#HOLDING ON SO TIGHT IN THE S8 ONE

[themusicsweetly]

h a n d s

#Sam Heughan #Caitriona Balfe #Outlander #Outlander BTS #Outlander Season 8 #Outlander Season 6 #Outlander Season 4 #Season 8 promo #(I can't believe I get to write that now!) #THESE TWO GOOBERS #HOLDING ON SO TIGHT IN THE S8 ONE #SamCait #Gorgeous Goobers #Who are #Better Together #My Edit

[bluehourbucky]

Nightmare

pairing: postjail!Spencer Reid x f!reader

summary: spencer is scared that he'll lose you so he needs a bit of loving <3

warings: violence/ mentions of kidnapping / mild spoilers for s8 and s12 / fingering /unprotected sex

a/n: first time writing for my first love <3 Genuinely had a crush on Spencer before I knew what a crush was duhdhdbd

sorry about the smut I'm still very new to writing it😅 I don't think I'm very good at it but I'm trying!

masterlist

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Spencer is in a dark hallway, there's only one way he could go, and that's straight ahead. The small copper door stand there at the end, red light puring out of the cracks. The only sound he can hear is his own steps on the wooden floor. He pulls out his gun and starts walking towards them, as he gets closer, he can hear the muffled sound of two maybe three people.

Spencer is at the door and he slowly pushes them, he again puts up his gun and walks in.

This isn't what he expected to see.

"Oh good. Finally joining us Spency, we're just starting to have real fun."

Spencer is horrified to see you straped in a chair, blood driving down your temple, red lines on your wrists from being tied up, your tears falling down your cheek. Cat stands behind you, caressing your arms while you're squirming, trying to get away.

"Leave her alone. This is about us."

Cat laughs maniacally.

"Not anymore. She's pretty, and very special huh, enough to get little Spencey to finally put down his walls." Cat licks your tears and Spencer tries not to gag he knows absolutely how uncomfortable that is.

"Baby I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise."

"Oh that's cute. But I don't think so not until you give me what I want. Why don't we play a game."

Cat smirks sitting down in your lap and taking off the tape that covered your mouth.

"Spencer, no. Don't play her gam-"

Cat puts a hand over your mouth.

"Ah shut it. So what do you say Spency, one game and I let her leave. I do recommend that you do especially when she's in such a delicate state."

Spencer looks at Cat trying to find the lie in her eyes but there's none, then he looks at you silently asking if what Cat is insinuating is true.

You nod slightly, pulling as far away from Cat as you possibly could.

Spencers heart dropped at that moment.

"Okay."

After hours and hours of playing Cats game he was done.

"Alright that's it. I'm done."

Cat laughs and points a gun at you.

"Gonna kill her like your little Meave."

"No." but before he could do anything Cat pulls the trigger.

"Spencer.... Spencer...."

Spencer stands frozen and closes his eyes.

"SPENCER!"

You shake Spencer as hard as you can but he's still not waking up and screaming your name.

Spencer gasps as he finally wakes up from the nightmare.

"Y/N, you're okay?" He pants and holds your face in his hands, inspecting it for injuries.

"I'm okay Spence, are you? It's not real honey I'm right here."

He pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck, his hand holding your head. He can't control his emotions, so he cries, and you let him. You're whispering, it's okay, and it wasn't real over and over again, slowly pulling your fingers through Spencers locks.

"Honey, what happened?"

you ask softly looking at Spencers red eyes.

"She had you. She killed you like Meave. And I lost you and our baby, and I couldn't stop it."

"Spence, sweetheart, that won't happen she's locked up. You know I won't let that happen, right? Never." you wipe the tears and kiss his cheek softly.

"I know, but it felt so real I could've lost you."

You smile sadly.

"You'll never lose me okay. Also did I hear you right, something about the baby?"

Spencer looks away, but you turn his head.

"I know we talked about it and we agreed that it's not the best idea but I think I'd like us to talk about it again."

"Well I'm not opposed to it especially because I enjoy baby making process."

Spencer laughs at that, and you're relieved that you've managed to make him smile. Your heart hurts for him he's been through so much, and he deserves the world, and you've made it your mission to take care of him as long as you live.

"I love you."

"Love you too,sap." You laugh and hit him slightly.

"Seriously I don't know what I would do without you, I don't deserve you."

"Spence. None of that nonsense. It's not about deserving it's about choosing, and I choose you every day. How about we start making that baby, what do you say?"

Spencer being Spencer says

"It is very unlikely that you get pregnant on the first try as you're on birth control. It is 91% effective, and you've been using it correctly, so the odds-"

you roll your eyes and push him down on the bed, straddling him, then slowly you kiss him. Spencer deepens the kiss by putting his hand around your neck, pulling you closer. You pull away, and your lips trail down behind his ear gently nibbling the sensitive skin. Your lips continue going lower and lower. You absolutely enjoy the little noises that leave his lips when you softly bite the skin right above his nipple.

"Baby, please." Spencer whispers, and you smile against him.

You gasp as he suddenly turns you around, and has you pinned against the bed, his fingers interlocked with yours.

"I love you. You're incredible."

"I know. Just please touch me." you moan when you lift your hips to rub against him.

"Spence," you whimper as he takes off your shirt and places kisses between your breasts. Not being able to hold it in you moan when Spencers fingers enter you.

"Oh god please don't stop."

Spencer curls his fingers inside and starts fucking you with them making you see the stars, he knows your body so well and knows exactly where you need him the most- which is exactly why he's not touching you there.

"Hugging my fingers so well pretty. You're so tight can't wait to be inside you." all you can do is moan at his words when his thumb finally starts circling your clit.

"Please,please,please." Spencer chuckles and attaches his lips to your nipple swirling his tongue and gently biting it, making you scream.

"Go ahead baby." That's all you need to go over the edge, you cum as you scream Spencers name, nails scratching down his arms.

Spencer barely let's you recover as you feel the head of his cock at your entrance.

"You okay, hon?"

"Please just fuck me."

And who is Spencer to deny you especially when you've asked so nicely.

At first, his thrusts are slow and gentle,he's making love to you.

"Love you so much, princess."

Before you can reply, his fingers find their way to your clit and that combined with the hard thrusts and Spencer spreading your thighs more going deeper makes you see the stars.

"Please I can't I'm so close." you manage to say between the moans and pants he's hitting your spot with every thrust.

"I'm close too just a bit more love." Spencer grunts as he feels you squeezing him, the room is filled with your moans and skin slapping, the tears falling down your face trying not to cum as Spencers thrusts become sloppier and faster.

"Let go, baby. I got you." You hold on to Spencers hair and squeeze his hand as you cum your orgasm overwhelming you. Spencer is not too far behind as soon as you came and squeezed him he was a goner, and the sound he let out was borderline pornographic.

When he tries to pull out your legs trap him.

"Wanna feel you til I fall asleep."

"Gonna get you pregnant like this." Spencer jokes.

"Mr genius didn't you say it's impossible."

"No I said it's a low possibility but not impossible."

You can't help but laugh.

"I'm sorry about waking you up. Sorry I'm messed up."

"Spencer, don't do that."

"Really don't know why you're with me and how you even fell in love with me when you met me at my worst and you still found good in me."

You look at him, and sadness washes over you, it is true you've met at his worst you were one of the few FBI agents who were not on the team that helped when Spencer was in jail. When the FBI didn't stand behind him, you were furious. Yeah, maybe you didn't know him personally, but you've heard about everything he'd done for the FBI, and you couldn't believe what assholes wouldn't help one of the best assets to the FBI.

"I have a thing for bad boys." It was now Spencers turn to laugh.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I kinda liked the unhinged Spencer he was hot."

"Well who says that he's gone."

Spencer smirks and you can tell he doesn't plan on letting you sleep any time soon.

[THE END]

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer criminal minds #spencer reid smut

[fangirlforlife97]

9-1-1 Speculation: Eddie & "You Don't Know Me"

Song Lyrics to the song that the title of 7x05 is based on "You Don't Know Me"

You give your hand to me, and then, you say hello And I can hardly speak My heart is beating so And anyone can tell You think you know me well But you don't know me, no

No, you don't know the one who dreams of you each night And longs to kiss your lips And longs to hold you tight To you, I'm just a friend That's all I've ever been No, you don't know me

I never knew the art of making love Though, my heart aches with love for you, yeah I'm afraid and shy, I let my chance go by A chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me, and then, you say goodbye And then, I watched you walk away beside the lucky guy I know you'll never know the one who loved you so No, you don't know me

But, I never knew the art of making love Though, my heart aches with love for you I'm afraid and shy, and I let your chance go by A chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me And then you say goodbye And I watched you walk away beside the lucky guy Oh, you'll never ever know, yeah, the one who loved you so No, you don't know me

I say you'll never ever know the one who loved you so No, you don't know me No, you don't know me

I stand by the speculation that this song is referring to Eddie and his maybe already acknowledged feelings for Buck!!!! Especially after that still of Eddie possibly looking longingly? at Buck!?! I always loved the idea of Eddie being the one to realize his feelings for Buck first, I at least really hope that's what we get?!? Anyways there's another episode titled "Ghost of a Second Chance" I think?! Later this season and it really made me think of this song and the idea that it pertains to Eddie?!

Maybe Eddie did realize his feelings first and has been secretly in love with Buck and never said anything cause he didn't realize Buck was actually an option, but after 7x05 maybe he realizes Buck is one now but he's possibly taken?! So he continues to date Marisol - maybe even asks her to move in? And pretends with her whilst knowing full well he wants Buck?! And then maybe Buck and Tommy obviously date or casually hang out for a little while without any labels, but then maybe by the episode of that title "Ghost of a Second Chance" Buck and Tommy agree not to move ahead with dating each other?! Maybe Tommy says something about Buck being in love with Eddie?! Then Eddie finds out and realizes he finally has a "Second Chance?????!!!!!" I hope we at least get some kind of hint that the song does pertain to Eddie and his feelings for Buck?!

I am a Buddie girly through and through, I haven't been as excited as a ship going canon since Destiel, Hannigram, and Johnlock!! Even so, I wouldn't mind a longer temporary Buck and Tommy relationship as long as along the way we got big Buddie moments or some kind of big confirmation that Buddie was and is for sure endgame!!?!! I can see the season ending with a big Buddie moment but then maybe canon s8?? I wouldn't be mad about it. Not in the slightest. I am sooo excited but also nervous about what's to come!!

#911 fox #911 spoilers #911 speculation #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #s7 #7x05 #s7 speculation #sorry if the post is kind of a mess #I never really know #I try to make it as coherent as possible

[impossiblyfreshdonut]

A collection from memory.

“i’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” - Castiel, s4 ep1

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“you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” - Castiel, s4 ep1

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“dean and i do share a more profound bond… i wasn’t going to mention it.” - Castiel, s6 ep3

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“Castiel? Oh he's, he's not here. You see he has this weakness, he likes you.” - Uriel, s4 ep10

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“I was getting too close to humans in my charge. You.” - Castiel, s4 ep16

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“I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did all of it for you” - Castiel, s5 ep1

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“So what, I'm Thelma, you're Louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?” - Dean, s5 ep3

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“Dean, I do everything that you ask. I always come when you call, and I am your friend.” - Castiel, s6 ep21

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“A part of me always believed you'll come back.” - Dean, s7 ep17

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“When Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost!” - Naomi, s7 ep21

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“We're family. We need you... I need you.” - Dean, s8 ep17

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“Dean, you know I always appreciate our talks, our time together.” - Castiel, s9 ep3

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“Maybe you could fight the mark for years. Maybe centuries, like Cain did. But you can't fight it forever. And when you turn, and you will turn, Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the only one who will have to watch you murder the world. So if there's even a small chance that we can save you, I won't let you out of this room.” - Castiel, s10 ep 22

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“Well, I said I needed a big win. We got Cas back. That's a pretty damn big win.” - Dean, s13 ep6

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“Cas! No, no, no. Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. I -- Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know -- I know that it's -- i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just -- it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it. No matter how -- how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And -- And I -- I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long -- I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm -- I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. Okay.” - Dean, s15 ep9

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Castiel – “I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it.”

Dean – “What are you talking about, man?”

Castiel – “I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're “daddy's blunt instrument.” And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.”

Dean – “Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Castiel – “Because it is. I love you.”

Dean – “Don't do this Cas.”

Castiel – “Goodbye, Dean.”

— s15, ep18.

#dean winchester #spn #destiel #castiel #nov 5th #i’ll never forgive them for saying nothing was there #destiel confession

[purlturtle]

Forehead kisses for Bering and Wells please 😊

Okay, that would be prompt #3 on this list!

