out a groan as he picked up both of his sons and carried them upstairs. Neither of them woke up as he placed them in their beds. As soon as Scotty stepped into the hallway, he stretched his back out and let out a groan. Those boys weren’t as small as they used to be. Once he was done stretching, Scotty headed to the bedroom he and Nic shared. She sat in bed already in her pajamas, reading something on her tablet. Tearing her eyes away from the news article she had been reading, Nic smiled up at him as he grabbed a shirt to change into. Scotty silently changed into his night clothes before pulling back the covers and falling into bed beside her.

“The boys are in bed,” he told her quietly.

“An hour earlier than normal. I’m impressed. They really tired themselves out,” she hummed softly and went back to reading her article.

Scotty stifled a yawn. “They tired me out too. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Nic laughed softly. “Let’s hope our daughter isn’t as much of a handful as her brothers.”

He smiled and put a hand on her stomach. “She’ll be a wee angel, I can already tell.”

“We’ll find out soon. Five weeks until she’s due and then we’ll be outnumbered.” Nic opened a novel she had saved on her tablet. “I was thinking we should take the boys–” when she looked over at Scotty to tell him her idea, she chuckled. He had fallen asleep so quickly. “We can talk about it in the morning,” she whispered. Nic reached over and dimmed the light of her bedside lamp and began to read her novel while her husband snored softly beside her.

[insertsexualitypun]

Some things I want from Legacies S3

This is going to be all over the place and pretty long. This’ll start with the general storyline things, then get down into smaller character arcs and whatnot. I’ll try to keep it somewhat organized and grouped by character but I make no promises. Also if you wanna talk about any of these feel free to dm! I’m incredibly bored in quarantine and would love to chat

- An introduction of a greater storyline past Malivore and moving away from the monster of the week thing. I know Legacies is supposed to be something different from TVD and TO, and the monster of the week concept is an interesting way to explore the universe past what we already knew, but with the premise as it exists and has been carried out now, it’s hard to develop the characters and relationships. If the characters are fighting new things every week, that makes it hard to give characters like MG and Kaleb their own stories. With a villain to anchor the season as the Big Bad, we can get characters that haven’t been given much of their own storyline a way to get more screentime as they go try and find someone or something with answers.

- GIVE HOPE HER OWN STORYLINE PAST BEING THE HERO/MARTYR AND BEING IN LOVE WITH LANDON. Hope is supposed to be the main character but this doesn’t feel like her story. As awesome as it is seeing Hope be a badass and fight monsters, I want more development from her as a person.

- Kind of ties back into the last one, but let Hope have more Dark moments like the Death Spell incident. Moments that show that while she isn’t just another Klaus, she still shares some of his tendencies towards violence and lashing out. This could work really well if they decide to keep Landon out of the picture for a few episodes.

- Let Hope and Landon break up amicably (assuming Landon isn’t really dead which let’s be real he probably isn’t) so that, again, they can grow as people. Then, if you want, they can get back together. Or just stay broken up and be friends

-  A resolution to the Necromancer - he’s a fun character and while I think he’d be fun to have around for a bit, I don’t think he’s an anchoring villain for a season. Plus to me I kinda figured that they were gonna wrap up his storyline in the last 3 episodes that they didn’t get to film before the production shutdown so chances are we’re getting this anyway.

- Either bring back Ethan, Maya and Mac more prominently, or don’t bring them back at all. Don’t get me wrong, I like the town normies storyline when it comes up, but it doesn’t come up much. Apparently, they were supposed to be in the last 3 episodes more but who knows. With the show already feeling kinda crowded (because again, the format of the show now doesn’t really allow for a ton of characters since they aren’t significantly developing, especially when these characters are in a setting completely removed from the main action of the show’s narrative), either have the normies for more than just getting caught in a magical crossfire, or put them to the side and focus on who you have at the school.

- The TVDU has progressed past the need for Alaric. That’s all I’ll say.

- The show being a little more self aware at the ridiculousness of it all. Like yeah, it’s not completely without that, but the last thing we need is the show devolving into a Riverdale, where the first season was aware of the ridiculous nature of itself, and then it started to take itself way too seriously.

- MORE LGBTQ+ REP. The show has done fairly well thus far compared to other CW shows but there’s still so much than can be done. The show doesn’t need to have show-stopping coming out storylines or anything - it’s actually the opposite. We get the casual drop of Josie having dated Penelope in the first episode of the show which was great. So let’s have more simple stuff like that. More mentions at crushes and other past romances - for all characters - that just allow for other sexualities to be normalized and not some earth shattering thing. 

- This ties into the last one but I felt like it deserved its own bullet, but also what is V NEEDED is rep of trans, genderfluid and non-binary characters. Again, it doesn’t have to be a huge storyline, but it’d be nice to have some recurring characters who are not cis. The show is meant to be set in a near future, so I think it’d be nice to show a normalized view on differing gender expression and sexuality as sort of a hope that such a future will exist.

- Hope loving beignets, eating/wanting to eat them all the time, and getting powdered sugar all over her dark clothes from them. Chances are, if you’re from/have been to NOLA, you’ve tried beignets and loved them because they’re amazing. SO LET HOPE HAVE HER BEIGNETS DAMN IT.

- More Wolf Hope moments. Let her turn more and just run because it let’s her feel more connected to Hayley :’( also the Crescent birth mark if that was ever a thing for Hope... I can’t remember, I’ve seen different things about it, lmk (politely) if that was ever a thing that Hope had

- Hope painting and sketching. It’s one of the few connections she still has with Klaus, SO LET HER EXPRESS HERSELF DAMN IT. (Yes, any time I say SO in all caps I need to end the sentence with DAMN IT, it’s a Thing now)

- MIKAELSON FAMILY MENTIONS AND APPEARANCES. Granted this one is different because there are real life schedules and whatnot that need to align, but even just more mentions of Mikaelson family members and others like Vincent would be nice. Yeah we’ve had some in the past, but it would still be nice to get some more. Also at least a mention of Rebekah and Kol checking in on Hope (assuming the writers aren’t going to pull something dumb like ‘oh the memory spell doesn’t work long distance like that so they still don’t remember her’)

- Hope also talking more about Hayley, Elijah, and Klaus. Again, feeling connected to her mom every time she’s a wolf. Always and forever, like Elijah always said. Telling stories about her father that put him in a better light than just being “The Great Evil” of storybooks.

- Hope being open with her friends about her past and how TERRIBLE it was a lot of the time like, y’know, people trying to kill her before she was even BORN.

- I’ve said this before in a separate post (which I’ll link at some point so expect an edit to this post) but I’d love for something to happen and for Hope to leave the school and go to NOLA and stay with Freya, Keelin and Nik because she’s tired of having to be the savior and still not saving everyone. (Also in that post it says Alaric comes and gets her and brings her back to the Salvatore School but we’ve progressed past the need for him in the TVDU so instead it’ll be the twins)

- Hizzie moments because whether you like them as romantically or just as friends, they are a DUO and we deserve more iconic sarcasm as well as genuine moments of friendship and caring

- Lizzie being the absolute Queen of Comedy

- But more importantly, Lizzie being more open about her issues and taking steps to have better mental health.

- Lizzie and MG having more open conversations and letting a relationship develop naturally - yes there has been a lot of development since season 1 but I feel like they both have a bit of growth to go before they should enter a relationship, if that’s something that happens

- Lizzie being happily single for a bit and not going for a guy that’s going to try and turn her into a vamp and keep her in a prison world 

- MG and Kaleb getting proper storylines or at least more play than just being the Local Vampires who help depending on the situation. They deserve WAY more than that

- ALSO MG and Kaleb backstories. How did they die and how did they get vampire blood in their system to keep them from dying permanently?

- Josie dealing with what happened pre and post Dark Josie and facing that she has always had some darkness in her. Yeah the dark magic definitely didn’t help, but she was willing to perform a spell that she didn’t know on a human over a football game and ended up breaking his arm. Not to mention, she was setting Penelope on fire as early as the first episode. It seems like we’re getting this since Josie locked away her magic in the last episode, but still, I don’t want this to just be a one episode reflection and then move on like she didn’t cause a lot of harm.

- More Hosie crumbs

- More Jade. OK admittedly this is probably really due to the fact that Giorgia Whigham is a Big Crush for me, but also the show really did start integrating her in a bit more with the black and white episode, which makes me think they’re keeping her around at least for a little bit. And I think she and Josie dating at least for a little while would be good for both of them. Jade was a ripper for 10 years in the prison world, and Josie was just consumed by dark magic and is now coming back from that. I think they’re a good (probably short-term) pairing that will help each other grow, but eventually break up because they just aren’t it for each other. And I saw this elsewhere on here, but someone pointed out that Jade could do what Penelope tried to do, but in a healthier way. Yes, Penelope was trying to put Josie first and show her her power and importance, but there’s a way to do that without gaslighting her sister and being manipulative. Sorry, I did not mean for this one to be so long.

- More Specialty episodes. The black and white episode was really fun in my opinion, and the show doesn’t have to be like that all the time, but stuff like that keeps the show interesting, as long as it makes sense within the context of the episode and storyline.

- Josie wearing the necklace Hope gave her

- I haven’t mentioned Rafael much and that’s because, despite being a main character, he hasn’t really done much besides run away with Landon, and feel guilty about having a crush on Hope. He’s personally not a favorite character of mine, but I think if he got more of a storyline - likely revolving around the fact that he was dead and being used as a pawn, as well as the fact that he possibly (but probably didn’t) kill Landon - it’d help give more to like about him.

