#brennan with no hesitation: yes of course

[fearbehere]

the thing about mentopolis that compels me so much is that brennan is CLEARLY a huge hank green fan and hank is CLEARLY a huge brennan lee mulligan fan. and it makes for the most interesting dm-pc dynamic

[callsign-rogueone]

intimacy alphabet - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader words: 1.4k-ish 🏷: NSFW. all of it. I tried to keep this gender neutral again and I think I succeeded? mentions of penetrative sex, oral, fingering, soft d/s dynamics, the usual stuff. It took me a while to figure him out, but I think I'm onto something here. lemme know -- always down to discuss my main man. some more spicy bren coming soon, hehe

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he's a very responsible and caring guy -- he’s making sure you’re okay, mending any bruises or soreness he might have caused and cleaning the both of you up, giving you soft affirmations and I-love-you’s all the while, especially if he was rough with you. helps get you dressed in clean clothes and then it’s cuddle time. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his hands — because you like them so much, and because you make the prettiest sounds when he touches you.

your hips — he loves grabbing them to pull you closer, digging his fingers into the softness there when he’s fucking you, kissing them before he goes down on you…

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he likes to cum inside of you a little more than he should. he’s still in denial about what that means, though. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’s thought about messing around with you in the assembly room, and he really likes that idea, but he has a reputation to maintain, and it would probably make his work a lot more difficult— he already has a hard enough time getting work done in his office, his mind often wandering to the things you’ve done in there.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

you’ve had plenty of practice with each other over the years. he absolutely knows what he’s doing. he’s not a naive college kid anymore, he’s a man, and he fucks like it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

bending you over the desk in his office and giving it to you nice and deep and a little rough, your cheek smushed into the tabletop and your nails digging into the wood — if you mess up the papers or scratch the desk, he can just mend it back, anyway. and of course he’s putting up a sound shield, so you don’t need to muffle those cute little whimpers while he uses you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s pretty serious but he loves to tease. likes watching you squirm and drawing things out until you beg.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

very clean guy. he’s doing some routine maintenance. and yes, it does.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s a very caring and giving person, and that definitely extends into the bedroom. he can be incredibly tender and romantic with you if the mood is right, but sometimes you both want things to be a little rougher, and he’s very good at that too. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t see him handling things himself very often. if he feels the need, he’s finding you for help — or calling you into his office, where you’re going to take care of it together. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

re: the above,,, he has a mild free-use kink… he loves the idea of either one of you dropping everything to please the other whenever they ask. it’s usually him asking, but it goes both ways — if you walk into his office and tell him you need him, he’s putting down the paperwork and strategy plans and getting on his knees for you without hesitation.

mild authority kink (more on that later). 

dare I say a tiny bit of an innocence kink? especially if you’re younger than him… I wanna write an age gap fic for him so bad ughhh 😩

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

we’ve established that the office is at the top of the list along with your bedroom, and the attached bathroom (over the counter in front of the mirror, in the shower…) not really anywhere else.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

bat your eyelashes at him and call him Lieutenant Colonel in that sweet, innocent  voice and there’s a very good chance that you’re going to be face-down, ass-up in the next ten minutes.

also, if either of you had to be away from the other for more than two days, the moment you’re reunited + the revolution business is handled and you’re behind closed doors, you’re fucking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he doesn’t want to seriously hurt you or cause you pain. he knows that he can mend any injury, but he’d really rather not have to in the first place.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he will never ever refuse head from you. he fucking loves it. it’s the ultimate stress reliever for him. holds your hair back for you and tells you what a good girl/boy you are, how pretty you look on your knees for him.

happy to return the favor, and really good at it, too. he purposely keeps his hair just long enough for you to tug on when he’s making you feel good.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he can do both, and does them well. fast and rough when he’s mad / jealous or if you’re being a brat, slow and deep and loving when you’re reunited after being apart, after a near-death experience, or whenever either of you needs a little extra TLC. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

they happen quite often, but they’re never quick enough — you always end up late to whatever you have to do afterward. the other assembly members know not to go to his office to find him if he’s late for a meeting. he’ll get there when he gets there; right now he has very important things to handle.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

there was more experimenting when you were younger, and still figuring things out. you know what you like now, but you still manage to surprise each other every now and then. he’s learned a lot from your romance novels, especially the pages you’ve bookmarked and the things you’ve highlighted etc etc.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

his stamina is pretty high. he fucks. he can go an easy 2-3 rounds every time, but you don’t feel the need to go all night anymore. however, if you make a joke about him getting old, etc., he’s going to have to prove to you that he still has it, and fuck you until you cry / apologize.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I could see modern!Bren liking to use a vibe / etc on you, but I don’t think such a thing exists in FW. 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he loves to tease, namely pretending to not understand your vague pleas for him to touch you, etc. or making you repeat yourself when you’re struggling to form words because he’s making you feel good. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s usually not too loud, mostly just some soft panting / groaning / praise. cannot shut the fuck up when you go down on him though. sounds really pretty when he cums. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves loves loves making out with you. he could do it for hours, if you both weren’t so needy / constantly under time pressure being revolution leaders. it’s just so nice to sit in his lap and kiss him, holding each other close and letting your worries and stress disappear for a while. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s built so nicely. he’s strong and muscular, but still a little soft and perfect to cuddle with. has a fair few scars on his body, including one over his heart from the arrow that nearly killed him in the battle of Aretia. you kiss it every time you see it, as a reminder of how glad you are that he’s still here with you. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

pretty high, but you certainly aren’t complaining.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if you’re in bed, then pretty quickly after cleanup etc. if you’re anywhere else, he’ll usually have it in him to either make the hike upstairs to your room, or to go about your day after a few minutes of cuddles. 

[grogusmum]

Hazel !!! I saw your selkie Ezra post and you have provided so many prompts that I would love to see you write.

What’s the limit on prompts to send in? right now number 8. “i can’t sleep without you here” from the soft smut list is tugging at my heart strings🥺 (but I think about them all the time, so there are others I could send in…👀)

-Ash💗

Aw lol m'dear!

I would LOVE to see the 8, idk that I'd be able to get to all 8 but I will pick the ones that speak to me and the one here 🥺 is pulling at my heartstrings too!! Thank you for the request, Ash 💚

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER 

W/C: 500ish

A/N: part of the Seven Tears 'verse.

WARNING: Though set in Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse and his family are white, selkie Ezra is a Ezra and a selkie, oh and possessive Ezra, needy Ezra, Ezra dealing with "modern" conveniences.

Gaelic Translations:

Mo stór: my treasure

Mo stóirín: my little treasure 

Ezra's eyes map a pencil line fissure along the ceiling, and shifts disgruntled under the wedding ring quilt. The bed feels large. The back of his hand absently passes over your cool pillow. 

Huffing, he throws the bed clothes off and goes to the sitting room. 

Pacing, he looks out the windows as he passes each one. At the front door he opens then closes it, his mustache bristling. 

His dark eyes fall on the large black telephone and his brows knit. He has seen you use it. You told him how in case he needed to call you at the mongery, but he has never wanted to tangle with it.

He hates the thing… it is loud and diverts you from him. Sometimes having to leave, like tonight at supper.

Of course, Ezra cares very much for your family, and when Deirdre called and asked if you would help with your sick brother and father, he  completely understood. He just wishes he had gone too. But it is a terrible fever going round, and they are trying to keep exposure down. 

Ezra stares at the fool contraption, with a hesitant hand he picks up the heavy receiver and puts it to his ear, as you had done. There was a tone, loud and unnatural. He does not like it. He looks at the paper beside the telephone your parent's exchange on it, and dials slowly. The rotary dial whirring.

There is a sound of ringing and suddenly a loud click-

" 'llo, Brennan residence"

"Moonbeam," Ezra is unnecessarily loud. "Is it you on the other end of this monstrosity?"

He hears a quiet chuckle.

"Ezra, my love, here I am."

"No, you are there and I am, as you are aware, here. And I have to use this infernal doodad!"

"These doodads make it so we can speak to one another when parted."

Ezra knows, and is grateful- but not happy about it.

"I can not sleep without you here, moonbeam. The bed is too big. It goes on for absolute leagues!" 

You smile, you can hear his pout. After a moment,

"Everyone is asleep here. Why don't I wash up, and meet you outside."

You hear noises, boots maybe, the door, then the loud clunk and ring of the bells within the telephone- the base falling to the floor.

"Yes, mo stór (mu store), yes!" 

"We have to hang up, Ezra."

"Of course! Yes," Ezra says as he picks it up and puts it back on the table, you hear him mutter, diabolical machine, under his breath. "I am on my way to you, moonbeam!" 

Ezra hangs up the handset and flies out the door, sweater in hand. He pulls it on as he makes his way to the house behind the fishmongery. 

When he knocks, it is quiet but urgent. Thankful he only waits a few moments before you open the door to him. 

Ezra pulls you out of the house and envelopes you in a hug. His face, hidden in the crook of your neck.

"Mo stóirín (mu store-een)," he says, like a sigh of relief. And then the nips and kisses begin…

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚 

[andforthecoating]

►Picnic Date

also on ao3

Summary: You and your boyfriend Jack go on an impromptu picnic date. You probably shouldn’t be surprised that he worries about the ants on your blanket.

Inspired by this post

Word count: 853 :)

The past few weeks had been stressful for both you and your boyfriend Jack

First there had been the amount of essays from your second year psychology students you’d had to grade, then you’d gotten the flu and the amount of work you had to do had just piled on. Sure, Jack had made you tea and tried his best to cheer you up, but it was hard when he barely had time to be at home and you had to spend the dreary November days largely by yourself. His work had been hectic as of late and Brennan didn’t hesitate to ask him to work over most days.

Therefore, when you’d gotten on top of your work again, you’d decided an impromptu afternoon trip to Park Washington was the best course of action. The day was beautiful, the crisp autumn air refreshing.

When you’d met up with Jack at the Jeffersonian and hastily greeted his team you’d dragged him to the car park, eager to surprise him and spend the day away together.

You’d had the directions on your phone, careful not to disclose too much as you guided the way to the park. Of course, the ride was only 10 minutes but you wanted to keep the air of suspense.

As soon as the road started to be surrounded with trees he turned towards you for a moment, a tentative smile on his lips.

“We’re going hiking?”

You shook your head.

“Maybe another day! I was thinking we could do a picnic if you want?” You said, suddenly worried that it might’ve been an idea that only pleased you. “I made sandwiches before work today and I have coffee and cookies as well.”

“That sounds perfect, baby.” He pulled up to a parking spot and put the car in park as you reached your destination. “Do you want me to carry anything?”

“Yeah! If you take the blanket I’ll take the basket,” you said and opened the car door to take the basket that was in the backseat. “Do you remember the nice place we were last time?” He nodded. “I think that’s just a few minutes away.”

The two of you started following the gravel path toward the place you were talking about and soon enough the trees started scattering. The opening in the forest was pretty, the afternoon sun streaming in through the trees surrounding it.

There were a few other people there already, mostly families with kids. You looked around until Jack tugged a little on your hand.

“There?” He said, gesturing toward a spot on a small hill to the left.

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

-

You’d just finished your sandwich and Jack was on his second when you felt something tickling your foot. Anxiously, you looked down and saw two or three ants running around up towards your ankle. You swatted them away and cuddled closer to Jack, trying to get some of his body heat.

You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent as he laid is arm around you, pulling you even closer.

Soon enough, though, it became impossible to ignore the continued tickling on your leg.

“I’m pretty sure there’s ants running all over this, Jack,” you mumbled against his shoulder, a little worriedly. You weren’t afraid of insects, per say, but you were also not the biggest fan. “Could we just shake them off really quickly?”

“Of course,” he comforted you, carefully disentangling himself from you as he stood up and moved the basket from the blanket.

You followed his lead, grabbing one corner of the blanket as he grabbed the other,

“If you’re a bug just be careful, okay?” Jack said, looking at the picnic blanket. He looked so cute like this, curls all tousled and a flush on his cheeks. The worried look in his eyes as he warned the eventual bugs didn’t hurt either.

“I didn’t know you were such an advocate for ants, baby,” you said with a smile.

“Maybe I can make an exception for these ones.” He grinned and shook the blanket once. You almost lost your balance with the force of it and his grin grew larger.

When the two of you had rustled it enough times that you were positive any possible insects had fallen off you laid down on your back.

Jack laid down next to you, your shoulders brushing, and you took the hand closest to yours in yours.

“Let’s hope the ants don’t carry a grudge for this.” You said, still looking up at the sky.

He chuckled and you turned your head towards him. He looked so happy and careless like this. You’d known he’d been stressed lately but you nothing could’ve prepared you for the difference his laugh made. You wished you could bottle it up, somehow, and save it for all those days when everything felt just a little hopeless.

“They’ll have a vendetta for three days for sure. Maybe they’ll have time to build a machine to conquer us with,” he joked.

“Oh my god, imagine!”

“That’d be pretty crazy.”

“Yeah it would,” you agreed, nuzzling into his side.

[silentlsworld]

The Quarantine in the Year

Hello! A quick note before I get into it. A couple weeks ago, I saw a post asking about a fan fiction about our beloved Bones squad in quarantine and thought, why not? 

Disclaimer: I do not own the original Bones characters, that is all HH. That said, please don’t duplicate or pass this off as your own. I would appreciate that my imagination and creativity be respected. 

A/N: This is just a one shot right now. In the process of creating an AO3 profile and will post more frequent updates there. Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy!  

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

“JACK HODGINS! Don’t you dare!”

“But Angie, you know that with the Mass Spec I have here, I’d be able to help break down the particulars, play around with some samples-”

“NO Jack! Uh-uh. NO. You are not bringing a deadly disease/virus into our home just so you can play Dr. Jekyll.”

“But-”

“No buts Jack. Uh-uh. Maybe when the Jeffersonian reopens you can get in contact with the Virology department at Georgetown. And even then! Even then, that is a hard maybe.” Angela shook her head walking away. Jack sat there in his wheelchair looking disgruntled but as he kept thinking, he realized his wife was right. Sighing in defeat, he rolled away going to find Michael Vincent and their daughter, Katherine Temperance. Hearing their giggles throughout the hallway, he figured they were in the media room watching reruns of the Flintstones.

Angela shook her head as she walked into the kitchen. Jack had some nerve and always managed to shake her up beyond belief sometimes. She picked up the phone with the intention of calling her best friend. It had been four months since she had seen Brennan and while she knew it was for the best to keep them, their families and everyone around them safe, she still missed her still socially awkward best friend and their girl time.

-----------

Brennan walked into the kitchen absolutely drained. Christine and Hank had been at again and she had just about had enough of her children’s bickering. At just three years younger than his sister, Hank was even more energetic and had pent up, what Booth called, “chaotic energy”. He often found himself overwhelming his sister or getting them both in trouble. It was only 11 am but she went ahead and opened the cabinet pulled out the new bottle of wine Booth had bought yesterday when he went grocery shopping. Pouring herself a glass, she looked out the window above the sink. Booth was in the backyard working on setting up a tree house for the kids after they had spent an entire month begging for one. Christine so she could have a place to escape Hank for a bit and Hank so he could have his own ‘Ninja Turtle’ hideaway.

The phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, she smiled.

“Hey Ange, how’s it going?”

“Oh sweetie! I am going to kill my husband!” Angela exclaimed.

“Why? Not that you wouldn’t get away with it. I mean we both could get away with murder. However, judging from the last time you called and said Hodgins had been finding creative ways to sexually satisfy you even with the kids at home, I can only conclude that you are being sarcastic.”

Angela chuckled. God, she missed Bren so much.

“Yes, sweetie. I’m kidding but he was talking again about trying to contact one of his colleagues in the Virology department at Georgetown to try and get samples of the virus strain and poke and prod it with some tests. Says he could help figure out a vaccine.”

“Oh. He might Ange. But-”

“Bren not you too. It’s dangerous! And with Katherine being in and out the hospital right now-”

“I know Ange.” Brennan interrupted. “I was going to say that I understand your hesitance and fear. I understand it from both points but you’re right. Being in and out of a hospital right now does put you and Katherine at a higher risk of exposure. How is she by the way?”