CW: stuck elevator, claustrophobia - please proceed with caution!

---

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. It's just stopped; I'm sure it will go on in a second."

Helena shuddered; her face was pinched, her jaws clenched so tightly Myka was afraid for the woman's teeth.

Then the overhead light went out. Helena gave a bone-deep, agonized groan, and suddenly Myka realized: the Bronze. Or just claustrophobia in general. The emergency light flickered on, and for the briefest of moments, Myka saw that Helena's face was a rictus of terror. Just the fraction of a second, before Helena schooled her features into stoic, intent focus again, but Myka had seen it.

"Hey," she said again, even more gently this time. "Hey, you're okay. Claustrophobia?"

Helena nodded; her teeth were still clenched so tightly that Myka wasn't surprised no words would come out.

"C'mon, let's sit down," she said, and proceeded to do exactly that. Her pants needed washed anyway, she reasoned, and Helena could probably stand to get off her feet too. "Come on," she repeated, and Helena sank down beside her. "Here," Myka said, reaching out and touching Helena's hand. "We're okay. See? Steady hands. I'm not worried. I've been in stuck elevators before; usually it doesn't take long to get going again."

At the same moment, the intercom crackled into life; Helena flinched at the sound, grabbing hold of Myka's hand with both of her own.

"Attention passengers on elevators S5 through S8," the disembodied voice said. "We have an emergency lockdown which we're already in the process of investigating. As soon as everything clears, operation will resume. We expect this to take no longer than ten minutes. If you have a situation that requires immediate assistance, please use the red emergency intercom button on the operator panel. Please keep the emergency line free otherwise, and remain calm. We will update you in five minutes." And with another crackle, the speaker fell silent.

Helena's breaths were short and shallow, and she still clung to Myka's hand like a lifeline. The emergency light was dim, but Myka could still see how wild Helena's eyes were.

Well. The emergency line probably wasn't much help for claustrophobic people - knowing that wouldn't make them work any faster than they already were. So it was on Myka to help. "Is there anything you usually do when this happens?" she asked.

Helena's mouth twitched into a smile that was more grimace than anything. "Freeze?" she suggested; her voice was croaky.

Myka nodded. She stroked her thumb across the back of one of Helena's hands. "What's worst right now?"

The reply came immediately. "Feeling trapped. Back in the bronze again."

"And what's okay right now?"

Helena frowned in surprise, and didn't answer.

"Like, how does your, uh, your nose feel?"

"It... tingles?" Helena sounded confused.

"It's an exercise my therapist suggested," Myka explained. "After Sam. When I would shut down. He suggested trying to focus on physical sensations, instead of the panic."

Helena hummed pensively. Then she squeezed Myka's hands. "This," she said.

"Holding hands feels okay?" Myka asked to confirm it. It made sense: touching another person was proof that you weren't bronzed.

Helena nodded. "I hope that isn't too forward, or too awkward."

"Sheesh no. That's totally okay." Myka squeezed back to underline her words. "I could also... if that would help, I could hug you."

Helena gave a little gasp. Then she nodded quickly, and moments later she was huddled against Myka, shoulders tight and hands clenched in her lap.

Myka slung her arms around her, and didn't comment on the shivers she felt. She rubbed Helena's shoulders for a moment, then tightened her arms. "You're okay," she said, "I've got you." On pure instinct, she pressed a kiss on Helena's forehead, then wondered if that hadn't been 'too forward, or too awkward.' But Helena didn't pull back; on the contrary, she pressed even closer to Myka.

"Could you perhaps," she began, then hesitated.

"Whatever helps, okay?" Myka said encouragingly. "Just let me know what I can do to help."

"Could you... talk to me? Tell me a story, perhaps, or talk about a retrieval - anything, really. The silence is deafening."

"Of course!" Myka squeezed Helena's shoulders again and launched into a retelling of the novel she was currently reading. Helena stayed huddled close, but her breaths slowed, and her shoulders lost some of their tension.

It took 13 minutes until first the lights flickered back on, then the car started to move again.

Helena exhaled a long, shuddering breath.

"Good thing we're going down, right?" Myka said. "We'll be out of here in no time." She felt Helena's head nod against her chin. "Do you think you can stand?"

Together, they made their way upright; Myka could feel the tremble in Helena's muscles. She knew the signs; adrenaline gone haywire was a bitch. She kept close to Helena, kept their arms linked and fingers entwined, all the way down, out, through the lobby, along the sidewalks, right up to their second floor hotel room, which Helena insisted they take the stairs to get to.

Myka didn't mind; there was color back in Helena's cheeks, and that was all she asked for.

Later that night, after dinner and showers and changing into PJs, Helena sat down next to Myka on Myka's bed. "Thank you," she said. "For earlier."

"Anytime."

Again, Helena hummed. After a moment of silence, she asked hesitantly, "Perhaps... perhaps now?"

It took Myka a moment to understand. Then it clicked. "Oh! Sure, of course, come here!" She lifted her arm; Helena snuggled into her side. Her hair, slung into a low, sloppy bun, was damp from showering and smelled of her shampoo; her skin was warm and her shoulders much looser than earlier.

"That little kiss you gave me," Helena said, almost too quiet to hear. "That was okay." Then she sucked in a breath and stiffened. "Wasn't it?"

Myka smiled and squeezed Helena's shoulders, gently pulling her close again. Very ostentatiously, she pressed another kiss on Helena's forehead. "I thought so too."

Helena practically melted into her in relief. "Oh good," she said indistinctly. "Good," she repeated, barely more than a sigh.

A few minutes later, she was asleep, and Myka marveled at her trust. She kissed Helena's forehead again, for good measure, and settled in to sleep, herself.

#bering and wells #warehouse 13 #my fic #mini fic #prompt fic #soft prompts #claustrophobia #stuck elevator #please proceed with caution

[enid-rhees]

i wanna talk about this story idea but- SPOILERS FOR S8 AND 9 OF TWD !!

i want to write a fic where early on the in apocalypse, Rick took reader in as his daughter. so now, she has her siblings Carl and Judith. after they arrive in Alexandria, her and Enid start to date. flash forward to s9, reader has barely recovered from Carl’s death, but she still pushes through to be there for her parents (Rick and Michonne) and Enid and Judith. but then she witnesses Rick blow up the bridge, and she starts to lose herself again. after finding out Michonne was pregnant, she yet again had to pull herself together to help her. and after Michonne leaves to find Rick, she’s now the one who has to take care of Judith and RJ. despite it being hard to take care of them when she’s struggling to take care of herself, she still does an amazing job, of course with the help of Enid. after years, she’s beginning to think she’ll never see her parents again, and she’ll never know how to break the news to her siblings.

one day after she and Enid took the kids to school, they’re resting at home. while they’re eating together, someone yells out “they’re back!” but reader assumes it’s the whisperers attempting to get a final kill. her and Enid run outside with their guns at the gate, and it opens, only to reveal Rick and Michonne.

reader drops her gun, and stares at Rick with a wide open mouth and tears pouring down her cheeks. she doesn’t even think he’s real at first. Rick is in disbelief, seeing his daughter for the first time in over a decade, seeing how she’s grown up so much, and she’s still with the girl she loves. Rick steps forward first, putting his hands on her shoulders to see if she was real, or only a figment of his imagination. with that single touch, reader breaks down and falls into his arms, sobbing almost maniacally. they both fall to the ground while holding each other as they both cry, meanwhile Enid and Michonne start reuniting.

after everything, Rick is now impatient to see Judith again, but Michonne tells him that there’s something he should also see. reader points over to the school building.

reader goes inside to pull out Judith and RJ, and Rick is almost confused to see the small boy. but his features are so… familiar. it then hits him, and he looks over at Michonne with teary eyes again. he breaks down when Michonne confirms that RJ is their son.

Rick picks up RJ, and hugs him as tight as he could. tighter than he’s ever hugged anyone.

#☕️ talks

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

eROSITA X-ray sky survey measurements show consistency with the cosmic microwave background

The analysis of how galaxy clusters, the largest objects in the universe, evolve over cosmic time has yielded precise measurements of the total matter content and its clumpiness, report scientists of the German eROSITA consortium, led by the Max Planck Institute for Extraterrestrial Physics and with participation of the University of Bonn.

The results affirm the standard cosmological model and alleviate the so-called S8 tension, while at the same time offering insights into the elusive neutrinos' mass. The analysis is based on one of the largest catalogues of galaxy clusters and superclusters. An important pillar in the analysis is the "weighing" of the discovered galaxy clusters, for which the University of Bonn was a major contributor.

eROSITA is an X-ray space telescope onboard the Spectrum-RG satellite, launched in July 2019. Two weeks ago, the German eROSITA consortium released its data from the first all-sky survey. The survey's primary goal is to better understand cosmology via the measurement of the growth over cosmic time of clusters of galaxies, some of the largest structures in the universe.

Tracing the evolution of clusters via the X-rays emitted by hot gas as detected by eROSITA combined with robust mass measurements of these clusters through weak gravitational lensing, precise and accurate measurements of both the total amount of matter density in the universe and its clumpiness have been made. While past clumpiness measurements using different techniques, specifically the cosmic microwave background (CMB) and the so-called Cosmic Shear appeared inconsistent with each other, the eROSITA measurements now show consistency with the CMB.

"eROSITA has now established cluster evolution measurement as a tool for precision cosmology," said Dr. Esra Bulbul (MPE), the lead scientist for eROSITA's clusters and cosmology team who delivered the groundbreaking results. "The cosmological parameters that we measure from galaxy clusters are consistent with state-of-the-art CMB showing that the same cosmological model holds from soon after the Big Bang to today."

According to the standard cosmological model, called the Lambda Cold Dark Matter (ΛCDM) model, the infant universe was an extremely hot, dense sea of photons and particles. Over the course of cosmic time, tiny density variations grew into the large galaxies and galaxy clusters we can see today. The eROSITA cluster observations show that matter of all kinds (visible and dark) comprises 29% of the total mass/energy budget of the universe, in excellent agreement with the values obtained from measurements of the CMB, which was emitted when the universe first became transparent.

As well as measuring the total matter density in the universe, eROSITA has also measured the clumpiness of the matter distribution, described via the so-called S8 parameter. An important development in cosmology in recent years has been the so-called "S8 tension." This tension arises because CMB experiments measure a higher S8 value than, e.g., Cosmic Shear surveys.

New physics is implied unless this tension can be resolved, and eROSITA has done just that. "eROSITA tells us that the universe behaved as expected throughout cosmic history," says Dr. Vittorio Ghirardini, the postdoctoral researcher at MPE who led the cosmology study posted to the arXiv preprint server. "There's no tension with the CMB—maybe the cosmologists can relax a bit now."

The largest objects in the universe also carry information about the smallest particles: neutrinos. These lightweight particles are nearly impossible to detect. From the abundance of the largest dark matter haloes in the universe the eROSITA team have obtained tight constraints on the mass of the lightest known particles. The eROSITA cluster results yield the tightest combined neutrino mass measurement to date from any observational cosmology probe.

An important component of the analysis are weak gravitational lensing measurements. This effect describes coherent distortions that are imprinted onto the observed shapes of distant galaxies when their light rays pass through the gravitational field of foreground structures. While Cosmic Shear studies probe the effect along random directions, it can also be measured in the vicinity of galaxy clusters to estimate their masses.

The eROSITA team has conducted such measurements incorporating data from three current weak gravitational lensing surveys, the Dark Energy Survey (DES), the Hyper Suprime Cam Survey (HSC), and the Kilo-Degree Survey (KiDS). These measurements calibrate the relation between the eROSITA X-ray signal and cluster mass, thereby enabling the comparison to cosmological model predictions.

"I'm proud of the weak lensing team that did an excellent job in providing the analysis from all three leading weak lensing surveys for the eROSITA cluster mass calibration, which enabled these cosmology constraints; something that has never been achieved before" says Prof. Dr. Thomas Reiprich from the Argelander Institute for Astronomy (AIfA) at the University of Bonn, who led the weak lensing mass calibration work package within the eROSITA cluster and cosmology team from 2019 till the end of 2023.

He also is a member of the Transdisciplinary Research Area (TRA) "Matter" of the University of Bonn. The analysis of the "KiDS" weak lensing survey and also the detailed comparison between all three of the surveys is presented today in a paper, also posted as a preprint on arXiv and led by Florian Kleinebreil, Ph.D. student in the group of Prof. Dr. Tim Schrabback.

A major part of this work was conducted at AIfA, until both moved to the University of Innsbruck in the fall of 2022. "We found that the three lensing surveys yield consistent mass constraints for the eROSITA clusters, providing an important consistency test for the overall analysis," explains Kleinebreil.