- Caroline having a better reason for being away from the school than just researching the Merge. Like, her daughters have been fighting monsters, Josie almost died at the end of season 1, they were trapped in a prison world, Josie succumbed to Dark Magic, THEY LITERALLY HAD A MERGE EVENT and she’s still gone??? That’s not the Caroline we know. If she’s going to be gone (because like I said before, it all depends on Candice’s availability and willingness to come back), at least come up with something different than researching something her daughters have already done by this point.

- Since Landon’s not dead, let him unlock his full Phoenix powers. It’d be cool.

- Let’s have one season where Landon doesn’t run away like we don’t all know that he’s gonna be back within like 2 episodes if that

- More Dorian. I actually really like his character, he’s kind of a breath of fresh air sometimes so I’d like more scenes with him when possible

- A conclusion to Malivore and intro of a new villain. I kinda covered this earlier, but at this point, unless Malivore is going to become a tangible entity to fight instead of some black goo, it’s not a very interesting story thread to keep around for the next however many seasons Legacies goes on for.

Whew.

Ok, that’s all I can think of, but feel free to reblog and add more if there’s other stuff you’d like to see!

[kyber-kisses]

Hymn (Part 3)

Winchester Brothers x Sister!reader (platonic)

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the masterlist!

Warnings: descriptions of violence, cursing, more angst and fluff. (You guys know the drill)

Summary: Y/N Winchester has wrestled with demons ever since her mother died, but when her younger brothers lives are in danger it’s their souls she fights to save, because isn’t that what a big sister should do?

A/N: I am so excited for you guys to read this chapter! I worked really hard on it and i hope yall enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated!

The stories told are all we know Exchanged in truth and word The photographs are quilted paths From places we've outgrown

It wasn’t the thunder outside that woke you up. It was never the thunder. If anything thunder was soothing to you, even if you were only eight years old. But it was the creak of your bedroom door that roped you in consciousness. The timid voice of your brother moving softly through the space.

“Y/N?”

“What is it Dean?”

“The thunder. It’s too loud.” The small four year old whimpered, jumping slightly when another round rattled the house.

“You wanna sleep in her with me?” You mumbled sleepily, getting your response when you heard small feet quickly move across the carpet before he dove under the covers besides you.

“Why aren’t you scared of it too?”

“Because Im not scared of anything.” Sighing you rolled over, trying to fall back into the middle of the dream you were having.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now go to sleep.”

. . . That didn’t happen, because not five minutes later you heard Dean speak up again.

“I can’t sleep. The rains too loud.”

Letting out a groan you rolled over once more, flinging the covers off of you as you slid out of bed. “Come on.” You held out a hand, waiting for Dean to take it.

“Where are we going?”

“On an adventure, what else?”

There was a pause before you felt him latch onto your hand, and then he was sliding out of bed besides you, looking up at you with his big green eyes.

“We gotta be quiet though, okay?”

“Okay.”

You navigated the darkened hallway with ease, Deans hand still gripping yours as you descended the stairs. A flash of lightning lit up the living room as you entered.

“What if we get caught?” Dean whispered, looking back up at you through the dark as the two of you entered the kitchen.

“We won’t. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because were ninjas.” You smiled, suddenly hoisting your little brother up onto the tabletop. His small legs kicking lazily over the edge as he watched you.

“We are?”

We carry with the friends we make The hearts we mend and break I see it in another way All lives that we have changed

“Uh-huh.” Nodding, you slightly you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes and reached across the counter for the dented pie tin. Only one slice of apple remained- but that was more than enough. Grabbing that along with two forks you moved back to Dean and pulled out a chair, using it as somewhat of a stool to help you climb up onto the table.

“Do ninjas eat apple pie?”

“I think so. Why wouldn’t they?” You shrugged, lightly tapping your fork against his as you split the piece with your brother. His eyes lit up once again and before you knew it his cheeks were full of apple filling.

Good. Your plan had worked. He wasn’t thinking about the thunder storm anymore.

“Next time can we be cowboys though?” Dean spoke through a mouthful of crust. “I like cowboys better.”

“Sure, as long as I get to be your sidekick.”

“Deal.”

You held out your free hand, pinkie extended. “Pinkie promise?”

“I pinkie promise.” It took him a moment as he juggled with the fork and then his small pinkie wrapped around yours.

“What do you two think you’re doing?”

The sudden and new voice was followed by a click as the light above the table switched on, both of your heads whipping around in surprise.

“Hi, Mama.”

Sure enough standing in the doorway to the kitchen was a very pregnant Mary Winchester, her golden curls falling over her shoulders like a waterfall, her arms crossed.

“I believe it’s past both of your bedtimes the last time I checked?” She mused, her soft and familiar smile crossing over her features as she stepped into the room.

“The thunderstorm was scaring Dean-“

“So she took me on an adventure! Don’t tell Dad!” Dean suddenly blurted, his words slightly muffled by the amount of dessert in his mouth. His eyes widening when he realized how loud he had been.

You watched your mothers eyes narrow before she raised an eyebrow. “Hmm- I won’t tell him. . . As long as you share some of your findings with me.”

You paused to share a look with Dean before he nodded. “I guess we can allow that.”

With that you passed over your fork to your mother, the woman slowly sinking down into the chair you had pulled out earlier. “Now, what type of adventure was it tonight? Pirates? Knights?”

“It’s a secret.”

“A secret? Oh well you can trust me. I’m good at keeping secrets.” Mary whispered back, her elbows on the table as she leaned forward, taking a bite of pie as she did.

Dean was quiet for a moment before he leaned forward. “Ninjas.”

“Ninjas? Oh well that is exciting.” She nodded, the same soft smile from earlier still on her lips. The three of you sat in the kitchen until there was nothing but crumbs in the pie tin and then she was ruffling the hair on both of your heads.

“I think it’s time my little ninjas went off to bed now, isn’t that right?”

You slowly nodded before sliding back onto the floor, the cool tile making your toes curl as you helped Dean down. “Can I sleep in Y/Ns room tonight? The thunders still too loud.”

“As long as it’s okay with your sister.”

You gave him a small nod as you rounded the table, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss on your mothers cheek. “Goodnight, mama.”

“Goodnight you two.”

Mary’s smile came back as she watched you extended your hand to Dean, his own quickly moving to latch onto your again. “C’mon Dean. Let’s go to bed.” She shifted in her seat so she could rest her forearm on the back of the chair, the two of you darting off silently to the stairs and off to bed. . .

I must go alone Cause I need you there So my memory of home is full

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The force in which you awoke from your sleep was enough to make the chains tethering you to the wall rattle, your head slightly snapping back to collide with the cold metal, the impact making you wince.

“Fuck.” You gave a tired groan as you rolled your shoulders- well at least as best you could. A yawn came shortly after as you allowed your head to rest against the wall. Just a dream. . . Or memory. Dream memory? Was that a thing?

You let out a sigh as you felt your heartbeat slowly begin to find its steady rhythm again, eyes shifting tiredly to the bindings on your wrists and the length of chain that shackled them to the wall. That shackled you to the wall.

Shoot. You forgot about getting yourself thrown in here. . . Then again you did have a hobby for getting on the bad side of your keeper.It was like timeout. . .a very uncomfortable timeout.

Shifting as much as your bindings would allow you tried to get more comfortable. Your butt was numb from sitting in the same position for so long, but there wasn’t really anywhere else to go. You let yourself sink back into your previous position, your arms having lost all feeling awhile ago from hanging for so long.

It wasn’t the first time you had gotten yourself thrown in the cell, and if anything; at this point you were just doing it for the sheer amusement. You had to get your entertainment from somewhere . . . Even if that did mean annoying the hell out of some demons.

The silence that had surrounded you was suddenly broken though when the massive door to the old train car rolled open, light splitting through the darkness as the wheels squealed in their tracks revealing a shadowy mass.

At this point anyone else probably would have screamed and cried or pissed their pants. . . But this was practically just another Tuesday night for you, so you grinned.

“Manah. I thought you were never gonna come visit me. You really shouldn’t leave a gal waiting.”

“And I was hoping by this point in your career you would have known better than to disobey orders.” She tutted, deep red eyes locking onto you tightly.

Career. You huffed with a roll of your eyes. That’s not exactly what you would call it.

The demon in front of you was known by most as Aka-Manah. Birthed from zoroastrian legend she had a knack for controlling others, using them like puppets- like she had been doing to you since what felt like forever. She was the same one that snatched you away from your family, along with a pair of particularly nasty hell hounds. You had the scars to prove it.

Not trying to take my time away Replace the old with new My prison with my reasons right Till I come back to you

You called her the Puppeteer because that’s exactly what she was. She snatched people up from their families and made them do her dirty work. Usually it was children, they were easier to work with. Manah liked to stay in the dark, keep her hands clean. Her acolytes as she called them (you being one of them) were her fighters, her killers. . . And because of it you had so much blood on your hands. innocents and guilty alike.  She pulled the strings and you did the dance. You still had your own thoughts and control of your own mind, but it was your body she used. Her finely tuned weapon capable of cutting down anything she wanted gone.

Manah towered above you, tall and long limbed, in a black dress that dropped off her hips and hung loose around her calves, her straight red hair shifted slightly in the breeze coming from outside as she moved to pull at the silk gloves around her hands. She seemed annoyed. . . Angry even. After years you knew how to read her.

