#surrounded by killers and experts
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i really WAS planning on finishing the fic today and having it out by tmw. but. it was my obligation as an oklahoman to explore the newly opened scheels. but whatever. i realized there may be a pattern to my favorites. maybe.


#bruce wayne#batman#joel miller#tlou#wolverine#kratos#god of war#miguel o'hara#corvo attano#dishonored#vander arcane#grunkle stan#gravity falls#mike ehrmantraut#the mandalorian#ron swanson#grunkle stan and ron are so out of place it makes me laugh#surrounded by killers and experts#a conman who loves his grandniblings more than anything and the director of the parks and rec department who secretly plays the saxophone
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A group of hooded figures watch from high in the trees as a lone lamb picks flowers from the forest floor below.
"Something's off..." An opossum shifts in his perch on a branch. "The crown, where is it?"
The badger on the branch next to him flashes a manic smile from underneath his black hood. "That's the thing! They lost it! They're vulnerable. Grendal, you and me, we can be the ones to finally kill them."
Grendal fidgets nervously with the pick he grips in his hands. "The way I've heard it, they've fought gods Flitch. You think we can take that?"
The badger next to him scoffs, rolling his eyes at a cowardly opossum. "Please. All the power they've ever had, it all came from their fake god. Can a fake god stand up to the might of the bishops?"
Grendal shrinks down into his arms, "Well... no...".
"Exactly. And guess what, they don't even have their fake god's power anymore!" Flitch grabs his compatriot by the wrists, and shakes them, as though he could wring the cowardice out. "They've lost the crown. They're nothing now. Just a little lamb, waiting for slaughter."
"Right," Grendal gives the signal to the others waiting in the tree tops "just a lamb"
Half a dozen warriors drop to the ground below, armed to the teeth with picks, knives and magic of the old faith. The lamb is outmatched and outnumbered, all on their lonesome carrying nothing more than a basket of flowers, and a bag slung over their shoulder.
They hardly seem surprised by their sudden appearance. Stopping in their path, they simply stand there; hands folded in front of them, quiet and relaxed, waiting patiently.
"Just a lamb. Just another sacrifice."
---
Grendal gapes in horror at the carnage around him. Corpses cut to pieces and burned bodies surround The Lamb, blood dripping down the steel of their blade as they stare at him expectantly.
It had all happened so fast; the violence, the killing. He believed himself to be an expert, but how many times has The Lamb danced this dance? Dozens, hundreds of times? How foolish was he to think he could fight that?
Shakey hands raise his pick at the lamb. They don't react. They don't need to. What threat could one fool pose to such an efficient killer?
There is a long, agonizing moment where neither of them move, each staring at the other, waiting for their next move. Eventually, The Lamb begins to step toward the terrified heretic.
Grendal drops his blade, falling prostrate before his target. "Please, spare me! I was wrong! I shouldn't have come after you!"
He hears the sound of hooves on dirt as they approach him, and flinches as they kick his weapon away. "Please..." he sobs "I'm sorry."
Gently, a bundle of flowers and two rolls of bandages are placed before him. "Your friend, the badger, he still breathes." They motion to a body leaning against a tree at the far end of the clearing. "Clean and apply pressure to the wound. Grind the flowers into a paste and lather it on the cut when the bleeding slows. It will stave off infection and help with clotting."
They rise from where they crouched before their assailant. "Work quick, and you should be able to save him."
"...why?" Grendal cautiously brings his eyes to meet The Lamb's. "Why not just kill us?"
Their mouth turns down, and eyes droop to the forest floor. "Because I never wanted to in the first place."
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𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭



*Pics not mine credits to the owner*
• Pairing: Spencer Reid x Stripper!Reader.
• Requested: no.
• Summary: it was supposed to be a case like any other, an undercover operation like a thousand others he had done but when Spencer sets his eyes on that dancer for the first time suddenly everything fades into the background.
• Warnings: brief mention of alcohol, homicide case, nudity, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, sex, use of condoms (ALWAYS WRAP IT!!!), cursing, dirty talk, basically Spencer being a ✨man✨, tell me if I missed anything <3
• Word count: 7.6K
• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE +18. This was written in 3rd person. I had this idea for a while now but didn’t know how to write it but now here we are you have no idea how much time it took 😭 I promise I’m still working on the requests please don’t hate me I’m just trying the find the motivation to write again. I really hope you like this one please let me know what you think and comment, reblog and like ❤️ Thank you for your kindness and constant support xx
Spencer had never felt as uncomfortable as he did in that moment, surrounded by germs and all kinds of bodily fluids.
He was disgusted and couldn’t wait for this to be over soon so he could get out of there.
Damn you, Derek Morgan.
He cursed his colleague for forcing him to go in that damned place. He was in a strip club, pretending to be a normal customer so he could talk to some of the strippers and the head of the club himself about an investigation. The BAU was in fact following the case of a serial killer who lured his victims and killed them.
Since the victims – who were about four – were all affluent straight males in their thirties and there were no traces of drugs or signs on their bodies that they’d been forced to follow the killer, the team assumed the unsub was a female in her mid-twenties.
After digging into their pasts to study the victimology, the team discovered all four victims committed sexual crimes which however had somehow been attempted to be covered up. So there was no doubt those killings were about some sort of justice.
The unsub would kill them by slicing their throats with a single and precise movement, a cut so deep it was easy to say she was an expert. There was no way the four victims were her first ones, but nothing came up after Garcia searched for other murders with the same modus operandi.
After leaving their bodies on the bed of a hotel room, the unsub would also write a short note on the wall with a deep purple lipstick – a particular color – which wasn’t found on the victims’ bodies, so the team thought she wouldn’t wear it, she was carrying it with her with the sole purpose to write those simple short sentences.
The BAU had interrogated the victims of these aforementioned sexual assaults but all of them had airtight alibis so there was no real suspect. After interrogating the victims’ families and friends, they realized there was a common denominator between those four men: the Sinful Lust.
And that’s how Spencer ended up there.
He didn’t understand why it had to be him who had to be in that place. How could they think it’d be a good idea to have him to deal with strippers and people having sex around him?
Anyone could see from a mile away how uncomfortable he felt sitting there, even people who weren’t profilers. Spencer continued to look around, almost dazed by the club’s strobe lights as he tried to mask his disgust at noticing his surroundings and the intense smell of alcohol.
He never hated Derek so much.
He knew it was just his sadistic way of making him feel uncomfortable, despite the encouragement from the rest of the team though who were sure Spencer would make it.
His palms sweated with every passing second as he rubbed them on his black pants before fixing the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t used to wearing these kinds of clothes, he felt caged, in a body that didn’t belong to him.
Every woman in that place wasted no time winking at him, shooting him languid glances to which he responded with a tight and totally false smile. Some of them approached him and he had to fake interest in them by engaged stupid and languid conversations.
He couldn’t help but think about how Morgan would’ve enjoyed that situation and how he wouldn’t have wasted time making all the women in that damn club fall at his feet.
Spencer really envied him sometimes. He envied how his friend was always so easygoing and extroverted, especially with women, with a joke always ready, how he always knew what to say and when.
Suddenly the club lights dimmed and focused on the stage, stopping his rush of thoughts and indicating the strippers were about to begin the show.
Numerous tables and seats were concentrated near the stage, populated by hungry men who couldn’t wait to feast their eyes and spend their money and Spencer noted with disgust many of them were even married.
Poor wives.
Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding only to gasp again as some music started and the strippers began to dance. He didn’t recognize the music and the words, preferring classical music; however, his mind wasn’t focused on the bass vibrating through the room but on analyzing the scene.
But it was so damn hard when women danced sensually in front of him half naked. It’s a physiological reaction, he kept repeating to himself, it’s normal, focus Reid, do not deconcentrate.
The dim lights only added more tension to the evocative atmosphere, interrupted every now and then by men standing up and cheering to hand over their money they had probably earned with so much effort.
Spencer moved into his seat, picking up the glass of some type of liquor he didn’t know and pretending to sip before placing it back on the table, wanting with every fiber of his being for the unsub to reveal herself.
But he knew it couldn’t be that simple. If killers had written on their foreheads they were actually killers, he wouldn’t even have a job anymore.
He wondered if she was there.
Who knew if she had already chosen her next victim.
Spencer’s eyes met with one of the three dancers on the stage and a vice gripped his stomach when he realized she was already looking at him.
Her hips continued to move sensually to the rhythm of the music as her fingers played with the buttons of the skimpy top she was wearing and for an instant Spencer thought if he wasn’t mistaken or having a hallucination.
But he wasn’t wrong.
Her eyes were fixed solely on him.
She bit her lip as she winked at Spencer, and he almost melted into that chair like snow in the sun. He tried to keep his expression as casual and neutral as possible but in reality, every single cell in his body was on fire.
She turned her body and walked sensually towards the pole and Spencer’s eyes went hungrily and impertinently down her body, making him feel no less dirty than the rest of the men present.
But he couldn’t control himself as his eyes seemed to have a life on their own and he couldn’t take them off her.
His gaze traced every exposed inch of her skin, focusing on her ass covered by a skimpy short skirt, the mere sight of her making his pants tighten around his crotch. His mind began to wander with fantasy, unable to help but imagine his head buried between her legs.
Spencer shifted in his chair dejectedly, resting his hands on his lap and covering his erection as if someone was there to notice. Nobody would’ve noticed, all eyes were on her and the dancers.
He didn’t even look at the other two women on the stage, his eyes was fixed only on her, her hips, her beautiful and smooth legs, on her body that spun with disarming ease around the dance pole.
He wondered what it’d be like to feel his fingers squeezing her hips as she rode him into oblivion and this image alone almost made him come in his pants.
He was totally mesmerized.
He didn’t know what was happening to him but every cell in his body seemed to have lit up and inflamed, his fingers were trembling with desire to slide them over her sinuous body.
But it was when her eyes met his again that Spencer felt the air sucked out of his lungs. He couldn’t quite make out the color, he was too far away to be able to do that, but just the way she was looking at him made him shift in his seat again and his aching dick erect even more.
He was paralyzed, he didn’t dare move a single muscle. He didn’t know why but he was afraid if he moved everyone would find out who he really was. That she would find out.
His eyes never left hers, a small grin painting her face as she continued to dance sensually. Spencer felt arrogant enough to assume this dance was just for him.
The show eventually ended and the lights dimmed in the club again, although Spencer managed to track the silhouettes of the dancers coming off the stage. His heart jumped into his throat when he noticed a person approaching him and not just any person but her.
Spencer’s eyes followed her every movement although the light was so low he couldn’t really make out her beautiful features. He shifted in his chair again and tried to keep his concentration up when a cloud of her scent hit him square in the face, short-circuiting every single neuron in his brain.
This was the perfect opportunity to gather information regarding the case, but at that moment Spencer seemed to have completely forgotten the reason why he was there.
“Come with me.”
That was all she said and even her voice was so sweet it mesmerized him even more, as if it was a siren’s song luring the poor sailors into her clutches. He stood up without even being asked twice, his mind trying to convince itself it was just to gather the information he needed.
At that moment, however, the only thing controlling his body was the blood rushing to his penis and not the rationality that always distinguished him.
She walked through the club ignoring everything around her while he followed her like a puppy, unaware of what was coming and what she was up to. A small, tiny part of his brain kept screaming to be careful, that she was a stranger probably looking for the money – or worse to kill him. He knew he needed to focus on the case but Spencer was too attracted to her to even listen to those voices.
Nothing like this had ever happened before. He would’ve never thought of following a stranger to who knew where without an ounce of information.