"The completed analysis demonstrates the outstanding cosmological constraining power provided by combined analyses of state-of-the-art galaxy cluster samples and weak lensing surveys. Excitingly, this field will further advance in the coming years, also thanks to the arrival of next-generation weak lensing programs, including the one conducted by ESA's new space telescope Euclid," adds Schrabback.

TOP IMAGE....Optical images showing galaxies in the direction of four galaxy clusters at different distances. The X-ray emission of hot gas in the clusters is shown in blue. Credit: M. Kluge, C. Garrel, S. Grandis; optical image: Legacy Survey DR10, X-ray: eROSITA

CENTRE IMAGE....Same as above but showing only the galaxies that are expected to be in the respective clusters (and not in the fore- or background). Credit: M. Kluge, C. Garrel, S. Grandis; optical image: Legacy Survey DR10, X-ray: eROSITA

LOWER IMAGE....Same as the other two images but additionally illustrating the measured average distortion of the images of background galaxies caused by the weak gravitational lensing effect that enables the “weighing” of the clusters. Credit: M. Kluge, C. Garrel, S. Grandis; optical image: Legacy Survey DR10, weak lensing: Dark Energy Survey (DES), X-ray: eROSITA

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #astrophysics

[jiveyuncle]

“Fuck you,” Lance whispers. Bile rises up the back of his throat, threatening to make a mess of the cockpit, and he quickly chokes the burning down. “Fuck you. Fuck…” He yanks his hands back from the controls to grip at his abdomen, stomach lurching dangerously at the sight of the lit display screens.

“It worked,” Allura's voice slides through the comms on his helmet. Lance hates the weary relief in her voice, hates that as reluctant as it is, her relief is reasonable - valid. He hates that the thing she's relieved about is that they can still form Voltron without Keith.

Still, the cabin hums with energy. Red light, instead of blue, glints off the surface of everything around him, tainting the metal of the dash and floor a shade reminiscent of the all-too-recent memory of blood, and for a second, it’s everywhere. Blood. On lips, soaked in hair, coated over hands. His skin itches everywhere it touched. Everything about this is wrong wrong wrong. “Why?” Lance breathes out at the lion, strangled and betrayed. Her acceptance of him stings like a slap to the face. It's bitter confirmation that Keith really is gone. “You can't just replace him.” Lance's fingers claw at the collar of his chest plate in a feeble attempt to clear his airway of the knot building in his throat. He can't be Keith’s replacement. He can't. He can't do this. Goddammit he can't breathe.

“Lance,” Shiro calls through the speakers, “you hanging in there?” His voice is steady, controlled, but carefully so. It's an unnatural kind of even - one that tips Lance off that his display of calmness is chosen, not felt.

Lance attempts to swallow, but his throat is too tight, and his tongue gets stuck pressing hard into the roof of his mouth. Keith was Shiro's little brother. They were the closest out of anyone on the team. Memories flash like still-frames through Lance's mind: of Shiro's arm around Keith's shoulders at a rally as Keith wears an affectionately annoyed look, comfortable with him in a way he never was with anyone else; Keith sprinting down the hall of the castleship's sleeping quarters, howling in wild laughter as Shiro bears down on him with shaving cream on his nose and the promise of vengeance in his eyes; Keith holding tightly around Shiro's sides, face buried in his chest, the moment Shiro comes down from a flashback; Shiro tugging a blanket over Keith's sleeping form conked out on the common room couch after a particularly grueling day of sparring. They loved one another, and Lance saw a piece of Shiro die with Keith the moment he stumbled into the medbay with his brother's lifeless form clutched to his chest. He's holding it together for the team's sake. Barely. The castleship's metal walls don't mute the screams that echo in the dead of night. Lance can't make this any harder for him.

Lance clicks his mic on and opens his mouth. For a second, nothing comes out. The dashboard lights blink idly before him, evidence of the ticks of silence passing in his hesitation. He forces a shaky breath, then makes another attempt.

“Yeah.”

He can't manage much else.

Dead Keith/Red Paladin Lance AU (Part 1/?)

Keith is killed by a triple agent Blade member, and Lance has to take his place as the red paladin. Lance does not want to take over Keith’s lion as that means accepting that he is dead. Later, Lance discovers that Keith’s consciousness was absorbed into and became a part of Red, and Keith helps Lance learn how to pilot her and heal. Sprinkle in Lance figuring his feelings out only after Keith is already dead, being able to talk to him in Red/see him in the astral plane but not touch, and god fuckkk I have a whole lot of feelings about this AU/fic.

.

It’s mostly Lance having to to deal with a lot of grief and regret about literally everything. Very introspective, Lance-centered - figuring out his role to play in the grand scheme of things, and how home, love, team, wants, and duty all fit into it. Bittersweet resolution as S8 ends with the lions no longer working, and saying goodbye to them means finally getting closure and really, truly saying goodbye to Keith.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You can now read this on AO3 as:

Empty Spaces You Left Behind

#lance mcclain #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #klance #broganes #voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #fanart #fanfic #major character death #red paladin lance #dead Keith red paladin Lance au

[castle-dominion]

castle 7x8 kill switch

the esposito train bomb episode liveblog

Heehee I'm so excited for this!

I tried to kms today so I got the day off from school after getting home from the hospital. I'm not going to spend much time doing homework tho I'm going to watch castle instead I think after a cide attempt I deserve to watch some Castle.

Married <3

RC: We’re like Nick and Nora Charles. KB: Ooh, like McMillan and Wife. RC: Hart to Hart. KB: Turner and Hooch. RC: Turner and Hooch aren’t even married. KB: Yeah, but you still remind me a little of Hooch.

Yay samebrain moments but give me ryan & esposito being smart too not just becks & sometimes castle. Oh no I just remembered this episode. Forget my wish.

My man the guest star has nice eyes.

Sounds like money laundering to me Healthcare fraud, I mean tbh Canada has pretty bad healthcare in comparison to some places, it is only good compared to the usa.

whose desk is castle at? whose family photo?

RC: I feel the heavy hand of conspiracy. KB: Yeah, well, what else is new? "skullduggery" the federal teat RC: No. But I will once you identify who met Paul at the park. XD Talks to both, hands to becks

Ran the image past tense *is running it now* RC & me: Jared Stone, misdemeanor computer trespassing? TE: Otherwise known as hacking.

KR: You have to admit, Castle’s theory is surprisingly logical. *RC nods* KB: Yes. And it’s conveniently unburdened by evidence. btw where esposito? Oh there Craigslist???? srs?

YAY CAR SCENE MY GUYS JUST CATCHING UP

Espt's face! Bro u'r already a dad, what about tommy & joey? KR: Well, you know, the thing of it is, is you know what it’s like not having a father. You’d make sure your kid never felt that way. JE: Maybe I’m ready for more than that. Coming from mr fear of commitment! Also does anyone else remember the episode in s8? {the sonjia ruiz episode?} JE: Did you hear that? That sound? KR: No. What sound? *looks around the car* JE: That’s my biological clock ticking. Tick, tock. Tick, to-- *Laughs* KR: We were having a genuine, honest moment here. And you had to-- ruin it! by,, being a jackass!, W--

JE: Hold on hold on slow down slow down Me: Again from the top now again from the top now & tell me everything tell me everything?

"hang tight" love the diction yay train station finally new york Lost him XD Earbud phone call Holding it like youre playing President His voice sounds cracky & dry

JE: Hey, bro. (listens) Yeah, followed him down into the subway. I’m looking for him now. KR: What, you lost him? JE: No, I didn’t lose him. I just … don’t have visual contact. KR: That’s kind of splitting hairs, isn’t it? Look, I’ll head down there and I’ll – JE: No, you stay there. I’ll – wait, I see him. He’s at my 12. He’s moving fast. He’s scared, like someone’s after him. "my 12" I love clock directions

YOU are the one following him!

Ryan's probably hella afraid rn w his partner on the train

lol acab. Do that tag babey.

Her gun would NOT be set up to shoot. There is no bullet in the chamber & the safety is on. This is a semi automatic so you don't need to cock in between each shot, but you do need to pull once once to get the bullet in the chamber.

People have taken their guns all the time, like I think the ninja ep or the hong kong ep, obv 3xk, & several times to beckett. But why does SHE have a weapon? Is this was USA cops are like? I thought that just la police nationale had guns for cheap cops who report people for silly graffiti.

His own hand is on his gun now. If it was good for the plot Esposito would have shot him already probably. Esposito itchy trgger finger rn. But aren't new yorkers used to this they just don't pay attention to guns pulled on the subway?

Is that REALLY how the brakes work? all the sparks like that? Where is the engineer? Do the lights do that?

Say ok & do it SLOWLY & remove the ammunition bro

Ooh intense. Love this all. Phones & guns & blunt instruments & acab wow jared so valid bestie. But also these people are trying to get to work.

It's just a phone bro but yeah good job everyone

Why are you yelling at him NOW of all times? I thought it would be best to keep things quiet on your end, radio silence. Seaking of radios why aren't you on the radio already & are you recording the phone call? (& why is Ryan's contact jjust "Ryan" not his full name? Oh wait I just realized, Ryan was silent until now for radio silence purposes & now he's yelling bc "javi"'s phone has been taken away.

title card & I have been watching this for like four hours or smth. No probably closer to two. Granted I've also been doing a million other things.

Bella & Ty my beloved. But be quiet & let the captor think. Grant also my beloved.

Apologize bro.

Evacuating because the brake was pulled duh or wait no they SHOULD wait for the intercom & THEN leave. Yeah. Except espt was phone ryan. yes PLEASE hit redial.

Nobody was talking bro! Except.. they were

Girl these three get their weapons taken All the time

Marisa Aragon & Javier Esposito. First names babes.

Love Grant. What a man.

JS: I think you’ll get your chance. ... (so good)

My bonvolio chorus here from VG: I’ve just been informed that Jared Stone, a person of interest in the Paul Reeves case, drew a gun on a subway and took hostages, including Detective Esposito. *KB is SHOCKED* At this point, it’s not clear why Jared Stone … VG: Right now, our sole priority is to gather any and all information on Jared Stone so the hostage rescue team will know who we’re dealing with. All intel comes to me so I can forward it directly to HRT. They should be on the scene right now.

Captain Bigalow/Bigelow depending on the transcipr or the captions & Detective Ryan. Sir he's a hack-- *I pause it to liveblog*

Solid <3

KR: Hey, Beckett. I’m sorry. KB: Kevin, no one could have seen this coming. (first names <3) KR: No, no. He’s my partner. I should have never let him go in there alone. KB: We’ve gotta focus on getting Javi out of there. So once you brief HRT just head over to Stone’s apartment. (First names <3) KR: .? Leave the scene? (Aaaah) KB: Look, there’s nothing that you can do that HRT isn’t already doing. And if we want to help Javi out, then the best thing that we can do is find out who Jared Stone is and why he is doing this. And some of those answers might be at his apartment. It’s the last thing KR wants to do. KR: Okay. I’ll check it out and let you know. KB hangs up.

Idk how much I want to clip I just want to clip So Much

Lanie!

Can't they remontely access people's phones? grave disruption of trust & privacy?

Ooh I love becks' voice rn. Good for the plot to have a cam tho ig. love it.

Wow. yay. another cop.

Love Jared playing classical music to either get him happy, calm him down, or get him pumped for killin. Or calm himself down. (Fic idea: esposito like music to calm down. vent fic.) She is like me, doesn't rly know what's going on but still rly skilled & aware. I kind of haate Aragon but I also kinda like her.

JE: I might need you to back me up. Can you do that? (Back me up, great words.) She nods. MA: What’s your play? JS’S condition is getting worse. He’s jerky and nervous and keeps taking hits off his inhaler. JE: Talk to him. Try to get him see the light, then disarm him if I get the chance. (Cheers ig) MA: I should talk to him. (JE does a double take which I sadly will not clip) I’m the one wearing the Kevlar. (tru) JE: Yeah, but I’ve already got a rapport with the guy, so… (Also true) MA: A bad rapport. (She isn't wrong) MA: I know what this is. I’m just a transit cop. (Or he trusts himself more since he has training in this???) MA: You gold shield guys always acting like you’re better than us. JE: We are better than you. (Asshole) (But he's right in the sense that he has more training & experience relevant to this. probably.) He smirks. She glares at him. He ignores her. JE: Mr. Stone! (JS takes his earbuds out) Permission to speak? (polite. smart.) JS: (gestures With His Gun) Go ahead.

wdym not here?

just *has a bomb* like ok

Ooh a dead man switch, interesting...