A smirk crossed your lips as you tilted your head slightly. “Aw, are my baby brothers causing you and your demons trouble again?” You knew you hit your mark when her jaw clenched. Of course you knew your brothers were still out there, whispers of the famed Winchester brothers passed through thin lips often around here. Manah wasn’t fond of them, they killed so many of her demons that she often took it out on you. This was gonna be one of those times.

Your words got you a harsh slap across the cheek before she knelt down in front of you, your cheeks squeezed between her thumb and forefinger. “You best hold your tongue. I got a job for you.”

“What kind of job? Because like I’ve said a thousand times over you vile skank; I’m done doing your dirty work.”

She squeezed harder much to your irritation. “Oh you know that’s not true. You, my darling Y/N, are my swift and terrible sword. . . And you are far from done.” Using her free hand she fished into the pocket of her dress, producing a thin silver chain, a rams head charm hanging from the center.

Your face fell along with your shoulders as you shook your head. “No. Please don’t.”

Manah ignored you, snapping the necklace around your neck. It was her way of controlling you, as long as the necklace stayed on she held power over your body. You couldn’t take it off yourself, the magic it was laced with prevented it.

“Now, it’s time we got those pesky siblings of yours off the playing field, don’t you think? You’ve constantly asked me to allow you to go back to you family, well here’s your chance darling.”

That’s all it took for you to realize what she was doing. She was sending you after your brothers, and Manah didn’t take prisoners.

Now I must go alone Cause I need you there So my memory of home is full

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[ohjaimelannister]

Do you think Hoppers actually dead though?

O K A Y.

I’ve been looking for an excuse to pull all of this together so here we go! NO Anon, I do not think that Chief James Hopper has gone and died on us. There’s no REAL evidence (there are easter eggs though) however and the Duffer Brothers could still pull the rug out from under us but hey.

No I do not believe that Hopper is dead. Although some things can be interpreted as pretty final and if the Duffers really kill him off I will never watch this show again, because it’s horrifically SHITTY writing and im already super tired of that this year lmao.

One - There is no body? We were never showed a body or what’s left of one? We have seen bodies for Benny, Barb, Bob and Billy (and even people who were in it for like 5 minutes). THEY EVEN PRODUCED A FAKE WILL WHEN THEY WANTED US TO THINK HE WAS DEAD. THEY AREN’T AGAINST SHOWING US BODIES!!! Which brings me to my next point!

Two - They also aren’t against to showing us death. Lots of gory detailing death, WHOEVER it is. Billy died horrifically but you saw it even though hes a kid. Bob got ripped to shreds.  And even those dudes at the beginning of S3 died horribly? They still showed it. Hopper’s death??? It cuts away. You see NOTHING. AT. ALL. There aren’t even any remnants OF a body where he was standing, and Joyce goes down there and LOOKS. Surely shed find something? Gooey grossness like the bodies at the beginning? Nope. You could argue that they’d be against showing us the death of a beloved hero and a main character but. Again. Bob was beloved and arguably one of the sweetest characters in the show and he was ripped to bits in front of us and Joyce. Billy was a kid for all intents and purposes, still he died a horrible death. Not one bit of that was cut away.

Three - If you look in the shots hes not on the platform when the thing explodes????? like at all? Either that’s badly shot or its done deliberately because he’s just not there anymore? There’s the portal to the Upside Down and you can see a ladder in the shot too, so maybe he either went into the Upside Down or down the ladder and got caught by the russians?? We just don’t know.

Four - We see the devastated Eleven and the aftermath of what happened at Star Court. Then it jumps to three months later? Okay, odd that were not shown anymore of the grieving or the funeral. Then of course Eleven read the SPEECH. Think about the end of it specifically and about LEAVING THE DOOR OPEN 3 INCHES!! You can see from one of the final shots of Star Court that the gates not CLOSED. It was healing but it never fully closes. So Hopper could be in the Upside Down, or travelled through it to Russia on the other end?? Who knows. Point is, they included this line at the end for a reason. Whether the reason is that hes actually dead and they’re just being profound or that its a hint about his fate, its meaningful.

Five - During the ending the song HEROES by Peter Gabriel plays, this is the same song that was placed over them finding Wills fake body, and after all the goodbyes and the ‘speech’ where it ends with “keep the door open three inches” well. Come on.

Six - Then it cuts to Russia and you hear the “not the american” line, and Hopper was called “the American” throughout the series by that Russian baddie. Should I start waving Red Flags here or???? Then again, a lot of people are saying this could be Brenner. Okay I 100% get your logic Im with ya, and for a few days I’ve also thought it could be Brenner. But here’s the thing. Elevens powers. Brenner makes her use them to spy on a russian man in Season 1. Hinting that there’s more going on here than just super powers, kids and other dimensions. Don’t forget that in the 80s the world was in the grip of the Cold War, and things would have started reaching a boiling point for this long before 1985 when it ‘officially’ began. We were never given any answers about why Brenner was spying on this man, or even Russia. Or even if he WAS spying for the US. Nothing, it’s a throwaway scene. Or IS IT? Russians show up in Season Three somehow knowing about the Upside Down, having failed at their own attempts to open a gate in Russia. They somehow know that its Hawkins they need to be in to successfully open their gate and potentially get monsters to use, oh I don’t know, in a WAR???? How would they have known any of this information to begin with?? Oh I wonder. We were told all about Brenner being alive and out there in season two (and we were never told WHERE and this is not referenced again), but as far as I can remember Eleven has never shared this with anyone else, even though it’s completely RELEVANT information. And as far as I can remember (its been a hell of an emotional few days) I dont think were given any explanation about how the Russians knew about the Upside Down, Hawkins or anything. So maybe the reason they knew is BECAUSE BRENNER is the one giving them their directives? Because hes worked for THEM this whole time???

Seven -  Interestingly also Eleven lost her powers? JEEZ ISN’T THAT CONVENIENT!!! Because the first thing shed use them for is to look for Hopper even if she was told he was dead. Shed look, 100% for the man who saved her, gave her a home, loved her, worried for her, cared for her like she was his goddamn OWN. Conveniently though now SHE CANT??? Interesting.

Eight -  And now. There’s the voicemail message. In one of the episodes (my brains so fried I cant remember which one sorry) Murrays gives out his landline number, and when you call it you can hear him give a message to Joyce. You can listen to it here.  You can tell this is after season three, because why would he talk to Joyce Byers? Surely if he was trying to reach someone for information it would be Hopper?  “I have an update, its best if we speak in person" an update??? About what??? Why is he coercing with joyce???  Notice how he says “it’s not good or bad but its SOMETHING” and then says “we’ll talk about it in person” (or something like that) why would he be calling joyce with an ‘update’?????????? AND ON WHAT EXACTLY?? INTERESTING!!

Nine - Theres this interview with the cast specifically ABOUT Hopper, the death and the post credits scene. And I love David Harbour but, you cannot lie for shit my angel.

Ten - Millie has said in an interview “ Her dads gone, or so she thinks” COME ON.

Eleven - Again WE KNOW DAVID HARBOUR IS LIKE THE MARK RUFFALO OF STRANGER THINGS. And hes bad at keeping shit to himself. Hes already told us at the end of last YEAR, literally a month after they finished filming season three that the Duffers have told him the ending to the series as a whole. Why would any creator do this for a man they have effectively just fired, because his character died? Why would they tell him? They wouldn’t.

Tweleve - Again. David Harbour, bless his heart, I think its trying to give us HINTS and bread crumbs to follow. Last week he changed his instagram photo from Hopper in S1 to the number 6. Odd. Today he changed it to the number one :

Twelve continued - Basically if he changed it to an 8 next, we know hes trying to hint at Murrays voicemail message and this is a clue for Hopper. Because why else would he bother?

Thirteen - Theres also this screenshot from Cara Buonos instagram where she literally SAYS about him being in Kamchatka, and uses the Russian word for PRISON. (Of course this could just be a joke between the actors

Fourteen - Theres also the fact, which is not evidence mind you, that its incredibly shitty writing to have both the men that Joyce Byers loved/loves to die in front of her? And actually having her put the action in motion that kills the man she loves? No. I wont accept that. And weve been shown her non willingness to believe in peoples death, everyone and their mothers told her Will was dead and she was being crazy. Did she listen? No. And she got her boy back. Will she think once she has a clear head that Hoppers dead? Maybe. Which is why she asks Murray to investigate. Hence the Voicemail Message.

Fifteen - Its also incredibly shitty and hard to swallow, for Elevens sake too. I mentioned already how much she loves Hopper and finally got a true parent in him. Do you honestly think they’d put her through all of that just to lose him NOW? Like i said, its convienent how shes lost her powers at this very crucial moment.

Sixteen - DAVID. HARBOURS. BEARD. RIGHT. NOW.

And SEVENTEEN -Just in case y’all are having trouble with any of that it looks like David Harbour has let sorta slip (my god I fucking ADORE THIS MAN LET ME TELL YOU). I dont know how reliable this is mind you because its not coming from a BIG source, but HERE he hints at knowing who the American is, after telling everyone else (see the interview above ^^) that he doesnt know and he cant say anything. 