They entered a room and Spencer quickly scanned it, deducing it was her dressing room. His attention, however, immediately returned to that woman. Under those lights, he could finally look at her in all her splendor and the air was sucked from his lungs as his eyes traveled along her body and analyzed her face.
She was breathtaking, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t itching to touch her.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice broke the silence. Spencer didn’t respond at first, his eyes focused on her cleavage and the way her chest rose and fell. Only when he brought his eyes back to her face and saw the mischievous smirk on her lips he realized she had said something to him and that he must’ve looked like a complete idiot.
“What?”
She chuckled and that simple sound traveled through his body, causing his blood to rush and his penis to harden even more.
What is she doing to me?
She slightly tilted her head, her eyes vibrant as she watched – no, analyzed – Spencer.
His muscles froze as she took two steps toward him, never taking her eyes off him.
He returned her gaze with a courage he had never had and didn’t even know he possessed. Her eyes were bright but there was something particularly intense about them, something he absolutely wanted to discover and he couldn’t even name.
His breathing quickened and he prayed she wouldn’t realize how intense the effect she had on him was. She looked at him with an intensity that made him weak in the knees, with an intensity that no one had ever looked at him with.
She hadn’t torn her eyes away from his for not even a second, and although that confidence further intrigued Spencer, it scared him at the same time. He knew she was trying to get inside him, into his soul and discover his deepest secrets.
“I asked what you’re doing here.”
“You told me to come.”
She licked her lips and Spencer’s eyes flicked to her mouth, causing him to react in a way that resulted in the further restriction of his pants. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets to avoid doing something he’d regret, but damn it was so hard.
This was also the moment he understood the true meaning of the phrase ‘blue balls’.
He was so fucking horny it hurt.
“I’m well aware of that,” she replied with a smirk, probably noticing the way he was staring at her lips. “But don’t act stupid, you don’t look like one. What are you doing here?”
Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, using the shred of rationality he had left to think of an answer. But the way she was looking at him, as if she wanted him to take her right then and now, was enough to make him no longer even remember his name.
I’m an FBI agent investigating a murder case and you, like every other dancer here, could be a potential suspect.
He couldn’t say it, but damn it if she kept coming closer to him, he wouldn’t even bother giving her his wallet and bank details.
“What all the men are doing, why don’t you go ask them?”
Well done.
“I’m asking you.” She flicked her hair behind her shoulders with a single but graceful movement of her head, leaving her neck and shoulder exposed. Spencer’s throat bobbed up and down again, his mind filled with images of him sticking his tongue out and licking and tasting her skin, sucking it and leaving marks.
Dammit Reid, get a hold of yourself.
“I’ve been watching you,” she spoke, her tone calm and sensual. “You looked like you were going to vomit when you came in and I know you would’ve never come here of your own free will; so why don’t you tell me the truth pretty boy?”
Fuck yeah keep calling me that.
Why doesn’t it sound so good when Morgan calls me that?
Stop thinking about Morgan.
“There’s a first time for everyone, don’t you think?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.
She bit her lower lip, a gesture that made him feral.
Please somebody help me.
It was only then she took her eyes away from his and let them wander slowly along his body.
She studied and analyzed him and with every inch that passed under her eyes Spencer felt his skin catch fire, especially when her gaze focused on the huge bulge in his pants.
The beautiful stranger brought her eyes back to his and Spencer didn’t miss that lustful glint in them and the way her breathing had quickened, indicating she was as affected by him as he was by her.
“What’s your name?”
“David,” Spencer replied, congratulating himself on the way he had managed to control himself and not give away his real name.
“David,” she repeated, slowly, as if wanting to taste what his name felt like on her tongue. She took another step, closing her distance and her scent hit his nostrils. It was a mixture of vanilla, coconut, innocence and sin and he was going crazy.
“I’ll pretend you don’t think I’m that stupid, David,” she winked and Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat for the third time, trying to keep his breathing to a normal pace even though his heart was pounding wildly inside his rib cage.
They continued to look at each other for an almost infinite time, the air more tense and warmer with each passing second. Spencer tried to think of something to say, anything, but the way she looked at him paralyzed him. His eyes roamed and traced the lines of her lips imagining what it’d be like to feel them pressed against his, what it’d be like to feel them wrapped around his dick and just the thought almost made him come in his pants.
I can’t do this anymore.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, her voice so low he almost didn’t hear her. Spencer had the impression she wanted to say anything else, but she had refrained from doing it, like if she had opened her tightly closed lips she would’ve told a terrible secret.
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he replied, taking his hand out of his pocket and bringing it closer to her face. His fingers played with a lock of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, it was as if his body was acting on its own and had completely disconnected from his brain. Her breathing quickened at that contact and that time he was the one to smirk. “What’s your name?”
“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t tell me yours.”
“It matters to me. And I did, it’s up to you to believe me or not.”
She cocked one eyebrow up. “Why does it matter?”
“I want to know whose name I’m going to moan when I’ll think of you with my hand around my dick.”
Spencer almost chocked on his own words.
What the fuck?
Again, what the hell is wrong with me?
What was he doing? What was going through his mind? He completely lost his mind but he didn’t care, not when she looked at him like she wanted to tear him apart and burn him right then and there. And the worst thing was that he probably would’ve let her do it without objecting.
He could see the way she was holding back, the way she tried to appear casual but after all it was his job to know what people really felt, what they thought. He knew it from the way her pupils were so dilated they covered almost all the color of his irises, from the way her skin was flushed and the redness on her cheeks, from the light layer of sweat covering her forehead, from her rapid breathing, the stiffness of her muscles, from the way her hands clenched into two fists as if she was leveraging on herself to not let go.
But why?
Spencer wasn’t an expert in that world, but he really thought she’d try in any way to get some money, to seduce him and then leave him broke, but then why did she hold back? Why was she rejecting him? Why did she ask him to come with her if she wasn’t trying to do anything?
In other moments he would’ve investigated more but in that instant everything had taken a step backwards, Spencer didn’t seem to be focused on anything other than putting his hands on that stranger who was hypnotizing and bewitching like no one else ever did. He had never felt anything like this, being consumed by the desire to kiss her, touch her, run his tongue over every inch of her body, he never felt that raw and primordial desire to have someone.
And he wanted her.
Fuck the consequences.
“You don’t really want this,” she whispered and it didn’t take a profiler to figure out that she wasn’t sure of those words either. It was Spencer who closed the distance between the two that time, feeling the heat of her body envelop him and attracting him like a moth to flame, as every part of her skin was screaming to be touched by his fingers. Her words repelled him but the way she looked at him said something else.
“Why did you ask me to come here then?”
Her eyes looked at him with a look that even him couldn’t decipher. She was hiding something, she was battling herself and he wanted to know why.
“You don’t belong in this place.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know…” she whispered as her gaze kept alternating between his eyes and his mouth. He wet them with his tongue, pleased when he saw the way her breath hitched.
“I just couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
Spencer may not be very experienced in the women’s game, but he could see the passionate hunger in her eyes, that glimmer of lust and desire that left him breathless.
“Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
Those two single whispered letters were enough for Spencer to destroy what little shred of control he still possessed. Before he knew it his hands were cupping her face and his lips were pressed to hers in a searing, electrifying kiss.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he couldn’t even recognize himself at that moment. As her mouth devoured him and her tongue tasted his, he couldn’t let go of the feeling he was watching everything as if he was an outside observer, like he wasn’t the one commanding his actions.
He couldn’t believe what was happening, that he – the man who was terrified of even shaking hands with strangers for fear of germs – was kissing that beautiful, sexy stranger who had invaded his senses ever since she set her feet on that stage. And to be honest he didn’t even care, Spencer was only focused on the world in which she was devouring him.
Their tongues intertwined in a sensual dance as their deep breaths and sighs blended into each other. There was nothing sweet about that kiss, about the way he fisted his hands around her hair, the way she had her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her, the saliva mixing. It was animalistic, raw, sloppy, messy, a kiss so deep they felt their soul being sucked out of their body.
The tension and electricity in the air was clearly palpable as time seemed to stop around them, leaving them engulfed in the fire of passion and making them both forget who and where they were.
While Spencer’s hands roamed along her body, squeezing and groping every inch of her skin he could reach, sucking in and swallowing every sigh that escaped her throat, he no longer thought he was an FBI agent who was there because he had a job to do.
And even his name was forgotten as her fingers began frantically unbuttoning his shirt, her fingertips leaving fiery marks on his skin as they slid down his chest. They both began taking slow steps, their mouths continuing to devour each other and only breaking away when Spencer’s legs touched the sofa in the dressing room. He sat with his legs apart and a very painful erection in his pants, his gaze on fire while his hungry eyes analyzed and looked with meticulous attention at the stranger.
Never more than in that moment was he grateful to his eidetic memory, because he knew he would never forget that divine image in front of his eyes. Her breasts, legs, hips, her waist, everything seemed to scream to be touched and worshiped and Spencer couldn’t wait to do it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered more to himself than to her, his hands resting on his thighs as he continued to let his gaze wander down her body.
She smiled and Spencer almost fainted. And it wasn’t a mischievous grin but a real smile, one of those that weakened the knees and made everything more beautiful and brighter. One of those he’d never forget.
He took her hands and pulled her towards him making her sit on his lap, her legs tightly straddling his thighs. He groaned as his hard dick collided with her core, relieving that feeling of pressure and pain even if for just a few seconds.
Before he could say or do anything she had pressed her lips on his again, starting to sensually move on him, shamelessly grinding herself and unleashing obscene sighs from both of them that sounded like they were coming from a porn.
Spencer’s hands cupped her ass, pressing his fingers so hard into her skin as he followed her movements while her hands instead continued to roam his chest, her nails pressing into his skin until she leaves red marks on it.
“Fuck I want you so bad,” she breathed into his lips and he let out a particularly loud groan when she bit his bottom lip, sucking it. Her lips parted from his, leaving wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, sucking, biting, nibbling at his skin.
Any trace of whatever indecision she felt was gone and he couldn’t control himself anymore. His body seemed to move automatically. Lust and desire had clouded his mind, that sublime mind that had done everything to prevent these moments from happening but that had given into the most primitive of instincts. Sex.
His hands went up to the skimpy top she was wearing, ripping it off without even thinking twice before dropping the broken material on the floor, soon joined by her bra as well. His hands cupped her breasts, teasing and pinching her turgid nipples that so recalled his mouth.
Spencer obeyed that wish, wrapping his lips around one of her breasts sucking it while he continued to grope the other. Her hands threaded through his hair, curling into fists and pulling, causing another groan from Spencer. He didn’t even know he was into this. His hips jerked up, continuing to grind against her for some relief.
“Please…” He let go of her breast, throwing his head back and fearing he’d explode right then and there. He wanted to know that stranger’s name, he desperately wanted to moan it and he equally desperately wanted to tell her his, just so he could hear it screamed by her beautiful mouth as he fucked her. “I’ll come in my pants if you keep doing this.”
She giggled and this was a further shock to Spencer, who thought he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. Her hands fumbled with his belt, undoing the button and pulling down the zip of his pants. He let out a sigh of relief when, after slightly lifting his hips, she lowered his pants along with his precum stained boxers, finally releasing his erection.
“Shit…” he hissed a curse through gritted teeth as her hand wrapped around his dick. It started to move up and down with it and he closed his parted lips as he tried to suppress his moans. His eyes were glued on that stranger’s hand who gave him pleasure, a vision he’d never forget. Her hand was so delicate and perfect, in stark contrast to the sinful and dirty action she was doing.
“Don’t hold back, I want to hear you moan for me, okay?”
Spencer met her gaze and nodded, not trusting his own voice. She lifted herself from his lap and knelt between his spread legs and if Spencer hadn’t already been sitting down, the mere image of her on her knees with her hand wrapped around his dick would’ve made him fall to the ground.