Plot twist!

Good point, 1% does not take the subway. Heck even the 2 & 3 %ers don't take subway.

he remembers which phone is espt's?

Julian & LT XD remove your shoes so valid bro

Wealth management. obv lol. You know I lost some people close to me & inherited a little over a thousand canadian since watching this the first time & now I actually need to know how to manage wealth. Some of tha advice my grandpapa's money guy told us was like,, 20-50 years out of date, or weird (like "if you teach your 30 ppl you do good but if you make 3 people teach 30 pl each for you then you get 90 people for the work of only doing 3" & I'm like 'what so the three original ppl I taught don't get paid for teaching 30 ppl? that isn't meritocracy (what ppl think

Wealth management. obv lol. You know I lost some people close to me & inherited a little over a thousand canadian since watching this the first time & now I actually need to know how to manage wealth. Some of tha advice my grandpapa's money guy told us was like,, 20-50 years out of date, or weird (like "if you teach your 30 ppl you do good but if you make 3 people teach 30 pl each for you then you get 90 people for the work of only doing 3" & I'm like 'what so the three original ppl I taught don't get paid for teaching 30 ppl? that isn't meritocracy (what ppl think capitalism is), that is employee abuse & a pyramid scheme' but go off) but a lot of it is also good & smart! You know the math where you smoke a cigarette a day (except sundays) & it's $10/pack & there are 12 in a pack & so you do the math & could afford a house if you didn't smoke? Yeah well you don't smoke so why don't you have a car? Pretend you smoke. Put away five dollars every week, & then it eventually adds up. They say "& one day you can put away $10/week or $50" but that is partially only if you start getting paid more, which these days often doesn't happen. (Ofc you can increase it some ways by like being aware of your costs & then you will find you have that extra to put away but the big numbers? You need a better paying job.) Oh & one of the worst pieces of advice: "For five years I didn't see my friends at all, I missed all their weddings, & now I'm rich. Now I'm rich I only work an hour & a half a day & it's a job I like (talking to people & doin money math) & my friends all hate me" like girl of course they hate you. You could have been almost as rich as you are now but have better relationships. Ofc he does have friends who are also wealthy so like good for him but still man. You deserve to see your friend's wedding. You deserve to say "No, I am NOT working this day" because your boss values you. Your boss should value you enough to let you have days off; your boss should NOT value you BECAUSE you never request days off. Also, not everyone wants to be a rich business owner (who does So Much work genuinely, at least in the first few years,) & then retire. Most people Like working! He said so himself! He likes his job talking to people & doing math! His son in law still has a job because he likes being occupied! My mom is a volunteer coordinator, volunteers exist! People want to work! We just don't want to work until we break & then retire & do nothing but golf (ew). The cognitively disabled factory worker who likes repetitive tasks & is highly trainable but not necessarily a good individual thinker or problem sovler still deserves to live without breaking their body & still deserves to retire or cut their hours if they ever want.

Sorry, just. Wealth management. Yeah heheh. ONE THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED NOT FIFTEEN HUNDRED

Maldives? (btw I like tory's standing desk.)

VG/HRT: What kind of pizza does Esposito like? mkes me insane. but what if he likes plain cheese? KB: Uh .. pineapple, olives, and double jalapeños, sir. Makes me Even More InSane

the point of a shredder is to destroy important documents. Acab. (why make lt hold it why not just put it down on the side??

btw they have everyone sitting on normal seats now not just the floor

They literally just went to your address & saw you board a train bro Me & JE: What’s White Knight?

bOB <:( I like Jared. He's like "Yeah I'm fine. They're fine. I want them to not be hungry. My goal is not to hurt these people, let's get them some food." But he forgot to give his demands until prompted. Arin Wilson released from prison! I love captions btw. JS: "Erin Wilson" but RC: "Aaron Wilson" btw his eye contact with the camera sooo good. & I like gates' necklace btw. He is looking not-ok tho, progressively getting worse at such a pace I barely notice it

RC: So she’s a hacker, too? Me: So she’s a hacker too!! RC: It’s a non-extradition country. Ohhhh RYAN IS BACK MY MAN someone should give him a hug. Him & Parish Yay background characters

Yeah they know that girl shut up

"soul mate" tbh that's cute. I like jared minus the fact he's holding a train car hostage JE: Well, why didn’t you give Bob more to go on so he knew who you were talking about? true JS: I want to keep him off balance. Maintain control. valid ig? JE: You get that tip off the internet? ‘Cause it’s not a very good one. bro not a good thing to say JE: What’s White Knight? Doesn't tell us anything (good for the plot) JS: You. The husband. Go. Get the food. I know you’ll come back. He's right ig, but what if he doesn't

My adhd would NOT let me hold that thing

I love him & his free erin wilson website wow white knight we have a word now. I bet it is paul reeves but that wouldn't make sense

Oh no don't make ppl give birth in the middle of this {Wait after seeing this a second time, she Knows what it's like to be preggo} JSDHFKLASDJH PIZZA but hm, did they get everyone else's pizza orders? why does espt look so shocked but aragon also knew she'd get a specific order? I mean they KNOW espt is there of COURSE they;d give him his fave Lol aragon I love her

that is a crappily made pizza but at least it has a lot of toppings. Tbh it was probably made by a teenaged line cook. Also it does not look like it has been cut...

YAY STUFF IS HAPENING

VG: HRT thinks the Erin Wilson demand is a ruse. Why? Why do they think that?

HOLD ON SHE'S AT THE 54TH Making convo lol fuck the military acab & these poor guys holy shit fuck the military. They're designed to be the same person tho. POC, quit the military, became a cop, 54th, kinda pissy but also in a straight-backed sort of way (lol miliraty)... they are the same person. I like espt's voice when it goes low & soft like that.

JE: Hey, why did you become a cop? MA: (shrugs) Got out of the Army. It’s what made the most sense. JE: Me too. You miss the service? MA: Some parts. Not others. JE: Married? Kids? MA: No. Don’t do this, okay? Don’t try to take my mind off of what’s coming. I don’t need anyone holding my hand. JE: You know, you’ve got a chip on your shoulder the size of Stonehenge. I was just trying to get to know you a little bit.

THAT'S what they meant by flicker!?!?

Be quiet aragon.

Lil bro: what if they just killed Esposito? Me: That'd be one way to get a different actor...

They don't know you have a dead man switch Jared... You have never said you have a bomb... Except I mean at the very start they knew espt was on the phone with another cop He has experience using a gun? His aim is good enough? He had a gun? in his back pocket? with the safety off? Good way to lose a buttcheek

Ok Lanie she actually likes him cool cool but what about ryan? What about Esposito's mom? I mean I wouldn't call Esposito's mom until he's actually dead...

True! We're so focused on stone now that we have forgotten about paul reeves! Like Lightbulb Len!

Lanie smart moments?

Beckett just mentioned the flu virus & now I suddenly remember what Lanie noticed.

I remember WHY he was instructed to stall for time JE: He passes out and releases that switch we’re all dead. Yeah legit

Girl why don't you have your shoelace ALREADY out? you said NEXT PUFF what if he took the next puff BEFORE you got your shoelace out?? Hold on a sec, her shoes are NOT cop approved. At least his are steel toed & black. JS: Don’t worry, everyone. It’s almost over. See? He actually cares about these people sort of. Or at least he doesn't WANT to hurt them.

I'd be hella careful y'all... She knows what to do itiod. But watching it slowed down to see things my deaf ass had trouble reading his lips & then I noticed: why do they kick him down first?

Yay ryan!

h5n1 I remember that. We were talking abt it in my martial arts class when one of our instructors was a doctor & she was giving us info at the start of covid.

One person terrorizing you to espt terrorizing you lol.

Lethal? Yeah don't y'all remember the influenza epidemic when they had interviews with ppl & over the course of like a 40 minute interview they would go from perfectly fine to dead? & now we get shots for it every year & the majority of people (those at the top of the bell-curve or one end of it; abled, not old, etc) don't die from it.

VG: There is a vaccine Lil bro: but it's one million dollars. Castle, pay up. & even if it is lethal, that doesn't mean it is going to kill everyone, it is just ABLE to kill you!

JS: You’re not the priest. KB: No, but I can take your confession. Good line

Jared was just a patsy, a scapegoat, a pawn to be sacrificed. A fall guy. He doesn't WANT to get others sick!

RC: The lab from which the virus went missing, Latham Pharmaceuticals? They’re the same company that makes the vaccine Sounds legit, sadly.

Ooh I like Beckett's outfit!

I can't believe her job is literally to investigate government scams & she's doing this

"I didn't think ppl would get killed, they could just buy the vaccine & that's how I get rich!" Poor people exist, anti-vaxxers exist, people who are really slow at doing stuff (like me) exist!

Is he just... shoving his gun into his pocket? At the hospital? I went to the hospital yesterday bc I wanted to kms & they had to confiscate my razor (I forgot I had multiple & ended up bringing one with me by accident-- also kept my ethnic knife (which my instructor called a mezzaluna when it is actually an ulu bc I may not be inuit but I sure as hell am native) which, oops, but I didn't want to not get it back; I wanted to still have it) anyway they don't let you have guns or ammunition in hospitals wo why does esposito have his gun here??

Aragon wearing normal clothes!

JE: You did all right down there. I don’t care what they say about transit cops. MA: Mmm. What they say about gold shields is even worse, mostly because it’s true. lol acab

JE: We make a tight team. MA: Bonds forged in the heat of battle. You know how it is. JE: Yeah. Fuck the military, I’m so sorry for you MA: I wasn’t straight with you. I have a five year old son. He’s confused. (What's that zoom about?) JE: Uh … you said that you didn’t have a family. Why hide that? (Ye, y) MA: I didn’t want you worried about me being a mom down there. (Oh. Valid JE: (scoffs) You are a piece of work, Marisa. MA: Who’s Lenny? He is confused. MA: Or is it Lanie? (Thinks it’s a man’s name at first, She totally clocked him.) He freezes. JE: How do you know about her? MA: On my last tour an IED blew out my eardrum. I got pretty good at reading lips. You were saying her name before you took down Stone. (I’m hoh in one ear & I’m adhd so I watch ppl’s lips but I struggled to see what he was saying. I actually thought it was “I love you lanie I lov–” yk?) JE: Yeah, I don’t … I don’t remember that. (Lying bc he likes marisa– until she revealed she has a kid & is possibly married? Or he actually doesn’t remember?) MA: Who you think of in that moment? It has weight. Don’t trade what’s real for something that isn’t. (Valid but Lanie is happy where she is. Or at least she was but now she’s cryin watching javi in the train) MA: I’ll see you around, Javi.

What's that music?

Lil bro: When esposito starts a company selling air Me: (Like in the Lorax?) Lil bro: Javi-Air

The person who sits by beckett is Det Sch (I can't see the rest)

Yay he's back@ He ruins it by being a jackass again

Lanie!!!

I thought this was where the line "we both deserve something more" came from & i was "is he proposing or breaking up I can't tell" but ig I was wrong

Yay drinks

CASTLE DAD MOMENTS XD XD XD

In the TWO DAYS I've had off school I've only managed one castle. I just love them too much & do other work. I should go back to giving myself a 1.5 hour limit. That was back when I had recently seen the ep tho. Tbh this was worth $100 & a trip to the ER. I got some time to bleach my bones, sleep in, watch castle, make a soup... Now all I need to do is shower, see my doctor, catch up on chores, catch up on homework, & do everything else I need to do before I go back to school. Ugh.

#castle 7x8 #the esposito train bomb episode #castle 7x8 spoilers #castle 7x8 quote

[lewishamil10n]

foreman/chase headcanons!! feel free to reblog and add your own

they get together some time in late s8

in my head it's just after chase leaves ppth and foreman is like Oh. why do i miss him

thirteen has been expecting it since before either of them even acknowledged their feelings

house has a vague idea but is too preoccupied with wilson to really care

taub finds out because he catches foreman smiling at his phone while texting and is like Something Is Up

(his first thought was that foreman had caught a disease affecting his cognitive processes hence the smiling)

cameron finds out when she sees them holding hands at house's "funeral" and her brain stops working for a whole minute

chase actually gets along really well with foreman's family

his dad specifically, but also the rest of them

foreman's not too pleased about it

"chase i've been avoiding them for twenty years and now you're telling me you've accepted dinner invitations?!!"