“She’s hanging in there. The doctors have given her a special corrective glasses to help right now,” Angela sighed.

“They still don’t know if it is in fact LCA?” Brennan questioned. Her heart going out for her best friend. Metaphorically of course.

“No. That’s the thing, they don’t. They have no idea what it is and it-it… it’s just really frustrating sweetie.”

“I’m sorry Ange. I really am. I wish I could embrace you and be there for you during this time of extreme emotional distress.”

“You are sweetie. Just being here talking to me on the phone is enough for now. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m always going to be here supporting Ange. Always.”

Angela smiled as Brennan spoke. Her best friend had really come a long way. It felt like it was just yesterday she was forcing Bren out of the lab to go with her to a club and like fate, they had stumbled upon a dead body mummified within the club walls. She was just about to remind Brennan when she heard a shriek on the other line.

“MOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM HANK IS AT IT AGGAAAAAIIIIIIIINN! HANK NOOOOOOO!” Christine shouted so loudly Booth came tumbling inside, hammer still in hand.

“Ange, I’m sorry to cut this short but my children are being extremely difficult, and I swear I’m going to metaphorically explode if I have to separate them again.” Brennan huffed.

“It’s okay. Believe me, Hank and Christine are a duo and with both inside at the same time during quarantine. Let’s just say I’m glad I’m not you.” Angela joked trying to ease Brennan. It worked.

“Ha-ha I can imagine you are. I’ll call you back Ange. Tell Hodgins and the kids hello for me.”

“Will do. Bye Bren.”

“Bye Ange.”

“Bones.” Booth huffed confused. “What’s going on?”

“Our children have been very dedicated to breaking the laws of physics with their antics today Booth and I’ve just about had it trying to talk to them.”

Placing the hammer on the floor by the door, Booth walked over to his wife. He could see the energy had dissipated from her eyes and the half-drunk glass of wine on the counter confirmed it.

“Bones let me talk to them. Top off your glass and go take a bath. Take some time for yourself, I’ll deal with our tyrant children.”

“Booth, are you sure? They’re both the exact same level of cranky and intolerable now.”

“Yes. Go. I’m their father. The load to discipline doesn’t only fall on your shoulders.” Booth confirmed. Smiling Brennan hugged her husband giving a quick kiss.

“I’ll thank you later,” she smirked up at him. Booth chuckled as she quickly topped off her wine and grabbed the book that she had hastily discarded on the couch walking into their room.

“HANK!” Christine shriek filled the house again.

“Christine Angela Booth! You know how your mother feels about yelling the house.” Booth chastised his daughter walking down the hall to their room. He thought he would be dealing with another case of Hank either going through Christine’s journal or using her dolls as plungers. What he didn’t know was that he wouldn’t be prepared for the disaster he was about to walk into.

[unorthodoxsavvy]

Fictober 2021 Day 21:

“What did I say?”

Bones

Want more? Leave a comment below.

“What did I say, Bones?”

Brennan had been giving Booth the cold shoulder all day and he’d been racking his brain to try and think of what he could have said that would have upset it, but he wasn’t sure what it could have been. Bones, of course, was like any other woman, and they could get offended at the tiniest thing. You never knew of what you’re saying was the right thing when it came to women. It was so much easier to talk to guys.

“It’s nothing,” Brennan brushed him off while brushing aside him, lab tray with a skull in her hands.

“It’s not nothing, clearly,” Booth insisted, following her.

“It’s nothing,” she repeated, walking away from him.

Booth sighed. He hated what came next.

Booth tepidly walked into Angela’s office. She gave him a once-over with a frown and then went back to inputting data from her tablet into the Angelatron.

“Oh come on, not you too,” Booth whined, “how am I supposed to know what I did wrong if no one ever tells me?”

Angela gave him another glance down her nose before sighing and stepping closer.

“You said that the foster parents might be suspects because the child isn’t their real child.”

“Well?” Booth asked. “It’s true. I’m not saying real parents don’t kill their kids all the time, but-”

“No, see, there you go again. Calling them ‘real parents’, as if foster parents aren’t real parents. Most foster parents care more for their kids then any birth parent ever did.”

“Is this because Bones was in foster care?” Booth asked.

“Yes. No. It’s more than that.”

“Then what is it?”

Angela glanced around, once again debating between the pros and cons of sharing her best friend’s personal information with her partner.

“Brennan wanted to be a foster parent. She wanted to give a good life to someone who went through what she did.”

Booth sighed. Of course she did. And of course what he said made sense now.

“Alright, how do I apologize?” He asked.

“Just show her that you believe in her,” Angela responded with a head tilt. “Now go, you have a killer to catch, and so do I.” She shooed him out of her office.

Booth found Bones in the Bone Room. He hesitated at the door waiting to see if she would acknowledge him. When she didn’t, he quietly spoke.

“Knock, knock. Can I come in?”

Brennan looked up at him and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, fine.”

Booth walked to the other end of the exam table, standing in front of her.

“Bones, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She asked briskly, finally looking up.

“Whatever I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” she assured him, voice tinted with an edge of emotion.

“Just take the apology, Bones.”

She took a deep breath in and out. “Fine, then I accept your apology for which I know not the cause of.”

“Thanks, Bones.”

“You’re welcome.”

[sweet4nothing]

HOLY SHIT. THE SEASON FINALE OF PRODIGAL SON GAVE ME FUCKING CHILLS ANS ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE FELT THAT FROM A SHOW.

No, but seriously, the question of whether or not Malcolm was in fact his fathers son has been answered even though I feel like the show itself did a good job showing us he wasn’t. But now we know for sure.

It was never “my son”. It was always “my girl” and if you think I didn’t scream you’re totally wrong lol.

That moment when Martin tells them that the only way to keep their family safe was to kill endicott? When Ainsley told their father in no uncertain terms that he could do it? That he didn’t have it in him? I don’t know if it was the actresses, or if I’m seeing more in this scene than was actually intended lol, but there was this resoluteness to her features—almost like she was coming to terms with something.

AND THEN

That moment when they both realize that endicott wasn’t lying. That he could weasel out of any charge, any conviction. He killed his bodyguards for fucks sake. And we have malcolms hands shaking we having ainsley seeing her brother break down as he tries his damnest to call on the darkness he feels his father left in him and take that final step we have endicott make it clear once more that yes he is his MOTHERS son. And that’s the moment we see Ainsley cold and vicious and god I still get chills. She doesn’t hesitate she doesn’t stop she moves with a weird kind of certainty that almost makes me think she’s done it before and the brutality of it all. And for a moment that’s it. The silence the shock and then Ainsley screaming stabbing him over and over and then looking to her brother for help.

Do I think she’s another surgeon? I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’ve seen that she’s focus, driven, but that she also loves her family, cares for them. Of course that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her own skeletons —quite literally. But more than anything It kind of reminds me of Brennan’s father from bones? A jovial man, who loves his family, but who has more than one dead body on his conscious. And who could very easily switch to his own moral compass when his loved ones are threatened. I feel like that’s who ainsley is. Someone who if you tell that the only way out is the wrong one she won’t even bat an eyelash.

Or I could be wrong and she’s been hiding herself from her family and her friends and that last moment is her pretending to malcom. So he sees a traumatized sister, someone he needs to help and protect, rather than a murderer.

[teamhook]

A Chapter Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the awesome @ilovemesomekillianjones​​

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 15: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

The window is ajar and the breeze slowly enters and engulfs the room, filling it with a hint of sea salt air. He misses his home by the sea, and yet he can not blame his sleepless night on the nostalgia that plagues him. Emma is the true culprit of his current sleeplessness.

Killian tosses and turns; he is anxious and that scares him. He knows he needs to tell Emma the true nature of his trip to Arendelle, but he is crippled with fear by the thought of her once again seeing him as she did when they first met. That thought makes him second guess his decision more than once.

The truth is simple; they are going to be married soon and although they are not marrying because they are madly in love, he still needs to start this relationship with a clean slate. He has no idea if her father is aware of his involvement and to avoid her hearing the sordid tale from another source, he prefers for her to hear it from his lips. He feels he owes her this much, at the very least.

That's his decision and he is sticking to it. It is settled he will tell Emma the truth. Although he had no prior knowledge of the connection between the owner of Nolan Shipping and Exporting and the Nolan's in town when the business had first been targeted, he knows this surely will not absolve him of guilt.

The influential people that were known to use Nolan's services had painted a target on the business, if it hadn't been him it would have been another. He knew that the strong room in the cellar would surely be filled with treasure. He had no doubt that his talented nimble fingers would be able to crack the lock. It was supposed to have been an easy score for someone of his skills.

Finally, with the decision made to tell her the truth, his eyes begin to feel heavy, he can barely keep them open and he succumbs to sleep.

The next morning Killian wakes and sets out in search of Emma. He finds her outside picking flowers in the garden.

He approaches her and once he is close enough he clears his throat to capture her attention. Emma finally looks up and smiles brightly at him.

"Good morning, love. You look stunning," Killian says while he is slowly approaching her. He looks down at the flowers in her basket and gently picks one up and tucks it in behind her ear along the loose strand of her golden hair.

She blinks dazedly at the contact and without knowing holds her breath as she turns her eyes to Killian. She tilts her head and smiles as she offers her reply, "Good morning, sleep well?"

Killian's demeanor changes quickly and he looks around, anywhere but at her. "Love, I have something I need to speak to you about, and I believe it to be important." He scratches behind his ear while he waits for a response.

"Oh, of course, should we head back inside and go to the office?" Emma asks as she takes a step toward the house.

He shakes his head, quickly dismissing the idea and guides her back to the lovely little patch of flowers she was at seconds before. "I would prefer to continue to enjoy the lovely scenery with you a bit longer, we can talk here," he says. Killian takes off his long coat and lays it on the ground for her to sit upon.

She smiles as she takes his hand and he helps her lower herself to sit on his coat. The fabric is so much softer than it looks, she thinks as she caresses the coat. Looking at him as he slowly sits down next to her she can tell he is nervous, but why?

"Emma, I will just get this over with. I hope you understand how difficult this is for me, and although that should not sway you into forgiveness, know that I am doing to this to give us our best chance. As you know, I have led a life of crime all my adult life and I have done a variety of questionable things I am not proud of, but what I'm about to tell you may change your mind regarding our upcoming nuptials. Months ago, when my relationship with Milah was in full bloom, I went to Arendelle on what was meant to be a very lucrative job for my associates and myself. It is safe to say it was not a lawful endeavor and I was caught by the Arendelle Navy. I was put in prison on charges of piracy against a shipping and exporting company there. That business was your father's," Killian says and looks at her carefully.

Emma studies him for a moment, she ponders what he's told her, and why he is telling her. "You are telling me that you were going to rob my father's company. Why would you simply be released without a trial? I don't understand."

"Yes, Emma, I was there to steal from your father's' business. I admit it. At the time I had no idea of the connection between him and Milah, much less you. I was released not because of my innocence but because my long lost brother felt mercy for me. I would have most likely met my death there. Arendelle shows no leniency when it comes to pirates. I could have easily kept this from you and hoped you would have never become the wiser, but I made the choice to share this tale with you. I solemnly believe I would not have pursued the job had I known of the familial connection you share with David Nolan. I only made the connection between you and the business during my conversation with Archie yesterday."

"Your brother let you go, just like that? Doesn't that affect his job?"

"Aye, it could. I suspect he was only doing it because I mentioned I wanted to get back to my love that I was to marry," Killian says.

"The job was unfinished, correct?" she asks.

"Aye, I was in jail and the rest of the crew was either killed during the capture or in a cell not far from my own," Killian says. "Emma, I know this is a lot to take in. I will give you time to take into consideration what I have just shared with you. If you choose to cancel the wedding, I will understand," Killian says, "but please know that is not what I want, I just needed us to start our life with no secrets between us." He gets up and offers her his hand.

Emma looks at him and takes his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. "I appreciate your honesty. I don't believe this changes anything, at least not for me. I'm disappointed, but I understand that was your life then and this will be your life now. I am going to choose to see the best in you, you are a good man that has made mistakes in his past. You are very good to the workers; a man that feels such empathy for those less fortunate cannot be a lost cause."

"Are you sure? I must insist you think it over, I would hate for you to leave me at the altar if you had a last minute change of heart like your cousin. I have some business back in town, before I go I will go check on Mr. Thomas and maybe check in with Archie on some things."

"I will not keep you any longer, and if you would like we can talk some more once you return," she says with a smile that lets him know her decision has already been made.

Killian returns her smile with one of his own and brings her hand that he is still holding to his lips for a gentle kiss, then he makes his way to the little hut Michael Thomas resides in. His knock greeted with a muffled come in.

"Good morning, Mr. Thomas. I hope you are feeling better," Killian says to the older man as he walks into the tiny room.

"I am, thanks to you and the lovely angel, Miss Emma." Mr. Thomas hesitates as he scrutinizes Killian. "Are you here to fire me, too? I have heard that you have fired most of the older workers." The thought that seems to linger in his mind is how much the younger man reminds him of his old boss, Brennan Booth.

"Of course not, actually I would like to offer you employment that may be safer for a man your age. As for the other older employees that have been let go, that was not on my order. Now about the employment, it will have to wait until you are completely healthy seeing as the lovely Miss Emma would sooner cut off my hand than let me encourage you to start working before you are truly healed from your injuries and sickness." Killian arched an eyebrow and grinned at the old man as he spoke. "I have some business back in town, upon my return I will surely get to the bottom of the firing of our older workers."

The man smiled as he saw Killian close the door shut on his way out. He truly had a remarkable likeness to Brennan Booth - and it was not just physical, he shared a good heart too.

Killian is finally away from the Booth Estate. He misses his simple life and yet all the eyes on him say his life will no longer be simple. It seems the rumors have not died out. The curious glances and the hushed whispers he keeps getting from the simple commoners to the rich and noble are an indication that it will not happen anytime soon.

He is walking towards his new office at Tiny's Golden Goose Tavern where his old friend has allowed him to rent one of the rooms as an office, at least until he finds something more suitable. He hopes Smee is in there assisting Archie as he was previously instructed to do so.

He walks in and greets his friend with a cordial nod then heads up the stairs to the modest room he is renting. He opens the door and is met by the sleeping forms of Smee and a couple of Tiny's workers. No doubt in his mind the men had entertained themselves the prior night with some libations from the bar.

"Rise and shine, you bilge rats! No offense, Mr. Smee," Killian says loudly, even though Smee does remind him of a rat from time to time.

The other men in the room scurry away, but Smee just stretches lazily as his chair shakes and rattles slightly out of balance. He sleepily replies, "None taken, Captain. For some reason, I keep dreaming of cheese."

Killian laughs at his first mate's comment, perhaps he had lived as a rat in a previous life. "Smee, there is no need to report on the town's gossip since I got the gist of it on my way here. Are you not going to congratulate your Captain? It appears I'm in the market for an engagement ring," Killian says as he shuffles some of the papers thrown on the desk.

"Sir, does the engagement ring be for Miss Milah?" Smee asks.

"Of course not! For my bride to be, Miss Emma Nolan," Killian answers as he tries not to lose his temper.

"I don't understand, sir, the plan was for you to get Miss Milah back, alongside the considerable Booth fortune," Smee tells his longtime boss.

"Are you questioning my actions, Mr. Smee?" Killian asks as he crowds the portly man and waits for a response.

"No, of course not sir, it's just... I cannot help but mention that you seemed different on my last visit to the Booth's. I believe it is because of her." Smee's voice gets higher and higher as he cowers from Killian's piercing glare.

"Smee, don't misunderstand my actions, it is all part of the ruse I have concocted in order for my plan to succeed. I'm only entering into this marriage to cover up the little dalliance I had with Milah so her rich new family will not be suspect of her misdeeds. You see if I'm part of the family, my presence will not be questioned or unwanted and in order for the plan to be successful, I have to act like I want to be a better man. Finally, if with my marriage to Emma, Milah is to experience half of what I felt on my return from Arendelle, then who am I to question my good luck? Milah hates her cousin and if my revenge is provided by her lovely cousin, I will allow it," Killian says as he looks around.