‘During an interview with David Harbour, I attempted to delicately get around the fate of Jim Hopper. Harbour, however, came right out and gave it to me straight. “This is the question I’m going to have to dance around–” I began, only for Harbour to interrupt me and ask, “The ending?” “Right,” I said. “Is there a way you can talk about the future of Hopper without…” I trailed off here, only for Harbour to ask: “Well, did you see the post-credits scene?”I had, of course. And so I straight-up asked: is that Hopper behind the door? According to Harbour, that’s the most likely scenario. Throughout the season, the main Russian baddie refers to Hopper as “the American”, and having another Russian refer to the mysterious prisoner in the same way was the big giveaway.Of course, knowing that Hopper is alive, and knowing how he survived and ended up in Russia, are two different things. We’ll have to wait for season 4 to get that answer. And we’ll have to wait to see how things unfold from there. Will a big chunk of season 4 involve Hopper escaping that Russian base, and trying to get back to America? Time will tell. One thing is clear: Hopper still has a long journey ahead of him; not just physically, but emotionally.’

SO, basically Jim Hopper has not left us, Joyce or Eleven.  And if the Duffer Brothers have done all this to screw with us, well. Im not gonna be responsible for what I do.

I FEEL JIM HOPPER IN THIS RUSSIAN PRISON TONIGHT!!!

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK!!!!!!!!

[enchanted-prose]

#20 A Circle of Stones

learn the name, not the face

Word count: 5,552

Characters: Tobias, Merry (original character), Regar, Ayvar, Oberson’s men, the Faola, Alistair, Jolly, Renlyn

Notes: this one is literally and figuratively dark, tw for violence

Enjoy!

There were better ways to spend a midday break than being in the dungeons. The Roving River was starting to rise due to the recent storm, which meant that there were plants to be harvested. If Tobias wanted to feel musty, he could crawl through a cave with Fink.

And yet, there he was, talking to a man suspected of treason.

Talking to a man who’d helped somebody escape after attacking the king.

It wasn’t like he was helping various prisoners escape. He was checking in on those who were locked away.

There was no way he could go out into the city to help people if there were others suffering below his feet.

“How are you, commander?” Tobias asked, pulling at his dark green shirt sleeves. “I know you’re not from Avenia, but I figured you might like to know that King Jaron agreed to send aid to Avenia.”

The dungeon was illuminated with summer sunlight, which meant the flea-ridden rats would hide for a little while longer. Tobias wanted to see Regar, wanted to let him know that his situation wasn’t as dismal as it could be with somebody to talk to. However, talking to him was almost like talking to a brick wall.

“I thought I’d mention that Jaron- ah, the king will likely let you go, free of charge. He thinks you didn’t have anything to do with the Faola escape.”

Regar coughed, “That’s kind of him.”

“King Jaron is a good man, he’s trying to set a precedence of treating people with respect,” Tobias rambled. A spider crawled up the bars in Regar’s cell.

“Good, good, the world needs more men like that. You should see every person as a living, thinking, feeling thing. You muddle lines when you don’t.”

“You’re feeling chatty today! Not that I’m complaining, just noticing.”

“I’ll be getting another visitor,” Regar brushed down the front of his leather jerkin. “I don’t speak much, but it’s still odd being in silence.”

He was right about the silence.

The Carthyan dungeons were almost empty. Prisoners were kept at various distances apart when they could be. Apparently, it was in an attempt to prevent anybody from leading a prison revolt, but Tobias had only heard whispers of this.

Silence grew painful after a while.

If Jaron knew Tobias was talking to a man who was suspected of treason, he’d probably forbid Tobias from speaking to Regar. Or he wouldn’t. With each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to predict what Jaron was going to do. Just that morning, he’d canceled every meeting he had planned.

Only a fool would try to control Jaron, and only Imogen and Mott could get him to slow down long enough to tell somebody else what he was up to.

Regar plucked a piece of straw from his massive beard, “Tell me, Lord Branch, is it true that they caught Mireldis Thay and locked her in her rooms?”

“Ah, well, uh, we think we have Mireldis Thay,” Tobias kicked at the ground.

“Perhaps she has you. Have you considered that?”

“She has- oh! You’re joking. My wife isn’t sure about it, about Mireldis being our prisoner, she thinks it’s dangerous. Ah, well, especially because she was able to hurt the king.”

“And the king imprisoned me for taking justice into my own hands.”

“Roden justifies it by saying you let Mireldis go.”

“By slipping?”

Tobias frowned. He had to stick with Roden’s account. Regar let the Faola go on purpose, not by tripping over his own feet. “It’s just to make sure that what you did was completely an accident.”

“You don’t need to explain,” Regar held his hands up. “But take this warning with you, my lord, there aren’t many people as forgiving as your king.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, not at all. I learned long ago not to go head to head with royalty. Mireldis Thay is a princess no matter what she wears or how she hides,” said Regar. He rubbed at both of his eyes, and sat down on his cot. “She knows how to play multiple sides while wearing a smile. It is a sin to assume a princess will remain in her tower. They are much more deadly than any headstrong prince.”

Had Regar ever said so much in one moment before? Tobias wasn’t sure. He hadn’t said that much since Tobias began coming to visit him.

There was an edge to his words. Something lurking.

The hidden truths and twisted facts were tiring Tobias. He missed the days of honesty. When people didn’t hide behind names and faces.

Although, he was a member of the royal court. It was very hard to find sincerity even without the threat or Mireldis Thay and her lust for Feall’s head.

“Did you know her?” Tobias asked, clasping his hands behind his back. “Did you help Mireldis Thay escape on that day Jaron was attacked?”

“You’re luring me into the noose, aren’t you?”

Tobias took a step back, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to react to Regar’s comment.

He’d almost forgotten how close he was to Jaron, the supreme power in Carthya. Of course Regar would see Tobias not as a friend, but as somebody trying to draw out a confession.

And it stung.

It hurt knowing that Regar’s silence was weighed down by an impending punishment. It kept him quiet. Regar’s hesitation to speak came because he didn’t trust Tobias.

Didn’t trust him to keep their conversation between the two of them.

He tried to shove his shock away with a chuckle the same way Jaron pushed through awful news by making a joke. “Don’t worry, Regar, I’m a doctor. I save people, rather than leave them to die. And I think you’ll be able to plead your case tonight.”

“I did help someone that night,” Regar nodded. “But I didn’t help the bandit you and so many

others are bent on finding.”

“Then who was it?”

Somebody’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. Regar’s beard twitched up. He was smiling. “I

mustered the courage to speak to my daughter. I helped her chase chickens back into a pen.”

“They should make chicken chasing a sport,” Tobias said, trying to keep the conversation even.

It wasn’t his intention to catch Regar in a lie and turn him over to Jaron.

“I didn’t think you’d be here, Lord Branch,” said Merry, bowing till her short hair brushed the ground.

“Making a new friend. Have you met Commander Regar?”

She nodded, “I have. But I came here for another friend of mine. Have you seen Ayvar? She’s been here for several weeks, she has red hair.”

“They moved her to the tower ages ago,” Regar said. “Word is that the king released her yesterday.”

“They moved Ayvar?”

“Aye, lass, you won’t find her anywhere near here.”

“What do you have in the basket?” Tobias asked, he’d heard tales of the legendary lemon tarts being served at the Dragon’s Keep. Maybe he’d get one.

“It’s not important anymore,” Merry shrugged, but she withdrew two wrapped muffins. “You’re welcome to have these, I was going to give them to Ayvar, but it seems that my morning plans are canceled.”

“How’s your tavern?” Regar asked, holding his hand out for a muffin. He smirked when Tobias conceded and gave out one of the muffins.

A wide smile broke across Merry’s face, “It’s going well! Dawn’s convinced that I’m out drinking every night because I have a tendency to sleep in, but I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Best be getting your sleep, girl. Or you’ll be strung out like Master Branch here.”

“Hey! I am not strung out!” Tobias exclaimed, crossing his arms.

There were too many things that needed to be taken care of. Too many people to be patched up. Tobias knew that he was the best at doing what he needed done. It was useless depending on another person when he was completely capable of handling a situation on his own.

Besides, he didn’t want to be let down by relying on another person, nor did he want to disappoint a person who was relying on him.

That’s why he wrote every paper, sewed every stitch, and checked on every patient.

Maybe he was a little high strung.

All he needed was his own.

And Amarinda, of course, but she was a force of nature all on her own. He kept up with her, and she kept up with him. Amarinda rose to every challenge. Nothing scared her. She knew her abilities, and she knew what was expected of her.

It was her efficiency and understanding that caught Tobias’s eye all those years ago.

Merry was laughing. Laughing in front of a man convicted under suspicions of treason.

He caught himself thinking about how nice it must’ve been to walk into a dungeon and be able to talk to anyone in sight. Merry’s fearless friendliness was something many people lacked.

It was a good talent to be envious of.

“I am, I am,” she insisted. “Do you know where Ayvar went, Lord Branch?”

Tobias shook his head, “I’m not the person to talk to regarding her. Captain Harlowe probably knows, you could ask him.”

“I’d hate to leave the two of you, it’s a little rude to come barging in on a conversation and then leave less than a minute later.”

“The muffins make up for it,” Regar’s beard was littered with crumbs.

“Glad you liked them, Dawn’s selling them to pocket a few more garlins today,” Merry said.

Market day! Farmers and crafters from all over Carthya selling their best products. Tobias had a list of things he needed for the physician's chambers. He’d try to take Amarinda with him this time as he pawed through every peddler’s stash of herbs.

He’d heard somewhere that somebody was bringing tools from Mendenwal to sell. Those tools would be the envy of every doctor in Drylliad.

“Ah, lass, do you mind taking a message back to my men?” Regar asked. He then looked to Tobias, “You don’t need to worry about me giving away secrets.”