"your aunt promised to make brownies!"

foreman's family practically adopts chase and in the end foreman has no choice but to accept it

he complains a lot but he's secretly glad because now chase has an actual family that WANTS him

he almost changes his mind when marcus decides to befriend chase and tell him all of his embarrassing childhood stories, though

foreman always carries an epipen with him just in case chase has an allergic reaction and goes into anaphylactic shock

he also makes sure there's no trace of strawberries in his apartment even though he actually really liked them

foreman takes chase shopping because he finally gets tired of chase's ugly ass ties and mismatched sweaters

foreman acts all cool and composed at work but literally everyone and their mother knows that he can't say no to chase

it becomes unofficial hospital policy that if you want something from foreman, you bribe chase with candy to go ask on your behalf

this is how the nurses lounge gets a better coffee machine and the pediatric department ends up with an honest-to-god bouncy castle

chase still asks foreman for help on cases sometimes especially if he's stuck with a differential

while foreman asks chase's advice in dealing with annoying people and stupid policies

since foreman has worked under house and knows that sometimes you need to take risks to get a diagnosis, he goes easier on chase and often helps him find ways to do his job without getting sued

one day chase comes over to foreman's apartment with his cat and his twenty plants and simply never leaves

"oh i wasn't aware i'd asked the cat and a bunch of cacti to move in too?"

"we're a package deal, okay"

chase is the one that traps the bugs and puts them outside

foreman is the one that opens the tight jars

their idea of a nice night in is foreman playing video games while chase reads something next to him

or they both read journal articles and ask each others' opinions

foreman is afraid of chase's cat and the cat knows it

it is the fattest ugliest cat in the world and it's chase's baby so foreman puts up with it

chase hogs the covers at night while foreman is the one with cold feet

all of foreman's hoodies live in chase's closet now

foreman proposes and chase half-seriously asks if he's got an ex's sperm frozen somewhere

"what? no, i don't think so"

"then okay, i'll marry you"

they fight over who gets to have thirteen as best man

taub is really excited to plan a huge wedding and ends up plotting their murders when they tell him they eloped

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS WITHOUT TELLING ME?"

"we had a free lunch and you were in surgery"

adams plans a nice tasteful celebration so that taub's cake samples don't go to waste, but then park brings in a mariachi band and the rest is history

#house md #eric foreman #robert chase #choreman #im guessing that's the tag now #foremanchase #[blog tag] #naila.txt #anyway feel free to rb and add your own! #we def need more choreman content on this site #non spn

[sparxwrites]

GoodTimesWithScar?

wow yall are thirsty for mr. goodtimes content, huh? let's do uhhh hermitcraft scar for this one, shall we?

Headcanon A:  realistic

This man hyperfocuses like nobody's business. When he's in the middle of a particularly engaging build, it's not uncommon for him to go a couple of days building near-constantly before crashing when it's finally done. It's not uncommon, for larger builds, to find him just kind of passed out taking a nap in the half-finished crook of some roof somewhere, coat pulled tight around him and hat set over his face to block out the light as he snores softly. There's a bit of a running game-slash-joke, a lá Tegg, where if Scar is building and hasn't been seen actually doing the build for a few hours, that the first hermit to find the little nook where he's holed up for a power nap gets a prize.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

He's a terrible klutz. This one I think is... possibly realistic, given: see literally everything in S8, but it's also really funny, so. Just- Scar tripping into the Boatem Hole constantly. Scar walking into doorframes if they're not suitably wide enough. Scar doing his salesman's pitch and he stumbles over his own feet. Scar experiencing kinetic energy twenty times a day because oh god it's bad enough trying to be steady and coordinated on two feet, let alone with a pair of strap-on wings-

(His friends are nice about it, and build extra-wide doorways and suitable landing platforms for him. But still.)

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

He doesn't really feel like he fits in. Even though he's part of Boatem, and even though he in part deliberately holds himself apart because, haha, shady businessman, way better at this scamming stuff than the rest of you... It still niggles at him. He builds his base nestled in amidst the rest of theirs; he sets up a hat shop, and makes them all hats, as a gift; he offers to build a part of Grian's base, and gives Mumbo design advice, and asks for a tour of Impulse's factory, and openly and loudly admires Pearl's palace; and hopes that might close the invisible gulf he feels between himself and the rest of them.

It doesn't. He still feels... apart. Distant. Different. Not because they treat him poorly, or are excluding him, or anything like that, no- deep in his heart of hearts, he knows where the problem is. He knows where the invisible walls are coming from. And it's him. He just... has had them up for so long, he's not sure what will happen if he lets them down. If he trusts, if he's open and genuine and vulnerable and himself... god. What might happen then? The thought thrills and terrifies him in equal measure - and so the walls, and the distance, stay.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

......Look, idk if I actually have this as a headcanon, but- the first thing that sprang to mind was. Little kitty ears. Grian's got his wings, which are pretty obvious, and Mumbo's half-potato now, which is even more obvious - but Scar wears his hat so often, and has such a healthy and volume-ified head of hair, that pretty much no one knows. His hat gets knocked off at some point, and someone notices the soft lil cat ears on top of is head, and is like how long have THOSE been there?! and Scar jams his hat back on and absolutely refuses to tell them.

(Word gets around. Some hermits become a little preoccupied with the scientific/magical mystery of how Scar acquired cat ears between one world and the next. And Some Hermits, not naming names, instead become preoccupied with how soft those ears probably are, and how velvety they might be to the touch, and whether this also means Scar purrs... Some Hermits get lovingly teased for being weird little horny bastards lmao.)

#skitter-kitteruwu #anonymous #ask #sparx chats #ask meme #hermits crafting

[scullysexual]

s8- post existence; morning came too soon

part 2 to this | t | second person mulder pov | season 8- post existence | wc: 777 | @today-in-fic | ao3

I'd reccommend reading Morning Don't Come before this.

- - -

Morning Came Too Soon.

The sun has risen. The birds are chirping. You know it’s time to go.

Scully lays on you, her arms wrapped around you tight. You know what she’s doing; making sure you keep your promise.

You brush a fallen piece of hair out of the way and realise, not for the first time, that you don’t want to go.

But you know you must. You just wish morning hadn’t come so soon.

A soft cry from the bedroom alerts you. You’re about to untangle yourself from Scully and see to William yourself when Scully stirs.

You’re amazed. It used to take a lot to get Scully up now all a baby needs to do is cry quietly and there she is waking.

You suppose it makes sense; some calling inside her waking her up.

She miles up at you, groggy from sleep. Your heart lifts at the sight. You never did see enough early morning smiles, you think.

Scully’s eyes widen then as realisation crosses over them.

“You stayed!”

You smile, nodding, fingers combing through her hair.

“Exactly as I promised.”

She continues to smile until her face falls. She looks towards the windows, to where the sun peeps through the curtains, reminding you both of your little time left.

“Will you stay for a little longer?” she asks and you hear the hint of plea in her voice. It ends all arguments. Against better judgement you stay.

She’s feeding William when you enter the bedroom. Your bags are packed, waiting for you by the front door, time ticking away.

You watch them, feeling a surge of protectiveness run through you. They’re yours, you think and it brings a smile to your face. Yours to keep safe.

So why are you running away?

You swallow and shift, batting that thought away. There was no room for those thoughts today. Your running is protecting them.

“He’ll be done in a minute,” she says.

“Then he’ll go back to sleep?”

She laughs. You haven’t heard her laugh in so long it stops you for a moment.

“That’s all he ever does.”

She places William down in his crib and wanders over to you. You open your arms and she goes there willingly, her face hidden in your chest. Your arms go around her holding her as tight as she holds you.

“It feels like I only just got you back.”

I know, you think. Three months. Three months and you’re gone again.

You say nothing, thinking, not for the first time, that you don’t really want to go.

You bury your head in her neck, lips coming into contact with her skin. You haven’t touched her since the night before you were taken, almost a year ago. That’s so long. So long to go without touching the person who is just an extension of you.

“Scully,” you say as need suddenly grips you. Your hands start exploring, imploring, requesting.

“It’s too soon,” she says and you can hear her own disappointment laced within her voice.

“But I can give you…something,” she adds.

Your eyes close, wishing yes.

“On one condition.”

Anything.

“You can’t wake our baby.”

Like some siren of the deep she pulled you in. Lured you in with her song and beauty and at the last second ripping you to pieces.

You resurfaced, shredded skin and new self. You resurfaced, changed.

You lie with your head cradled on her chest, face mushed against the soft skin of the breasts. The same she uses to feed your child.

Her apartment isn’t so scary now, with curtains draw, the sun casting the room in orange.

But it’s deceptive. They could bash that door down at any time.

“I have something else to give you,” she says quietly.

You pull your head up, feeling dazed.

“More?”

She smiles, pulling over her drawer. A cut piece of fabric is presented to you.

“It’s from a pillowcase. I- I washed it. I…” she bows her head, red cheeked, thoroughly embarrassed. “It’s silly.”

You reach over and take the gift from her. Bringing it up to your nose, inhaling the scent of her fabric softener, of Scully. A reminder.

“Thank you, Scully.”

You kiss her, savouring the feel, the taste. Her nails dig into your forearms, keeping you there until they release, allowing you to go.

Your foreheads rest against each other’s.

“You should go,” she says and you nod. “I’ll meet you by the door.”

You nod again, remembering how many times she said those exact words to you when you’d stay over on a worknight.

You look towards the curtains deciding, not for the first time, that morning came too soon.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #part 2 fic #s8- post existence #scullysexualwrites

[writerbri-archive]

Dark Jon is my favorite Jon so here's my prompt! Once he's back from Dragonstone and knows about his parentage, Jon can't control himself anymore and let his dark side come out to live, claiming Sansa, making S her and planning with her their life because he won't have a world where he can't have her. Kind of a fix-fic S8 with the Jon we deserved, as dark and possesive and jealous as possible! Hope you can write it because I'm so excited about it! Thank you in advanced, stay safe!

Book Canon. Ramsay never got within 10 feet of Sansa. Jon’s heritage is known to everyone and has been for some time. It’s Robb’s will that made him King in the North, not just the northern lords. The trip to Dragonstone/KL for Jon pretty much went the same as in the show. Full pol!Jon. Don’t read if you’re a D/ny fan. It may not be full dark but it has shades of dark and possessive Jon so I hope you like it!

*

She ought to have expected it. Time hadn’t stopped for an instant since his return to Winterfell and this was their first true moment alone since she bent the knee before a foreign queen in quiet fury. Jon quietly latched the door, his very presence filling the room in an inescapable manner. Yet she did not turn, staring out at the moonlit courtyard without truly seeing a thing. Her arms were draped loosely about her middle and she leaned against the windowpane for fear that she could not hold herself up otherwise.

“You weren’t in the hall tonight.”

Sansa wondered how he could have known, with the Dragon Queen so determined to command every bit of his attention. Had someone else told him? Or did he manage to tear his gaze away from her loveliness long enough to notice Sansa’s absence at the high table? If that were the case, surely he noticed that she was not the only one who wasn’t there.

“I supped with Lord Tyrion.”

She sensed his sudden stillness. Resisted the temptation to look over her shoulder. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of it. Not like she had much of a choice. Sansa certainly hadn’t brought the man into their home.

“Alone?” Jon asked, his voice quiet.

Sansa frowned, wondering if that was all that mattered to him.

“Brienne was there,” she answered, still facing away from him.

“Why did he ask to dine with you?”

Finally, she tilted her head over her shoulder and met his gaze. Saw the ire in his dark eyes. The tension in his shoulders. His hand half lifted to the sword on his belt as if he might search Tyrion Lannister out the moment she said something he did not like to hear.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Sansa asked, a note of mocking to her voice that caused him to blink. “Shouldn’t the Lady of Winterfell welcome the Hand of the Queen to her table when he requests it?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed at her words but she did not dare yield.

“What did he want?” he asked again.

Sansa held his gaze for a handful of seconds before turning away to stare out of the window once more.

“He proposed a match,” she finally answered.

A sharp intake of breath. The whisper of cloth as she imagined his hand finally closing around the hilt of his sword, just beneath the snarling direwolf that decorate the pommel. Had Ghost been there instead of hunting through the wolfswood, he would have reacted to Jon’s palpable anger.

“Between the two of you?” Jon said, his voice tight with rage.

Sansa’s eyes slipped closed as she leaned her head against the pane. A part of her wanted to demand how he could dare assume the right to grow angry over the mere thought of it. But she was tired. Far too tired for any of this. All that she wanted was to be alone.

“No,” Sansa said, her voice betraying her weariness. “Between you and her.”

She did not have to speak the woman’s name. He knew well enough without hearing it. Moments passed without a sound between them. The silence thick with tension and all that went unsaid. He’d spoken to Arya, she was sure. Told her all about his journey south. If there were anything that Sansa needed to know, anything that she did not already, her sister would have brought it to her ear. Sansa did not care to know the rest. Particularly not after this night.