In the heat of the conversation, they both had missed Archie entering the room and subsequently overhearing their conversation. The look of disappointment on his face was enough of a warning to Killian of the lashing that was about to be directed at him. Killian clenched his jaw in frustration as he made his order known. "Smee, go get me something to eat from Tiny's kitchen and take your time. I have some things to discuss with Archie."

"Yes, sir," Smee scurried out of the room as fast as humanly possible.

"There was no need to dismiss him. I will just say this to you, Emma deserves better than to be used and lied to. She has a good heart and she seems to see the same thing in you as I do. She was devastated by August's actions and now you are using her too. Killian, don't you see how lucky you are?" Archie asks shaking his head.

"Are you going to tell her what you heard?" Killian asks. His stomach drops and he cannot admit to anyone, much less himself, that he cares so much more than he should.

"Killian, I should tell her so she can call off this wedding, but I won't. I will give you the chance to do the right thing, to do the honorable thing. I came to tell you that I had found a lovely house that would be perfect for you two. Mrs. Lucas is selling her home because of her deteriorating health, and since she will be moving in with her granddaughter, Ruby Whale, she has no need for the furniture. Earlier today I went to Dr. Whale's home to finalize the deal on your behalf and the house is available to move in as soon as possible," Archie says and looks at Killian as he waits for a response.

"Is there anything else you need to add?" Killian asks stubbornly. He hates seeing the disappointment on Archie's face, but he will not fold on this matter. He will marry Emma because she is the means to an end. Killian is back to feeling angry and he was a fool to ever think that he would ever be seen as anything other than the worthless, womanizing, selfish scoundrel that he will undoubtedly always be.

He will not give up Emma as she will surely lead him to his happy ending, whether he deserves it or not. He thought for a brief second that he could join her and be a part of something special but alas, that is not in the cards for him, at least not with someone like her. Milah, on the other hand, is someone like him, one of the worst humans around.

He doesn't deserve light, he only is worthy of darkness. The truth is, he lied to Smee, he said those words because Smee made him feel weak and not in control of his feelings. He had felt a shift in his core because of Emma, but he will not lie to himself and think that there is a possibility that she could possibly feel as he does. He will not be made a fool by another Nolan woman.

Emma finally walks into the house after regaining her composure. She understands who Killian Jones was and she knows who he can evolve into. She cannot deny the fact that she had been upset about his story but at the time he didn't owe her anything. She hopes that tidbit stays in the past.

She hears her name and turns to meet the source. "Good morning," Emma says to Cora, cordially.

"Good morning It seems congratulations are in order," Cora says.

"Oh?" Emma responds. "Your mother informed me of the upcoming nuptials between you and the Captain," Cora says.

"Let me guess, my mother came to you in hopes you would be able to talk me out of it," Emma says, rolling her eyes at her mother's antics.

"Yes, she did, but I will do no such thing. I'm actually happy you two are to wed. I can now relax, since I'm assuming the two of you will leave once you have married, and subsequently he will forget about whatever brought him here. Thank you, you are a savior," Cora says as she smiles and walks away.

Emma doesn't see the triumphant smile on Cora's face as she leaves her standing in the long hall, mulling over her actions. The only reason she is marrying Killian is to save her family, not because she sees a happy future with him.

Snow is walking aimlessly in her room and she glances out the window. Her daughter cannot marry that man. Earlier she had seen them interact outside among the flowers. It had been a highly romantic setting and she could not help but notice that there were no advances on his part.

She knew of his reputation with women and her fear was that he would not be able to show her daughter the respect she deserves.

Maybe she could agree to meet him and cautiously get to know him. She could request for Emma to not rush into the marriage. Emma has barely recovered from her previous heartbreak, and she is afraid of what could become of her Emma if this relationship fails as well.

She needs David to help her convince Emma to wait. Sadly, her daughter seems to be set on marrying soon. There is no time to lose, so she writes a quick message to David letting him know of the situation. She needs someone to go into town to deliver her message to Archie who will then send the telegraph to Arendelle. Her maids are gone, so the only option left is to send Enith and she seems to dislike taking orders from anyone that is not the lady of the house.

Snow calls for Enith who surprisingly quick to answer her call.

"Enith, I need to send you on an errand. Please take this to Mr. Hopper; he will know what to do. Oh, and you don't need to wait for a reply." Snow smiles warmly as she hands the letter to Enith sends her on her way with hopes there will be enough time to delay Emma's wedding.

Unfortunately, when Enith finally returns, it is to tell Snow that Archie has already left for Arendelle according to the man in the red hat. Snow thanks her and is left alone once more to ponder her next move.

Note: Thanks to everyone who is reading, commenting, reblogging and showing this story and I, so much love.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate​​ @kmomof4​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @seriouslyhooked​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​ @let-it-raines​​ @revanmeetra87​​​ @snowbellewells​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​ @kymbersmith-90​​ @branlovestowrite​​ @thejollyroger-writer​​​ @shireness-says​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​  @thisonesatellite​​​ @thesschesthair​​​ @winterbythesea​​ @stahlop​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​  @superchocovian​​​  @lfh1226-linda​​​ @artistic-writer​​​ @thislassishooked​​​ @shardminds​​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​ @laschatzi​​​ @wellhellotragic​​​ @xemmaloveskillianx​​​ @courtorderedcake​​​ @pirateherokillian​​​ @optomisticgirl​​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​ @andiirivera​​​ @djlbg​​​ @nikkiemms​​​ @jennjenn615​​​ @scientificapricot​​​ @officerrogers​​​ @imlaxdris71​​​ @therealstartraveller776​​​

[piracytheorist]

My Notes on Rewatching “Call Girl”

I amuse myself by thinking that watching this film is an important rite of passage for anyone who’s an all-in Colin fan, as in, one who’ll watch anything and everything he’s in, no matter the content, theme or quality.

I actually used to think that this was a pretty bad movie... but, as you might have seen from my last few posts, I recently realized this isn’t the case. Sure, it is not your average short film, but breaking it down you realize it’s doing most things right from a filmmaking point. I mean, you don’t have to love it, but it does a great job overall.

And I mean, it’s got Colin in it. How bad can it be? ;)

Beware of spoilers, if you haven’t seen the film. And if you do wanna see it, here it is :D

~

I'm still surprised that... this is it. That's Colin freaking O'Donoghue right there. The pirate. The cowboy. The astronaut. The man the myth the legend.

Ah, early 00's.

Wait. Ok let's make a breakdown of the decoration here. There's: 1) a heart anatomy poster 2) a frame with an undiscernible picture 3) IS THAT AN ASTRONAUT FIGURE? dun_dun_dun.mp3 4) a small penguin (?) plushie with a nautical (?) hat on it 5) are those... mantis figurines stuck on the sides of the screen????

Oooooh boy you sure have some very specific decorations on your desk.

The music stops abruptly when Brendan's mother calls out to him to not close the door because she wants to see him studying. That's interesting. Also how old is Brennan supposed to be? Is he supposed to be in high school, or an adult in college? What was the age of consent in Ireland in 2003?

This vibe, though. White perfect shirt and dark vest...

The look of "I'm gonna look at hot girls with my bedroom's door open while my parents argue across the hall" ALSO YES THAT'S A MANTIS

This just makes me laugh so much. Can you imagine sweet innocent (mostly) virgin Brendan typing it and his heartbeat skyrocketing?

Seriously though, that "Welcome back Brendan" thing. With one small addition you add a whole point in his backstory about him trying to deal with his urges.

Jesus I have forgotten so much. As soon as Brendan hears his mother coming, he immediately clicks "Dump her" on the "Virtual Babe" and it just... explodes. 

With a full low-quality boom sound effect to boot. Like seriously if you were trying to hide why the f have your speakers on. You had one job, Brendan.

A rare glimpse into Brendan's room, and I'm trying to understand what the pattern on his sheets are. Maybe I'm just confused by the astronaut figurine, but it looks... vaguely... about space? Like, if you squint, the circular thing on the top left looks like Saturn's rings. No?

Also, Brendan's mom being obsessed with disinfection. That was 2003.

"I don't want filth getting into my house while I'm gone." And two hours later, her son has sex on her bed.

Oh wait, his father says "The only contact [Brendan] has with the outside world is through that bloody computer of his," in a... weird, tone? Like he's trying to placate the mother's fears of any rave party suddenly taking place in the house, but also with his tone (and maybe by using the word "bloody"? idk I'm no native speaker but it piques my interest) it doesn't seem like he's very... understanding and/or supportive of his probably very shy and/or socially awkward son.

Mom: That reminds me, block off the internet, will you? Dad: *scoffs* Why not lock him in a tower while you're at it?

He is sassy though!

Lookit him though! So sad he won't be able to create and look at Virtual BabesTM while his parents are gone.

The parent's accents strike me more towards a British one and I got confused for a bit, but then I remembered that we see Brendan use euros later, lol.

*hatching the plan to search in his father's briefcase for any cards for escort services*

This is where I started feeling that this movie is better than I’d remembered. Like, it does the job of delivering Brendan's guilt over "tresspassing" into his parents room and disobeying his mother, as well as his fear of being discovered, even though he watched his parents drive away, so he'd hear the car if they came back, in a pretty well-done and clear way.

I love how he immediately knows exactly where to look. His father's such an organized fella. Also those pills that he seems to not need immediately (thus leaving them behind for the weekend) are... something. They're put there for a reason and I wonder what that could have been.

There's not even a moment of hesitation, once he opens the briefcase. He doesn't put the card back in, he only looks briefly at his parents' photo but then he's like "Yeah. I'm doing it."

That smile as he sees the card though, lol. 

Casual reminder to have safe sex, lads.

And then the phone operator is like, full business mode. Brendan stutters for one (1) second and she's immediately like, "You want a girl?" She's like, I've had tons of people like you, lad, can't waste my time waiting until you find the courage to ask. You wanna hire or not?

OH MY GOD I JUST REALIZED The operator asks for the address, Brendan gives it, then asks how much does it cost. Then the operator says "Same as usual." BRUH she knew the address from how often his father used the service!

And then poor Brendan checks his savings and his "Uh..." says it all about how he wishes he could hire someone for longer than an hour. Bro, calm down. It's your first time.

And then he's like, waiting all anxiously by the door. I've never hired an escort service but I feel ya dude.

And of course Barbara the nosy neighbor, here to bring us to the edge of our seats, lol.

Look at how organized their fridge is. Why is that chick suddenly so eager to cook something for him? There looks to be so much food already prepared in there.

And dude. This movie has set-ups. Barbara tries to open a cupboard to like pick up ingredients to cook something, and Brendan, with a sudden "No!" rushes in and closes it. It only makes sense later, when we see that that's where he hid the money for the call girl.

Yikes she booped his nose as she left... what is he, ten? I mean even if he's supposed to be a teen here it's still... like... he's not a little boy to fucking boop his nose. No wonder her mother seems to trust her with taking care of him, with how both treat him like he's a child.

Hi there! You're gonna die :D

Shit I just noticed the portrait on the wall. Is that a... is that a fucking ruff collar his mother is wearing???? (btw I had to search to find that term with "shakespeare collar" XD)

I mean... you can't help falling for it. At first you're like, she seems too... simple for a call girl. But then you're like, who else could it be who also knows his name?

I wonder what would've happened if she hadn't asked to use the bathroom, which prompted her to look at his parents' bedroom and him to... initiate contact. Would he have mustered the courage to actually ask her about it or would he have been so flustered until she'd say something? What would she say? "You know, your mother said you would [something]" and he would FREAK THE FUCK OUT because how does his mother know? Would they have stayed there in awkward silence long enough for his mother to call, him to pick up and find out what she was really there for?

I mean, look at that! I'm speculacting the "what-ifs"! Good fucking movie!

That look, though. You suddenly go from "Aw you cute" to "WTF I know you're thirsty for it but that's... creepy"

Look at that smile, though! She is pretty nosy!

I just... I love everything about this. The way she's smiling at nosing in in her boss' bedroom. Him creeping behind her like the future killer that he is, actually scaring her. The way he says "This is my mother's room," so shy and collected. The fucking music, too. How it slowly builds up from the moment she spots the bedroom and it starts developing when Brendan kisses her.

And that kiss. So chaste and shy and yet she's like, wow yeah let's have sex now.

"You're not as shy as you look." LOL

For the pre-sex scene I just wanna link y'all to @killian-whump 's post about it, since it says it all.

Also dude the voicemail is set up from that moment too, but we've yet to hear what it includes, aside from his mother being bossy about the smallest things. "I hope you haven't gone back to bed." IF ONLY YOU KNEW. Not only what bed he's gone to, but also what he's doing on said bed.

"You don't waste much time, do you?" Lol if only you knew. And again his first response is to apologize if he did anything wrong.

And you know what? Plot twists are a hell of a lot of fun and well made when they make you go back and see things with the new perspective. Like, how chill and simple she was, why she said the last line I mentioned, the newly-known reasons why she said it was kinky to have sex in his mother's bedroom... *slams hand on table* That's a great way to do a plot twist! A fucking plus!

Like seriously, this convo: B: Have you met my father? M: No, but a lot of the other girls have though.

Pre-plot twist viewer: Wow whAT how do you say it like that Post-plot twist viewer: Yeah makes sense

M: I think he gets sympathy from them, like, you know, cause his wife's such an old witch... *realizes* Oh, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that! *more failed excuses and then THAT face*

And like, that's a bit inappropriate in any case but pre-plot twist you're like WTAF. And then you're like eh makes sense for frustrated employees to pity their bitchy boss' seemingly calm husband...

And there's that set-up from before. Job well done, film.

And then their argument about the money. Brendan being confused about the amount, Mandy saying she'll come back and speak to his mother about it...

Seriously though what if he'd found out the voicemail after he'd had sex and before the "confrontation"? Would he like, have sent her on her merry way with all the money and then had more sex with the actual call girl?

And then his instinct, to try and make sure his mother won't find out, is to fucking threaten the woman with a knife. Wow, a little too much, Brendan. And then his first instinct, when they're fighting, is to search and grab the knife and fucking stab her. Lbr though that's just baby Colin finding his call for playing messed-up characters.

Also how did she die so quickly. Guess I found one weakness in the plot XD

And now you're like Jesus he just murdered her but when Barbara comes a-knocking and he looks at her and exasperatedly calls her name, you're like... same, bro.

And the stupid bastard didn't even wash the blood off his arm. Like seriously, Brendan, either do a murder correctly or don't do it at all. At least you can't say he wasn't dedicated, bro sliced his own arm open. *pats head* you'll learn, my little murderous bean, you'll learn.

Brendan: I was doing the dishes. Barbara: Did your parents leave them for you to do? They must have left in a rush this morning.

Yes, Barbara, he can do the dishes, he's in an undetermined age between late teens and-

Barbara: They didn't even make their bed.

Wtf you nosy bitch.

See what I'm saying? Full character development for a character with like, two minutes of screentime.

And then the voicemail drops like an anvil. My first thought when his mother said that Mandy is nothing but trouble I was like "Yo look who's talking" but then I thought that... yeah she did creep in her boss' bedroom, actually had sex with her son in it, then pretty much talked dirt to him about her... I mean she definitely didn't deserve to die, but maybe his mother was a good judge of character for one (1) moment.

And then Lorraine appears.

And Brendan's like "Now I have money for like, three hours with her. Maybe I'll even convince her to help me hide the body too."

“OR MAYBE I’LL JUST KILL HER TOO.”

In conlusion, yup, I’m pretty glad I spent a good hour and a bit watching, analyzing, writing this review and screencapping this film. 10/10 would rewatch and review again.

[jq37]

oh WOW that new bloodkeep ep

**spoilers for family in freefall bloodlines and lifelines**

Man this episode was a lot. Probably my fave of the season so far.

Brennan seems to have an M.O. in terms of plotting things. They way we got a focus on each character in a stressful situation reminded me a lot of Family in Flames from the FH season which came at about the same point in the story.

Anyway, we start with Brennan giving the most unnecessarily verbose description of falling ever.

I am actually not sure how big Lilith is supposed to be in relation to everyone else at this point. Or how big her kids are supposed to be. I thought the really young ones were like straight spiders but like Jessa and the boy who’s name I’m forgetting were centaur style like her. But like, idk. 