“I’d be disappointed if you tried with me so close,” said Tobias, stepping a little to the left to make room for Merry.

“I’ll do my best to remember,” Merry nodded.

“Tell them to wait for a command from me,” Regar said, he didn’t appear to be hiding anything. “Unless they’re told about lines, they know what I mean when I say that.”

“But I don’t,” Tobias pointed out.

“It’s code. If Lord Row leaves without me, my men are to stay near until I can return to them. If I return to them.”

Merry held her hand to her forehead, and brought it down. “Sir, yes, sir! Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ve got a friend to track.”

Tobias watched her spin on her heels and race back up the stairs. She seemed nice enough, a little rushed, but nice. And the muffins she made really were delicious. Ayvar was lucky to have a friend who’d track her down.

He looked back to Regar, who’d steepled his fingers together.

“I think I’ll take my leave too, there’s much that needs to be done today,” Tobias clasped his hands together. “I hope you can understand.”

“Your conversation makes things a little more bearable,” said Regar.

“Thanks. Some people grow bored.”

“Don’t worry about them.”

“I’ll try not to, but I am a doctor. And my dearest friend is a king who knows no fear. It’s my job to worry.”

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

Amarinda ultimately declined going to market day when Tobias offered.  King Oberson finally worked up the courage to return home on the premise that  Mireldis Thay was locked away in the castle tower. He’d leave as soon as market day ended. Lord Thomas Row also expressed his desires to leave, but only after Regar was released from the dungeon.

It was entirely possible that Lord Row would be staying there for several months.

Market day was bursting with people and food, even as the sun began to set.

Tobias wouldn’t let himself be tempted with the scent of spun sugar and roasting pears. Not again. Not this time. He’d saved as many garlins as he could for these tools, and he wouldn’t waste them on food.

Although he’d love at least-

No! He had to think of his profession!

Tobias pushed his hair out of his eyes, and soldiered past the carts and carts of food.

The fabric and ribbon carts came next. A page wearing an official looking tunic held out his  hand for a green ribbon, giving a handful of garlins in return. The page bowed at Tobias, and then continued to his next cart.

He wondered who would be wearing that ribbon the following morning.

Vendors left and right hawked their wares. Some vendors had already left, leaving empty spaces every so often. The noise and temptation would’ve been much stronger during the afternoon. Tobias wouldn’t have stood a chance. He would’ve bought every bucket of spun sugar he could, even if it meant throwing it all up the very next day.

Lamplight glinted off of a cart full of throwing knives. He’d finally reached the metal carts.

Please let the tools still be there.

“Excuse me,” Tobias said, marching right up to one of the vendors. “I’m looking for medical tools, do you know where I could find them?”

It was like he’d walked into one of the hunting kennels with a piece of meat. Every vendor began shouting all of their items.

It almost reached the level of madness that some regents’ meetings had.

There were too many options, too many vendors to choose from. Tobias had to check every single one. If it weren’t for the list he’d made, he would’ve bought every single tool available for purchase.

“They used this tool to pull an arrow out of King Aranscot’s face!”

“This tool saved a queen from the western lands!”

“Only the best surgeons carry these! You’ll need it for cutting demons out of a man!”

Unfortunately for the last vendor, Tobias had no intentions of slicing an unseen entity out of a patient. His whole goal was to save, not to kill.

The tool that was supposedly used to pull an arrow from King Aranscot’s face resembled a pair of tongs. However, unlike the average pair of tongs, this pair had a screw in the middle with a series of tiny hooks at the end.

Arrow wounds were uncommon during days of peace, but it never hurt to be prepared.

The tongs felt heavy in Tobias’s bag, but welcome. This tool would save, and maybe Tobias would be known for pulling an arrow from somebody’s face.

Hopefully it wouldn��t be Jaron’s.

He stood in the middle of the street several strides away from the other vendors, watching the life and bustle of market day. Oberson’s soldiers intermingled with the other civilians. Pages darted left and right to fulfill their tasks before the vendors all left.

Ahead of him was lamplight and spun sugar.

Behind him was the scent of sorrow and the gaping holes leading down to the Vaults.

He frowned at the sight of the gutless buildings. People used to live there, but they’d been driven out.

Driven out by thieves and plague.

Driven out by the wicked presence of the Vaults. They’d always be there. Always lingering below the city.

Testifying that not every Carthyan wanted to move forward to a better kingdom.

They would fester in the ground for eternity like the corpses it hid.

People might be there- might be hiding in the Vaults. Roden told stories about what he’d seen down there, but only after he’d had an unhealthy dose of Libeth’s liquors.

Tobias was ready to return to the castle. He’d done what he needed to do. It was time to snuggle up to his wife and write letters to King Aranscot’s court to find out who’d pulled the arrow from King Aranscot’s face.

It wouldn’t hurt to check behind him. Wouldn’t hurt to locate a person in need.

The tugging of his heart grew too strong, but he ignored it. Tobias took one step forward, and then another. One of Oberson’s men stomped past. He was followed by two others.

One more step, one more step.

A man was selling toys. He held up a winding monkey that played the cymbals.

The music playing monkey almost drowned out the sounds of a scuffle.

Tobias spun on his heels, his bag smacking his leg and the tool inside jostled. The soldiers that walked past were gathered together. They moved together in perfect sync. A girl with scarlet hair struggled to get above them, and yet, she hadn’t screamed for help.

She didn’t need to.

Shouldering his bag, Tobias bolted toward the soldiers, trying to gather the courage to yell.

Somebody in a patched black cloak came rocketing from a second story window, landing on one of the soldiers before Tobias could reach them.

“Stop!” Tobias shouted. “Let her go!”

But not one person listened.

The patched cloak was all too familiar. Tobias skittered to a stop and pushed the hair from his eyes. The Faola had returned despite Renlyn Karise still being under a watchful eye. He kicked at the knees of one soldier, but the other three were focused on their other target.

How could he help? How could he help?!

Tobias called for help, foolishly turning his back to the Faola and Oberson’s soldiers. Was he too far? He swore he saw a page looking at them. Maybe it was too dark. Maybe the fight was encased in too much shadow to be seen by one of the vendors.

Somebody grabbed the back of his shirt.

Somebody dragged him back into the tight grip of a seasoned warrior.

An ice cold blade came too close to his neck. Tobias’s heart began to beat as if it knew it would soon have to stop.

“Let him go,” the Faola barked, his voice carried the harshness of a snakebite.

The harshness of a fatal wound being washed with salt water.

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” The soldier laughed. “You’ve got to choose. King Oberson is no fool. He knows that the girl in the castle is just a cover for you, he knows the man in the dungeons isn’t who he says he is.”

“Nobody is who they say they are anymore,” Tobias choked, the sword at his throat threatening to cut his skin.

The Faola took a step back, moonlight glinting off of the messy stitches in the shoulders of his tunic. “I will not ask again, let him go.”

“You’ll have to choose between the girl and the regent.”

Tobias watched the Faola as he stepped back again. His saber hung at his side, waiting to be used. The man who’d once held Tobias hostage was now the only person who could save him.

“You’re not stupid enough to kill the ambassador’s husband,” the Faola bowed ever so slightly. “Please forgive me, Lord Branch. You’re more capable than you know.”

Picking up on combat signals was something Tobias never mastered. He couldn’t figure it out no matter how many times Roden tried to teach him.

But this time was different.

As the Faola charged towards the soldier, Tobias flung his head backwards as hard as he could. Stars shot across his vision. A sword clattered to the ground. He stumbled, tripping over the fallen soldier. The Faola dragged him out of the way, and kicked the soldier in the head.

“He won’t be waking up for a long time,” the Faola mused. He turned to face Tobias. “Get out of here, you’ll get hurt.”

Tobias rubbed the back of his throbbing head, “Ayvar is going to need help, I can’t-”

“Stay out of this, you’re going to get into trouble and it’s not your concern. If you really want to help, you’ll leave.”

“But-!”

The Faola didn’t stay to listen to Tobias’s argument. He jumped to his feet, the buildings all twirling around him. The spot where he’d thrown his head back into the soldier’s face was still tender.

With a swirl of his patched cloak, the Faola vanished into darkness, braving the impenetrable darkness of the Vaults to drag Ayvar back to the surface.

Tobias wasn’t the type to lead hundreds of men across a muddy field in hopes of winning a battle.

He was the type to fix the first person he saw.

To ask him to stay behind despite knowing somebody was in the hands of death was to ask the sun to cease shining.

He had no lamp and no sword, but he had his bag full of bandages and a knowledge of right and wrong.

Staying behind in this situation was wrong.

Tobias shoved his hair from his eyes, ignoring the metallic ice scraping in his veins, and took a step. He took another step, and another. His boots slapped against the moonlit stones.

Courage raced through his bones faster than his heart beat. No turning back, no turning back.

Abandon all hope, said the door to the vaults. There is no kindness here.

But they were wrong. Tobias nearly stumbled as he stepped into the Vaults, darkness threatening to close his throat. He would bring kindness. He would stop the soldiers from harming the Faola and Ayvar, and bring them all back to the surface.

The steps seemed to grow longer.

So he stepped even farther.

“Let go!” Someone bellowed.

“Catch him!”

“It’s a her, you idiot!”

“Catch her!”

Swords left their scabbards, they hit against each other in the darkness. Tobias paused for only a moment to rub his eyes as they adjusted to the moonless Vaults.

“I got her!” Yelled one man, followed by “She’s gotten away!”