“Why come to you with this proposition?” Jon said, his words heavy and tired as her own.

“To hear whatever objections I may have in private,” Sansa answered, though it was more something she’d assumed than anything that Tyrion admitted outright. “He likely feared that I would voice some disapproval before the northern lords and sway their opinions if I was not forewarned of his plan to wed you to his queen.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?”

“Daenerys is unwed so that she might secure an alliance,” Jon said, sounding more as if he spoke to himself than her.

“And the North is already well within her grasp,” Sansa finished for him, finally turning away from the window to face him fully, her arms dropping loosely to her sides.

Jon’s eyebrows were knitted together in confusion, his lips tilted into the frown she’d seen so many times before. How he could remain so unsuspecting after all this time truly astounded her. True, he hadn’t suffered the same education that she had but surely he’d learned a lesson at the mercy of his brothers’ blades. If not then, had her advice done nothing to teach him? Did he still know nothing of the game?

“Was it not enough to bend the knee?” she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side?

“I don’t-”

“You laid with her.”

Jon’s eyes grew wide, his lips parting in shock as silence enveloped her solar once more.

“Tyrion told you,” he said after nearly a minute passed.

“He assumes that your existing affection for one another will ease quite well into a marriage,” Sansa said, turning away from him and crossing the room to pour herself a cup of wine simply for something to do with her hands. “He sees such potential in your union. Jaehaerys and Good Queen Alysanne come again, perhaps.”

Sansa might have laughed at the comparison, for Daenerys Targaryen had no similar traits to the beloved queen of the stories that she could see, but she found no true humor in the situation. Not when her heart ached so, at the mere thought of him entangled in furs with the Dragon Queen. Sansa had no right to her jealousy, she knew that. They’d come to know one another as cousins but Jon did not owe her his love no matter what she felt for him.

So Sansa would feel indignant on behalf of the North, she thought to herself as she drank. The lords and ladies who put their faith in their king. For Robb, who entrusted the crown to Jon all those years ago. Any bitterness that Sansa felt at her brother’s actions had long since faded. She could not blame him for wanting to keep Winterfell out of Lannister clutches and Jon had been a good king up to the very moment he laid his crown at Daenerys’ feet.

“It is not what you think,” Jon said slowly.

“Tis hard to misunderstand such a situation,” Sansa all but scoffed.

“The answer is no, Sansa.”

She blinked at the sudden strength of conviction in his voice. The determined way in which he spoke her name. Abandoning her half-filled cup, Sansa turned to face him with her own brow furrowed.

“No?” she repeated.

“No,” Jon affirmed, taking a step closer to her, then another and another. “It was not enough to bend the knee.”

Sansa took a step back only for her hips to collide with the table behind her, jostling the flagon and nearly sending her cup toppling to the ground.

“I do not wish to hear of it,” she said, the slightest tremble affecting her words.

“Aye, but you will.”

Exhaling shakily, Sansa prepared herself to command him to leave. She would not be forced to listen to him. To hear a tale that would only hurt her more. Sansa thought that it could not get any worse when she learned that he had abandoned his crown. How wrong she had been.

“Leave,” she said, her voice low and not unaffected as he drew nearer to her.

“I did not trust her on word alone.”

“And yet you brought her here,” Sansa said, leaning away as he braced his hands upon the table on either side of her hips.

“I did,” Jon said, his eyes fixed upon her own, searing and consuming in a way that she could not escape. “And I would do it again, a hundred times over if it means winning the Great War.”

Sansa shuddered as his heat enveloped her, feeling altogether unsteady at his proximity. She ought to escape the cage of his arms. Command that he step away. Do anything to end this torture.

“And should she harm us?”

Jon’s eyes darkened, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Then she will meet the same fate as anyone else who dares lay a hand on you.”

You. Not the North. Not the lords and ladies. Not Arya or Bran. You. Sansa recalled Lord Baelish with sudden clarity. The red of his blood against the white snows. That same blood staining the very sword sheathed at Jon’s waist. The burning rage in his eyes as she recounted the unwelcome kisses and touches forced upon her. The pleased look upon his face as Baelish’s many crimes came to light. The glance they shared over the man’s body, an understanding passing between them.

“Jon,” she breathed his name, lifting her hand to his chest.

Beneath her palm, his heart beat out a steady rhythm. His eyes did not falter in the least, staring directly into hers even as her tears welled.

“You laid with her,” Sansa said again, one tear tracing a slow path down her cheek.

“She could not be trusted on word alone,” Jon said quietly, almost soothingly, reaching up to brush her tear away with his thumb. “We could not defeat the enemy alone, Sansa. You know that we need her armies and her dragons.”

Sansa let her eyes fall closed, recalling how she’d received Tyrion with a smile that very night. Encouraging him to speak of all that he’d endured since they last met in King’s Landing. Laughing demurely behind her hand at his stories. Gasping in all the right places. Letting him think that she was most pleased to have him there. Just as she had done with Joffrey, saying all the right things to fool him. Sansa had warned Jon not to fall to the same fate as her father and brother. She didn’t know that he’d listened until this very moment.

He’s no different than me, she realized with a quiet sigh.

“The thought that you might love her,” Sansa said, her voice breaking ever so slightly. “That you might be hers...”

His lips brushed over her forehead in a tender kiss.

“Never,” Jon whispered.

Where will you go, she’d once asked him.

Where will we go, he’d said in return.

Now he was there, in her chambers. With her, not the Dragon Queen. Jon and Sansa, just as it should be.

“What are we going to do?”

Jon’s lips withdrew only for him to lay a kiss upon her cheek.

“Leave tomorrow’s concerns be,” he said, his hand falling to her throat, cupping it lightly as his thumb traced her collarbone. “Tonight, I intend to show you that I belong to only one woman.”

Sansa’s eyes fluttered open and she shivered beneath his touch as he pressed a kiss to her other cheek.

“We shouldn’t,” she said half-heartedly, even as she allowed him to tilt her head back.

“I intend to wed you, Sansa Stark,” Jon murmured just before placing a kiss upon her throat.

Her breath caught at his words, heat rising within her as he slipped his free arm around her waist.

“Jon...”

“You will be mine,” his lips brushed her skin as he spoke. “And I will be yours.”

His teeth scraped over her fluttering pulse as he pulled her even closer to him.

“Oh,” Sansa all but whimpered.

Jon drew away and she mourned the loss of his lips.

“Should I leave now, hmm?” he asked, tipping his head to the side as he brushed his thumb over her jawline.

Sansa took a moment to breathe before shaking her head slowly.

“Please don’t,” she said softly, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. “Stay with me.”

A smile pulled at his lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as he leaned his face into her touch.

“Sweet girl,” Jon said, the note of praise in his voice making her heart skip a beat.

He leaned in close, his lips a hair’s breadth away from her own. Sansa longed for his kiss, yet she could not bear it until he eased her concerns.

“Will you lay with her again?” she asked, drawing away to look him in the eyes.

Jon’s eyes hardened ever so slightly and she could see the distaste that he felt at the thought of it.

“Never.”

A single word to soothe her worries. A single kiss to make her forget them entirely. Sansa arched into him as his lips slanted over hers, far more gently than she expected. His hands lifted to cradle her face as if she was the most fragile thing he’d ever held.

“I’m not so easy to break,” Sansa protested.

Jon exhaled a laugh over her lips, drawing away to look into her eyes.

“I have dreamt of this,” he said, his hand rising to allow his thumb to brush over her bottom lip. “I intend to take my time.”

Sansa said nothing in return, grasping his hand in her own. Jon did not protest nor did he try to stop her as she stepped out of his arms and turned to guide him towards her bedchamber. The door stood just wide enough for her to slip through and bring him along with her. Sansa barely made it two steps from the doorway before Jon spun her about, drawing a gasp from her lips before he claimed them once more, his hands falling to grip her hips firmly.

The scrape of his beard against her skin was such a contrast to the softness of his full lips, yet one that Sansa liked all the same. Jon guided her backward as she pressed up on her toes to meet his kisses eagerly. Lifting her hands to her hair, she pulled out pin after pin and cared little when they fell to the stone floor in her haste. Jon hummed his approval as one hand lifted to delve into her hair, his lips falling to trace along her jaw and tease at a particularly sensitive spot just behind her ear.

“Wha-what will happen after?” Sansa said, struggling to speak beyond the sensations overwhelming her. “After the Others are defeated?”

“She’ll fly south and claim her throne,” Jon said, flicking his tongue over her heated skin and drawing a whimper from her. “And the North will be ours alone.”

“You bent the knee,” Sansa gasped as his hands made their way to her laces.

“I lied,” Jon nearly growled.

A shudder tore through her as his fingers pulled at her gown’s laces impatiently. Sansa might have done the same for his jerkin had his lips not descended upon hers once more, quite thoroughly distracting her as he stripped her gown away almost effortlessly. His fingers proved every bit as deft with her stays until she wore nothing but her shift, stockings, and smallclothes.

“Beautiful,” Jon hummed, pulling away to pluck at the ties of her shift.

Sansa’s cheeks warmed even more, her hands trembling as she reached up to trace the scars that surrounded his eyes.

“You are too, Jon,” she said softly, tracing his features with her eyes and fingers both.

He hesitated in his movements, his eyes flitting up to meet her own. Something flickered in his gaze. A lingering uncertainty and doubt. As if he couldn’t quite believe that they were here at all, much less that she might mean her words. Sansa leaned in, brushing her lips over his as she lifted her hands to slip her shift from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground with her gown and pins.

Jon tore his lips away as soon as he realized what she’d done and Sansa could barely voice her discontent before he lifted her to the tips of her toes, his head ducking so that he could wrap his lips around her nipple. Sansa’s cry filled the room as pleasure surged through her, her fingers delving into his dark curls as she cradled his head to her breast.

He was quite relentless, sucking and licking at her nipple, even tugging at it with his teeth. Sansa thought she’d go mad at the sensations he pulled from her body, such that she did not think were possible, moans falling freely from her lips by the time he moved his mouth to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. Sansa had never experienced such sweet torment. Never wanted it to end yet needed more.

She felt weak on her legs by the time he drew away, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath she took. Her lips parted as she met his desire-filled gaze. Her breath hitched as he bore her back onto the bed, capturing her lips in another overwhelming kiss. Sansa felt the leather of his jerkin beneath her palms and recalled that he was still fully dressed yet had no chance to change it before Jon dropped to his knees before her.

“What are you doing?” she said, her eyes growing wide as he looked up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Kissing you,” Jon said simply.

Sansa thought she might blush from head to toe as her smallclothes joined the rest on the floor, once she grasped his meaning. She bit down on her protests, resisting the urge to hide her face behind her hands as he shouldered her thighs apart without bothering to remove her stockings. Sansa thought he must have done so on purpose, judging by the heat in his gaze as he brushed his lips over the soft skin of her thigh just above the silk ties.

Had Myranda not been quite so outspoken about her trysts, Sansa would not know that such an act existed. She certainly never thought to experience it herself. Though she may not have been a maid, due to her short-lived marriage to Harry, Sansa had little idea of what to expect as Jon fit himself between her thighs and lowered his head to lick a path along her folds. 

Dropping her head back against the bed, she arched into his mouth as heat and pleasure rose within her. Jon’s hands seized her hips, dragging her closer to his mouth and keeping her still as he licked and sucked at her cunt like a man starved. A part of Sansa knew that she ought to keep quiet, lest the entire castle hear what they were doing.

“No!”

Jon’s growl echoed through the room, fierce in its stern reprimand.

“Let me hear you,” he said, staring into her eyes.

Sansa saw the desperation in his eyes and let her hands fall away. His eyes flashed with approval and sent warmth spreading through her as he dropped his head to resume his task. Spearing her fingers into his hair, Sansa tossed her head back once more as she filled the chamber with a litany of drawn-out moans and hoarse cries.

“Gods, Sansa,” Jon groaned, pressing a finger into her slowly as he traced his lips over her clit. “I could happily feast on your cunt for hours.”

She let out a sob, shaking her head as her hands twisted into the first beneath her. Sansa knew for a fact that she would never survive such a thing. Her body began to shake as she felt the heat in her lower belly grow all the more tight and intense. Her lips formed a mantra of Jon’s name as she rocked her hips against his mouth. A second finger pressed in alongside the first and just as they curled within her, Sansa hurtled over the edge with a shout.