Efink insisting that she’s still holding the wheel (even though it truly means nothing) was so funny.

Both Matt and Brennan do very good re-entry sound effects.

Brennan: Feel free to do nothing.

Rekha: *SLAMS that induce labor button with no hesitation*

Truly amazing

“You feel your fire break.”

Leiland falling to his doom while bossa nova music plays in the background and rolling his eyes at Maggie is iconic.

Everyone is dying and Sohkbar is just like, fine.

Lilith polymorphs into a full ass spider.

Even though it ended up going sideways (literally) not a bad plan from Markus.

Brennan is so good at scene setting exposition.

Erika acted the hell out of that moment when she and Sohkbar share a look before she tells Russel everything is gonna be OK. She didn’t have to but she did that for us.

The wheel that steers nothing metaphor was such a good turn of phrase from Bren.

Efink’s DOUBLE NAT ONES.

WOOOOOW.

Rekha goes, “THIS is the bad day,” with Kristen Bell’s inflection and I am reminded that it has not even been a full 24 hours in game since ep 1. Wild.

Anyway, Efink’s norn spirit things disappear which is what happens when you roll snake eyes I guess. Amy is legit tearing up.

Brennan’s throwaway joke of explaining story structure low key killed me.

Leiland gets advantage on perception and rolls a nat 20!

Are all of the Vingury just gay for the next person in their chain of command? Because that’s what it seems like.

Matt’s flustered Leiland as Miles implies ~things~ is adorable.

Animal handling 2, electric boogaloo. I love that joke.

Maggie is so OP. Maggie hits the ground and isn’t even at half HP. Leiland is knocked into negatives though.

His first death save is a nat 1. WHICH IS 2 FAILURES. I was so stressed.

Then J'er'em'ih rolls a nat 20 to go save him!

I love the phrase, “J'er'em'ih’s normal form” as if he has a normal anything.

“J'er'em'ihdeserves the credit.”

Anyway J'er'em'ih(w/ an assist from Sohkbar) saves Leiland!

Rekha was so concerned for John. Like, not even Maggie. Rekha.

“It’s gonna be an egg!?”

Samantha Eagles. (Of the Philadelphia Eagles?) I died at that line.

Maggie levels up and gets healing magic. (“Fuck yeah!” says Maggie.) John stabilizes.

The fact that Maggie thought it might be an egg makes me concerned that she maybe isn’t ready to be a mom.

I love that Maggie just wordlessly presents her baby to Lilith (the alpha mom of the group) like a kid showing their mom and art project.

OK, this is such a tiny moment but I love, love, love that Maggie has a good enough relationship with Lilith that when she heard what she thought was a threat to her baby, she just asked, “Is that a threat to the baby?” instead of attacking her or going *Maggie will remember that* and harboring mistrust. The way she asked was so adorable. Also, Lilith would never.

Markus floats basically the exact same plan as Lilith (defect to good, get pardons) but at least he uses it as a plan of true last resort.

Lilith being the keeper of basically all of Efink’s self esteem is great. Also, everyone has to keep reminding her that she is queen.

“As the resident magnificent failure.”

“Allow me to be the basis for your self comparison. That’s the best I can offer you.” LEILAAAAAAAND.

Anyway, Leiland gives a great pep talk to Efink who throws her spell cards over her shoulder irl (”it’s an RP episode. it’s fine”).

Amy to Brennan who is about to start roasting Efink’s entire life: Don’t do this.

So when Brennan said, “Efink gets to decide right now if she’s good at magic.” I was thinking, that’s a big thing to put in a PC’s hands unless you want the answer to be yes. Because, in another story, “No,” might be the better answer narratively, but who’s gonna voluntarily nerf themselves like that?

So Efink dips into an episode of Friendship is Magic which Brennan beautifully picks up the narration for and gets the info they need without rolling for it. She also has some major self actualization and is now dry, less vain, and less dramatic.

It kinda seems like this was leading towards Lilith being the new leader what with her thoughts while she was falling and her being passed up for the promotion but, come on. She would have to make a crazy soul rending deal to just take the crown normally and she has kids and common sense. Otherwise, I think Erika would have made that play.

“Is my son a different player than me?” I love Rekha.

Like Leiland, I fully thought she was gonna name the kids John at first. (Are you ‘allowed’ to jr. a kid who isn’t named after you or your spouse? I’ve never seen someone do that. As in, add the jr., not name a kid after a friend).

I love that Matt roleplays Leiland into so many awkward moments. A good RP-er doesn’t care about their character being cool all the time.

“I’m naming him after the name of yours that I prefer.” That was so sweet.

“First of all, J'er'em'ih’s an excellent judge of character.”

Everyone coming together to make Leiland feel better was so so sweet. These guys are like the exact opposite of murder hobos in a game where they 100% have the right to be.

The baby tells Leiland to kneel and he just does it because of course he does. (Leiland later: I HAVE A VERY PARTICULAR SET OF SKILLS)

Maggie after Leiland swears total fealty to Leiland Jr: Can’t you keep anything at like 80%?

Efink rolls a nat 20 on her check to navigate the Bloodkeep, basically completing her self actualization arc.

Leiland resists the urge to chase Hamhead, completing a portion of his arc.

The running thing of people giving Maggie biologically incorrect info on kids because of their drastically different biology.

Aww all of Lilith’s kids.

Lilith dispel magicking the book golem, implying she could have done that at any time and just chose not to.

Leiland apologizes to Maggie for being bitchy to her out of jealously, which I thought was sweet but was just the warm up act for what was about to happen.

But, before that, Maggie’s dad calls and Efink hangs up on him for her. For a second I thought that cutting off the call meant we wouldn’t get to see what was behind the doors but, luckily, that wasn’t the case.

(Also Sohkbar and Lilith eating popcorn as Maggie and her dad fight).

Did Efink appoint herself high adviser?

“Please don’t bite him,” *Leiland Jr. bites a spider*

So, anyway, Leiland and Maggie go into the portal and see visions of (1) weird sex between Zaul and Lilith and (more importantly), (2) Zaul bagging on Maggie when she’s not around/thirsting after Leiland when he’s not around.

The simile about winning the lottery after you find out money can’t buy you happiness was so good.

“What a fucking pig!”/“I agree.”/“Oh, do you?”/“Actually I do.”

I’M SO PROUD OF THEM.

Instead of being mad at Leiland (or Lilith for that matter) she just doubled down on being mad at her dickhead ex. And Leiland, instead of being all winner winner chicken dinner just felt bad for Maggie and Decklan.

“Was this something the baby should have seen?”/“No.”

“This is one of the lesser times it’s bad to say your father’s name.” Yikes Leiland.

Anyway, the whole hang makes plans to take Sohkbar shopping and it really fits in with the theme of this ep of everyone boosting everyone’s self esteem. This ep has a lot of genuinely heartwarming moments.

“Sohkbar yes. Sohkbar yes. Sohkbar yes.”

“What did you roll? [28] You see everything.”

Leiland Jr. as new king seems like a questionable decision imo but I’m not gonna backseat RP.

“You guys start engaging in a fun conversation about statecraft.”

“Lilith, I’d like a hug.” Lilith hugs her and kicks her legs up like she’s in the climax of a romcom.

The whole group hugs and Brennan calls them out and has a NPC call them out, even though he’s the person who led them to this path!

Man, the promo for this ep really made it sound more dire and less heartwarming that it actually was.

YOU’RE DEFINING GOOD

“Imagine there’s 9 squares in a grid.” TRAPP

That like 20 seconds had so many good lines. “We’re cutting out the middle man and taking evil straight to you.”/“We’re evolving evil.”/“We’re disrupting evil.”

Now that I think about it, they really haven’t escaped the bloodkeep so far, have they? They’ve been going back and forth between it but not really trying to escape it per se. 

Olag is back because, again, of course he is.

Final battle y'all!

Sounds like we’re getting actual Gollum next week so that should be fun. Also, very curious to see what that last, “No,” is in response to. These guys are good at cutting trailers so it could be nothing serious, but who knows?

[gusenitsaa]

Between him and the world.

Excerpt from: Lingering by @distant-rose  (She left a whumpy detail undescribed so ... obviously I had to write the backstory thing.)  Starts as an angsty chat, turns into fanficing in @pirate-owl‘s inbox....as I do.  Complete with occasional conversational detours for @distant-rose‘s entertainment :P  

She finds a particularly jagged scar cutting across the left side of abdomen, cleverly hidden by the dark body of a vicious looking shark. She runs her fingers along it, studying it with a small frown.“Where did you get this guy?”

“The shark? Ages ago. Was drunk and thought it would look menacing.”

“I wasn’t talking about the shark,” Emma replies, deliberating tracing the old wound and looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m talking about the scar.”

Killian is silent for a long moment, to the point that Emma is certain that he’s never going to answer her. However, he opens his mouth and lets out a shaky breath before speaking in a low voice just above a whisper. “When I was boy…There was a captain of a ship who…he…he wasn’t a good man and he threatened my brother with a knife when he thought we were knicking his rum…I got in between them.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

@gusenitsaa​ :  I mean that’s an @icecubelotr44​ level tempting tidbit

@pirate-owl : wow Liam would have been pissed.Not at the man threatening him, he is used to threats, but at his idiot little brother who got in the way.  And Liam is better at defusing a potentially violent situation than Killian is. No one might have been stabbed if Killian hadn't gotten involved. Or Liam might have, but since when has that mattered to Liam?

Gusenitsaa: Also, ironically I suspect Liam was actually nicking his rum.  How else does he usually manage to have a bit on hand for when Killian gets himself hurt?

Pirate-Owl: Ugh! That just makes it worse!   :’( :’( :’(  Ooooh! Do you that is what gives Liam his insanely protective complex?

Gusenitsaa: I dunno.  Killian is what, 10.  How long has brennan been gone at that point in your head canon?

Pirate-Owl: Killian was nine or ten when Brennan sold them. At least in my headcanon.

Gusenitsaa: Right.... the actors age thing is screwing me up again because lil' liam is definitely not 16-17

Pirate-Owl: It can go as low as maybe seven or eight if I really want an age gap. But yeah, Liam I usually headcanon as maybe five years older than Killian, and that is at the upper limit of the age gap.

Gusenitsaa: Well I guess it depends on that.  If brennan had been gone for three years before this happened I kinda doubt liam managed to avoid a complex for so long.  But if this is fairly soon after brennan left its definitely the kind of mess that could traumatize him into the obsessed-with-protecting-the-little-one mess we know and love

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. If this is soon, then it could totally be where Liam got his complex. But I think he managed to avoid a complex for like a week before he was that lovable traumatized mess.

Gusenitsaa: And we know I do love the head canon that it wasn't just a gradual transition.  I do love the idea of " Something " happening that triggered him to suddenly realign every priority the way he does

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. I think it makes more sense. I mean you could make a convincing argument for Brennan selling them being the Something, but honestly it's more interesting fun in line with what little we know about him before and after if there was some other specific catalyst that prompted it

Gusenitsaa: yeah almost watching your 10 year old brother die because you weren't careful covering your tracks knicking the supplies you need

Pirate-Owl: That does seem like a fairly extreme Something.

Gusenitsaa: course its worse if it wasn't actually about rum as a disinfectant and it was a teenaged liam's half a second of being a normal teenage boy.....

Pirate-Owl: :’( Which is why he never lets himself be a normal teenage boy ever again.   :’( :’( :’( 

Gusenitsaa: Like 15 yo Liam: does something that like 90% of teenagers have done at some point  *almost gets his little brother killed * Well.... I guess I'll just never ever be a kid ever again.  cool. cool.

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. Sounds exactly like Liam.

Gusenitsaa:

It hadn’t even been enough to get him tipsy.

It was a feeble protest and one that he was smart enough to keep locked behind his lips when the captain confronted him about the swallow of rum that he shouldn’t have possibly been able to notice was missing from the captain’s bottle and maybe he didn’t know -maybe he just guessed- Liam’s mind was scrambling. It was a stupid, foolish impulse.  A reckless and useless act of rebellion against a situation he couldn’t escape and  he’d regretted it practically as soon as the liquid burned its way passed his lips.  That was two days ago now and he’d thought it had gone unnoticed.

Until now.

The captain looked like he’d had more than a swallow or two by the time he confronted Liam, cornering him below where he’d been helping Killian to stack crates.  He thought at first he was going to be yelled at for assisting his little brother… again… but it was nonsense.  Killian, all of ten years old last week he shoved the bitterness down further and closed that trunk hard  He was too little to lift the crates, and couldn’t reach high enough to tie them securely in place.  Liam had wondered more than once if giving this job to a nine ten year old was more about giving him an excuse to ‘correct’ the boy later than it was about actually wanting the hold ‘organized.’

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’( :’( 

Gusenitsaa:

Regardless, the captain seemed not even to notice Killian, who shrank back behind a crate instinctively when he came bellowing down.  Liam shot his brother a look that he hoped communicated do. not. move. and glanced into the enraged and drunken eyes of their owner captain.  

If he admitted it, he was dead.

Stealing from the captain didn't have degrees on this ship so Liam adopted an apologetic submissive expression...  then lied through his teeth.  "I never would, captain, I swear it.'

The captain was unimpressed,  pressing closer until Liam could smell the rum.  It smelled far fouler now on his captain’s breath than it had tasted.

“You’re worthless-“ the captain sneered.  “Don’t know why I keep either of you brats.” 

Liam shoved the indignation down and kept his tone calm and deferring. “We work hard, Cap’n.” 

“Just another damned mouth to feed.  It’s no wonder your father left you behind.  I should have kept the boat.” 

Yes, you should have.

He kept his eyes locked in the captain’s direction,  trying to suppress the urge to glance at Killian to see his reaction. Even at barely ten years old he gave Liam's temper a run for its money.  Twice the fire and half the will to keep it reigned in, all in a tiny package barely tall enough to reach the top of one of these crates .

Apologize first.  Avert the captain’s rage first.  Hate him later.  Survive first,  think later.

“I’m sorry you think so, cap’n-“

The captain sneered and didn’t let him finish,  charging forward before Liam had time to blink.  He sees a flash of silver and he froze,  unable to think,  unable to decide… can’t fight back,  it’ll get them killed, can’t run away there’s no where to run.

And then every alarm bell in his 15 year old brain went off at once because his little spitfire-of-a-brother had darted out from behind the crate faster than lightening.

“No, K-“  It was too late.  Killian barreled between Liam and his captain.  A quiet hiss of breath and the captain stumbled back.  Rage and confusion balanced precariously for a moment that something had come between him and his target.  Then the man grinned and Liam’s stomach sank.  He reached for Killian,  tugging him behind him an eternity too late as the captain laughed. 

There was blood on his hands.  It took Liam a moment to realize that it was on his own hands too.

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’( :’( 

Gusenitsaa:

He took his eyes off his laughing captain to where he held Killian pressed to his side with one arm.  Killian looked a little sick and his hands were pressed tight to his stomach, bright red blood seeping between his fingers.

No.

Liam turned fully to Killian as he sagged, the words of the captain entirely irrelevant now.  He thought he’d heard something about ‘a lesson’ but he just didn’t care enough to turn back.  Apparently the captain decided that he’d done enough because a blade didn’t slide between his ribs while he sank to the ground with Killian.

“Killian what the devil were you thinking?” he hissed. Killian grinned up at him. It was more grimace than grin, admittedly, but Liam saw the defiant spark in his little brother’s eye and shook his head, hands hesitating for only a moment before pulling off his tunic to press it against the wound.  He wished he had something better,  something cleaner,  but there was nothing in this room save boxes and ropes and Killian’s smirk had fallen,  replaced with a groan as Liam pressed down on it.

“That’s what you get, you-”  He trailed off,  Some poorly thought through chastisement on the tip of his tongue but his mouth dried up on the word ‘bloody.’  “Killian, look at me.”Killian’s eyes slanted open and Liam nodded.  “Good. It’s not bad, all right?  You’re going to fine.  I’m going to take care of you.”

Pirate-Owl: (Do at least try to remember that Killian has to survive to tell the story of the scar later)

Gusenitsaa: plot twist,  it wasn't liam's first deal with a devil.  except even I'm not awful enough to kill a fictional ten year old

Pirate-Owl: It's always good to know what your limit is. Stabbing a fictional ten year old is acceptable but killing one isn't.