Somebody shouted for Ayvar. The answer came in the form of a loud thud.

Tobias stumbled into a wide room, one of the walls was missing, a low archway letting in minimal light. Five figures fought against each other. Three longswords against a saber and a dagger.

“Hey!” Tobias yelled, freeing his pack from his shoulder.

What in the Devils’ names was he doing down there!?

A soldier charged toward Tobias, and he swung his bag as hard as he could at the soldier’s head.

Though he missed the blow, the bag swung around the soldier’s sword. Tobias recognized the entanglement before his opponent did, and he tugged, tossing both the bag and the sword to a shadowed corner.

He could barely make out the silhouette of the Faola and Ayvar, who were fighting side by side. Other gaping holes punctured the walls. They had to be staircases down, but Tobias didn’t know. He’d never been this far into the Vaults before.

The soldier roared at Tobias, and lunged for his neck.

However, that was the one defense Tobias managed to catch onto after hours of training with Roden. The soldier was attacking from the front, he could see the action unfurl. Tobias ducked down, and stepped to the side. His opponent’s shins smashed into the stairs leading to the surface.

“Take the path!” Ayvar said to the Faola, stepping in front of him. “I’ll follow you!”

The Faola nodded, and dashed into the farthest darkened doorway. Ayvar’s dagger locked against one of the soldiers’-

And the fight almost came to a standstill.

“Take us to her, and we won’t slit your throat,” said the soldier facing Ayvar.

She turned her face to Tobias. “And what about him?”

“He’s seen too much.”

They were going to kill him.

Tobias backed towards the open wall, his hands balled into pathetic little fists.

“No,” Ayvar snapped. “I won’t move.”

“Then I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

The soldier who’d initially fought with Tobias recovered from the blow to his shins. He drew a knife, a short little thing used for cutting meat.

Soon it would be cutting through Tobias.

Swords clashed again. Tobias looked to the two soldiers by Ayvar as they rushed down the steps after the Faola.

She was running towards him.

The third soldier ran past Ayvar, following his fellow men down the stairs. Tobias stared. There was a hand threatening to rip his arm off.

For the second time that night, somebody was dragging him backward.

“No!” He pushed away from Ayvar. “Can’t you see? They did this on purpose! They’re going to kill him!”

“Her,” Ayvar corrected. “Patches has a foot in the grave. We need to-”

“Save our own skins!? Is that what you’re going to say!?”

He was too angry to feel the chilling fingers of fear that surely reached for his heart. His hands shook.

There was something he needed.

Tobias pulled a ring from his fourth finger; his wedding band. “Get to the first Carthyan soldier you can find, and tell him Lord Branch needs help. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

“You can’t just go down there, lordship,” Ayvar grunted.

“Oh, but I can.”

Silently, Ayvar nodded. She took the ring, and darted off into the night.

They were both depending on the Saints to let someone be near enough to help.

The scent of burning metal was what guided Tobias down the right path. He ignored the lines of blood made by victims trying to drag themselves away from their abusers. There was no light to guide him; only a smell that rose above the stench of human suffering.

How much time had it taken him to fumble his way down the stairs?

He had to pat the wall and tap around the floor to find the next step.

His attempted rescue wouldn’t be grand. Wouldn’t be filled with chivalry and a gleaming sword. It would be stumbled and slow.

But a rescue all the same.

Tobias winced as he stepped down the last stair. The room he’d stepped into was much darker than the one he’d left. He shuffled forward, trying to listen to sounds of scuffling.

The toe of his boot hit the hilt of a discarded blade.

A discarded saber.

Dull thudding soon joined the scent of hot metal. The Faola was still fighting. Tobias shuffled forward again, the dull light of a fire catching his eye. Shadows danced around it.

There were no other rooms or halls that Tobias would investigate.

“Let me go!” Bellowed a girls’ voice.

“Hold her still, the mark needs to be-” said a man, one of the soldiers. A dull thud ended his sentence.

It was matched with a sharp slap.

“I said hold her down!”

“Let me go!”

Time. The Faola was running out of time. Tobias was running out of time.

Fabric tore. Somebody’s screaming was muffled. Ringing echoed out of the firelit room.

Just another step, Tobias. Almost there. Almost there.The stone doorway was within his reach. He could race in, grab the Faola, and get out. Sword or no sword. Nobody needed to get hurt. It was his duty to save. He could do it- he could-

The first thing he focused on was the circle of stones around his feet, not the muffled shriek and sudden change in smells.

The soldiers inside the room rushed out, one of them holding a cooled branding iron.

Tobias didn’t bother to hold his hands above his head, he knew what was coming.

A blade met the swinging iron.

Alistair Derforgall grabbed the iron, and threw it at the  soldier on his right. Tobias turned his head, looking behind him to see Jolly brandishing his lute, Ayvar, and surprisingly, Renlyn Karise.

“You’re not out of the woods yet!” Renlyn barked, dragging Tobias into the firelit room with her.

Jolly’s lute crashed through the head of one of the soldiers, sending him down to the ground.

Tobias would rather watch the fight in the hall rather than look at the vomit covered Faola in the room. Burnt flesh seared his nose. He was almost ready to vomit himself. A small fire burned in the room, hot enough to heat a sword.

“Saints, neither of you were supposed to get into trouble,” Renlyn growled. She rushed to the Faola’s side, and peeled off the scarf covering her mouth. “Tobias, turn around.”

“Let me help, I can-!” He tried, but Renlyn’s emotionless voice reared up for the first time since he met her.

“By the Saints Lord Branch, you will look away! You can’t talk about what you can’t see!”

Mireldis Thay. He was standing beside Mireldis Thay. She was there at his feet, covered in her own vomit and nursing a branded hand.

All it would take was one look and the entire ordeal would be over.

But he couldn’t.

He’d been told not to.

It was his fault that Mireldis was lying there. He’d let this moment happen by stopping Roden from executing her on that summer afternoon so many eons ago.

None of this would’ve happened if he’d forgotten his compassion for one moment.

So he looked away.

Jolly slipped into the room, followed by Alistair. His face fell. “What do we do?”

“Describe the wound,” Tobias said, his eyes glued to the wall. “Chances are that she’ll need to be taken somewhere cleaner to keep the wound from getting infected.”

“They branded her. The flesh has bubbled and she threw up,” Renlyn explained.

“Just cut- just cut the hand off,” begged Mireldis Thay. Her voice, so strained and pitiable, was too familiar. “It’s too hard. It hurts.”

He’d spoken to her before.

Renlyn coughed, “Come hold her, Jolly, she’ll respond to you.”

Tobias clamped his hands over his eyes. “The wound needs to be cooled, apply a lavender compress once you’ve done that.”

“We’ll have to smuggle her into the castle, nobody would have that this late at night,” Jolly said. “Alistair, how do you feel about sneaking around?”

“Call it by another name, something a little more honest,” said Alistair. He was standing near Tobias, judging by the volume of his voice. “I will not lie.”

Mireldis groaned, earning a tiny hush from Jolly. “We, ah, we’re taking a cloak up to Renlyn’s rooms to compare certain soaps.”

“Exactly,” Renlyn said. “We’ll compare a hair soap against a skin soap. Jolly, you lead, that way Tobias can look.”

“Don’t use this as an excuse to leave me behind,” Tobias muttered as somebody shuffled past him.

“You can open your eyes,” Renlyn set a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t ask me to do that again. I could help-”

“And then you would have to turn your patient in for crimes against the crown. It’s better this way.”

A blue hair ribbon lingered on the ground.

A shadow crossed Renlyn’s face as she began walking forward. Her brows knit together, and for a moment, Tobias swore her bottom lip began to tremble.

However, Renlyn forced a frown on her face, “I’ll explain my relation to Thay if you want.”

“I don’t want all of it,” Tobias shook his head, bile rising in his throat. “Did you know her before coming to Drylliad?”

“We met on the night I came to serve her Majesty. Not before then.”

“Has she told you why she wants Feall dead?”

“Not exactly, but our mutual friend isn’t as clean as he claims. Tonight is an example of that. Ayvar was released as a sacrificial lamb, if Alistair hadn’t agreed to let me walk the streets tonight under his supervision, you three would be dead. You would’ve been left as rat food.”

Tobias rubbed his temples. He didn’t want to think about ‘what ifs’ any longer.

They were unavoidable.

“I’ll help you smuggle Mireldis to safety,” Tobias stood up, the firelight that heated Mireldis’s branding iron throwing his shadow into the hall. “A friend of yours is a friend of mine, Renlyn, and I won’t send a friend to the executioner’s block. But she can’t stay in Drylliad. Not while she’s trying to kill Feall, regardless of his past sins.”

“And if he’s trying to kill her too?” Renlyn didn’t look back as she climbed up the bloodied stairs. “I won’t let you keep a secret from your friends Tobias, they’re too important to you.”

“We need somebody to tell the truth.”

“No, it’s time to let Mireldis go. I’ll have her taken-”

“Don’t tell me where, I won’t keep it secret.”

“You’re a good man, Lord Branch.”

The moonlight stung his eyes once he and Renlyn finally left the vaults. Jolly nodded at Alistair, and hugged Mireldis even tighter to his chest.

She looked small.

Nothing like the furious bandit willing to throw a blow at the king in order to fulfill her lust for revenge.

He couldn’t think of any words to say as he trudged to the castle, Renlyn, Alistair, and Jolly all slightly ahead of him.