“Is this okay?” She asked and Spencer found himself nodding again, this time with so much enthusiasm that she chuckled.
“Yes please…” he breathed as she continued to masturbate him, alternating fast and slow movements and making him lose his mind even more, if that was even possible. Her thumb drew imaginary circles on his red, wet tip, making him gasp against his will.
He placed a hand on her cheek, her skin hot against his palm, his thumb caressing her lips. His breath hitched in anticipation when she wrapped her lips around his thumb, her eyes never leaving Spencer’s as she sucked on his fingertip. “I’m dying to have this pretty mouth around my dick, do you want to show me what it can do?”
Spencer had no clue where this confidence was coming from, but he was too horny to think about shyness and what to say.
She let go of his thumb and stuck her tongue out before tracing the shaft of his penis with a single, excruciatingly slow lick from the base to his tip. He let out a deep, loud groan, throwing his head back as he felt his silky skin against her tongue. It was an aphrodisiac sensation and if Spencer was to believe in heaven and an afterlife, her mouth would definitely be his.
“Shit just like that,” he moaned as her tongue drew imaginary circles on his tip, sucking and taking away every trace of precum. His soul nearly left his body when she encircled his tip with her lips, sliding his length into her mouth until his dick hit the back of her throat.
She placed a hand on his bare, hairy thighs, dragging her nails across his skin as if to draw his attention to her and Spencer granted her wish, lifting his head and looking down at that sin dressed as an angel who was sucking his dick.
Fucking hell I don’t even believe in angels.
It was immoral, the most unethical thing he could’ve done, something for which he could’ve even be kicked out of the team but Spencer couldn’t care less, not when that mouth was sucking him like her life depended on it and making him feel a pleasure he couldn’t even think was possible to feel.
“You’re so good little angel,” he praised her, placing a hand on her head threading his fingers through her hair and a little spark lit up in her eyes. She definitely had a praise kink. “This mouth will be the death of me.”
She hollowed her cheeks, picking up the pace as her head bobbed up and down and her tongue licked circling his dick. Spencer felt like he was already one step away from exploding in her mouth, but he didn’t want to come, not before being buried deep inside her. “Dammit… Stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet.”
He cupped her face pressing his lips to her swollen, wet ones while simultaneously pulling her on his lap again. He kissed her as if he wanted to suck her soul out of her body, resting his hands on her smooth, bare thighs as his fingers pressed into her skin, teasing her but never touching that magical spot where Spencer couldn’t wait to sink.
“For fuck’s sake touch me,” she hissed impatiently pulling on the young man’s hair, earning a small grin from him.
“Tell me how much you want it,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck, inhaling deeply that scent he knew would torment him for the rest of his life, that scent that drugged and marked him in the span of very few seconds. His thumbs kept drawing circles on her inner thighs, dangerously close to her pussy as she squirmed under his touch and Spencer was loving every single shred of the desperation she showed.
She wanted him.
She wanted him desperately.
Spencer never had someone who wanted him so badly, sure he had his experiences with women – albeit very limited ones – but he had never felt anything so deep, animalistic and visceral. He had never had any woman looking at him with that fire in her eyes, as if he was the only man who existed for her, as if he was everything she wanted, as if she could die at any moment if he didn’t give it to her.
But that stranger did.
And damn it felt so good.
“Please, I want it… I want you…” she cried out in an impatient and desperation tone and that was music to his ears. If there was some divine entity Spencer thanked it for making her wear a miniskirt.
His fingers slipped into her panties, moaning to himself as he felt the amount of fluids wetting her pussy. “So wet… You’re going to kill me, you know that right?”
She didn’t answer, she threw her head back while Spencer looked at her with hooded eyes and one of his fingers wasted no time in penetrating her. Her hips moved in rhythm and he trembled with anticipation, imagining her walls squeezing his dick.
“Fuck yes…” she moaned loudly, her hands in Spencer’s hair as he inserted a second finger inside her, watching her reaction and how her body writhed in pleasure.
“You’re so tight little angel, I can’t wait to be buried deep inside this wet pussy,” he murmured with pleasure before taking one of her breasts into his mouth, too temptingly as he sucked and licked it. His other arm went around her hips, holding her in place and keeping her from squirming away. “How many of them did you let fuck you mmh? How many have made you feel this way?” He licked her chest, her collarbone, every inch of skin he could reach before he began torturing her other breast.
“No one…” she breathed, unable to finish her sentence due to her heavy panting and moaning. Her thighs were shaking, her hands gripping his hair. “Nobody… Holy shit…” She trailed off again, her body contorting forward if it wasn’t for Spencer’s arm holding her and he knew his fingers had hit her G-spot.
He actually had no idea what he was doing or how to move but he was an attentive observer. His eyes glued to her studied with careful attention every single breath, the intensity of her moans, the way her muscles trembled, the way her pussy clenched, the way she held him, studying her body and quickly adapting to her reaction.
“Oh God yes, yes, you’re so fucking good keep going…” she cried out and then looked down at him. Her thumb traced his lips and – just as she had done earlier – he wrapped them around her finger, sucking on it as his fingers continued to pump in and out of her. Her walls clenched his wet fingers and if the vision of her coming over them didn’t make him lose his sanity, then he didn’t know what else would.
Spencer left her no room to catch her breath or strength after her orgasm.
“Open.” He ordered, bringing his fingers that until a few moments before were inside her, close to her lips. She didn’t hesitate to lick Spencer’s wet fingers clean, making him dizzy as her eyes watched with adulation and lust at the way his tongue sensually moved her fluids. “Yeah little angel, just like that.”
He was going crazy. He seriously thought his vessels were going to explode from how horny he was.
She let go of his fingers and sloppily kissed him, making him taste her juices on her tongue. “Fuck what are doing to me…” She whispered and something told Spencer she didn’t mean to say those words out loud.
“If you think I’m anywhere near done with you, you’re completely wrong,” he murmured against her lips. “Show me how a good girl you are and sit on me, let me see how this pretty pussy soaks my dick.”
Good job Dr Reid.
I’m really proud of myself.
“And here I thought you were a virgin,” she chuckled before getting up and taking a condom from one of the drawers in her closet, but not before taking off her panties. She settled down by straddling his thighs again before slipping the condom onto his painfully hard dick. She lifted her pelvis and wrapped her hand around Spencer’s dick, letting herself be penetrated until she found herself completely sitting on it. “But I know behind this cute pretty face you’re so dirty, filthy enough to fuck a stripper whose name you don’t even know.”
Spencer clung to every ounce of strength in his body to concentrate on anything other than the warm, wet walls of that stranger’s pussy or he would’ve come instantly.
He had even forgotten how good it felt to have sex after so long and remembered why people were so obsessed with it, why his team pestered him to get laid.
Her pussy engulfed him so perfectly it seemed to have been made just for him.
“You feel so good god…” she breathed out a moan interrupting her sentence as she slowly raised her hips and lowered herself again. Spencer couldn’t control a deep groan as she continued to tease and torture him with that slow motion, rolling her hips on his dick.
Spencer’s fingers found themselves on her ass for the second time, groping and spreading her ass cheeks trying to maintain control but it was so damn hard when all he wanted to do was fuck her brains out of her head.
“F-faster… You’re torturing me…” he panted brokenly, his chest quickly rising and falling as if he was running a marathon.
Instead, she kept going with her slow, destabilizing pace, lifting her hips again and slowly lowering herself on his raging dick, torturing him further as the sounds she let out filled the room. Those alone would’ve been enough to make him fall into the void and never be able to get back to the surface.
“Beg me.”
“Please, please… Make me feel good little angel, make me come,” he obeyed, not caring about sounding pathetic. The smirk that formed on her lips was the manifestation of the most pure form of sin, a sin for which there was no absolution or redemption.
Luckily Spencer didn’t even believe in these things.
But if there was a definition of heaven and hell, if they ever existed, it would’ve been her.
Her and those eyes that looked at him like they wanted to capture what was left of his soul, those eyes that would’ve made Spencer thrown himself off a cliff if she had asked.
Her and those hands that held him and touched him, causing him sensations he didn’t even know the meaning of, and this said something for a person who knew the meaning of every single word written in the dictionary.
Her and her deadly mouth that continued to kiss him until there was no air left in his lungs, her teeth biting him, her tongue licking his skin and sucking his tongue.
Her and those moans and gasps she couldn’t hold back and that Spencer was absorbing one by one, imprinting them in his memory so he could repeat them again and again.
“Look at you, aren’t you a desperate little thing? So hungry for me,” she sensually whispered in his ear and biting his earlobe. Fulfilling Spencer’s wishes, she began to increase her pace, placing her hands on the back of the couch for support.
Nothing resounded except their moans, pants, grunts mixing with each other, the sound of their skin rubbing and flapping and their lips smacking with each kiss with the smell of sex, sin and prohibition filling their nostrils.
Spencer’s eyes were glued on her, on her parted lips and her head thrown back, her eyes half closed, her tits bouncing in rhythm with her thrusts which he didn’t waste time taking into his mouth and sucking them, biting the nipples until they were numb.
She fisted Spencer’s hair again, pulling it and forcing him to tilt his head back to look at her. That gesture made him grunt and aroused him even more than he already was, and his hips twitched against her, giving a particularly deep thrust that made her curse.
“I can see how you’re holding back pretty boy,” she sighed, continuing to ride him but slowing her pace this time causing a pathetic cry to escape his lips. She kept brushing her lips against his without kissing him, with the sole aim of torturing him and driving him crazy. As if she hadn’t already done it. “Don’t hold back, I can see how much you want to ruin me, how much you’re dying to destroy me.”
“Fuck.” He cursed and something snapped inside him.
He thrusted his hips so deep into her she choked out a moan and he was sure she felt it in every corner of her pussy. His long fingers continued to press into the red, heated flesh of her ass holding her still while he jerked his hips forcefully, taking command even though she was still on top of him.
His dick kept pushing in and out of her, engulfed by her pussy as it tightened around him. Spencer knew how fundamental the importance of using protection was, especially with strangers, but he wished he didn’t wear that damn condom so much, so he could feel every wet corner of her around his dick.
“Oh fuck yes… Just like that,” she loudly moaned and he was sure that by now everyone had heard what was going on in that dressing room but had chosen to ignore it.
Spencer didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. He needed to come but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want this to end.
That’s why he made her get up off him, earning a confused expression before flipping her onto that couch and laying on top of her. He opened her legs and positioned himself between them. He left her no room to say anything as he aligned his dick with her entrance, penetrating her in one motion.
Her legs encircled his hips, her heels pressed against his skin as he fucked her on that couch like his life depended on it, with hard, deep thrusts that made her eyes water.
He had completely lost control.
His hand went around her throat, a gesture that happened spontaneously and that Spencer didn’t even realize until he saw the smirk and expression of pure ecstasy on her face.
How long has he been into choking?
That damn woman would be his downfall.
“Is this what you wanted?” he groaned, his fingers tightening sideways around her throat, being careful not to press on her windpipe. Some strands of hair fell in front of his eyes but she removed them, almost making him faint at that sweet gesture, in stark contrast to the animalistic way in which they were fucking.
“I knew there was a little devil inside you pretty boy, God you’re so fucking sexy,” she gasped, biting hit lower lips and making him increase his pace. “Yes, yes, yes I’m going to come… Keep going fuck yeah…”
His thrusts were deep, messy and although he tried to keep himself from coming, wanting to prolong that feeling of ecstasy as long as possible, it was impossible as her pussy kept clenching around him, moaning “I’m coming” in his ear so sexily it made him come. Spencer exploded and with one last thrust he let himself go into a mind-blowing orgasm that made his body tremble and his eyes blind for a few moments as he poured all his sperm inside the condom.