Pleasure rolled through her in waves, making her toes curl and her teeth sink into her lower lip deep enough to draw blood. Jon did not relent as she trembled beneath him, her hands pushing half-heartedly at his shoulders as it all became too much to bear. He drew away and wiped the back of his hand over his lips only for his gaze to darken even more, if possible, at the sight of blood smeared over her mouth.

Sansa gasped at the taste of herself on his lips as he claimed her lips, licking away the blood before his tongue delved into her mouth. It was almost impossible to loosen the laces of his jerkin as her hands shook in the aftermath of her peak, her entire body feeling weightless and weak. Yet she managed to shove it down his arms and toss it away all the same, yanking at his tunic until he drew away enough for her to lift it over his head.

“Please,” Sansa murmured against his lips, fumbling with his breeches. “I need more, Jon.”

He pulled away and she felt cold all at once, realizing just how hot he burned as soon as she felt the loss of his skin against her own. Sansa pushed up on her elbows, watching as he kicked away his boots and divested himself of his breeches and smallclothes in one movement. She felt a tug of desire in her low belly at the first glimpse of his cock, reaching out towards him before she could fully realize it.

Jon climbed onto the bed once more yet did not settle between her thighs, hauling her up and into his lap instead. Sansa straddled his thighs, letting out a trembling breath as she felt the length of his cock against her cunt. His arm slung around her hips, the other hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her deeply. Sansa’s hands slid to his shoulders and she rocked her hips, desperate to feel more.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Jon murmured, pressing his forehead to hers.

Sansa reached between them with a confidence she never thought she possessed, wrapping her hand around his cock and relishing in his groan as she stroked him slowly. Swirling her thumb over the tip, watching his eyes fall closed and his lips form soundless words. Lifting up higher on her knees, Sansa held her breath and slowly sank down, letting him fill her inch by inch.

In that moment, as two became one, Sansa knew that no feeling would ever compare to this utter completeness that overwhelmed her. A sob of overwhelming wholeness and pleasure rose in her throat as Jon uttered her name reverently, his hands exploring her back and his lips pressing to every inch of her throat and chest.

It did not take long to set a rhythm, rocking her hips and meeting him thrust for thrust. Sansa gripped at his hair and tilted his head back, slanting her lips over his for the most passionate, desperate kiss they’d shared thus far. Jon’s hand slid between them and Sansa drew away with a cry of “Gods!” as his thumb circled her clit.

As her energy flagged and her muscles grew tired, Jon seemed to sense it without her saying a word, drawing her in close and effortlessly flipping them around until she lay on her back once more. It was a heady thing, seeing his dark, worshipful eyes staring down at her. Reverent in their exploration as he set a slow, steady pace.

“Seven hells, Sansa... so fucking... fucking perfect, lovely girl. You know that? You know how perfect you are, taking my cock so good in that sweet cunt of yours?”

Sansa let out a keening noise, arching into him as his words flooded her with an odd feeling of both satisfaction and need.

“It’s... it’s so much,” she said breathlessly, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as tears slipped from beneath her closed lids at the sheer intensity of how she felt.

“It’s everything,” Jon said, his lips brushing over her temple. “It’s us.”

She knew what he meant by his words. This was more than just a man and woman sharing a bed. It was inevitable. She knew that now. Every moment that came before only drew them closer to now. Sansa felt that she’d belonged in no place more than Jon Snow’s arms.

“You’ll be my queen,” Jon declared, pulling away and lifting her chin so that she would look in his eyes.

Sansa gazed up at him, seeing the intent in his stare. Knowing that he meant it. Reaching up, she stroked her fingers through his hair.

“Your wife,” she said in return.

Jon’s eyes reflected his pleasure at her words and he began moving quicker, sliding his hand beneath her thigh to hitch it over his hip as he thrust into her even deeper than before. Sansa lost herself to the pleasure, her hand fitting between them so that her fingers could rub at her clit. Every passing moment drew her closer to the edge once more.

Only when Jon dropped his head and sank his teeth into her shoulder did her pleasure overwhelm her so suddenly and thoroughly that her vision grew black for several moments. Sansa arched her back with a silent scream and dug her nails into his shoulders as her cunt clenched around his cock, drawing a cry of her name from his lips.

A hazy satisfaction rose within her as she came back to herself and realized that Jon had found his own pleasure very shortly after her. His breaths came out in harsh gasps as he stilled above her, his hair hanging in his eyes that were squeezed tightly shut. His hands were braced on the bed on either side of her head, clenched in the furs as he slowly recovered.

Sansa’s hands roamed over his back, feeling smooth skin and scars beneath her touch. She pressed a kiss to his arm and waited until he opened his eyes to give him a tired smile. Jon stared back at her in wonder, as if he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what just happened. Slowly and with aching sweetness, he lowered himself and kissed her with soft tenderness that nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” he whispered against her lips, a note of worry in his voice.

Sansa shook her head, stroking her fingers through his hair and bringing him in for another kiss.

“Perfect,” she mouthed, feeling a sudden exhaustion weighing down on her.

She barely felt it when he slipped out of her, though she felt a note of gratitude as he swiped a cloth between her thighs to clean her. By the time Jon gathered her in his arms and pulled her into his chest beneath the furs, her eyes were closed and she was nearly asleep.

“I love you,” he breathed into her hair, stroking his fingers along her back.

Sansa shifted closer to him, possessing just enough consciousness to press a kiss over his heart.

“Love you.”

*

Okay that got sweeter at the end than I intended but I still hope you liked it! Thank you for the prompt!

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #my writing #prompt fill #Anonymous

[godtrials]

hey, i love your tight knit boys playlist. It fits so well sometimes but i was wondering how ou connect some of the songs (like a pound of flesh or bad blood) to sam and dean??

guys, i promise i didn't send myself this ask. someone honest to god prompted me to talk about radical face & supernatural.

say what you will about radical face but who else is writing songs entirely about codependent brothers and dysfunctional parents. exactly. i’ve connected them to sam & dean in specific ways, but i’m 1000% certain someone else could do it totally different.

so here goes! the playlist is roughly linear, although some are flexible. it goes in this order:

Doorways - sam before christmas 1991. It's "when i was just a boy, still owl-eyed, / i tried to count the stars while in my bed / to keep the thoughts of monsters from my head," it's "i believed in all your stories / i believed you'd never lie" (to john? to dean?). he's small and innocent and optimistic about the world.

Summer Skeletons - they're boys! they're kids! "when our heads were still simple / we'd sleep beneath the moon. / you were something / that would always be around" !!!!!!!! "and all the stars fell into the lake / when the water was warm / walked in over my head / but you pulled me out by the collar of my shirt" he can still save his kid brother, okay!

Mountains - i made a post here <3 their father is a mountain of a man and there is someone else out there who watches sam all the time! what else is there to say!!!

Sisters - i made a post here, but also, let's just look at the lines: "your hand rode the wind out the window of the train / we slept in our seats with our knees curled beneath our dirty chins / dad gripped the bags like they might fly away".

A Little Hell - he's ten years old he's got a bloody nose he's watching his big brother. i mean.

Ghost Towns - Dean, Stanford era. he's nameless and travelling and "i still dream of you / but everyone knows / yeah everyone knows if you can, let it go"

The Deserter's Song - Sam, Stanford era. "i knew in my heart that my old life was gone / that in walking away, my name was undone."

Always Gold - it's the sam&dean song, so i placed it at the pilot.

The Crooked Kind - s1/s2. they’re fucked up kids! sam wants to be part of a normal family but he’s as fucked up as they are! he can hear the voices of the dead and the dark! he feels himself growing up & growing evil! also: “and I sit beside my brother and i feel him shake / as he laughs himself right back to sleep / and i’m laughin' with him // but i smell their blood” okay s2 sam we hear you.

Names - they’re on the road. they’re lost and homeless. what else do you need.

Wandering - i always think of this one as dean leaving lisa, but it could also be sam’s realization that he’s not leaving hunting (which i think really dawns on him early s3).

A Pound of Flesh - this one could be s5 or s7, i think. it’s a very desperate things-are-kinda-fucked-but-here-we-go! song. in s5 sam held down by his guilt, s7 by his hallucinations and constant fear. i especially think these lines read like them: “you told me then, hold me down, hold me up to the fire / but don’t you dare hold me back”.

Guilt - s8 finale. don’t know what more to say.

Black Eyes - okay i’m going to be real i first put this here because dean & literally having black eyes in s10 lmao, but in retrospect, i think it’s sam’s mix of desperate mourning for dean and desire for ruby and cold cold fury for lilith in that s3/s4 summer. “i couldn’t count on anyone to stand there behind me and keep the dogs from dragging me off with them,” “my heart will be blacker than your eyes when I’m through with you,” “all of the roads are one now, each choice is the same.”

Chains - dean post-gadreel, I think. “i thought i had control / that i could always walk away / if things turned bad // we were thick as thieves / 'til i became the one / who always went too far / and I couldn't hear you.” also “but in the end I'm lost / and i'll drag you down / yeah, that's my cost” and the “i’m poison” speech lmao.

Bad Blood - this is such a fucking sam song holy shit. there’s some gadreel stuff (“so you said it was for me / when you tried to break me”),  some religious pessimism (“i know, i'm not the kind you pray for”), some throwback to the dean who promised nothing bad would ever happen to sam in s1 (“you took all my fears and / you wrapped them in wonders / but there's no magic inside the moon / it's just a rock you can't reach”).

All is Well (It's Only Blood) - finale, part one. dean dying. “i said i'd fix this / that i'd set things straight / you begged me not to / but i couldn't stay”

All is Well (Goodbye, Goodbye) - finale, part two. “so i collected all our plans and crimes / and set them all alight / the only thing that bound me to this place / you took with you when you died / so goodbye, goodbye.”

#no one come at me for my music taste okay #i imprinted on them at a vulnerable age. like a baby bird. #sorry this is SO fucking long #radical face and supernatural

[salcreus]

What is creation but the rebirth of destruction?

Hermitcraft S8 AU where the world is an unrulable beast, and the sun betrayed the moon. Chapter 1: Existence

…

…

…

And then light. And then shapes, and colours, and textures, and the rhythm of the melodies embracing you, holding you tight. And then grass that prickles you, rain kissing you hello, And then two beings that contemplated one another, as much as one can manage when you don’t have eyes, nor awareness, nor even a heart. Those hadn’t been invented yet, after all. One existed. The other existed back. If they had mouths, they would have smiled at each other.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The city bloomed with chattering and laughter. If you paid enough thought into it, you could hear the business conversations of wandering travellers that stood near the popular fruit market of the town, full with all sorts of wooden stands and their respective owners, some with the most glamorous of covers and others more akin to glorified shoe boxes. The plaza’s floor that hosted said market was adorned with black and white stone tiles, organized to create the most intricate of patterns, there to be marveled by the odd one that would come to visit this town. Though, at the end of the day, it always became a mere background to the busy lives of the people that lived here. A fountain of a fair decent size served as the marker of the middle of said plaza, made up of sculpted nymphs without names nor story. Not that all things need a story, after all- Sometimes, existing is enough of a gift as it is. You could spot a couple sitting on top of one of the borders, spitting sweet nothings to each other as they threw a golden nugget into the crystalline waters.

There were of course other places to sit, a bit further away from the masses, paired with holm oaks that had yet to fully grow, but provided enough of a shade as it were. You can tell that whoever built this place didn’t fully think about how much space the roots would need, as any stone tiles that once were neatly in place, have now popped out into a contorted mess of waves and twists. At least the trees didn’t seem to mind all that much, as long as they got enough food. Surrounding the tiled space, were buildings of lively colours, most akin to the pombaline architecture, with the off hand neo gothic style building. How they were able to make the two work together was something that you’d ponder about later, though it is quite the lively sight to behold. Clothes hung from some of the parapets, going as far as to have rope that connected them one by one, so that they could have more space to dry them all out. At night, the windows framed with metal would glow faintly of warmth and sun, maybe even let escape a chuckle or two, but for now, the bright blue sky reigned high, and thus, the windows stayed open, a curtain peeking out from time to time.