Thoughts filled his head, swimming through everything he knew. He’d chosen to let Mireldis Thay go. He was smuggling her into the castle.

All because he couldn’t bear the thought of a young woman succumbing to a treatable wound.

Tobias made a choice long ago. He’d dug his own grave, and now he was settling into the coffin that would soon fill it.

[antecedentlypod]

EPISODE 1 TRANSCRIPT

-opening music-

Lorrie: [Flipping pages, muttering to himself] There. Ah, alright. The Companionship of the Cat and the Mouse, read by Lorrie Adams. Take one. 

[sighs] take three. 

[mutters, sighing] The Companionship of the Cat and the Mouse. Take fifteen. 

-A cat had made the acquaintanceship of a mouse, and had talked so much about his great love and friendship for her, that he eventually convinced her to live in the same house and set up a common household. 

”But we must get supplies for the winter,” said the cat, “or else we’ll starve. A little mouse like you can’t venture just anywhere, for one of these days you might get caught in a trap.”

They acted on his good advice, and bought a little jar of fat, but they did not know where to put it. Finally, after long deliberation, the cat said: ’I can’t think of a safer place than the church, no one would dare take anything away from there. Let’s put it under the altar and we won’t touch it unless we really need it.”

The little jar was safely stored away, but it was not long before the cat felt a craving for it and said to the mouse: “I’ve been meaning to tell you, little mouse; my cousin gave birth to a baby boy, white with brown spots, and I’ve been asked to be godfather. I’m to hold him at the christening. Would you mind letting me go out today, and looking after the house by yourself?”

“No, of course not!” answered the mouse, “Go for God’s sake! And if you get something good to eat, think of me. I sure would like to have a drink of that sweet red christening wine.” 

Naturally, none of what the cat had said was true. He did not have a cousin, nor had he been asked to be godfather. He went straight to the church, crept to the little jar of fat, and began licking and licking until he had licked the skin off the top. Then he strolled over the roofs of the city and contemplated his opportunities. After a while he stretched himself out in the sun, and wiped his whiskers whenever he thought of the little jar of fat. It was not until evening that he returned home. “Well, you’re back,” the mouse said, “I’m sure you had a wonderful day.”

 “It wasn’t bad,” the cat responded. 

“What name did they give the child?” the mouse asked. 

“Skin off.” the cat said dryly. 

“Skin off?” exclaimed the mouse, “That’s a strange and unusual name, is it common in your family?” 

“What’s there to it,” said the cat, “it is no worse than Crumb-thief, as your godchildren are called.”

Shortly after that, the cat felt another great craving. He said to the mouse: “You’ve got to do me a favor again, and look after the house by yourself. I am asked to be godfather once more and, since the child has a white ring round its neck, I can’t refuse.” 

The good mouse consented, but the cat went clinking behind the city walls to the church, where he ate up half the jar of fat. “Nothing tastes better,” he said, “then what you keep to yourself.” And he was very satisfied with his day’s work. When he returned the mouse asked: “What was this child christened?” 

“Half-gone.” answered the cat. 

“Half-gone? You don’t say! I’ve never heard such a name in all my life, I'll bet it’s not on the list of proper names!”

Soon the cat’s mouth began watering once more for the delicacy. “All good things come in threes,” he said to the mouse, “I’ve been asked to be godfather again. This child is all black and has white paws, aside from that, there’s not a white hair on its body; this only happens once every few years, you will let me go, won’t you?”

“Skin- off! Half-gone!” the mouse responded, “Those are really curious names, I’m beginning to wonder about them…”

“Look. You can sit at home in your dark-grey fur coat and your long pig tail, and you begin imagining things. That’s because you don’t go out during the day.”

While the cat was gone, the mouse cleaned the house and put it in order, meanwhile the greedy cat ate up the rest of the jar.  “It’s only after everything’s all gone,” the cat said to himself, “that you can really begin to rest.”

It was very late at night by the time the cat returned home, and he was fat and stuffed. The mouse asked right away what name had been given to the third child. “You won’t like this one either!” the cat said. “It’s All-gone.”

 “All-gone!” exclaimed the mouse, “That’s the most suspicious of all the names! I have never seen it in print. All-gone; what’s it supposed to mean?” She shook her head, rolled herself up into a ball, and fell asleep.

From then on, no one asked the cat to be a godfather, but when the winter came and there was nothing more to be found outside, the mouse thought about their supply of fat and said: “Come, cat, let’s go to our jar that we’ve been saving, it will taste good.” 

“Yes,” said the cat, “You’ll enjoy the taste just as much if you stuck your dainty tongue out the window.” They set out on their way, but when they got there, the jar of fat was still in its place, but it was empty. 

“Oh!” said the mouse, “Now I know what’s happened,it’s as clear as day! Some nice friend you are! You ate it all up when you went to be a godfather. First the skin, then half, then–”

 “You better be quiet!” yelled the cat, “One more word, and I’ll eat you up!”

“All-gone” was already on the tip of the mouse’s tongue, no sooner did she say it then the cat jumped on her, grabbed her, and devoured her. You see, that’s the way of the world-

[sighs] that’ll do, I guess. 

[stretches, groans] My back’s killing me though. Gotta get this edit in and sent off. So, listening back to the recording it’s still not perfect. I guess I’ll have to do more takes! But not tonight. [sighs softly] I’ve been stuttering a lot more lately and reading aloud is still stupid hard. Thankfully Fish should be back home soon. She’ll be able to tell me if it’s an okay take, I think. [yawns] Take one of Farmer and the Warbler, read by Lorrie Adams. Once upon a time, in a land closer than any of us might fi- fuck! 

Take six of the Far- take twelve of the Farmer and the Warbler, read by Lorrie Adams. 

- Once upon a time, in a land closer than any of us might like, there was sky. Sky that went on for miles and miles, sky the milky color of cataract, sky you could choke on. There were many things under this looming infinity of clouds, but there is only time enough in this story for one.

  A thicket. More precisely, one comprised of berry bushes. You know the sort, the kind you spot on a long hike or a narrow trail and consider plucking from before your mind gets the better of you, for fear of poison. Picture it, if you will.

 No. Try again. The berries are darker than that, the thorns sharper.

 Right. There you are.

 The thicket surrounds a clearing in a tight circle, with winding trees woven through it whose canopy of leaves block out all but slivers of sun. In this clearing is a woman. She’s curled up there, shrouded by a pair of tattered wings. She’s larger than a woman, or any human for that matter, should be. Beneath her wings lies a bulging sternum, to allow for a set of lungs that would threaten to burst in any chest like yours or mine. Her arms bend at odd angles, her legs short and with a lack of any tailbone. She is curled there, she is ugly, for she is unknown to us, and she wails.

 It is nearing noon, though she would have no way of knowing this. It is at this approximate time, though, that each day she crawls to the thicket and begins to worm her way through. Scratches and cuts litter and linger on her skin from yesterday and many a day before, but she ignores the way they catch on thorn and reopen to the biting air. Ignores the tickling trickle of red everywhere she can still feel. Because today is the day, she’s sure of it. She’s going to make it through. She’ll come out on the other side, torn and tired, but wilted wings still rising to flight. To feel that air beneath them would be to know true bliss. Still, she’s aimless in her endeavour. She can only feel in front of her, cling to the dirt and to branch and swat away the swarming insects that live between these leaves and settle on her skin. She marks them, on occasion, and cannot see the smear of gut and brown they leave upon her. Her sight was long since robbed from her. The thorns had sought her eyes, spiteful for the way she longed to escape the home they’d made for her, and if it hadn’t been the poke it’d’ve been the venom. And yet she pushes on through this impossibly thick jungle of a berry bush.

 She makes it not even to the third’s way mark before she collapses into herself.

 It’s two o’clock, perhaps, when she wakes again and finds herself in the center of the clearing, no further away from this prison than she’d started. She’s glad for the size of her lungs when they allow her the breath to properly scream them out.

 If I might redirect your attention, dear reader, I ask you to imagine with me a cottage. For not far from this thicket, and its accompanying clearing, there lives a farmer. The winter had not been kind to his crops, nor the drought that followed it come spring, and what little livestock he’d kept in the barn out back fared no better. The cabinets are filled only with dishes and the occasional tin can. He stares numbly at the holes in his rotting wooden floorboards.

 Hunger laces every dusty windowsill, every rusty nail, the sparse closet and the achingly bare kitchen as hollow as his stomach. He’d had coin stocked in a great lockbox, hidden in the loose backing panel of a dresser. This had gotten him along, for a while. The prices at the marketplace are forgiving if you know where to look, and he’s practiced enough to bargain if he paints a sympathetic picture. His stomach would be sated with apples that might’ve once been crisp, and loaves of near molded sourdough. But the lockbox is near empty now, and the pit in his belly grows impatient. He can feel it fold and knot and kick at him, seeking satisfaction by eating away at itself with sharp teeth and an ever unhinging jaw. He shudders at the thought, and more to know it will not cease until he’s swallowed himself up completely, throbbing with the wholeness of it, and leaving nothing but a sigh of relief through a house that would then know what it means to be full. 

 It’s when he’s taken his finger between his bared teeth that he hears the weeping song of a warbler from just beyond his door. His gut lurches at the sound of it. Go, it whispers, go and be fed. And so he rises to weary feet, sheep wool shears from the mess of tools upon his table now tucked into the back of his pants.