Gusenitsaa: technically distant rose stabbed him

Pirate-Owl : She didn't run with it!

Gusenitsaa: I'm just leveraging it to break a 15 year old utterly...

Pirate-Owl: *sideeyes*

Gusenitsaa:

“Killian, look at me.”  Killian’s eyes slanted open and Liam nodded.  “Good. It’s not bad, all right?  You’re going to fine.  I’m going to take care of you.” 

“I know,” came the breathy response. The words hurt.  Gods they hurt more than anything Killian could have said in that moment.  Killian trusted him.  Trusted him completely and this was all his fault…(though I suspect later brennan will get his share of the blame)

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’( :’(

Gusenitsaa: 

He thought that quiet assurance had hurt more than anything else could.  He was wrong.  One moment Killian's gaze had been steady and assured then something in Liam's face must have faltered and Killian's face fell with it, a hint of a scared ten year old peaking through the cracks.

"It's alright," Liam reassured quietly, fighting to keep the uncertainty from his voice and his hands steady.  He desperately wanted to lift the fabric slightly,  but he was afraid to remove the makeshift bandage which already seemed to be doing so little to slow the flow of blood.  He pulled a small knife in a leather sheath from his pocket.  It didn't belong to him,  was just granted to him for the job of cutting the ropes."Bite down on this," Liam said quietly, and Killian obliged, all too familiar with this dance.  Liam folded the messy layers of his now scarlet tunic on top of each other to thicken the bandage and pressed down hard.  "Sorry, little brother," he muttered under his breath when Killian went stiff, a small whimper all the noise he permitted himself.  He was too young.  Too young to know how to do that.  

Liam cursed Brennan again.

The blood chilled on Liam's hands and Killian shivered.  He was pale and looked a little glassy eyed but he held Liam's gaze for a moment.  Liam tugged him closer, risking taking one hand from the wound to pull Killian into his lap.  Killian rested his head against Liam,  looking sleepy and befuddled, as though he'd just woken up from a long nap.  He should be in a warm bed with a doctor to care for him.  He shouldn't be here at all.

Pirate-Owl: :’(

Gusenitsaa:

The sheath fell from Killian's mouth as his head dropped heavier against his brother,  dragged under by a tide of exhaustion and blood loss.  The blade landed with a thump on the wood next to them, and Liam's rising panic was calmed slightly by Killian meeting his eyes.  "Just resting" Killian said weakly.   Liam's eyes slipped to the knife next to them.  It was a little thing,  barely long enough for the job he was expected to do with it.

Long enough to rip out the captain's throat.

The thought came to him in a surprising calmness.  It wasn't threat or despair. He just knew, in that moment, that if Killian didn't survive neither would the captain.It was little comfort.

(It is a truth universally acknowledged that in every universe... liam is one bad day away from murder.  Apparently even at 15)

Pirate-Owl: (Does it really count as murder if he is killing the man who owns him?)

Gusenitsaa: justifiable homicide is probably not a thing that exists in this contexts though it probably should

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. I don't think the crew would care why.

Gusenitsaa:

Killian's shivering was growing worse by the moment,   and Liam tugged him closer,  wondering if he dared move Killian yet.  There wasn't much in terms of blankets aboard, but this time of year there was little competition for them,  the room felt warm to Liam even as Killian trembled.   Killian had always been the little one, and now, fighting for every crust, Liam supposed he always would be.  He could move Killian, yes,  but it would mean taking the pressure off his wound.  Was it a good trade for the chance to get him wrapped up in some blankets and ease the trembling? He took Killian's hand and his little brother opened one eye.  "Can you hold it?" he asked quietly.

Killian nodded instantly,  agreeing probably before he’d had the chance to think about it.  Liam waited a moment to see if he would change his mind.  Killian’s hand replaced Liam’s and Liam scooped Killian up quickly, making for the crews quarters.

It was a risk.  There were some among the crew who would use this weakness to their advantage, but Liam had a blade in his pocket and he couldn’t hide Killian in the hold forever.  He needed water and blankets and a real doctor.

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’(

Gusenitsaa: 

This crew had no real doctor.  They had a surgeon.  A man who was more accurately described as a butcher than a doctor.  Good for little more than wrapping up wounds and chopping off limbs.  Liam shuddered slightly at the thought.  He could find the blankets and water at least.

He settled Killian in the bunk they shared.  It was a tiny thing,  though that rarely bothered them.  It was unusual for them to share a shift off, in fact it only ever happened when one of them was injured badly enough that the captain was forced to give them a few hours of unscheduled relief or risk the loss of a pair of working hands and then it was a relief to have the other close enough to watch their back. Today was no exception.  Liam hesitated, once Killian was settled,  the prospect of leaving him alone unnerving.  He fished the tiny knife from his pocket and pressed it into Killian's grip.  

"I'll be back as soon as I can."  Killian had done well,  jaw tight, but letting no sound of weakness escape him as Liam carried him into the crew's quarters.  Now he whimpered slightly and Liam tousled his hair.  "Count to 100 little brother,  and I'll be back."

Killian nodded and Liam could see his lips moving, the  count beginning under his breath.  Liam did the same,  moving from the side of the cot in search of water and blankets.  4...5...6... 

The warmth of the season meant sheets were available, fortunately,  though stashed in various nooks and crannies.  When he found them they were musty from the hold but thankfully dry.  40... 41... 42...  He shook them out and threw several over a shoulder.  Water was both easier and harder, depending on who watched the barrel today.  56... 57... 58... Liam was relieved to see one of the younger crewman there.  He had no taste for generosity or for malace, which was about as good as he could hope for.  Liam offered both Killian's flask and his own to the man for their daily water ration and he filled it without objection.  It was very nearly the only thing that had gone right today. 

He returned to Killian's side before he reached 90 and Killian gave him a relieved smile.  Liam helped him sit up and Liam cut a strip from one of the cleaner sheets to serve as a bandage.  Liam tied it overtop of his now scarlet tunic,  still too afraid to risk moving it yet.  He pulled out Killian's flask and offered it to him.  "Slowly,"  he warned.  They were not becalmed and water rations were reasonable at the moment but they didn't have enough to risk Killian being sick even with Liam’s own flask full as well. Killian sipped at the flask and Liam helped him lay down again with a grimace, tucking the sheets in around Killian tightly.  His motions were quick and efficient and he barely realized how little he'd spoken to Killian since this all started until Killian's small voice jerked him out of his head.  

"Are you angry with me, Liam?"

"No." Liam replied instantly, without thinking, and then he glanced sideways at Killian. Sod it.  "Yes.  Yes, I am you idiot you could have been killed."

"He was going to hurt you. You'd have done it for me."

"That's different," Liam snapped, not bothering to explain.  "Promise me you'll never do that again."  

Killian shook his head and Liam stared bewildered.  

"I mean it Killian,  promise" Pirate-Owl: I feel like sobbing emojis are redundant... and yet...

Gusenitsaa: 

Killian shook his head again and Liam cursed his stupid stubborn git-of-a-brother who was so determined to drive him mad.  He was ten.  Ten years old and already more stubborn than a mule.  He was just a kid,  and yet somehow inexplicably felt it was a reasonable thing to refuse to promise not to step in front of a knife again.

Liam wanted to shake him.  To order him, to beg him to make that promise but he could see the futility of it in Killian's eyes.  He sighed instead.  Killian was still trembling and Liam shifted,  helping Killian to move  a bit towards the wall so he could lay along the edge of the cot, between Killian and the rest of the crew's quarters.

Between Killian and the world.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

There are a lot of people running for president. That record-breaking field has made it hard to compare the candidates ideologically — overall and on individual issues.

The catch-all, macro metrics we usually rely on — the FiveThirtyEight trump score and DW-Nominate, for example — don’t work that well for the 2020 field. Those measures rely on congressional roll-call votes, and some of the candidates have never served in Congress (Pete Buttigieg and Andrew Yang, for example) or have not done so recently (Joe Biden and Jay Inslee). Also, some of the issues that the candidates are addressing on the trail, such as legalizing marijuana, haven’t really come up that much on Capitol Hill for votes, so those aren’t represented in the macro scores.

Another option for assessing the field is to go micro and look at each candidate’s current position on each issue. But that has problems, too. The 2020 Democratic primary has turned into something of a wonk-off — the candidates are releasing a seemingly endless string of policy papers. But these plans don’t necessarily tell you that much. You really need to be well-versed in a specific issue to suss out if a proposal is new — as opposed to merely what the Obama administration was already doing and any Democrat would do if elected — or different from another candidate’s positions.

So in the next few months, we’re going to try to bring a little clarity to the 2020 policy debates. The plan: ask every campaign a set of yes-or-no policy questions within a larger issue. To start, we asked the 23 most prominent Democratic presidential campaigns six questions about criminal justice policy.1 The goal here is to reveal not only what the candidates might do if elected president, but also how that differs from the rest of the field — hence the decision to use yes-no questions, which will allow us (and you) to compare the candidates systematically.

How’d we choose the questions? There’s no formula for coming up with a manageable set of questions that adequately represent criminal justice (or any other issue). We picked policy issues that are already prominent in the news, as well as cribbing from the criminal justice platform of the Brennan Center for Justice, a left-leaning policy organization that has worked on these issues with both Democratic and Republican officials. We intentionally looked for questions that might illustrate differences between the candidates. For example, we assume that the field generally is in favor of steps to limit the number of people fined or sent to jail for marijuana use — basically all Democratic elected officials have that stance, as do many Republicans. Instead, we asked the candidates whether they support full legalization of marijuana, which lets us know which candidates want to go a step beyond the most politically safe position and which do not.

Here’s what we found:

Some takeaways:

The field is way to the left of where the Democratic Party used to be on criminal justice issues

We got responses from 15 candidates. Twelve of the 15 answered “yes” to at least four of the questions, indicating fairly liberal stands on criminal justice issues. In fact, 10 of the 15 support a criminal justice platform that I think would have been inconceivable even a decade ago for a presidential candidate who was actually trying to win (as opposed to running a more symbolic campaign). Those 10 all support abolishing the death penalty at the state and federal levels, legalizing marijuana at the state and federal levels, allowing people who are incarcerated to receive Pell Grants so that they can enroll in higher-education courses, and eliminating cash bail at all levels of government.

Two other candidates embraced at least four of the six ideas but with a slightly different mix. Tim Ryan doesn’t fully support getting rid of the death penalty; his campaign said he thinks there should be an exception for terrorists. But he favors an idea that some of the other candidates were hesitant to embrace: removing the Office of the Pardon Attorney from the Justice Department. (The Brennan Center argues that the department is run by prosecutors who may have an incentive to preserve conviction rates, creating potential conflicts of interest when it comes to issuing pardons. The center favors creating an independent board or commission that is outside the purview of the department to advise the president on pardons and commutations.) Inslee, meanwhile, also supports limiting the Justice Department’s role in pardons and commutations, but his aides did not give a clear “yes” or “no” to our question about cash bail.

It’s important to note that the candidates aligned with the Democrats’ most liberal wings (Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, for example) are not the only ones taking these stances. Cory Booker, Beto O’Rourke, Buttigieg and Ryan, who are all arguably more associated with the center-left of the party, were among the 12 taking clearly progressive stands on these issues.

Another bloc of Democrats is more centrist

Not everyone was aligned on these issues, however. Michael Bennet, John Delaney and Amy Klobuchar were generally more cautious. That’s not too surprising — they seem to be positioning themselves as the more centrist candidates in this primary field.

These candidates do not reject the party’s shift left on criminal justice issues but didn’t go as far as many of the others in their responses. Delaney, for example, suggested that he supported legalization of marijuana at the federal level but said that states should be able to make their own decision. (Of course, it’s possible that if we had asked different criminal justice-related questions, the candidates might line up differently.)

The field is mostly resistant to giving people who are incarcerated the ability to vote

Whether people who are incarcerated should be able to vote became an issue in the Democratic presidential contest a few months ago after Sanders answered a question at a town hall by saying that people shouldn’t lose their right to vote when they go to prison. In the aftermath, it became clear that many of the 2020 candidates were wary of that position. Of the 15 candidates who responded to our questions, only Sanders and long-shot hopeful Mike Gravel responded “yes” when asked if they supported “allowing at least some of those currently incarcerated to vote.” (Among the other candidates, O’Rourke came the closest to a “yes” — his campaign told us that he believes we should “rethink” the right to vote for “at least some” nonviolent offenders who are incarcerated.)

The other candidates generally emphasized that they supported the more traditional Democratic position: allowing felons to vote after they have served their sentences.

We aren’t sure about a lot of the candidates, most notably Joe Biden

We didn’t get responses from eight of the 23 Democratic campaigns we reached out to. That may be because they have a lot going on,2 or maybe they weren’t ready to answer the questions at that time. A Biden campaign aide suggested recently that the former vice president and his team want to announce policy proposals on their own schedule, not in response to journalists’ questions. Biden’s team has, at times, not been responsive to lists of questions from other news outlets too.

And nonresponse doesn’t necessarily indicate anything broader about a candidate’s commitment to addressing criminal justice issues. For example, Julian Castro’s campaign did not respond to our questions, but he recently released a proposal to change practices of police departments around the country, with the goal of preventing killings of unarmed people of color by police officers.

But Biden’s nonresponse is notable — and not just because he is the front-runner in the race. In the 1980s and 1990s, when he was in the Senate, Biden was, at times, one of the leading voices of the “tough-on-crime” wing of the Democratic Party. Two decades later, he was part of an Obama administration that pushed the Democrats toward a less punitive approach to law enforcement. So the key question is probably not whether Biden is now broadly supportive of more lenient criminal justice policies (I suspect he is) but how supportive.

In the past, Biden has defended the death penalty and emphasized the dangers of marijuana use. He also was a leading figure in the passage of a 1994 anti-crime bill that included the provision that bars people who are incarcerated from getting Pell Grants. But recently he reversed a stance he’d long held — opposing the federal funding of abortions — because it was basically untenable for a 2020 Democratic presidential candidate. Will Biden adapt to his party’s leftward drift on criminal justice issues as well? Or will he try to resist it, since he is, in some ways, running as a more old-line Democrat anyway?