There were a few moments of silence, broken only by the panting and deep breathing of the two as they caught their breath.
After the ecstasy of the orgasm, Spencer stood up, noticing out of the corner of his eye that she too was trying to get up but her still shaking legs prevented her from doing so. He tried to hold back a smirk, giving her a hand and helping her to get on her feet before earning a feeble “Thank you.”
What the fuck did I just do?
I just had sex with a stripper who could be a potential witness/suspect while undercover.
I’m so screwed.
He realized the enormous mistake he had just made, not even imagining the consequences. He thanked no one in particular for not having worn the microphone or, holy shit, that would’ve been difficult to explain.
Spencer didn’t say a word and he was grateful that she didn’t either, too dazed and groggy to be able to face a conversation.
They both cleaned up in silence and after throwing the condom in the bin, Spencer tried to tidy himself up, tucking his shirt into his pants after buttoning it.
His profiler nature, however, couldn’t help but notice the way how her demeanor completely changed, going from that sexy vicious woman to a silent shy one. She hadn’t so much as glanced at him, he noticed how her shoulders were tense while she moved frantically as if she was trying to vanish from that dressing room as quickly as possible.
She was nervous.
But why?
“You still haven’t answered my initial question, you know?” Spencer broke the awkward silence, before he could stop his tongue.
Damn it Reid why do you want to complicate things so badly?
She turned her head towards him, looking at him with a confused expression trying to make up her mind.
But then a small smile spread across her features before she closed her backpack and placed it on her shoulder. “No one’s been lucky enough to get in here,” she replied, effectively giving the answer Spencer was looking for and for some strange and absurd reason he believed her. “Or unlucky, depending on your point of view.”
Before he could answer she gave him one last glance and left the dressing room. He was supposed to be relieved, there would be no question he couldn’t answer – especially after she realized David wasn’t his real name – but for some reason he couldn’t let go that sinking feeling in his stomach.
He was good at analyzing other people’s emotions, every facet and change of expression, but he wasn’t as good with himself.
He was tempted to follow her, at least to know her name, to find out who the woman who had fried his brain was, but before going out he noticed a small object near the door, probably fallen from her backpack before she went out.
He knelt to pick it up from the ground, but his blood froze in his veins and his heart stopped beating for a millisecond when he realized what the object was.
It was a purple lipstick.
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Tbh Red vs Blue didn't really intend to lean too far into the dissociative lens with Leonard Church as far as I can tell. He's an AI that's a reconstruction of a real person, through the use of brain-mapping technology. Church, the AI, became a system through... conventional traumatic means, and that's almost where they leave it in terms of direct reference to the disorder. But it's still interesting to look at things within that lens, and while I do eventually intend to collect my thoughts into a video essay, I think I'd like to share one train of thought here because I think it's legitimately interesting.
Everyone knows about the cliché of the murderous alter. Red vs Blue's most notable example is Sigma. Now I know that on this sentence alone, many would criticise me calling Church the best DID representation I've seen in media, especially given that they also misnomer the disorder as MPD, but I think Sigma is the most interesting example of the trope, because he actually has something to say about the treatment of those with dissociative disorders.
For one, I think that character context is important. Church (as in Alpha) was created to be a murder machine - the Director would force Church to split and extract the new split into its own AI unit, given to Freelancers with the express purpose of making them more effective soldiers. Almost everyone in the series is a killer, although some are more effective than others, and nowhere is this description more applicable than Project Freelancer.
With that in mind, the Freelancers were given seminars on the workings of AI - in the series, an AI fragment might try to "metastabilise," or reconnect with other fragments of the same AI, to achieve a sense of wholeness. If I recall, AI were supposed to remain inactive for these seminars, but Agent Maine was fond of Sigma due to Sigma's ability to act as a mouthpiece for him after an injury, and Sigma was made aware of the concept of "metastability." As such, he decided that he wanted to achieve metastability, and this decision kicks off the vast majority of RvB's plot.
There are many things getting in the way of Sigma's plan, however, and first and foremost is the fact that all of the other AI fragments have been allotted to other Freelancer agents. While there may have been a conflict of interest for Maine, Sigma had a clear goal in mind, and was ultimately conditioned to achieve it - the AI units were made to kill, and this is a large part of why he proceeds with his plan.
So, why am I mentioning this? I'm not just here to defend this writing decision, I said this plotline had something to say about the treatment of systems, and it does, either intentionally, or, more likely, not - first, it deals with how the world surrounding systems form how they react to the issues the world involves them in, something that is true of not only us, but of everyone. Second, it challenges the idea that final fusion is the healthiest and only acceptable treatment for systems.
The only reason Sigma strives for something analogous to final fusion is because he was told by someone who should be an expert that this is the only way forward for him. The only way to achieve, in direct quote, "humanity," a goal he had already been striving for. And the tragic thing is that he believed that this was the case when the viewer looking at the show through a dissociative lens already knows it isn't, both in real life, and in the series.
Church, as in the Alpha AI, and later Epsilon, is one of the most human characters in the show. He's a lot of things - a bit arrogant, very brash, and often pissed off, but he cares about his friends, and does everything in his power to help them succeed, even sacrificing himself as Epsilon for them. He was human once, and as an AI, is a reconstruction of that former humanity, and he still manages to retain it. As Epsilon, he achieves functional multiplicity until the plot forces him to go through final fusion to save his friends, and the act, in the timeline of Seasons 15-18, at least, literally kills him.
The treatment of systems matters so much to me. And despite starting out as a crass comedy show about the shittiest soldiers in the galaxy, with the relevant seasons having released 13 years ago, the series still manages to treat us with more respect and challenge more issues relating to how society treats us than most, if not all media that deems us interesting enough to be plot-relevant does now. I have a lot of thoughts about it all, and whenever I feel like it, I'll probably write more about it. Thanks for reading, if you did make it this far, I'm just rambling and all, but if this matters even half as much to someone else as it does to me, that makes me happy.
#red vs blue#leonard church#church rvb#rvb#rooster teeth#did#actually did#dissociative identity disorder#the leonard church dissociative essay tag
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One Villainous Scene - The Vampires Road To Dublin
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Oh boy... Sinners. Definitely one of the best films of the decade. Between all the complicated characters, the insight into black culture during Jim Crow, the power of music, along with other points, this is Ryan Coogler's Magnum Opus. Though did the movie have a good villain? As someone who has seen the vampire of the hour in action, yes this film does have a truly great villain.
Remmick is the perfect villain for a film like this, being a genuintely pathetic and pitiful creature while also being an insidious monster. He's an Irish vampire who was alive when "the christians were taking the land" and he's not horrified by his transformation in the slights, in fact he revels in being a living corpse and an expert killer. However, the core of his motivations at this point in his life aren't simply a hunger for blood or a lust for power... it's a longing for community. Despite leaving his humanity behind long ago, he still desires to be surrounded by a community that he can call his own.
Then there's how he intends to create this community, and in all honesty it's horrific on so many levels. Remmick doesn't simply drink blood and kill, he turns his victims into extensions of himself. They share his memories and he shares theirs, they feel the pain that he feels, and they delight in the carnage that he delights in. It's a vampiric hive mind, and that's put on full display with this scene. Every single vampire in this hive not only follows his whims, but they also sing and dance as if they're Irish themselves. It's a twisted version of the unity that Sammie's music brought.
In short, Remmick as a villain is horrific in all of the right ways. He's not only a killer, he twists the dead into something as horrific as himself. He longs for community, yet he builds said community off of the living corpses of his victims. He sees all men as equal because everyone is perfectly capable of either "joining" his hive or being the food that sustains it.
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Killers with Pearl!Reader
You cried, begged, and pleaded for anyone who take a chance on you. You dreamed of becoming a star. The Entity gladly reached out her claw, promising you the role of all eternity. You gratefully accepted. You thanked your "supporters" and blew kisses into the air as you walked into the cold, empty fog.
The stage was finally yours
The Ghostface
Danny wasn't amused
He was put on babysitting duty by the Entity; show you the ropes, make sure the others don't bully you, etc.
He had his work cut out for him
You were quite the mess
Neurotic, bratty, and downright vicious when things didn't go your way
This translated into your trials going pretty bad
Gen rushing and whole team escapes
Danny could work with this
He would turn you into the best killer around
(second to him, of course)
Even if it took forever
And in the Entity's realm, there was no rush
You found yourself in the realm alongside Ghostface, within the eerie recreation of your family's farm, sculpted by the Entity. As you practiced your axe swings, he leaned against a decaying fence, arms folded. He let out an exasperated sigh and halted your motions, his voice cutting through the tense air.
"Hey, hold up," he remarked, his masked face giving away little emotion. "You're not getting that technique right. You're swinging way too wildly. You gotta be precise or the survivors are gonna have an easy time spinning you."
Your brows furrowed, a mixture of annoyance and defiance brewing within you. "Oh, really? And who made you the expert on my style?"
He shrugged casually. "Just trying to help. No need to get all bristly."
A surge of frustration rose within you. You clutched your axe handle tighter, your knuckles whitening. "I don't need your help. I'm destined for greatness. I'm meant to be a star."
Danny's expression remained inscrutable behind his mask, but his tone turned more serious. "Being a star means learning and improving. Even stars have to take criticism."
Your grip on the axe tightened even more, your fingers trembling slightly. The words hit a nerve, a raw vulnerability you rarely let show. "I can handle the criticism just fine. But not from you, and not when I'm on the cusp of something big."
Danny lets out another sigh, which carried annoyance. "Fine, have it your way. Just remember, the Entity doesn't care about your style points. It wants results."
You stared at him, a battle of wills and egos in the air. The urge to swing your axe in frustration warred with the nagging truth in his words.
"You just can't stand the idea of someone else shining brighter, can you?" you retorted, your words dripping with bitterness. "But guess what? I'm going to be a star, and then I'll be her favorite, not you."
The Twins
Charlotte warmed up to you pretty quick, even if she didn't know what the hell an actor was
Victor was happy his sister was happy, so he liked you too
You both hung out at your farm
The twins felt a little bit in their element
Nice open space with animals. Nature surrounding them
Victor liked the chickens
Charlotte liked the lightbulbs
You liked having an audience
You gladly put on plays and theatric reenactments of poetry for them
Mostly performed at the killer camp
You're absolutely terrible
Having been hiding for most of their lives, The Deshayes siblings had no frame of reference
You were amazing in their eyes
You spun and kicked your feet as you sang for the twins. Your dancing was stiff and your singing was worse. Out of breath and voice cracks littered throughout the number. The twins were in awe. Victor swayed and gargled out some semblance of the melody he was hearing as Charlotte was clapping to the beat.
The Nightmare chuckled at your awkward attempt at show tunes. He had always enjoyed mocking others. And as he saw your "dancing", he couldn't resist mocking the new fish.
"Looks like we've got a new clown in town," he snickered, gesturing towards you as he glanced at Kenneth, who in turn gave Freddy a nasty glare.
But his laughter quickly came to a halt when he caught sight of Charlotte giving him the death stare, her hands tightly gripping her sickle. Victor didn't seem to notice as he was still glued to your performance.
Julie swiftly elbowed Freddy in the gut and snapped at him "Shut the fuck up before you get gutted asshole"
The Cannibal
Instant connection between the two of you
Both of you being raised at Farms all your lives
The Entity never recreated Bubba's farm
So you let him move into yours
You wanted more fans
Bubba squealed with joy when you told him of your offer
He wasted no time getting his things
He spent so long hugging every animal he could catch
He misses his family
Please comfort him
You also act for him
He claps and squeals happily
He'll join you if you talk him into it
You could hardly contain their excitement as they twirled and pirouetted around Bubba.