 To follow this warbler’s cry is to follow the North Star to salvation, it seems, as his hunger reminds him in sweet growls that soon he will remember the warmth of meal-drunk content. How he aches for that small forgiveness, what one last small meal to a dying man might grant him some clear thought. And so he seeks it and nearly sobs with joy when he comes to the source of it. The thicket is foreboding, but no threat which he cannot face with the shears he unsheathes from his belt. He trims for what might’ve been hours or might’ve been days, but no difference is seen to him. Just a sense of soonness, and an excitement that bubbles up in him and threatens to spill out upon the final grinning snip. The warbler’s song stops short, and his eyes fall upon the frame of what he doesn’t dare to call a woman.

 For what feels like an eternity, a heavy silence between them. She sees nothing, but the presence of another is hard to ignore. She reaches out to touch, to feel, to assure herself that this is no dream. She weeps upon the sound of approaching footsteps as the farmer crouches before her.

 “No bird that’d been, then, but you, wretched creature, whose song had graced my ear?”

 “Not a song, sir, but a sorrow, for I could not free myself of this place.”

 The farmer nods thoughtfully, and rises to clasp a hand on her shoulder. “Come then, to your feet. I’ll fix you up with bandages and salve to soothe your wounds.” She clings to him and limps, wings dragging behind her, as he guides them through the worst of the thicket and along the path back to his cottage, a slow travel for how the thing’s limbs fall so heavy they threaten to sink her through the very crust of the earth.

 “Rest here, on my cot, and I will fetch the bandages.” The farmer says, and so the winged woman lays upon the surface he sets her to.

 How stiff a cot, she thinks, but does not voice, for the farmer had saved her life, and she is in no position to complain for an uncomfortable bed.

 She hears the farmer’s return not long after, and shifts toward the sound of it. “I really must thank you. It had been set in my mind that I would die there, in that clearing.”

 “I should not let that happen.” The farmer replies, “To die there in your state is a fate I would not wish upon the worst of men.”

 “Then it is in your just mind to bring me from it, though I hold you under no obligation to treat what harm it’s done to me.”

 “I should see you taken care of, for it would weigh on my conscience to leave you in this misery.” He says. This is enough for her, and so she falls into sleep as the farmer tends to her cuts and takes a wet cloth to her wings.

 It’s the heat that wakes her. Barely licking at her toes, and then consuming the space around her, hotter every moment than it had been the moment before. If she had not worn her voice from her earlier sorrow she might’ve cried for help. She sees the oven door before her no more than she had seen the table she was set upon, nor the farmer rummaging for dough or seasoning her now searing skin. Where there is only hunger, a man must make do with songbird pie.

 And so the sky waits above for wings that will not part it, a thicket begins to mend it’s shear cut path, and a winged woman howls as her flesh crispens for the chew of a starving man. And you, hiding under blankets from the dark, pretend that this land is far, far away.The end .-

The end. [sighs] Fuck it. I’m tired. That’ll have to do for now. End recording. 

-credits-

[miss-musings]

Four episodes into this season and The Blacklist is already in a slump

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed getting these Aram-centric and Cooper-centric episodes back-to-back, but I sadly feel like it’s too little, too late. The show has punted these characters to the side for so long to focus on the Red/Liz drama, that now that we’re actually getting some character development out of them it’s like ????

I guess the Aram thing kind of made sense, since the big thing for him last season was losing Samar. So, as annoying as it was, I guess it made sense to see him starting to get over her and get a little adventure of his own, since Liz and Ressler have to do so much of the heavylifting when it comes to undercover work, etc.

But, the Cooper thing is just so hard to handle. I really liked his little bits of development in early Season 6, when Red was in prison, and Cooper was having to decide whether it was worth trying to save his life. That’s the kind of introspection that really worked to give him a personality and a character, given that he’s been shunted into the background so much since ... ever. Harry Lennix is so vastly underused on this show, and I really appreciate that he got a chance to shine in tonight’s “Kuwait,” but I feel like it’s a hack way to give him some character development. It was so out of the blue and so forced. Ugh.

Here’s maybe a good way to describe it:

Earlier today, I went to the grocery store to get a few things. Since it’s been getting colder, I’ve been making hot chocolate a lot lately, but I never buy milk, because I don’t really drink it. So, I use water, which isn’t as good for cocoa-making. When I went shopping I decided to get a half-gallon of milk, which -- as I said -- is unusual for me. It’s like “Oh, I have milk in the house now..... okay.” I have it so rarely, that when I do, it’s really an adjustment.

That’s what Cooper’s character development was tonight. We get it so rarely, that it’s kind of like “Okay.... what do I do with this???”

Again, I wish Lennix got more to work with than just bland nonsense most weeks, but this is not the best way to give Cooper character development.

Also, I gotta say that I saw the whole “Hutton is the Simoon” thing a mile away. The minute Hutton said “the Simoon” and Cooper said “He’s been an intel leak in the Middle East for years,” I swear I did a ‘look into the camera like I’m Jim on the Office’ maneuver, because that was super obvious.

The whole ‘Katarina as Liz’s neighbor’ thing continues to bug the eff out of me. It’d be great if we had a sense that the show will eventually go the ‘Liz knew it was KR all along route,’ but I think we all know that isn’t going to be the case. No hate toward Laila Robbins, who seems to be a great actress, but I do hate KR so much in the present-day appearances we’ve had from her so far. I enjoy the KR in the flashbacks infinitely more, but Robbins’ KR -- IDK what it is, but I can’t stand the character. I think it’s partly because she’s so disingenuous and is never sincere. The few times I’ve thought “Okay, maybe she’s not so bad” is whenever she’s talking to Liz about wanting to reach out to her daughter. THAT’s the only part that seems sincere, but even that appears to come and go. I felt like when KR first met Liz and Agnes in the hallway in 7x02 that she really didn’t care about them, and almost looked at them with contempt. But, who knows. I’m sure it’s all mega-complicated, and we’ll get some bullshit explanation as to why in the mid/season finale and/or premiere.

One last little bit of food-for-thought is that I’ve been rewatching Once Upon a Time recently, which is a show that I watched the pilot when it first aired in 2011, and basically watched Seasons 1-5 as they were airing. I fell off after the Season 5 finale, and never really watched Seasons 6 or 7. And, as I’ve been rewatching Season 1 and now Season 2 on Netflix, I’ve been going back and re-reading Lily Sparks’ reviews on TV.com, which I read as the episodes were first airing in 2011 onward.

And, I have to say that my viewing experience at the time the episodes first aired -- which Lily captures in her reviews -- is SOOOOOOOOOOOOO different than rewatching the series now. It’s partly because I already know where the show is going -- even if I don’t remember all the little plot points and small details from episode-to-episode. But it’s also because NOW I’m able to watch them 2 or 3 or 4 episodes at a time, in a single day, and watch another few episodes the next day or a few days later. I’m not having to wait for a new one every single week.

And, as I’ve learned from re-reading Lily’s reviews, that makes a HUGE difference. Lily often complains about how the show moves at a snail’s pace, and we have to wait forever to get little crumbs of backstory or revelation or how annoying it is that the characters continue to point to a bigger story arc that hasn’t been revealed to us, the audience, yet. (ie, plot coupons). And she often half-jokingly, half-serious says that nothing happens on the show outside of mid/season premieres and finales. (Sound familiar?)

I honestly wonder whether I would feel this way if five years from now, I started rewatching The Blacklist from the very beginning in 2-4 episode increments. Would I also feel that the show was dragging its knuckles and treading water in between finales and premieres? Or would watching more episodes in a single sitting and with shorter intervals in between help me overlook so many of the flaws I believe it has?

TBL, I think, is a show that seems to lend itself better to multiple episodes in a sitting. Whenever we had those back-to-back episodes in the latter half of S6 this winter, I thought that was a much more enjoyable watching experience than something like tonight’s eyeroll fest. If it was a show that was like Stranger Things, where Netflix dropped all the episodes at once, so people could watch it at their own pace, I think it would help us to see more of the good and less of the bad. But, because we have to wait an entire week in between episodes, sometimes we’re more prone to be disappointed than satisfied when that Friday’s episode is over and we have to wait ANOTHER week for the next one. In a manner of speaking, it feels like we’re living off breadcrumbs that we get a week at a time.

I have a friend who binge-watches the Blacklist whenever a new season is uploaded to Netflix, and while he is also frustrated with the show, he seems to less frustrated than I am with it. I feel like I’m constantly complaining about it between September/October and May, and he gets a three-week span in August or whatever where he’s like “Yeah, this show is really weird.”

In any case, it’s just food for thought. As much as I’d like to, I don’t think I can wait until August or whenever for S7 to be uploaded to Netflix. I’d tear my hair out wondering what’s been going on with the show, and plus, being on Tumblr is just asking for spoilers, even with blacklisting tags.

And, for the record, I really hope S7 is the last. I don’t want this show to get an eighth season (or if it does, maybe it could be an abbreviated 13-episode one). It’s already overstayed its welcome, I feel like it’s a vampire or some other monster -- draining the life-force out of me until I’m old and tired and don’t have the energy to invest in a stupid hour-long drama on network television anymore.

I mean, it really says a lot that -- earlier today -- I was more excited about next week’s Good Place episode than I was about tonight’s Blacklist one. My interest in this show is taking a sharp nose-dive, and “Kuwait” honestly didn’t help much with that. And, the promos for next week look equally snooze-worthy.

I guess I really just need to find something better to do with my Friday nights and then just watch the episodes on the NBC app later, since this show seems determined to slump only four episodes into the season.