[hiramstolowitski]

my 42 favorite quotes from code bc i’m avoiding homework again

“‘I re-jiggered the settings to ignore trash metal. No more false alarms.’ ‘No more anything. It just beeps.’” (12)

“‘This game is popular?’ Ben was sitting on his tackle box in the shade of a large elm. ‘Sounds pretty nerdtastic to me.’ ‘We can’t all practice birdscalls like you.’” (18)

“‘This watch is low-rent. Plus, I’m getting a new one for my birthday. But you owe me, Stolowitski.’ ‘Owe you what?’ Hi said. ‘Who wears a wristwatch anymore? Cavemen?’” (22)

“‘Coop really doesn’t like that box.’ I knelt and rubbed the edgy wolfdog’s snout. ‘It better not be stuffed with dead squirrels or something.’ … ‘It’s not a rodent coffin!’ Hi huffed. ‘This cache is legit. You’ll see.’” (22-23)

“‘Don’t use up too much drive space,’ I warned, watching the screen from over his shoulder. ‘We bought this stuff to research parvovirus, not so you can watch “Boom Goes the Dynamite” twenty times a day.’” (53)

“Frustrated, Hi rose and wandered to the computer. ‘I’m going to check my email.’ ‘I’m going to kill myself,’ Ben muttered. Shelton ignored them.” (56)

“Soooo many dorks,’ Ben muttered, his coal-black eyebrows forming a steep V. ‘A giant nerd army, digging up plastic boxes they hide for each other.’ ‘Like everything you do is cool,’ Hi snorted. ‘Still have that ninja costume you wore to my twelfth birthday party?’” (62)

“‘Wait.’ Ben glanced from face to face. ‘We’re actually going to pursue this nonsense? We suddenly care what this fruitcake hid in a box somewhere?’” (65)

“‘We’ve got over an hour before dark.’ I yanked my hair into a ponytail. ‘Let’s show Mr. Gamemaster how quickly Virals solve puzzles.’ … ‘We’ve got to work on our decision-making process.’ Shelton was shaking his head. ‘Right now, we just follow Tory over every cliff.’” (74)

“Hi called into the black. ‘Your cache is mine, clown! I’m coming to getcha! Uncle Hiram’s got the scent!’ His words echoed in the darkness as he scrambled through the opening. ‘Zip it!’ Shelton hiss-whispered. ‘This building is struggling to hold your buck-sixty. Don’t yodel the roof down on our heads.’” (82-83)

“‘This is stupid.’ Shelton started toward the doorway. ‘Let’s bounce. We can toss that iPad in the freaking harbor.’” (90)

“‘Watch where you’re going,’ Ben snapped. ‘I am,’ Jason said dryly. ‘I’m going to chat with Tory.’” (100)

“‘Hey, check this weirdo out.’ Hi was inspecting a bust on the mantel. ‘This face is ninety percent eyebrow. What do you wanna bet he owned slaves?’ Scowling to match the carving’s expression, Hi spoke in a gravelly voice. ‘In my day, we ate the poor people. We had a giant outdoor grill, and cooked up peasant steaks every Sunday.’” (106-107)

“‘State your business.’ ‘To see my father.’ A beat. ‘That’s usually going to be my business, FYI.’” (112)

“Hudson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Dodgeball?’ ‘District champs.’ Hi pounded his chest. ‘I’m a gunner. The key is to reach the balls first, and then throw with a little touch of spin, so that—’” (113)

“Jason had attended debutante balls. Knew the drill. My crew would have to conduct research on YouTube. Jason was popular on the cotillion scene. My guys weren’t even on the radar. Asking Jason would get Whitney off my back. Inviting only Morris Island boys might plummet her into a depression.” (132)

“I wore a white tank and jeans, shooting for ‘sexy-casual.’ Hoping it wasn’t ‘left farmhouse, got lost.’” (170)

“‘It has to mean something!’ Hi slapped a knee in frustration. Shelton glanced up from his iPhone, but when Hi didn’t elaborate he resumed surfing. … ‘Care to elaborate?’ I was sitting between Hi and Shelton in the stern. ‘Or was that a yoga move I don’t know?’” (233)

“Hi looked at me strangely. ‘We’re a little busy Friday night.’ ‘Busy? Doing what?’ The boys exchanged a look. Hi snorted. ‘I don’t know about you,’ Shelton said, ‘but I’m escorting my friend Victoria to her debutante ball.’” (235)

“‘Your advice, remember? No fear?’ Instantly regretted. I didn’t want Chance thinking about last summer. ‘Oh, I recall.’ Chance smiled thinly. ‘I haven’t crashed on your floor so many times that I’d forget.’” (240)

“‘I found something interesting,’ Marchant continued. ‘Are you free to meet? I’m headed out for a caffeine fix in thirty minutes.’ Um, what? Did this guy not understand I was fourteen? Bolton wasn’t big on students popping out for midday lattes.” (245)

“‘Ben, stop the boat.’ He looked at me funny. ‘We’re in the middle of the ocean, Victoria.’ ‘Stop the damn boat!’ Ben rolled eyes, but eased off the throttle. Sewee decelerated until we just bobbed along with the current. ‘Did you want to jump in?’ Ben asked dryly. ‘Water’s pretty cold in October.’” (251-252)

“‘Okay, people.’ Ben crossed his arms. ‘Care to share?’ ‘No big deal.’ Shelton’s tone was nonchalant. ‘Just a quick stop at Mepkin Abbey to get a new headshot of Mr. Dead Guy.’” (260)

“‘Options?’ Ben asked as he pulled out onto the highway. ‘I think some charitable work might be in order,’ Hi said. ‘I’m not a Jesus man, but I’m pretty sure getting ripped a new one by a monk is bad karma in any religion.’” (264)

“‘Oh man, she really did it this time!’ ‘Should we call the nurse?’ Panicky. ‘An ambulance?’ ‘And say what, exactly?’ hissed a third. ‘That our friend passed out after some bad telepathy?’” (271)

“‘She’s coming around!’ The roundest shape coalesced into Hi. ‘Tor? You okay? If you’ve gone vegetable, blink at me.’” (271)

“My splitting headache had proved the experiment had been dangerous. Had I learned my lesson? Probably not.” (273)

“Hi, naturally, had opted for flair. His tux was crushed purple velvet with tails, accented by all white silk—tie, vest, gloves, and suspenders. He completed the outfit with a freaking top hat and cane. Whitney had nearly fainted on seeing him.” (279)

“‘Those who enlist complete a rigorous program combining academics, physical fitness, and military discipline.’ … ‘So—book learning, push-ups, and war games.’ Hi ticked off fingers as he spoke. ‘Check, check, and check. Plus gray is my sexy color.’” (279)

“‘Paging Miss Brennan.’ Chance waved a hand before my eyes. ‘You okay?’ No. ‘Yes. I’m just…surprised I’ll be first.’ ‘I’m sure you’ll dazzle. Until then.’” (286)

“‘Gamemaster?’ Jason looked confused. ‘Search the basement? What are you talking about?’ ‘Oh, we’re, um, playing a pretty fierce game of Dungeons and Dragons,’ Hi stammered. ‘I’m, like, the head…unicorn master, and Tory has to find my magic…beans. Seeds.’” (299)

“‘Always trapped!’ Shelton actually stamped a foot. ‘Always underground! If we get out of here, I’m moving to a high-rise on a mountain-top. Penthouse! And y’all ain’t invited!’” (304)

“‘I assume there’s no antique cash register in need of special oil?’ Jason said. No one bothered to answer.” (331)

“He launched into an improvised tale of woe and misfortune. We’d found ourselves in the dark. Flustered and disoriented, we’d blundered through an emergency exit. Then we’d tumbled down a staircase in a complicated domino sequence that incorporated each one of us. The story was bizarre, confusing, and wildly improbable. They’d bought it without hesitation.” (333)

“‘Yet you four ripped the grate from its tracks. Then you ripped the tracks from the wall, bending the metal bars like they were drinking straws. How? How is that possible?’ ‘I read once where this guy in Ulan Bator powerlifted a Chinese tank after—’ ‘Can it, Stolowitski. Let Tory explain.’” (335)

“‘You look ready to chew nails.’ Shelton grinned at me from his own stoop. ‘There’s a certain murderer I’d like to chat with.’” (340)

“‘You okay, Tor?’ Shelton had a sandbag on one shoulder, hauled up from the beach. ‘We don’t have time for an ER run.’ ‘We could amputate,’ Hi suggested. ‘Shelton, get the whiskey.’” (342)

“‘I called Marchant’s office and left a message. Less than a minute later, my cell rang and March—’ I gritted my teeth, ‘—the Gamemaster asked me to meet him at City Lights Coffee. So I did.’ ‘So dumb,’ Hi muttered. ‘And it really was a murderer.’” (350)

“‘And you know this how?’ … ‘I dreamed it.’ ‘Aha! You dreamed it.’ Hi yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘I think it’s time we get you medicated.’” (352)

“I turned on Ben and Hi. ‘What about you two? Ready to bail? There’s a deranged psycho out there who knows what your mothers eat for breakfast. That cool with you?’” (353)

“‘Any plan for that bit?’ Shelton asked dully. ‘You keep glossing over how we’re actually gonna make the citizen’s arrest.’ ‘Of course.’ I chucked his shoulder. ‘We’ll improvise.’ ‘Great. Well thought out.’” (362)

“‘You’re a hot, steaming ball of crazy,’ Hi said. ‘You know that, right? Freaking Looney Tunes.’” (373)

[rebaobsessivelywrites]

The Profiler in the Therapist (ch 17)

You can find this entire fic here on AO3.

Fandom: Bones (TV) and Criminal Minds (TV)

Entire Fic Description:

Dr. Lance Sweets is no longer the innocent eager psychologist he was a little over a year and a half ago. His time as a prodigy profiler at the BAU was a blessing. His time in a serial killer's basement was not.

Now, scarred but healed, Sweets is 'retired' to calmer job in the FBI as a therapist. As he helps others, he helps himself. But... is it enough? What will he do when one of his most fascinating (unwilling) patients asks for help on a case? How will his new team take his past as his secrets slowly start to come out?

Entire Fic Warnings: cannon-typical violence, past torture, panic attacks, PTSD, serial killers

Chapter word count:  3,627

Chapter warnings: talk about serial killers/cannibalism, emotional turmoil, implied stalker behavior, extreme panic attack/flashback, cliffhanger

Summary: Gormogon is caught and Sweets gets a package.

Please read the fic! First chapter, previous chapter, next chapter, master list. And let me know if you want to be tagged.

Following Brennan’s revelation, nothing really changed. Sweets was quick to determine he would be of little help in the search of the bone room and Reid must have reached a similar conclusion because they both retreated to their piles of files. Booth joined them briefly, but before long he got a call and disappeared, leaving the profilers to their work. Lance lost track of time, but at some point Emily rejoined them, announcing the lead she had been following as a spectacular dead end.

Together the three profilers swept through the gathered information and refined as many details on both Gormogon and his apprentice as they could, before turning to the suspect lists Garcia had compiled for them. The profiles were not nearly as refined as they’d like, but the image was clear. Now all they had to do was find a match.

It was easier said than done.

They were collectively about halfway through the lists when Dr. Brennan came sweeping into her office. She had a deep frown on her face, visibly upset—the most upset that Sweets had ever witnessed, save for when Booth was shot. The average person might mistake her expression for one of deep thought, but Lance knew Brennan well enough by now to know the difference.  Prentiss attempted to speak with her, but the anthropologist didn’t even acknowledge the profilers’ existence, simply digging through her desk until she found the file she was looking for and sweeping back out into the lab and—by the looks of it—onto the platform.

Baffled, the three continued to work through the suspect list, narrowing down the potential culprits, but their attention was divided now, watching the anthropologist hunched over a work station. (Well, Reid wasn’t distracted—very little ever distracted him—so it was just Sweets and Prentiss observing the distressed scientist.) A few minutes later, Cam and Ms. Julian approached her and were rapidly brushed off as Brennan abandoned one work station for another. The two women glanced at each other in blatant confusion but left the genius to her own devices.

Sweets was now openly staring, Emily at his side, and Cam caught their looks as she descended from the platform. After a brief moment of hesitation, she altered her course of direction and gave them a strained smile through the glass window as she approached.

“Hey, Cam,” Prentiss greeted as the exhausted medical examiner poked her head through the door, “Is everything alright?”

“We found the lobbyist in bone storage,” she sighed, “which is something.”

Reid’s head snapped up from his work. “Is it confirmed?” he asked curiously.

Cam nodded, “DNA matches.”

“Is Dr. Brennan alright?” Lance asked, worry churning low in his gut.

“I don’t know. She rushed back up here to look at something, and now she’s saying Zack was wrong about the marks on the mandible—that they’re not from artificial dentures,” she gave a slight wince, glancing over her shoulder at the scientist, “She seems really upset about it.”

Prentiss gave both the Cam and the anthropologist visible over her shoulder a sympathetic look, “Everyone makes mistakes.”

Cam nodded and shrugged, “Yeah, but Zack? That’s not common.”

Lance swallowed hard at the truth in that statement, the feeling of unease seeming to grow in his chest. It can’t be…. Can it? What if it wasn’t a mistake? If Zack had falsified evidence, if he had lied…

After a moment of strained silence, Cam seemed to shake herself and gave the group a smile, “Anyway, speaking of Zack, I need to get over to the hospital; we need Hodgins back here looking for trace evidence. I’ll see you later.”

The profilers said goodbye and gave her their regards for Zack, but once the coroner disappeared silence descended once again. None of them returned to their suspect lists either, they just sat there, eyebrows furrowed in thought, staring at each other.

“Young, impressionable, intelligent,” Emily broke the silence first.

Spencer met her eyes, “Works at the Jeffersonian, with access to secure areas and information on the investigation; has the sufficient knowledge to not only be aware of a pertinent experiment, but to also tamper with said experiment in order to cause an explosion.”

“Zack,” Sweets whispered, horrified his friends had come to the same conclusion he had.

Wordlessly, Emily fished out her phone and pressed a button, filling the room with ringing. A moment later it clicked, and a familiar voice filtered through the line, “You’ve reached the Queen of All Knowledge! Speak, my subjects.”

“Hey, Garcia,” a slight smile crept onto Prentiss’ face, “You’ve been cross-referencing our lead suspects for connections, right?”

“I have, indeed!” the peppy analyst declared, “I’ve got nothing for you, yet, I’m afraid to say.”

Reid leant forward, “We need you to focus on a new lead.”

“You have my attention, 187.”

The genius profiler was about to continue, but Lance cut in, “Dr. Zack Addy.”

“Wait,” Penelope started, “Isn’t that the kid who got blown up?”

Sweets swallowed around the tightness in his chest, “Yes.”

“Oh, no,” she murmured, “You don’t think—”

“We may have eliminated him preemptively,” Reid interrupted, “Dr. Brennan appears to believe he purposefully reported incorrect evidence.”

Almost unconscious of what he was doing, Sweets glanced over his shoulder at the anthropologist in question. She was still on the platform, a deep frown set into her face as she peered at…whatever she was examining. It was not an encouraging look.

“We might be wrong,” Prentiss placed a hand on his shoulder as she continued, squeezing reassuringly and redirecting his attention back to the conversation. She turned back to the phone, “But until we find a better hit against our profiles, he’s out best bet. Garcia, we need you see if he has any connections with residents in Gormogon’s suspected neighborhood—except Dr. Hodgins, that is.”

“I hate to say it, but what if it is…” the tech analyst almost whispered across the line.

Lance shook his head vehemently even though she couldn’t see him, “He doesn’t fit the profile, and even if he did, he and Zack couldn’t both be our unsubs; they were at the explosion together.”

“Ok, fair point, Lancelot,” she murmured, sounding a little relieved.

“The connection will be something obscure, so you’ll have to dig deep,” Reid warned.

Garcia scoffed, “You called the Queen of All Knowledge, my dear genius, didn’t you?”

Spencer let out a snort and rolled his eyes good naturedly. Despite the situation, even Lance couldn’t help smiling at the familiar banter.

“Just let us know when you get something, ok?” Prentiss chuckled, picking up her phone again.

“Sure thing!” she announced, “Garcia out!”

The line clicked dead, leaving them in tense silence once again. It didn’t last long, however; this time it was broken by Brennan sweeping into the office again, advancing on her computer like a SWAT assault team—fast, efficient, and more than a little intimidating.

“Dr. Brennan?” Emily ventured hesitantly, much like the last time the anthropologist swept through the room, “Did you discover something about the mandible that Zack missed?”

Brennan glanced up sharply from her computer and stared at the group, blinking a few times as though she was just now registering that they were still working in her office. After that split second her face twisted in the slightly scornful way it always did around profilers, and she gave Prentiss a once-over. Whatever she saw, however, had the instinctive fight draining from her eyes and her expression returned to the strained one she had been wearing. “He didn’t miss anything,” she almost snapped, ire directed at the file on her desk.

Sweets’ stomach plummeted.

“What do you mean?” Prentiss prodded carefully.

Brennan restlessly jumped out of her chair and began pacing. “There’s no way he could have missed it. Any first year would have seen it!” she gestured emphatically at the file.

“What,” Lance swallowed hard, “What did he lie about?”

“The dentures,” she muttered almost glaring at the incriminating evidence, “were not artificial. They were made from real teeth.” She looked up, meeting his eyes, “Real, human canines.”

Lance heard a sharp inhale from Emily, accurately mirroring his own shock and unease.

“Only canines?” Spencer prompted.

“Yes,” she confirmed simply, moving around her desk to show him the evidence.

Reid accepted the proffered file and frowned in thought, “That may be a symbolic choice, referencing a carnivorous animal such as a wolf or—”

“There’s a wolf on the tapestry in the Gormogon vault,” Brennan interrupted, “Certain ancient sects revere the wolf as a symbol of freedom, representative of the forces that will deliver us from persecution.”

The profiler nodded in agreement, “Yes. The wolf also represents physical strength, intelligence, and loyalty. Perhaps Gormogon believes himself to personify these characteristics and designed his dentures accordingly.”