"C'mon Bubba, you gotta try it! It's so much fun," You insisted with a wide grin.
Bubba cocked his head to one side, making an animalistic noise that loosely resembled a question.
"Yes, I mean dancing and singing with me," You explained patiently. "I promise we'll have a good time."
Bubba considered the proposition for a moment before nodding his head vigorously - clearly excited at the prospect of sharing something new with his friend.
And so You began to sing – your voice cracking horribly as you struggled to find the right notes. Bubba followed along by making strange grunting noises, attempting to mimic what he heard from your mouth.
As terrible as the duet was, there was something almost freeing about it. For just a few moments, you felt like Anita Stewart.
You both continued flailing around and shouting lyrics until both of you collapsed onto the ground in exhausted laughter - bounding over each other like children who had just finished playing tag.
The Legion
Being one of the younger killers, it was only a matter of time before The Legion sought you out
Susie really wanted to meet you after being in a Trial in your realm
"They have a farm, Frank! I really wanna pet a cow. Please Please Please"
Frank couldn't say no to her
They arrive to your realm and walk in on you slow dancing with a scarecrow
Talk about awkward
You quickly drop Howard to greet your guests
"Oh Hello! I didn't think anyone would drop by"
You giggle as you sway in your red dress like you weren't caught doing something unhinged
It's clear you don't see the issue with it
Despite the rocky start, the Legion warms up to you
And then Frank discovered Theda
"IS THAT A FUCKING GATOR?!?!?!?!"
Frank was stunned as he pointed at Theda sunbathing at the lake's bank
Your family farm instantly became the second Legion hideout
You sat among the legion teens near the bank of your realm's farm, throwing bits of food into the lake for Theda. The alligator was a rare source of entertainment and joy in the realm, and they had come to enjoy these peaceful moments by the water.
Frank leaned forward eagerly, watching as Theda slowly approached their makeshift buffet.
"Come on girl, do a death-roll for us!" he shouted excitedly. He turned back to you with an expectant tone. "You think she'll do it?"
"Well, I don't know," replied you nonchalantly. "She doesn't usually go for those kinds of tricks."
But just as you spoke, Theda suddenly lunged out of the water and snatched up a piece of meat in her powerful jaws. With surprising agility for such a massive creature, she spun around in one swift motion - performing a full death-roll that left Frank cheering triumphantly.
"You fucking saw that?! Holy shit, that was awesome!" he exclaimed.
Susie giggled at Frank's excitement while Julie rolled her eyes behind her mask. Joey was simply lying on the grass with his arms behind his head as he watched the clouds.
The group continued to throw bits of snacks into the water amidst laughter and chatter while keeping an eye on Theda's movements.
Masterlist here
#dbd x reader#dead by daylight x reader#dead by daylight#dbd#pearl!reader#killer!reader#killers x reader#ghostface x reader#danny johnson x reader#the twins#The twins x reader#the cannibal#cannibal x reader#bubba sawyer#bubba saywer x reader#the legion#the legion x reader
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A prank to die for
1980s slasher au featuring the Weasley twins//

Summary: With camp’s annual house competition coming to a close, the twins take the fate of their team into their own hands, employing Fred’s nemesis Y/N along the way. Things go awry however, when someone tries to axe their plans. Literally.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader
This is a bit of a long one so strap in! Ps. Requests are open
———————————————————————
Squashed between the most frustrating person alive and the wall of the abandoned outhouse toilet, was not the ideal midnight rendezvous anyone would have in mind.
“Why hasn’t George signalled to you yet? It’s been half an hour.” Y/n huffed, her head pressed against the damp wood of the wall in exasperation before she thought better of herself.
“Could’ve ran into a lovely lady on the way,” Fred replied equally agitated. “None of your sort I’d hope, wouldn’t be very enjoyable.”
“You are a freak why am I doing this with you?” She spat, venom dripping from her every word.
“Cant resist the charm, I reckon”
“Then you’re as delusional as you are ginger.”
“And yet you don’t seem to be backing out of the idea. Could it be that you wanted this alone time with me?”
“I think I’d rather be chased by a serial killer.”
“If only a serial killer hated themself enough to waste time running after you.” He smiled to himself, her irritation fuelling his triumph.
She bit her tongue, thinking back to the moment she made herself a professional clown.
———————————————————————-
“Y/n!” George called out, jogging to meet her walking pace, Fred tailing him. “We have a proposition for you. A real win-win deal.”
“We? As in him too?” She signalled toward Fred, who’s head was bowed in deep shame like a disobedient dog.
“Yes we,” George elbowed Fred before continuing. “It was his idea actually to include you.” Now that was interesting.
“The house competition ends tomorrow and it seems the trophy is missing.” Fred rubbed his previous attacked arm before continuing. “We know that Tom from your house has it hidden somewhere, and you know exactly where it is.”
“And? Why would I help you betray my own team?.”
“Because we all know Tom is a massive prick who needs humiliating, and he’d deserve it too with everything he said about you.” George looked at her meaningfully.
“At midnight tonight you will help us get it from his cabin, and George will set up the distractions.”
She was horrified at that. “Why cant you do the distracting? If I’m doing this, I’m doing it with George.”
“He can’t do much distracting when he’s the less handsome twin,” George winked. “Besides, I’m the fireworks expert.”
“This is all for the sake of a prank isn’t it? The two of you are ridiculous.”
“Pranking is within our nature,” Fred shrugged. “It would be cruel to suppress it.”
“Are you two used to people listening to the utter shite you speak, or am I the only one with the misfortune?” They both grinned at this.
“Fine. Yes. Okay, I’ll do it.”
———————————————————————
The silence was eating away at her faith. This didn’t feel right, everything was quiet. Too quiet. She couldn’t hear the chirping of the crickets, or the rustling of leaves stuck in the wind’s embrace.
“Fred we should really go and check on him. This isn’t right.”
Fred wasn’t a stranger to the feeling; in fact he felt like that every time he was parted from George. Half of his soul, half of him. It was never right, but he wasn’t ignorant to what she was feeling either.
They took off towards George’s hideout, before Fred came to an abrupt stop.
“What? What’s wrong? What is it?” She questioned with haste, before noticing a flashlight flickering on the forest ground. It was blinking in urgency; on and off and on and off. It was aggressively bright, flooding the area surrounding with artificial light. That was supposed to be George’s signal. Where is he?
“Well that’s creepy as shit,” Fred commented, taking a casual notice of a distant figure lingering just beyond the light’s touch.
George must’ve leaked our plan. He thought to himself. Useless git.
The figure began approaching however, with heavy rushing footsteps. Fred placed a protective arm in front of y/n on instinct, he felt nauseated that his natural instinct was to do anything of the sort. To her.
He stepped ahead, placing himself only a few feet away from the new person. He was close enough now to see them fully.
They had the build of a man with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. There were no eyes on their face, just sunken regions of skin where some might have been, adorned with scarred tissue. Notably there was no mouth either, just a gaping hole were one was supposed to be; A mask.
“Alright mate from one prankster to another, the costume is overkill but I applaud the dedication.”
“Fred…”y/n began to urge. Her eyes beginning to adjust to the thing adjacent. How hadn’t she noticed before?
Fred threw a dismissive wave at her.
“Look, I do honour my pride but we could collaborate on this house prank. Double the effect of the humiliation, bigger win. I’m sure Tom would shit himself at the sight of you.”
“Fred!”
“Cant you see I’m networking here?” Fred scolded, oblivious.
“Fred look at it! I mean actually look!”
Fred saw it now; the skin loose and peeling from the sides of its face, that his brain had originally convinced itself was a mask. This wasn’t a costume and that wasn’t its face. This was a creature that was figuring out what a human face was supposed to look like, but it didn’t have all the materials and it wasn’t finished learning.
He took notice of the silver point peeking from beyond its coat. An axe. A thick crimson red coating it’s blade like a second skin.
“Y/n RUN!”
“No shit!”
———————————————————————
Racing after Fred’s physical and vocal lead, the thought of her imminent death became all too plausible. Their voices were intwined in a harmonious plead for help; to warn, to scare, to do something.
They reached the first cabin, their hearts beating in a rhythmic dance. Her focus on their escape delaying the urge to search her surroundings. Or rather, lack of.
“Fred?”
“Yes?”
“Where is everyone?”
“What do you mean? They’re in their bunks surely. We’ll need to get everyone out immediately.”
“Right, and where are we?”
“The bunks.”
“And who’s here?”
Fred’s head snapped up in disbelief, noticing the empty beds around him. Before logic could grace his one remaining braincell’s lonely existence, he raced outside.
Y/n sank to her knees, reality hitting. The thump of Fred’s urgent knocks at each cabin matching the pounding in her head. Everyone was gone.
She got up, raw determination pumping in her veins like adrenaline. They needed to get to the kitchens. There would be knives there, a heavy bolted door. There they stood a chance.
———————————————————————
“Oh look you weren’t that far off with the serial killer joke earlier, you just forgot to mention the massive bloody axe he’s carrying!” Fred snarled at her, his voice hoarse from the terror clawing at his throat. The earlier fear was well gone now, the two of them already returning back to their usual bickering.
“Why the fuck is he chasing us for?” She whisper yelled at him, accusation laced in her tone, choosing to ignore his previous sarcastic remark.
“How the fuck should I know?” He shouted back, glaring at her in the process.
“I don’t know because you’re… you!” She argued, turning away from him and evaluating the cabin.
“My apologies then, it seems I left my psychic powers at home today!” He spat out, blocking the kitchen door with any object in his path.
“If he doesn’t kill you I’ll do it myself,” she huffed out, just for the sake of getting the last word in the argument.
Fred ran a hand through his shaggy hair in frustration, before taking notice of her still frame. She stood perfectly straight, like a puppet held up by its strings. Her hands clasped in a tight fist, the skin turning red from the tension.
“What?” He interrogated, purely annoyed by her presence but intrigued in her reaction all the same. “What is it?”
“If the campers aren’t here,” She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with fear. “Then who’s blood is that?”
He took notice of her face, once illuminated by the silver glow of the moonlight,now was masked by a deep maroon.
He followed her gaze, transfixed on the window in an involuntary daze. The glass was tainted red, blood gathering under it in a thick pool of bubbling heat. If it wasn’t coming from the inside, that could only mean one thing.
“We’re fucked.”
———————————————————————
A/n: I took an educational trip to a bench in the cemetery for inspo for this, just for my IBS to kick in and I had to run fifteen minutes home so I didn’t shit myself in front of the resting souls❤️ I will never try to be aesthetic again lesson learnt.
@thescrunkler @stock0hoim
#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#george weasley x reader#weasley twins#fred weasley imagine#george weasley#80s movies#80s aesthetic#80s horror#scream#fear street#stranger things#slashers#horror#hp au#hp fandom#new writers on tumblr#slasher summer#halloween#spooky season#autumn#scream 6
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saw you post under the lust sans tag! (killer/lust sounds like a great ship)
this means you like the og underlust au too right?
whats your favorite fanfics where underlust sans is a main character? other than killer/lust, do you enjoy any other ships with him? whats your favorite art done by the og creator that you can remember?
Hi!! Thanks for asking!
1
Well, yes, i mean, I know there are many people who don't like the Underlust universe even though they like the character of Lust! Sans. But in the end Lust! Sans was based on what Nsfwshamecave did.
I respect and like the universe as it is, I think it would have been interesting if its entire development could have been carried out. Then apart from that I like to make my own Headcanons of Lust!Sans as well as other UnderLust characters, but I have no problem with Underlust in general.