Emily nodded, eyebrows furrowing, “He is loyal to his cause of ‘setting the world free’ of secret societies, and evading of one of the best investigative teams in the country would certainly inflate his ego.”

Brennan gave them both strange looks, but for once she didn’t protest.

“Whose ego?” a voice from the door instantly redirected everyone’s attention. They found Booth giving them a smile as he walked over to join the profilers on the couch.

“Gormogon’s,” Sweets provided helpfully.

“That makes sense,” he chuckled, before looking up at Brennan, “You getting into profiling, Bones?”

The horrified look the anthropologist gave her partner was priceless.

The agent didn’t give her a chance to respond though, his face turning more serious, “I heard Zack was wrong about the dentures.”

“No,” she shook her head, indignation wiped away just as quickly, “He lied.”

He blinked at her, “What?”

Reid lent across the coffee table to offer the agent the file full of evidence, “The dentures were made entirely of human canine teeth.”

“What?” he stared at the profiler, making no move to accept the file.

“Someone removed the canines from a variety of skulls in limbo and used them to make Gormogon’s dentures,” Brennan explained simply.

“And Zack—” the agent looked up at his partner with dawning horror.

After a moment of silence, Sweets shifted in his seat and whispered the rest of Booth’s thought, “Lied.”

“He did it, Booth,” Brennan stated, “Zack made the dentures.”

“He has complete access to the lab. He arranged the explosion himself,” Booth looked as unsettled as Lance felt.

“Zack is the apprentice,” Prentiss agreed.

Booth stood, “We need to go to the hospital.”

Brennan nodded in agreement, moving to collect her things.

“Wait,” Reid cut in, ruffling though the papers on the small table, pulling their work together. “Here,” he held out a small stack, “This is our most recent profile on both unsubs; it might help. We have Garcia looking for connections between Zack and any of the Gormogon suspects, but it’s unlikely she’ll find anything before you get the information from Zack.”

Booth accepted the stack with a strained smile, “Thanks.” He glanced at Sweets and Prentiss, “All of you.”

They returned the smile and watched as he turned on his heel and hurried after his partner. Once again, the room descended into tense silence, leaving the three profilers staring at each other in unease.

Sweets let out a shaky sigh and buried his face in his hands. This was not how he had expected his day to go.

---

The hours following the revelation of Zack’s lie were filled with worry. Sweets was worried that they had made a mistake and Zack wasn’t the apprentice, worried that they weren’t and he was, worried he wouldn’t know how to find Gormogon— or if he did, worried for the safety of those sent to take the insane cannibal in. Once they got word that Booth was in route to Gormogon’s house, according to Zack’s instructions, Sweets was terrified for the agent and inexplicably guilty that Zack was the apprentice… which was insane because he had exactly no control over such a thing.

He spent the time between updates pacing a hole into the floor on the catwalk above the lab, Prentiss and Reid looking on with concern. His thoughts swirled chaotically alongside his emotions and he did his best to focus on where he was stepping instead. He was wholly invested in how this investigation turned out, not just as a profiler but as… as a friend. It was a terrifying feeling; he had no idea what to do. The Jeffersonian team was going to be irrevocably changed no matter what and there was nothing he could do to help. He was helpless. Useless.

Booth called; Gormogon was dead. Ms. Julian called; Zack had been arrested, pleading guilty… and was being found non compos mentis. Part of Sweets was relieved about how everything had turned out, but he was also confused. Zack was not insane. He could see why such a verdict would be more appealing to everyone involved… but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. (He wasn’t sure, however, if it was born from Zack “evading justice” or simply from how it all made absolutely no sense.)

Not long after the final update, the team returned to the lab. Spencer stayed long enough to wish them well, but he disappeared quickly. Emily followed soon after, fading into the background after receiving a call. Lance himself, however, was wordlessly pulled into the group huddled around the table as they poured over Zack’s keepsakes and mourned the loss of a friend. The therapist hadn’t known the doctor well, but even he mourned the loss of the relationship he never had a chance to build with a brilliant young man. It was hard to believe that Zack —geeky, awkward, kind Zack— had killed someone. That he had stabbed a man in the heart. But… there was no way any of them could deny it. Not with his blatant testimony of guilt.

The whole ordeal was emotionally exhausting, down to the last moment spent with the Jeffersonian team. By the time Brennan fled, followed closely by Booth, presenting an opportunity to exit, Lance was thankful to finally leave the group to their grief and head home.

Emily walked silently with him to the car, understanding in her brilliant intuitive way that he was overwhelmed. The rush of traffic outside the car was the only sound on the car ride home, relaxing Lance and allowing everything he had been feeling—the emotional roller coaster of the past six hours—to dissipate, leaving him numb. Emily broke the silence only once, as they trekked up the stairs to his apartment, squeezing his shoulder and whispering a few words of encouragement in his ear. By the he stepped through his front door, he was simply bone tired. Not sad, not relieved, not guilty. Just…tired.

All he wanted to do now was stumble into his bedroom and fall asleep, but the universe had other ideas. As he was dragging himself through the living room, he spotted a package on the coffee table and stopped dead in his tracks. When did that get there?

Behind him, he heard the deadbolt slide into place and Emily set her bag down with a whump. As she came up beside him, he was leaning over the nondescript cardboard box, reading the equally average label. It was addressed to him, with his full name, the return address listing some company in Montana.

“Oh, right. I forgot about that,” Emily huffed a sigh, “It was delivered… yesterday? Or the day before, I think. I picked it up from the front office earlier today. They were getting pissy about it not getting claimed,” she sounded distinctly annoyed by that, and Sweets could definitely relate; there had been more important things on their minds.

But that still begged the question… what the hell was it? Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, Lance carefully reached out and picked it up. It was… surprisingly light, considering its size—it was a perfect cube as wide as his chest. Sweets felt his eyebrows knit together and a faint headache begin to build behind his eyes. He did not need this mystery. Not after Gormogon and Zack’s arrest. Why now? he couldn’t help but lament, Of all times, why now?

“Any idea what it is?” Emily spoke from where she leant curiously over his shoulder.

“No,” he muttered back, preoccupied (and still utterly exhausted, moving through a fugue), before wandering into the kitchen to find a scissor.

Something in his voice or mannerism must have tipped the profiler off because she followed him like a concerned shadow, a frown marring her own face.

Lance only had to dig through his cluttered ‘junk’ drawer for a few seconds before uncovering a battered pair of scissors and returning his attention to the package. He ran the blade over the taped seams of the box, freeing it in three deft strokes. Still frowning, he lifted each flap with care, revealing a mass of bubble wrap and releasing a strange wave of odor that was familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place. It was mostly plastic, yes, which was to be expected, but there was something else too. After a moment of hesitation, he reached into the box and began to part the layers of bubble wrap with care. With each layer pushed aside, Lance could smell the familiar something more and more. It was… leathery. And sort of musty, in an unpleasant sort of way. And then… there was something else. Something… metallic?

Iron.

There was something very wrong with this, he knew it with every fiber of his being, but he was too… committed to stop now.

Wait, no. It was more like… watching himself move without prompting. It was like the bit of his consciousness that was him was trapped somewhere deep in his mind, watching his body move autonomously, screaming, pounding against an invisible wall… begging himself to stop.

He knew what was happening. He knew who the package was from. He knew he should stop. He knew that whatever lurked in the depths of the box was horrible. But he simply kept moving, shaking hands seeking out the edge of each plastic sheet.

Faintly, he was aware of a pressure building in his chest, a lack of air passing through his nose, a concerned and welcomingly warm hand squeezing his shoulder, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the sight before him. He couldn’t blink, couldn’t twitch, couldn’t stop, as his hands shakily drew aside the final layer to reveal…

No. No.

It couldn’t be. It just… couldn’t.

Lance stumbled away from the box, eyes unfocused, unseeing, until his back slammed against somethi—no, against the opposite counter. A black blob some part of him recognized as Emily moved through his field of vision, but it didn’t register. His ears were full of his pounding heart, and his mind was stalled like a scratched record, echoing over the sight imprinted on his eyes like the afterimages left from a blinding light.

Worn dark leather, stained darker at the top edge where—

They were soft and malleable but so very firm and unyielding, constricting and grounding and—

The frayed edges, battered by time and use, impatient fingers, desperate twisting arms—

The glint of metal buckles, spotted with dark red, the cold kiss brushing over his wrists when—

Staring at them, unseeing and numb, huddled in the corner, pressed against cool stone, as far away as he could get, hands clenched in rough fabric, ears straining for—

The jangle of metal, the scrape of wood, the slide of a blade against—

Mangled painful fingers clumsily tracing over firm wiry ridges lining the cracks scattered across his skin, aching with every—

The cool touch trailing down his chest, cutting him to the core with dread before the sharpened edge ever even—

Pain, blinding pain, throbbing through his foot and up his leg, cutting across his chest and shoulder, following every touch he—

A smooth hand, a chilling chuckle, a finger tracing down his cheek to his throat and—

Unforgiving hardness, under his back, under his head, rolling back and forth, slamming up and down, maybe he’ll knock himself out, maybe the pain will finally—

A hand lands on his shoulder, pressing down, and he stills instantly, frozen in fear of what he knows comes next…

Now, now, Lance.

The hand tightens on his shoulder.

You don’t want to pass out on me, do you?

No no nononono, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to pass out, he doesn’t want the pain that follows, he’ll do anything, anything—

He’s aware of the hardness rolling across his head and how that means he’s vigorously shaking it, but the hand on his shoulder is shaking him and that doesn’t fit the sickly smooth chuckle echoing through his ears and he’s not sure what to do…

“Breathe!” a desperate voice breaks through, “Lance, you’ve got to breathe, damn it!”

The plea opens the floodgates and cool biting air rushes through his throat and there’s burning in his eyes and the hand has moved to his wrist and is squeezing it and there’s nothing there and he doesn’t understand because he’s tied to the table and the pain is going to start again any minute and he’s just so… utterly tired.

He won’t be mad if he sleeps, will he?

He just can’t stay awake anymore.

Surely that would be different; it’s not like he’s knocking himself out.

He’s just so tired…and it’s too much.

It’s all too much.

The darkness floats along the edges of his vision and he struggles to keep his eyes open, staring in unfocused desperation at the bright light hovering over his face.

Just let him sleep.

Please, just let him sleep…

--

A/N:  Sorry? For those of you who are wondering, no Zack will not be disappearing. He will, however, not be appearing for some time now. But... now we get to really move into the Ghost plot line! I'm so excited!!! Please, let me know what you think :)

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

48 Hour Lockdown by Carla Cassidy

Tactical Crime Division #1

Sandhurst School for Gifted and Talented is a place underprivileged highly intelligent young people are gifted with scholarships. Analise Taylor is a teacher at the school when it is invaded and soon surrounded by police. She is with three students in one classroom unsure who else is also in the school. Her job will be to keep her students safe while also trying to find a way out of the situation.

Evan Duran is a hostage negotiator for the Tactical Crime Division and when he hears Analise’s name he is ready to go immediately. Sure, he has a need to save the children but he also has history with Analise. He thought she was his forever woman until...she wasn’t.

Will the team be able to save the students? Will they break the bad guys and resolve the situation and if so,  will they do it without bloodshed? Also, will Analise and Evan have a second chance and this  time get it right? Perhaps ;)

What I liked:

* Analise: strong, intelligent, caring woman who did what it took to keep her students safe. She also was willing to go out on a limb to state her feelings.

* Evan: strong, intelligent, dedicated law enforcement person eager to make the right decision in negotiating the safety of those being held hostage. He is willing to, eventually, address some of his emotions and reach out for a possible HEA

* The TCD Team: want to get to know them better

* Sadie: One tough little girl

* The resolution and getting the bad guys in custody.

What I didn’t like:

* The bad guys, of course…

* That Evan and Analise wasted time apart that they could have been together

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I like to read more in this series? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4-5 Stars

BLURB

48 Hour Lockdown by Carla Cassidy (on-sale March 17, 2020)

Book description: The Tactical Crime Division—TCD—is a specialized unit of the FBI.They handle the toughest cases in the most remote locations. When TCD learns of a school invasion turned lockdown, every agent is ready to engage. With children in jeopardy, the stakes couldn’t be higher. But it becomes personal for hostage negotiator agent Evan Duran when he learns Annalise Taylor is one of the captives holed up with the students in a school for the gifted. He’ll need every resource available at TCD and every ounce of his expertise to turn this disastrous situation into a rescue mission—and if he succeeds, maybe reunite with the woman he never stopped loving.

Purchase links:

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/50217728-48-hour-lockdown

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Hour-Lockdown-Tactical-Crime-Division/dp/1335136398

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/48-hour-lockdown-carla-cassidy/1133889963?ean=9781335136398

Google: https://books.google.ca/books/about/48_Hour_Lockdown.html?id=DS6zDwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335136398

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335136398_48-hour-lockdown.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGQTOGlXW-c

Excerpt

Excerpt, 48 Hour Lockdown by Carla Cassidy

A new miniseries from Harlequin Intrigue.

Stopping criminal activity wherever it happens. The agents at the Tactical Crime Division are ready for anything.

More and more, federal law agencies have to mobilize to remote locations to address large-scale crime scenes and criminal activity—terror, hostage situations, kidnappings, shootings and the like. Because of the growing concerns and need for ever increasing response times to these criminal events, the Bureau created a specialized tech and tactical team, combining specialists from several active divisions—weapons, crime scene investigation, protection, negotiation, IT. Because they are a smaller unit, they are more nimble for rapid deployment and assistance to address various situations. This joint team of agents is known as the Tactical Crime Division (TCD).

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Evan Duran—Special Agent Duran is a hostage negotiator for the Tactical Crime Division, a specialized branch of the FBI.

Annalise Taylor—A teacher held hostage at a private school. She’s also Evan’s ex-lover. She’d broken his heart several years before, and now he holds her life in his hands.

Jacob Noble—Is he the leader of a charitable church or the dangerous leader of a cult?

Gretchen Noble—Jacob’s wife, who is not afraid to abuse or kill. Will she kill Annalise before she can be freed?

Hendrick Maynard—Brilliant tech agent for the Tactical Crime Division. Will he be able to get the information Evan needs or will he be destroyed by old painful memories?

Walter Cummings—Chief of police in Asheville. Would his incompetence be the death of the hostages?

***

As he drove he made a few phone calls, and he finally pulled up in front of the nondescript brick building where TCD’s offices were located. He parked, got out of his car and hurried inside. As he strode down the hallway toward the main meeting room, he could hear Director Jill Pembrook apparently still conducting the morning meeting.

The main conference room was the heart of the office. It was where assignments were handed out and situations were brainstormed. The agents sat at a long, highly glossed wooden table. On one wall was an oversize FBI logo, and opposite that was the TCD emblem. A large, digital flat screen was mounted on the far side of the room, and a tablet lay at the head of the table.

Evan burst through the door. Director Jill Pembrook looked at him in surprise. “Agent Duran, how nice of you to join us on your day off.”

The director was an attractive, stylish woman of substance with cropped steel gray hair and a penchant for dark, custom-tailored suits.

She’d been with the FBI for over forty years, and she was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Her blue eyes could be warm and friendly or they could frost a puddle of water into a sheet of ice.

“I just saw the news out of Pearson,” he stated. “I need to get there… It’s Annalise.”

There was a collective groan from some of the other agents. Evan ignored it. “I’ll need you to arrange a plane to be ready for takeoff. Also, I’ll need Hendrick’s help on this. And I’m taking Agents Brennan and Lathrop with me.”

“Call off the SEAL team, Duran is on the case, everyone,” “Agent at Large” Kane Bradshaw murmured as the three men headed for the door.

Evan ignored him. While he liked Kane okay, there were times in the past they had butted heads when Kane could sometimes be a bit of an arrogant jerk. Director Pembrook though tolerated his glib attitude. And while Kane had no official rank as an agent with the bureau, he had an extensive background with deep black ops.

Hendrick Maynard, the tech guru nodded. “You got it,” he answered without hesitation. “Heading to my desk now. I’ll send you any relevant info ASAP.”