2
I haven't read any fanfic for many years, most of the ones I read were in Spanish since my main language is not English. :')
3
I also like it with Nightmare (Lustmare), Dance, Horror, a little with Fresh (not much, I see them more as friends) and of course with Lust!Grillby.
4
I think my favorite drawings from the creator are when Sans and Papyrus were asked about a series that was a romcom (I'm not sure) and Sans was giving his opinion as if he were an expert while papyrus asked him something about it hahaha
Another drawing could be the one where Metatton complains that he's surrounded by lustful people and Sans and Papyrus are posing in the background, it made me laugh a lot seeing that the first time xD
And the comics she made about Papyton and Sans and Grillby's interactions at the bar!
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A refresher on Ceris Summers.
BASIC INFORMATION. NAME : Ceris Summers ALIAS : Smile Mask BIRTHDATE : August 10th ( 29 Years Old ) SPECIES : Human? OCCUPATION : Beauty Products / Assassin GENDER : Female (She) FACE CLAIM : Elysia Honkai / Masked Yayoi Kusakabe HAIR COLOUR : Pink EYE COLOUR : Blue ORIENTATIONS : Panromantic / Pansexual HEIGHT : 5’8”
Known almost entirely by her mask, Ceris known as Smile or Smile Mask is an experienced assassin of assassins. Her main job is to deal with others in her profession, a killer to deal with the killers that go loose, or have used up all their value. Formerly a shinobi, her true origins are as masked as her real world identity, many know Smile as a surefire sign that their end is near or their value has been used up.
Her mask is always seen, always smiling, never one to be messed with. Her skills beyond hand to hand combat, assassination, and firearms, are all complimented with an out of this world skill that manipulates her hair. Allowing it to grapple, grab, to carry and stab, and even fight with. It's also the primary reason Ceris’ masked appearance and her normal life looks are never associated. From messy hair to clean and proper.
Her two identities are almost completely divided, among the others who live day to day, she’s a makeup expert who works in both selling products, as well as being hired for special occasions. Helping celebrities prepare for the red carpet, or perhaps a small wedding.
At times she even offers her services to maids, servers, and dancers who need a quick touch up before a long night. Those types of services to her down on hard times are often offered for free, whereas her prices for the fancy celebs are often way out of this world. And yet they still pay.
Changes:
Originally it was meant to be implied that Ceris was an alien given her somewhat whimsical true appearance. But given recent threads surrounding Flavia with Lenora's intrusion, and ideas given to me by Needy's Ame.
I feel a better reason to have her ears changed is to have had her suffer the near same fate as Flavia. Where Lenora modified them a little for fun, after an assassination job gone wrong as her employer did not inform Smile Mask of the true threat she was tasked to kill. Resulting in her one failed mission mark, and in true Lenora fashion, instead of a true punishment for defeat. Just an annoyance to her every day life, sharp ears for a poor make up artists. Something she can explain away but, will find unnerving for awhile.
#;;ooc#since I am still toying with my to be combined muse page - I'll post this here for now to hum on
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Hundreds Nearly Die as Memento Mori Killer Strikes Again!
May 16th, 2025
Written By: Piera Landen
Last night, the Vauxhall Opera House in downtown Gotham City was filled to capacity as opera fans listened to a highly-acclaimed rendition of Giuseppe Verdi’s Aida. Little did they know, they were only moments away from facing down the notorious mass-murderer Memento Mori. Nor did they know they sat in the exact location where, in 1941, an explosion led to the stage collapse that killed all 21 cast members of another production of Aida.
If you haven’t been following the developing Memento Mori case in Gotham, then you may only remember the prior string of murders in London. In 2001, a serial killer known only as Memento Mori swept across London, leaving behind gruesome crime scenes that resembled historical murder scenes. One of the most famous examples from the London murders was the brutal slaughter of an entire dinner party at the Maison Étoile, in echo of the Greaves Dinner Massacre.
Thankfully, Scotland Yard eventually arrested Professor Atticus Blye, one of their retired detectives turned crime-scene instructor. Blye was discovered in his flat, covered in one of the victim’s blood and surrounded by irrefutable evidence. There was clothing with more victims’ blood, artifacts from a memento cult, and a plaster death mask that lined up with descriptions given by witnesses.
Blye was arrested and charged with murder, but determined to be too insane to serve time in prison. Scotland Yard decreed Blye’s murders as copycat killings of similar Memento killers in the past, and closed the case. Blye was committed to Broadmoor High-Security Psychiatric Hospital, where he later died in 2011. The world believed that to be the end of the Memento Mori killings.
At least, until a fire began at Bruce Wayne’s Sacred Heart Medical Center fundraiser three weeks ago. The fire, starting in the boiler room, resembled the blaze which claimed the lives of two dozen Sacred Heart patients and staff dead a century ago. Thankfully no one died this time, with the only casualty being a young girl crushed by a falling chandelier. Her life was saved due to the quick actions of Dr. Malik Bashar and young Damian Wayne, and she is expected to make a full recovery.
Bruce Wayne, onstage with the late Dr. Malik Bashar not long before flames erupted at the Sacred Heart fundraiser. (Image Credit: Harish Coraline, Gotham Gazette)
But the attacks continued, soon followed by a ship crash at the southern Gotham Docks which claimed the lives of five gang members, a massacre of 27 ‘Mementist’ true-crime fans in the ruins of the recently collapsed Arkham Asylum, and a near jail-break at Arkham Tower. The last of the attacks, until last night, was the murder of Dr. Bashar in the sub-basement of Sacred Heart Medical Center.
All of these attacks in quick succession have confirmed the terrifying truth: a Memento Mori killer, believed to be a copycat of Blye’s murders, is loose in Gotham City.
Vauxhall Opera House was the latest attempted attack of Memento Mori, with the killer themself appearing onstage with a bomb strapped to their chest. Thankfully, due to the quick intervention of the elusive Batman and Police Nationale of Paris detective and Memento Mori expert Katherine Lautrec, the attacker was apprehended and the bomb disarmed.
Travis Grimwell, dressed up as Memento Mori to attack the Vauxhall Opera House. Thankfully, he was apprehended. (Image Credit: @Alyssa.Morgan on L)
The Memento Mori killer was identified as Travis Grimwell, the organizer of the International Mementist Society. Grimwell has been missing since the attack at Arkham Asylum, which he was present for, in addition to fellow Mementists Eddie Burroughs and Jenson Reggie. Reggie was identified as the perpetrator of the attack on Arkham Tower, but Burroughs whereabouts remain unknown.
Lautrec, in a press release, stated that “we believe the three Mementists are being coerced by the true Memento killer to carry out their orders. Grimwell will remain in GCPD custody, but anyone with information on the whereabouts of Burroughs should please contact the GCPD immediately. The real Memento Mori copycat still remains at large.”
If you are in Gotham City, or plan to visit the city soon, please remain alert and vigilant. Hopefully Memento Mori will soon be caught, once and for all.
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#dc comics#dc roleplay#dc rp#dp recent events#dp gotham#batman#dc robin#robin#bruce wayne#damian wayne#batman and robin#batman and robin (2023)#wednesday spoilers#featured
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sorry for blowing up your inbox with my thoughts on nathan’s theoretical/maybe non-existent posthumous trial, but i have more to say. with another prerequisite that i’m even less of an expert on french law than i am on u.s. law.
to start, as i previously stated there is very little precedent in the u.s. for posthumous trials, in fact i do believe that there has never been a posthumous trial for someone done on a federal level (feel free to fact check me on that). i do, however, believe that nathan would have a posthumous trial, if only to help implicate some of his associates. i cannot remember who all survived the hatford/fbi joint takeover of wesninski manor, but even if some of them died i’m pretty sure nathan was the one carrying out most of the murders. so, in order to arrest them for aiding & abetting (ig) they’d need to have nathan convicted as well.
i also talked about how the fbi would want to ease public concern, even if i did get the region wrong (sorry lol). nathan was at large for at the very least 25 years, very likely longer. this would be big news throughout the country. nathan seems to have a very distinct style to his murders, and he seems to have been consistently murdering people throughout the country while hunting down his wife and child. so, even though his most consistent range is likely baltimore and the surrounding areas, kills in his style were likely found across the continent of north america. i’m struggling to articulate just how big of news it would be for a serial killer to consistently kill people for over twenty years without getting caught. it would be remembered as an era of fear that no one could possibly forget. the fbi would want people to know that nathan would no longer be killing anybody, and they’d likely want to make a big show of it as well.
on the topic of jean simply being mistaken because he’s not very familiar with u.s. law, i do doubt that’s the case. even disregarding all of the above, from what i’ve found (which was admittedly not very in depth research) the french don’t typically have posthumous trials either. the only one that i really know about is the posthumous retrial of joan of arc, which isn’t really relevant towards the questions surrounding nathan’s trial.
i’ve honestly really been enjoying getting to talk about nathan and his trial, he’s really not gonna let a silly thing like death stop him from causing problems lol
-🐏🐏
YEAH!! I love this
It feels like if Nathan had like... killed one person that nobody knew maybe they could do without a trial. But from our knowledge he's been killing people for YEARS. Hundreds of people. He has so much blood on his hands that I feel like if for any reason but the sake of the victims/the victims families, they'd have to do something to recognise that he killed all of those people
And the point about having to convict Nathan in order to convict his gang for aiding and abetting is so interesting. I guess I'd never really thought that there would be any sort of trial or hearing over it, but I think considering the circumstances, surely there'd have to be something. Like... how many people were killed in the raid? His team permanently disfigured Neil, too, and he lived through his attempted murder, so maybe that's some sort of motivation to convict anyone they possibly can. I really have no idea at all!!! I'm SO curious to see how this all pans out now.
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by Vita Fellig
Ohio State University senior Adam Kling estimates that he’s seen between 50 and 100 anti-Israel protests on campus in the last four years. But what the Jewish biomedical engineering student experienced on Jan. 27, on International Holocaust Remembrance Day, was new to him.
On Monday evening, some 60 antisemitic protesters braved near-freezing temperatures to chant and yell outside of the Schottenstein Chabad House at OSU in an effort to disrupt presentations by two former Israeli soldiers about their experiences being injured while responding to Hamas’s terror attacks in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
Although the Jewish center bears the public university’s name, it’s not an official Ohio State University entity, and its current building is off-campus. Kling told JNS that it was unusual for protesters to target a site that wasn’t on the university grounds.
“It’s one thing to do it on campus. It is a public university, and you have free speech, which I 100% support your right to go out and protest what you believe right on campus,” he said. “This is the first time that they’ve taken the step to go from campus to surrounding us at our own home, a religious building on campus where people are supposed to feel safe.”
Kling told JNS that he is “obviously not a law expert” but is “just struggling to see where the line is when it comes to religious intimidation when you stand outside a religious building and scream threats to all the Jewish people in there, calling them ‘terrorists,’ ‘baby killers’ and ‘war criminals.’”
“We are in Columbus, Ohio, 6,000 miles away from the Middle East,” he said. “I don’t understand how intimidating and threatening me off campus at a Jewish place of worship has anything to do with politics or does anything to support your cause.”

“It is 2025 and the 80th anniversary of Auschwitz being liberated, and there is someone Jewish in Ohio, in America, that is scared to walk home,” he said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
#ohio state university#adam kling#columbus ohio#schottenstein chabad house#students supporting israel#antisemitism#students for justice in palestine
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THE LAST OF US SEASON 2 PREMIERED!!!
DAY ONE FAN HERE, I've been so excited for season 2 after such a strong first season! Here are my spoiler thoughts on episode one!

Just to get it out there first, I've seen some of the complaints online about Bella, but I must say they aren't warranted. Bella isn't video game Ellie's exact body type, duh, but I think it's mostly just ignorance surrounding the physical capabilities of ANY woman that size. (I'm aware of Bella's they/them pronouns, I'm using she/her since the character they play is a woman.) As an avid WMMA fan, I can tell you firsthand some of this little ladies are BEASTS and strong as hell. Just Google Weili Zhang lifting Shaq. Mind you, she's 5'4 and competes at 115 pounds. Ellie does nothing in this episode that couldn't be replicated by any other able-bodied woman her size with sufficient training and exercise. Ugh, sorry, had to get that out of my chest, people are so dumb!!!

Okay, so overall I really enjoyed the first episode. As a huge fan of the games, I was extra curious how they were gonna kick off the season, and this is very much the calm before the storm. We get a very good look at what life is like now 5 years removed from the violence of season 1. Seeing more of Joel as a member of this commune was great, as we didn't get much of that in the game. His therapy session with the always amazing Catherine O'Hara was far and away the best scene in this episode. The way she completely blindsided Joel with her brutal honesty was excellent, I was mesmerized by all the subtle shifts in emotion in both of them as the scene progressed. Pedro Pascal was awesome, his eyes go from guilty panic to hardened resolve in a matter of seconds, truly A-plus acting here, and his final assertive "I saved her" was a well earned gut-punch, ESPECIALLY if you know of what's to come.
All of Ellie's scenes were well done in my opinion. Ellie is your typical 19 year old tomboy. She plays rough, takes unnecessary risks, scoffs at authority, has killer taste in music, and is PISSED the fuck off at her dad. For good reason too, but I suppose non-gamers don't know why yet, so I do appreciate that Ellie's real issue with Joel isn't revealed here. The eternal debate surrounding The Last of Us is "Was Joel right?" in his actions at the end of the first game/season 1. I have VERY strong feelings on this, and I like that so far the show seems to be trying to challenge Joel's die-hard defenders opinions by offering us detailed glimpses of just how Joel's actions that day have affected not only the last 5 years of Ellie's life, but her overall life-trajectory.
The standout new-to-the-series performance is easily Isabela Merced's Dina. I loved her in the games, and I think I may love her more so far in the show. Her relationships with both Joel and Ellie are well constructed, and beautifully acted. Her scene with Joel was sweet and earnest, I love what little we've seen of their relationship. And her and Ellie are so perfect together. Seeing them fearlessly venture into that store to go infected-hunting was a joy to watch, which I felt was a purposeful nod to some of the fun that can be had with a friend who's along for the ride in real life watching you clear this level in the game. The bottle toss was the cherry on top!And omfg don't get me started on her big New Years scene with Ellie. With lines ripped straight from the game, Isabela is able to perfectly capture Dina's eccentric yet ever so smooth seduction of Ellie in a way that honors the source material and even elevates it to new heights, all while providing some expert dark foreshadowing. Don't believe the haters, this show was perfectly cast.
Okay, now on to my only reservation about the premier, and that's Abby and crew's appearances that bookend this episode. So far, I'm sold on Kaitlyn Dever's Abby. That "We kill him slowly" at the beginning of the episode was chilling, not only for it's menace, but also for the raw vulnerability she is able to show at the same time she makes this violent promise. This is a broken individual who has lost everything, and I believe her when she says there will be hell to pay. All that being said, I'm not sure why we got her motives revealed THAT early into the season. Her shocking introduction in the game was so well done, I'm kinda sad we won't experience that same feeling in the show. That being said, I have confidence in the team that they know what they're are doing and I'm not one of those fans who needs the adaptation to be an exact copy from the source material, because duh, it's a different medium, with different rules and ways to engage with the audience!
So overall, I would rate this episode a solid 9/10. The standout scene is easily the therapy session, as it shows what the tv medium is able to provide to such a beloved and rich story. The intro to the Stalker variety of infected was a cool sequence, perfectly spooky and well shot to satisfy the need for action. They say we'll get more infected this season, and so far this is a great start. But this is definitely a character-focused premier that takes it's time with our protagonists in their new lives five years removed from the first season. I'm very excited (and terrified) of what's to come!
#tlou#tlou hbo#tlou max#the last of us#the last of us season 2#tlou season 2#spoilers#spoiler review#review#episode 1#joel miller#ellie williams#pedro pascal#bella ramsey#isabela merced
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🎃 ROTTMNT Halloween Headcanons 🎃
Horror Movies
Summary: The Hamato siblings & horror movies
Headcanons for: Raph, Donnie, Leo, Mikey, & April
Halloween Headcanons - Haunted House Edition
Halloween Headcanons - Haunted House (x Reader ver.)
i added a few horror movie references here and there (betcha can't name 'em all!)
Raph:
Favorite genre: Zombie horror
Least favorite genre: Gore/Torture
isn't too fond of horror movies; would rather watch action movies
he's convinced that 'based on a true story' movies are 100% real
easily jumpscared but tries to laugh it off every time
leo will tease him about his fear stink tho
believes twilight technically counts as horror
"it's a movie about vampires and high school! how'zat not scary?"
might watch horror movies alone if he's surrounded by plushies and his blanket
won't sleep all night tho
leaves the light on after a horror marathon "just in case"
Donnie:
Favorite genre: Psychological when done right; Time-loop horror
Least favorite genre: Found footage
isn't too bothered by horror movies
but plot holes will frustrate him to no end
and he WILL make his brothers listen to him rant about it afterwards
"SCOFF! he was OBVIOUSLY a ghost, literally no one else noticed him or talked to him!"
prefers j-horror (subbed even tho he understands japanese)
he doesn't have a favorite movie but he does like the japanese film 'horrors of malformed men' (江戸川乱歩全集恐怖奇形人間)
considers found footage horror movies inferior and 'lazy'
spends most of the movie criticizing the characters and making fun of the villain
was terrified of pennywise as a kid (dvd rental mix-up that went unnoticed by papa splinter)
for the longest time, he thought pennywise lived in their sewers
Leo:
Favorite genre: Slasher movies; Parody horror
Least favorite genre: Classic
he loves horror movies and binges them for halloween
joins in on donnie's commentary, which mildly annoys mikey and raph
most of leo's commentary is just making fun of his brothers
"oh hey, don bon! i had no idea you were on tv... congrats on the blob monster role~!"
finds silent horror movies to be incredibly booooring
enjoys campy 80s horror (evil dead 2, gremlins, creepshow, ect)
unironically considers killer klowns from outer space a masterpiece
is banned from picking movies bc of this
might get spooked from time to time
not that he'll admit it
nothing can shake this ninja warrior, nuh uh no way
Mikey:
Favorite genre: Paranormal/Ghost movies
Least favorite genre: Psychological
considers himself a "horror expert" and owns all the classics
likes to play "who would survive this plot" with his brothers during the movie
according to him, leo's usually the most likely to die first
has a plan for every possible zombie apocalypse scenario (that he totally didn't get from a bunch of zombie movies)
"i'm not saying that he *should*, but donnie could totally build a giant prison maze for ghosts. it'll be just like the movie!"
will occasionally watch scary movies alone in the dark
overestimates his fearlessness every time-
loves a good ghost movie but he's a bit of a scaredy cat
might need a few cutesy romance movies afterwards to feel better
April:
Favorite genre: Found footage
Least favorite genre: Slasher/Killer horror
loves a good horror movie binge and will jump on any chance to watch them with her brothers
always ready with halloween themed snacks and candies
is also a self-proclaimed "horror expert"
she knows a lot more than mikey tho
can tell you about the directors, the history of horror movies, and the stories the movies are based on with complete detail
"movie night at my place? i've got just the thing to scare y'all out of your shells~"
rec is probably one of her top 5 favorite movies
likes the idea of creating her own found footage horror movie
mikey, leo, and splinter are all on board to be in her movie
donnie and raph? not so much
#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#tmnt#donatello#leonardo#michelangelo#raphael#april o'neil#rise donnie#rise leo#rise mikey#rise raph#rise april#tmnt headcanons#rottmnt headcanons#headcanons#toady writes
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[Chapter 70] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses
He caught your shambling limbs, guiding you on a softer trajectory as you crumpled to the floor. Agony of a half dozen different varieties left you crushed under the colossal weight, coming to a crescendo on a forgotten birthday. Ghost had become a rock for you to cling to, both metaphorically and physically, where the thought of floating into nothingness made you cling to another breathing human like driftwood at sea. Part of you was embarrassed by being such a hysterical, sobbing mess in his presence, but another part of you knew he'd probably seen you in a worse state. His opinions aren't a concern right now. Damp legs and an open shower curtain left you fighting for traction on smooth linoleum floors, clawing at the fabric of his black tee. Here you are again, your own worst enemy. Shadow-boxing concepts and phony expectations that have no meaningful presence in the real world.
Years ago, you were a regular linguistics specialist unit. Dull, routine, but you'd never be far from base. Now, you can't even scrape together a memory of the last time you were on your home continent, let alone familiar sheets. You're supposed to feel honoured; you're clearly seen as an expert in your craft if you're on such an elite team. Hand-picked for being among the best in your field, and you've worked damn hard to do so. But this placement with this small crew turns your life into a time-sink, shredding precious years off your life with only a minor amount of fame and prestige in exchange. Worse of all, you've consistently misdiagnosed the root of your despair, time and time again finding scapegoats to save you from facing greater discomfort. It's exhausting to be expended at work like this and not find comfort in expected downtime. It's worse when you realize that you have little claim to sympathy when your company took a garden tool to the abdomen during the same operation. The thought made you more upset, and your heaving sobs only deepened.
He raked his fingers through your dripping hair in an attempt to comb it, poorly, mind you, an odd kind of tenderness nonetheless. The skill of soothing someone is clearly pretty foreign to him, a similar condition Gaz had back in Italy. It makes sense for these living weapons to be able to will away their emotions and become the killers they need to be to stop missiles from hitting civilians. It's harder to will their emotions back into existence after burying them in the name of duty, especially when they're only further cemented by years of service and horror. But it doesn't stop him from trying, even if he glances at your face every few seconds as if you'll suddenly have a drastic change of heart. Occasionally bubbling into subtle frustration when a knot in your hair doesn't immediately come undone around his fingers.
The thought of making use of government-mandated therapy sessions finally clicked into place, implementing self-soothing strategies from a therapist who probably wouldn't recognize you now. Observe your surroundings and ground yourself, words spoken past wiry glasses carefully placed on the nose of an unenthused psychologist. The floor is cold on your legs, but his chest is warm on your shoulder. He smells like rubbing alcohol and that plasticy smell of fresh bandages, and that same standard bar soap you have in your shower. The shower is still on, and you can see a small puddle creep against your shin from the mishap and the flickering lighting above. Inky tattoos along his macabre sleeve were a view of barbed wire and guns were inked across his forearm, gingerly placed so as to not embrace you, merely stop you from colliding with the floor. Damp air tastes like mildew whenever you stop to heave another gasp, likely years of black mould in this shitty motel.
Silence, save for your occasional spasming gasp, makes you consider your company further, watching his behaviour like the vicious creature that he is. Simon is a perfectionist. He's a slave to finding the most efficient ways of doing things, the most rigorous training, obsessive maintenance of his tools and a philosophical mind that's quick as a fox. None of those skills, however, equip him with the ability to be tender; he's not your first thought when you need a shoulder to cry on. Strategically, you never know when that could be useful on a mission. The thing is, he's so keen to master this new skill that he seems almost glad to scrimmage it with a willing participant. This encounter seems to be a win-win for both of you.
"You're upset," Ghost sighed, stilling his movements.
"Astute observation," you mocked, eyes raw and scathing.
He let the silence simmer, forcing you to fill the void with words he knew you'd come to. Despair or not, he knows you're wise enough to infer that that wasn't his meaning, coldly refusing to contribute. No wonder no one cries on his shoulder.