The director narrowed her eyes, and Evan felt the frost radiating from her. “Agent Duran, you are way out of line.” She paused and continued to hold his gaze. “Ten minutes ago North Carolina state officials called for federal help…” She paused and he was wondering if he should offer to submit his resignation. “You will also take Special Agent Rogers along with the others. This is an all hands on deck situation. Rowan as usual will accompany you and provide team support.”

Rowan Cooper, an attractive woman with long dark hair who worked as a liaison between the local police departments and the TCD team members, also rose and followed the men out the door. She accompanied any crew that deployed to a different location. Her specialty was smoothing over any personality difference or turf wars among different law enforcement units on scene. But her main responsibility was arranging overnight accommodations and making sure the agents had what they needed in order to remain focused on the task at hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied to the director. He knew he’d overstepped boundaries by barging in, but he’d felt the need to act immediately when he’d heard about the situation… About Annalise…

“Plane leaves in twenty minutes. Now go,” Di-rector Pembrook said. To him she added, “Duran…don’t pull this kind of stunt again.”

Evan would have offered to quit after the assignment if he met any resistance from the director to him heading up the detail due to his personal connection to Annalise. Nothing was going to keep him from negotiating this hostage situation.

“Never,” Evan replied before turning to leave.

***

AUTHOR BIO

About Carla Cassidy: Carla Cassidy is a New York Times bestselling author who has written more than 125 novels for Harlequin Books. She is listed on the Romance Writer's of America Honor Roll and has won numerous awards. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.

[crimsonwolf867-blog]

Fearscapes

Been working on this for a while. Still needs work, and the main character is an idiot, as per the usual horror tropes. But I think it’s an interesting concept. Tell me what you think. (Oh. And it’s a little long. Sorry)

*******************************************************************************************

“Audio Log 347. Attempt number 61. Doctor Brenner speaking. The glitch Doctor Adams discovered was not because of a disconnect in the neural interface. I checked and double checked every connection and found everything to be wired properly. Thus, I have theorized that the reason the interface shuts down when the user enters the dream state is simply because the vast inner workings of our mind is simply too much for one person to comprehend.

“As such, I have designed a new component to add to the machine. A sort of guide to filter the information through and allow us to access it in more manageable chunks. I have designed an A.I capable of performing this complex task, however I had some trouble connecting it to the interface. Eventually, I realized the problem: I needed a way to connect the A.I to the mind so that it would manifest a physical form in the dream scape. I eventually decided that the best connection was to tie the A.I to an emotion. Emotions are some of our strongest influencers, and as such the A.I should have no problem binding to the strongest one we exhibit. I believe that it will either bond to the passion of my work or the love I have for my family. I will now begin testing.”

Doctor Brenner clicked “End Recording” and leaned back in his chair. He eyed the machine that stood at the center of the room. With a shining steel body covered in veiny wires, the ZEPHR 2000 looked like something out of a science fiction novel. It was certainly named that way, due to the leading scientist having an unfortunate infatuation with Star Trek.

But the most impressive piece of equipment was also the most plain: a simple helmet fitted with millions of tiny sensors that were able to pick up any and all brain activity and translate it into a virtual experience accessed through dreams.

There was no point in delaying the tests any longer. Yet as he reached to pick up the helmet, still he hesitated, unsure of exactly what it was that was holding him back. Then, remembering the countless possibilities this technology created, he picked up the helmet and slipped it on his head, filled with determination. He administered the sedative, reclined his chair back, and drifted off to sleep.

*****

When he opened his eyes, he was laying in the middle of a vast, dark plain, with no memory of who he was, where he was, or how he got there. 

He got to his feet, struggling to recall a semblance of something. Anything that would give him some clue about where he was. When nothing came to mind, he started to panic. Then, suddenly, he was able to recall his name. Doctor Leland Brennan. He was married, had four kids, and a dog by the name of “Butch”. He was in a place called the “mindscape”, testing whether or not his new piece of technology worked. It seemed that it did.

“Doctor Leland.”

Leland whirled around to see a pair of floating green eyes and a cheshire grin appear out of the darkness.

“It took me a moment to collect all of the available data, and as such I was unable to provide you with your basic level of knowledge for a moment. Were you disoriented?”

“I-I’m sorry, but-”

“Of course Doctor Leland.”

Suddenly the dark, endless void turned into a void of endless white, and Leland was able to examine his guide in greater detail.

He was confused to find that his guide was a humanoid cat, covered from head to toe in black fur. She was dressed in a pink tank top and jeans, and looked to be around eighteen years old. Two massive pointed ears lay on the top of her head and her poison green eyes were so large they may as well have been globes.

“You’re right, I’m not your wife or one of your colleagues.” she continued before he could form the words to form the question.

“Let me pull up the memory for you to show exactly what I represent.”

“Wait, no. I remember now. You’re Passion.”

“If you say so.” she said.

“You’re...letting me talk now?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“It was one of your thoughts. You were annoyed by me answering questions you didn’t get the chance to ask.”

Leland startled.

“You mean...you can see everything that happens in my mind? Currently as well?”

“Yes. I am also able to control exactly which thoughts you see. This is the way you programmed me, Doctor.” 

��Call me Leland, please.”

“Of course, Leland.”

“But what should I call you…” he muttered to himself.

“A suggestion, Leland?” 

“Yes?” 

“Call me Zelda. It’s a name that helps to put you at ease if it’s simply mentioned.”

“Thank you...Zelda.”

“Of course.”

Leland thought for a moment before asking his next question.

“So...what is it exactly that you recommend that I do?”

“Perhaps something that will help to make you a little more comfortable in your surroundings. For instance…”

Zelda snapped her fingers and a comfortable sofa came into existence. Leland looked at it with some surprise before settling into its cushions.

“I suppose...I should try out a test run, at least. Are you able to play out the memory of last week’s luncheon?”

“As clearly as you remember it.” Zelda said, snapping her fingers again. 

A large, widescreen T.V appeared in front of him, suspended by nothing for a moment, before falling to the ground and shattering into a million pieces. Leland jumped and glared at Zelda, who simply shrugged.

“Reality here isn’t the reality that you know it. What you think should happen is what actually happens. If you were to believe that penguins fly, penguins would be able to fly here. You expected that T.V to fall. It’s not my fault. It’s yours for having such realistic expectations.”

“I don’t remember programming you with such sass.” Leland muttered.

“Of course you don’t. I control your memories, remember? Oh...wait.” Zelda says with a smirk.

Leland groans.

“Can’t you just… make a freestanding T.V instead?”

“Very well. But you’re no fun.” she says with a hmph, snapping her fingers again to create what it was Leland asked: a large, freestanding T.V that was big enough to make it look like it belonged in a movie theater.

Lelan settled into the couch, fumbled around for the remote for a moment before he realized where he was.

“Can you…”

“HUFF.” “Umm…”

“HUFF.”

“Could you-”

“HUFF.”

“Please-”

“FINE. Just remember I’m not your personal assistant.”

She snaps her fingers again and a remote forms in his hand. He presses play and watches the memory unfold before him. Zelda joins him on the couch and the memory plays. 

Instead of the long, in depth movie that he thought he would get, Leland was shocked to find that his memory was more of a summary. A highlight reel of insight, random jokes, and overall a jumbled mess of editing that would make any movie goer cringe.

When it was finally over, Leland couldn’t move. Zelda glanced at him. 

“You don’t look so good.” she stated obviously.

“I...was that it?” he asked.

“What were you expecting? A play-by-play of every single event? This is your mind we’re talking about. If you remembered every single thing that happened to you there would be no room for stuff like calculations and equations and your other big brain knowledge. You know how this works, Leland.”

Leland sighs. 

“You’re right. So what can you do then?” he asks.

Zelda shrugs.

“Plenty. Plenty you wouldn’t like, plenty that you would, and plenty that would be good for you that you would never agree to.”

At that, Leland perked up. 

“And what, exactly, would I not want to do?” He asked curiously.

Zelda waves the question away.

“Why should I bother telling you if you aren’t going to do it anyway? You’re here for research are you not? Looking at the process by which the brain functions and all that.”

“Please, Zelda.”

The A.I sighs and leans further into the couch.

“Imagine your mind like a computer. A computer whose storage is always close to full. It runs okay, but not at its peak performance. There’s a bunch of clutter just laying around. When new data comes in, the hard drive starts to burst, so you gotta delete a few files. Memories, skills, stuff like that.”

“Your point?”

“There’s a way to free up more space. In a computer, that means deleting unneeded programs. And in the brain, those unneeded programs are your emotions.”

“You want to… what?” “See? I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“No...I’m just confused.” Leland says. “How are my emotions ‘unneeded programs’?”

“Do you really need to cry about your dog dying?”

“Well, uh-”

“Do you really need to shriek and yell and get angry at your kids when they do something wrong?”

“I-”

“Do you really need to feel frustrated because all of your hard work goes unnoticed?”

“Well, when you put it that way-”

“No. Of course you don’t. It’s just holding you back from focusing on your work. Think of all the good that you can do, all the things that you can learn, just by freeing up one emotion, or even two.”

“But...isn’t that kind of bad? I sort of need my emotions to connect with my peers. I don’t want to become a psychopath.”

“Look. It’s just one emotion. It’s nothing earth shattering. I’ll even let you decide which one to let go. Although if I could make a suggestion… Greed isn’t doing much to help you out.”

Leland glanced with surprise at Zelda.

“You mean...I can get rid of specific parts of my emotions?”

“Exactly! Sort of like deleting certain levels of a videogame.”

Leland pondered for a moment. The idea was simple enough, and it was certainly worth a test run or two. Yet...something about this felt off. Was there something he was forgetting? He shrugged it off and decided to just go for it.

“So...how do I get rid of my Greed?”

“You have to defeat it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, a little uneasy.

“I summon it here, and you attack it and force it to disappear.”

“How?” he asked.

“You have admin privileges here. If you tell Greed to leave, it’ll listen to you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The only problem is that it’ll attempt to convince you to allow it to stay. There must be no doubt that you want it gone. Just remember that Greed has brought many men down and you should be fine.” Leland nodded. “Okay. But could I get a little bit more time to-”

He stopped mid sentence, having forgotten what exactly he was going to say.

“Something wrong?” Zelda asked.

Leland shook his head.

“No. I’m fine. Let’s do it.”

Zelda smiled.

“Excellent.” she said, snapping her fingers.

Suddenly, kneeling before him was a small, dirty, deformed hunchback crouched over a pile of gold. He looked up, startled, and let out a horrible shriek when he saw Leland standing over him. Greed buried his face in his hands and started sobbing.

“Please...please...leave me alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They kept repeating those words over and over again. Leland looked at the creature and felt nothing but pity. Then he felt a warm breath on his ear.

“Remember. No mercy.” Zelda whispered in his ear. Leland nodded, gritted his teeth, and cried, in as loud a voice as he could:

“Greed! Begone! I have no use for you!”

And just like that, the man was gone. Vanished without a trace.

“Wh...just like that?” Leland said, awed and a little terrified of the power he wielded.

“Greed was easy to get rid of because it’s a very specific emotion. Something complex like Happiness is harder to get rid of. Anyway, how do you feel? A little smarter? Free?”

“No...not really.”

“Understandable. Greed isn’t really something that you have to deal with, so he was a smaller part of a program. More deleted emotions would make more of a difference.”

“Like...what?”

“Well, you mentioned the seven deadly sins. Why not get rid of all of them?” 

“That’s...uh, I guess there isn’t any harm…”

“Right? It can only do you good. So why don’t we try something like Lust?”

Leland nodded, and together the two worked to defeat the evil working in his brain. Lust, a woman who was perfect in body and shape. Sloth, an apathetic creature sitting stock still, glass eyed as he stared at the edge of the mind. Pride, a man who looked like a god, sitting on a throne dressed in the finest robes. Envy, who was accompanied by an innocent creature much better off than Envy. Gluttony, who came buried underneath a pile of things, and finally Anger. A devil who raged and stamped about with terrifying fervor. But Anger too vanished just as easily as the rest. And Leland grew even more uneasy. Something about this felt wrong. It wasn’t right to just cast off emotions like they didn’t exist. What was changing? And why did all of these emotions seem so afraid?

“Nicely done!” Zelda said, snapping him back to reality. Well, reality for the moment.

“I...what? Sorry. Lost myself for a minute there.” he said, rubbing his eyes.

Zelda frowned. “You did. Seems you’re having second thoughts about this.”

“I just… I have some concerns.”

“Yes?” she prompted.

“This seems...wrong.”

“Wrong how?”

“I…”

Leland paused. He didn’t know. All he knew was that a pipe organ was playing in his chest, building up a steady crescendo that continued to grow louder with every passing moment.

“I can’t...can I get rid of fear?”

“Fear? Whatever for?”

The pipes swelled in intensity, sapping oxygen from his lungs to feed their growing dissonance.

“I...I...please. I can’t take this anymore! Just do it! Please!”

Zelda looked calmly at his panicked expression, hurt deeply evident in her eyes.

“Do you really hate me that much?”

“W-what!?”

Leland was wheezing now, glancing around him as the plain white background began to change into something darker.

“B-but you’re...you’re Passion.” He stammered, backing away from Zelda as the background shifted to pure darkness.

“No. I’m not.”

Zelda’s green eyes were the only things floating in the darkness.

“B-but I know that form. You’re...the persona of that online artist. Th-the one that I...that I…”

“She didn’t create that persona. She simply borrowed the design from something...a little more sinister.”

“Wh-What are you-”

“You remember your first horror movie as The Shining. It was on at some crazy Halloween party and you used it as an excuse to get some peace and quiet. However, you actually watched your first horror movie when you were five years old.”

“Wh-”

“It was called Night of the Werecat, some made for T.V movie with a ridiculous amount of money thrown at the special effects department. The werecat monster took its victims at night, under the light of a full moon. The only things that its victims saw-”

A grin of glistening white fangs appeared in the dark, and it came flooding back to him.

“-was the grin of a hungry monster, its eyes lit up in delight.”

Leland was sweating now, struggling to calm the symphony playing inside of him. His efforts were only met with failure. As the eyes came closer, the intensity grew. His heartbeat pounded, and he imagined that Fear was listening. 

“Of course. I’m always listening.” she said.

Leland gulped and started to back away. If there was any time to hit the...the...what was it he could hit?

“Listen, Leland. I don’t want you getting hurt. And all of your thoughts, dreams, and hopes are just leading you down paths to disappointment. Heartbreak. Suffering. And the few that don’t only lead to more endless endeavors. More dreams and hopes and dreams that are always destined to leave you disappointed.”

Fear slipped into the darkness. Leland gasped for air, whirling around like a merry-go-round, he stared into nothingness trying to find where it was those eyes went.

“What good will it do you to chase something better when what you have is good enough?”

Leland desperately tried to summon a shred of hope. A whisper of love. A glance of determination. But there was nothing. Only the same pounding melody.

“The world is a dangerous place, Leland. I’m the only thing keeping you alive. You don’t need anything else. All of your other emotions are just unneeded programs.”

He felt something stroke his back, and he wheeled around in panic to find Fear’s green eyes and terrifying grin.

“See for yourself how much danger is out there all around you.”

She jumped at him, and he screamed. The instant her teeth touched his neck, he woke up.

His scream followed him back to the waking world, and he yanked the headset off his head as fast he could and tossed it aside, not even caring about the damage it sustained. He stumbled out of his chair and fell against the table, waiting for his heart to stop pounding, the melody to stop playing.

But it never did. In fact, it only seemed to grow in intensity, his fear driving out every other rational thought in his mind.

His thoughts were a river, and trying to think was trying to catch water in his hand. 

What do I do?

Where do I go?

How do I make this stop?

Leland stumbled to the floor.

Who can I call? 

What’s wrong with me?

What’s going on? 

He struggled to crawl...somewhere. Anywhere. Away.

How do I make it stop?

Please someone help me!

I need help.

He slid into a corner and curled up into a ball.

But who do I call?

No one can help.

I’m all alone here.

His heart pounded, growing increasingly louder, faster, a drum pounding ever faster, ever harder.

What do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do

Please someone help!

I need help.

He tucked his legs against his chest and rocked back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

What do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO

Help.

Someone please.

Help.