"I just don't know what I want," you sniffled, sinking your temple against his collarbone. "I think I'm just homesick."
"Your record said you've been on tour off and on for years. It doesn't sound like it was a problem then," his brows furrowed behind his mask above you.
"When I was on tour, I'd be stationed at a single base for months. Surrounded by the same crews, the same teams, there was a routine to things. You got to build friendships with people that actually wanted to be around you," the words slipped past your twitching frown.
"Don't you get along well with Soap and Gaz?"
"I do, I care about them a lot. But… It's different when they're only present because they're contractually obligated to be in your proximity," you spoke as he leaned to pull a towel off a railing, probably noticing the goosebumps over your thighs.
"Do you think I'm contractually obligated to be here right now?"
"Only physically."
"Only physically," he repeated like he was tasting the words on his forked tongue.
"I miss my uncle back home, I miss my friends. The strain of constant action is making me miss that emotional connection."
"Sergeant, you know the outline of our contract," his voice was cold and severe, commanding the air from the room and his posture grew stiff. "I can't be in a relationship with someone I work with. It's out of the question."
"I know. I'm not asking you to change that," you bit back, insulted by his insinuation. "I just- I hate feeling… replaceable."
"I know how you feel."
"I doubt that very much," your brow tightened.
"You're right. I guess I have no fucking clue how you feel," a smile lit up in his eyes for a moment, and he raised his palms in a shrug.
He took it upon himself to reposition this dialogue, bowing his head under your shoulder and hooking an arm beneath your knees. There's something so odd about seeing your room move around you without feeling your feet planted on the floor, like you're hovering around the space like a phantom. No strain from him though, even while your hip was pressed against the fresh wound on his abdomen. It was an opportunity for him to think on his words though, and he set your head in the general area of your pillow. The second his arm slipped from under you, he rose to perch himself at the end of the springy bed, dragging down the mustard-coloured sheets with his colossal weight. As you were now free from the comfort of his body heat and exposed to the chill of damp hair on your shoulders, he spoke.
"If I can't shake off any injury I suffer, I'll be benched. My career is my body, and if my body isn't a weapon for the higher-ups to use, I'm dead weight. Price chose me from a pool of hundreds and wouldn't think twice about replacing me. It's just the way things are, Cricket."
What a horrible truth, it made you unconsciously winge in disgust. While your mind initially saw the grander scheme, with your uncle and home back across the globe, you share a certain soullessness about your field. Maybe he does understand how you feel, at least in this sector. You with your mind and him with his body, only one slip-up away from being sent to the B-team. It's a horrible feeling, a hollow feeling. All sensation in your face numbed, and your fist swiped your face dry.
"I just wish we had more downtime," you lamented, exhaustion settling in once your hiccuping tears halted.
"We usually do," he spoke, calm as ever. "But it's in the nature of our career, innit'. It's hard for a government to send its top counter-terrorism squad on vacation when there are still terrorists."
He was such a way of arguing away your unrest, a solid rock in your path to ease your crashing current of emotions. Tight muscles gradually relaxed and you kicked the musty blanket over yourself, suddenly acutely aware of your nudity. This is another opportunity to peek under the mask in a more metaphorical sense. Who even is this guy? You've slept with him a few times- well, sleep with isn't the best choice of words, but you've had sex with him even though you have no idea who he actually is. He's rude, pragmatic, curious, and a man of few words. There's got to be more to him than that. For some reason, it made a smile creep across your lips, and tension in your throat loosened.
"What would you be doing if you were home right now?" You propped yourself up on your elbow to address him. "What do you like to do when you're not Ghost."
"There is no one when I'm not Ghost," that coldness manifested in his tone again.
"I don't believe that. I mean when you're off duty, back home in the UK. You don't just power down like a fucking computer," your laugh came out like a snort thanks to your clogged sinuses.
He stopped to think for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced you only halfway. It makes you wonder if he's ever been asked a question like this before. He's clearly unprepared, with no scripted answer to default back to. This is untrodden territory, information no living soul has ever heard before. Maybe he's a singer or a cowboy. Maybe he loves watching those cheap romance competition shows and eating ice cream, or maybe he has a profound passion for Lithuanian folk music.
"Well, I like going to the firing range," he started, knitting his pale fingers together in thought. "I like running on sand, it takes a lot more energy than running on a solid surface. It's a less strain on your joints while strengthening yo-"
"Holy shit, you're boring. What else do you like? No fitness or guns," you bark back at him, slumping back against the pillow dramatically.
That made him laugh harder than you were expecting, despite your feigned outrage being somewhat genuine. He's more than just a government-regulated killing machine. There's a human being in there. He rolled his shoulder to stretch as he thought, but it only reminded you of the constant aching strain in your neck thanks to days of poor posture.
"I like cooking, and I like the science behind mixology. Hunting too, I like the woods," his eyes squinted as he recounted the words. "I've always wanted to fix up an old car or motorcycle and drive around the country," his eyes drifted to the ceiling as he thought further.
He has a scientific mind—mathematical. It's like he sees the world in algorithms and formulas, and it's what fuels his lust for perfection. He's got a thirst for knowledge of a different sort from your own, but still a shared passion nonetheless.
"What do you like to hunt?" the first question you could think of manifested on your lips.
"Wolf hunting is interesting. Pheasants are good game back home," he said, turning to meet your eyes for a split second. "They taste good, too."
"You seem to miss your home a lot," you pried further.
"I do. The weather is better, I like the food too."
"You miss the food in England? You must love pain."
"I inflict pain," he spoke menacingly, oddly serious.
"Is there a difference?"
The fucker didn't even respond. Maybe the answer is obvious, and he's giving you the silent treatment like he always does. Or perhaps you genuinely stumped him. It's hard to say. Stillness in the air made you chilled, and you curled your bare legs against your chest as the same dingy sheets in which you'd spent precious few hours didn't offer much warmth. He still stood vigil at the end of the bed, hopefully identifying your exhausted context clues when you yawned.
"Soap, Price, and Gaz were up at the crack of dawn to get you that cake," he sighed, rising to gesture at the cake you'd left atop the television, folded arms warping grim tattoos along his sleeve.
"Why don't you have some too since you want me to feel guilty," you countered apathetically.
"Too sweet."
"You miss the food from a country that's renowned for its shitty food, but you won't eat a chocolate cake from a country that's literally legendary for its excellence," you matched his cold sarcasm.
"You'll live, sergeant," he shot back, stark and bitter.
"Fuck off," a smile pulled at your lips, reading right through his facade. "When's your birthday, anyway?"
"You want my social security too?" He scathed, prying the plastic cover off the dessert.
He plucked a strawberry off the cake while he was turned away, glancing back with a lowered mask to catch your irritated glare, chuckling with a strawberry packed in his cheek. He's so casual with the fruits that sent you into this despair, inadvertently recontextualizing something you would've otherwise thrown from the rusty walkway out front. He can have the strawberries. Though that's not worth stating aloud since he's already made himself welcome to them.
"It's in May," he spoke past a mouthful of fruit, "May 17th… 'Pretty sure."
"You're a Taurus," for some reason that made you laugh.
He hummed in approval, or disinterest; it could be either, or both. Zodiacs were never really a factor on your radar, but from the foundational knowledge you'd gathered from your friends back home, Ghost is the definition of a Taurus. Stubborn, cynical, and organized. It's funny to watch him eat, carefully popping another berry under his mask, how the fabric warped with his chewing after he lowered it again. Tendons in his pale neck moved when he turned his head, you followed how they connected to his collarbone. The thought of lust had essentially dissipated off the menu, replaced by your existential crisis. If anything, this was just an attempt at co-op self-soothing, and he's just player two. He did the friendly thing any co-worker would do, comforting you on a particularly pathetic birthday celebration. But something about his slender waist when he stood to the side for a moment ignited a familiar spark. Lingering chemicals in your mind were challenged by the thought of sleeping with someone immediately after a mental breakdown, but another part of your conscience screamed for another human's touch. Desperately clawing against the rage of the void, resisting the whisper that begs you to give up. Here's an opportunity to experience life again.
"There isn't any cutlery," he spoke the obvious aloud in that grumbly voice that sang through your system like a song.
He lifted the cake's container in his open palm, arching his neck to glance around the room, the outline of his jaw through the mask working on another strawberry.
"-or plates," he scoffed with his mouth full once again, exasperated.
You just couldn't help yourself but stare at his body. Dragging your gaze up and down that long, slender torso with muscular thighs under his jeans. You're no better than a man. He's so tall, and even the way the tendons in his hands flex when he fiddles with the cake's container makes your mouth water. Every deeply rooted instinct as a human is screaming for you to wrap your thighs around him. By the time he turned around after a long enough silence, he slightly flinched when he noticed your sultry eyes.
"You say you inflict pain," you challenged him with your jaded tone. "Show me."
"You can't solve everything with sex," he sighed, slipping his hands in his pockets.
"It's worked so far."
Even with his ambivalence, posturing like he's indifferent, there was a certain shift in his expression somehow. He paused to think, resting his shins against the edge of the bed, and then lingering eyes darted around the room. It's like he's surveying the space in that same way you've seen him clear rooms during raids. Lightheadedness panged your system, or maybe some other unrecognizable anticipatory emotion. He was plotting something behind those dark brown eyes, flashing to palm that scented candle Laswell got you that was still sitting in the box. He weighed it in his hand and swiped a finger over the label.
"A candle? How romantic," you chimed sarcastically, filling the sudden silence.
"It's not romantic."
"But you don't have a lighter," your face crumpled in confusion as he crossed the room.
"Affirmative," Ghost noted blankly.
He strained to raise his arms to the ceiling, craning with his height to unscrew the smoke detector from the ceiling, kindly allowing you a glimpse under his shirt. It's like you weren't in the room anymore, and he was crafting usable tools from a gutted fire alarm. Jingling keys were silenced as they plopped down on the duvet, fished from his back pocket: some silver, some brassy, a woven survival rope keychain, and a glass-breaker keyring. What's he doing? Maybe your heart is just fluttering because you're excitable, or it could be your odd fascination with whatever he's plotting. Maybe you're just relieved to feel life in your bones again.
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#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#cod x reader#cod smut#cod mw#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley cod#ghost simon riley#simon ghost#Second Person POV#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#cod mw ghost#cod ghost#cod mwii#ghost cod#cod mw2#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#ghost smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost smut#call of duty smut#cod#Slow Burn#Fluff and Angst
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practical magic au where in the process of running away from ed, izzy accidentally kills him and then calls up anne for help burying the body on the expansive and poorly tended property surrounding her aunts' weird northern mansion like they did with jack a few years ago. but now anne has just inherited the place so there's no one else there and they have to go searching around for shovels, and when they're looking in the majestic spacial horror greenhouse they find this huge book of spells that flips itself to the chapter on resurrection as soon as izzy touches it. so they pick a spell that looks simple enough and they successfully bring ed back from the dead, except then they don't kill him the second time because really murdering and reanimating each other is just the next logical progression in the edizzy relationship anyway. like this is literally just another break up and make up for them. ed even promises that if he's a zombie or a vampire now he will practice monogamous cannibalism and feast on izzy's human flesh exclusively. it's very romantic.
anyway so then stede, the off-puttingly cheerful occultist crime expert (serial killer groupie) who hires himself (shows up uninvited) to consult (obstruct the police investigation) on cases he deems within his wheelhouse (there was a spray painted pentagram somewhere within a fifty foot radius of the crime scene) arrives, hot (four months later) on the infamous blackbeard's trail with his loyal assistant and friend (well paid muscle that barely tolerates him) mary read in tow.
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