Back into the plaza, a crowd of kids, which don’t seem to look older than 13, gather around a man like a pack of hungry dogs looking at prey, which would be a scary comparison in any other scenario- Fortunately for him, they are merciful creatures, as merciful as one can be when they are filled with undying curiosity. As for said man, nothing special popped out from his stature, except for a ruby embedded into the left upper pocket of his long brown overcoat, a stone that was only ever heard of from legends of the past. It was always warm to the touch, and it smelled faintly of burnt charcoal. Surrounding it was a small embroidery design made out of gold threads, carefully crafted but not too overbearing, letting the precious gem be the star of the show. The kids couldn’t care less about it, though, focusing on their incessant chattering of questions and inquiries. Chorus of wonder, the creativity of children is a curious, yet wonderful thing. “Alright, alright, alright, one at a time! I’m only one guy, after all. Take your turns, and I promise I’ll get to you.” He finally exclaims, with no drop of malice in his tone, though it still earned a few grumbles as an answer. Their chattering dropped to a few murmurs between each other, each child trying to figure out their own words, until a small, yet fierce little girl, with hair coloured gold waved her arm in the air, taking the pause in the conversation to ask the Master a very simple query. “What are Virtues?” And thus, the crowd began to echo it like parrots that had learned a new sentence.

“Well- How do I put this in simple terms-” Pausing, he scrunched his nose instinctively, searching his pockets for any sort of object that could aid him, soon landing on a small leather pouch that contained some redstone he kept in case of need. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do the job. “-So, you know when you want candy really badly, and you keep asking your mom for it? Or you go gather things to make some? You can be so focused on that idea, that your work pays off, and you gain a Virtue! The- uh. Virtue of making candy, we’ll go with that! I mean, you don’t necessarily need to gain a virtue to be really good at making candy, but it can be like… An unlockable option, or even a gift from the gods if you really work hard for it.” The mention of the word “gods” earns a few gasps from the fairly sized gathering of kids, and the man could already tell that they would bug their parents about this story of his later. He even almost felt bad, but then again, it was fairly hilarious to imagine what sort of shenanigans they would get up to. “So you now have this Virtue! But where is it exactly, you might ask- which I know you will- It’s stored inside each one of you.” And on cue, he perks up the pouch mentioned earlier, dangling it near the middle of his chest. “Stored, in a little container, that is kept safe and sound, only accessible to you and you alone. The most common name is Vessel, but I’ve heard other terms being thrown around, like Heart, or Capsule? The world hasn’t decided on that one quite yet, I guess.” “Jeez, that’s gross-” Another kid perked up from the crowd, this time one with hair of ash and dust, freckled cheeks hosting a daring smile that only children can manage to pull off. “Do you have one?”

“First off, mister, it isn’t that gross. I mean, it’s not like you have bits and bobs jangling on your insides. Think of it as a manifestation, transformation, uh… Water, turning into ice! Yeah, we’ll go with that!” With that remark out of the way, and an amused chuckle following it (he was very proud of that analogy! A shame that the kids’ unimpressed looks outed their disagreement with the quality of said analogy.) he puts the tiny bag back where it belongs, clasping his hands together right after, in a way a teacher would when speaking to a class. “Second off, I assume that you mean to ask if I hold a Virtue or not, since the container I talked about earlier is something that all beings have- It just happens to be empty most of the time, because it has no Virtues to hold. Again, again, doesn’t mean that you are uncool, or not- hip. Just that it’s not being used to store things. Ah, the answer to the Virtue thing is no, by the way.”

Silence. For mere seconds, silence of contemplation, assimilating every complicated word they were just taught in a short amount of time, holding onto that curiosity for dear life, because what else is dear but existence and creation, right? After that, murmurs, whispers, tiny words passed by and onto tiny people, tiny ideas, tiny questions. Big questions following soon after, big words, screaming hearts, ideas, doubts, love. Back into the dance of dog and prey. Laughter, not coming from the children, nor the man, but yes from the passersby of the plaza, marvelled at the show being performed. It’s not often that one single person was able to gather such a big crowd, after all! That honour was usually reserved for when the Deities paid a visit, which, although rare, was always a wonder to behold. “Impulse!” The shout from far ahead made the Master jerk his head towards it, soon spotting a splotch of brown and yellow waving at him, and, in return, he chuckled lightly, much to the displeasure of the children surrounding him. “I’m sorry kids, but it seems I have to go now. Whenever I pass by here again, I’ll get to all your questions, I won’t forget about it!” And, even though they played stubborn, they kindly let him through, going back into their incessant chattering of gods and Virtues, as if the man had never been there to begin with. Said man, Impulse, took the opportunity given to him, sparing one last nod and smile as he hurriedly stepped through the tiled floors of the plaza, towards the person calling him. As he got closer, he could spot some smoke, followed by the protests of a half beaten up wagon, its engines rumbling hungrily for action. Near it, was another man, dressed in the same sort of overcoat Impulse bore, though with a pair of mechanical looking glasses held on top of his head, the lenses pairing perfectly with the ruby he also carried. “So, you got everything you had to do here settled, Tango?” One redstoner chirped. “Almost, I just need to take care of some jimagathings, but they don’t have the stock for those ready just yet. Missing out on slime over from the swamp production in the eastern village, they said.” The other redstoner replied. “Well well well, what about you, big guy? Being the folk’s entertainment once again?” With that, he took the opportunity to elbow Impulse, as one does when you want to sweetly mock a dear friend about the silliest of endeavours. “Oh you know how kids are- They haven’t reached that age where schools go more in depth about how it all works, so fancy words like that must look like monsters to them. I’m just their brave dragon slayer, here to help with their adventures.” Now THAT earned a laugh from his audience, one that radiated of effervescent blaze powder, and one could only be glad that there were no carriages of TNT nor brews around these parts. “More like recruiting peeps for Etho to shove his contraptions onto! What a valiant hero you are! If you keep it up, all the children in this town are going to go around crazy about superpowers and gods.” After his remark, Tango took the chance to do one last check on the shulker boxes his old beloved machinery was carrying, making sure it was all loaded in the right sections, before getting into the wagon, proudly taking the driver’s seat. The leather cushions protested at the weight, but luckily it was drowned by the sounds of pipes hitting each other every so often. Soon after, a lightheartedly peeved Impulse followed right along, taking a few steps to reach the free seat near his friend. The interior of the wagon was predominantly a mess of paper and machinery, the spruce wood only being revealed by the occasional forgiving gap in between the clutter, but even so, it was almost a second home at this point. Each scratch and mark that had been left throughout the years contained a story embedded in it, and neither of them would have it any other way. The stories this machine could spill if it had a mouth... “Hey, teaching people redstone never hurt anybody! Too much, that is- Sides, who knows? Maybe someday they

will be so noble that they get invited over to Hermitcraft.”

Tango let out a scornful laugh at the remark, not giving himself the work of sparing a glance to his friend. Instead, he seemed more preoccupied with checking the settings and levels of the contraption, making sure it was all ready to get fired. Only when he was sure he had everything prepared is when he thought about replying to Impulse. “Tsk, what a silly name for a playground made to please Deities of all things, don’tcha think?” To that, he received a simple shrug from the “co-pilot”. “Not our business to decide what gets named what. Sides, it’s a peaceful place, that’s enough for me. Want to keep on chatting, or are you ready to go, princess?” “Please save the princess nicknames for Bdubs or I’m kicking you off the wagon.” “Then better get at it, dude! We have a long way to go until we get to the next stop.” “You’re insufferable.” A thought crossed Tango’s mind, briefly associating his words with someone more akin to Cleo or Hypno, the official manufacturers of sarcastical witty callbacks laid upon the Masters, when they were both wasted, crackling at 3 am, as they kept on trying to make the simplest of circuits come into life, or when they caused havoc upon someone’s land with their newest gadgets. But his sentence had a different taste, one of whiskey and companionship, playful bantering that they both knew the recipe of, or at least he hoped they both did. With that brief moment aside, he finally gave in, blaring the horns of the machinery, as the cogs began twisting into motion, fully waking up the beast of metal that they called a wagon. It released soft puffs of steam every so often, hardened wheels beginning to roll at their perfected pace, as Tango drove along the streets of Abella.

#cross posted on ao3 #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #impulsesv #tangotek #ASTWP au #mcyt #salty writting #i dont like the ending but it is what it is #mentions: cleo etho hypno #oh and bdubs dhsbf #ooowowowowof this sure is something i wrote huh #i have no idea if this is good or bad but I wanted to explain what some things and bobs were and writing this is far more cute than just #ramble text #aaaaahh. #also fair warning this is block text heavy im awful at formatting so maybe this is not for you if you dont like that sort of stuff #me sorry i will do better

[sigritandtheelves]

(III) Three Iterations of a Birth (and Death)

Part Three: Fantasy

PG-13 | 2.2k wds | s8 AU (diverges after “Alone”)

Summary: This time he gets it right.

A/N: It’s finally done! Part One, Tragedy, is here but you don’t need to read it if you hate pain (character death warning) and Part Two is here, which is angsty but ends well. This one is happy, but I hope not tooth-achingly sweet. Just a better version of things, and fulfilling this (very old) prompt:

I hope you like it, anon!

_+_

“Mulder, you should know something.”

She sat on his couch with hands on her round belly, wore a tank dress and complained of the heat. Her feet, white-sneakered, rested on his coffee table. He handed her a glass of water and sat beside her.

“What’s that?” He turned to her, elbow propped on the back of the couch and watched her sip. She’d been smiling for much of today, tucked beside him and flirting gently at Layla Harrison’s bedside, demanding they stop for Mexican food on their ride back from the hospital. He sensed, though, a seriousness in her tone now. A small fold appeared between her brows.

“Not long before we found you, I had a procedure done by doctors that I thought I couldn’t trust.” She glanced at him briefly. “An amniocentesis.” Her fingers twitched against the side of her sweating glass, and she leaned forward to set it on the table. When she struggled to reach, Mulder took it from her and placed it on a coaster. “Thank you,” she said.

He nodded, but his heart was pounding, his face stilled and pinched in that look of panic. “An amniocentesis?”

“Yeah,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I wanted to run a PCR on the baby.”

So it was time, then. He’d waited for this conversation, felt it hovering like a thundercloud around them for weeks while they tiptoed around every mention of her pregnancy. Mulder swallowed hard. “And did you?”

She hesitated, eyes fixed on her knees. “I didn’t run it myself.” He watched her fingers fidget at the apex of her belly.

“But someone did.”

“Yeah.”

Mulder felt like yelling, like plugging his ears or running into another room. He didn’t think he wanted to know this, but he was also desperate for the information. “And?”

Scully took a deep breath. “Entirely human,” she said, then lower so he almost couldn’t hear, “and yours.”

Mulder chewed at his bottom lip and stared at her hands, still grazing the taut fabric over her belly. His child. He thought of her holding that baby in Oregon, of tiny Matthew’s fuzz-covered head in San Diego. His mind touched on the thought of an infant in his own arms, then shied away. He’d already watched one child of hers sicken and die; neither of them could bear that again.

But she’d also said entirely human.

“The results were clear?”

“99.9%,” she said. “But like I said, I didn’t run it myself, and I was so scared.” Her eyes lifted to meet his now, and they were round, wet. “I wanted to believe it, but how could I be sure? How could I trust anyone, Mulder?”

He saw her small and afraid, facing months of uncertainty. He saw these same wide and tearful eyes wanting to believe the results of a PCR test. He saw how much she needed him to believe with her: that this was only a normal child and theirs alone. He reached out a hand to take hers and she squeezed it hard.

“Why would they lie about that?” He whispered. He ran a thumb over her tense knuckles while a tear slipped away from the corner of her eye to trail down the side of her face.

She shook her head. “What if they want me complacent? What if they’re in the hospital when it’s time… when he’s born?”

He again. Their son.

Scully was staring at the ceiling now, willing her tears back into her eyes, trying to steel herself against these possibilities, as she must have done for months. Mulder sensed there was more she wasn’t telling him, so he lifted her fingers to kiss them. “What changed? You said you thought you couldn’t trust it, but you believe the test now?”

She held her breath for a moment’s hesitation before she whispered, “Yes.”

“Why?”

She looked at him. “I did another one. I mean I… I worked with my doctor and I ran the tests myself.”

“Scully.” Not quite chastising, but there was worry in his voice: a risky procedure, now run twice in an already complicated pregnancy. When had she done this?

“The results were the same.” There was something desperate in her eyes now. “He’s yours, Mulder.” Quickly she amended, “If you want him to be.”

—

It wasn’t because of what she’d told him, he thought, but because they’d finally talked about it at all. He kissed her on his couch and she clung to him, fierce and needy, arms tight around his back and face buried in his chest.

He pressed a palm to her belly between them and said, “Stay.”

She nodded, hot breath on his collarbone.

The earth and flower smell of her scalp under his nose made him think of their last night in Bellefleur: regret and sadness, but also the depth of love he’d felt while wrapped around her then. This, right now, was the so much more. Her body on his mattress, her cheek on his shoulder, marked the first time he thought to himself that maybe he was healing, that they both were.

Before she fell asleep she ran a finger down the center scar of his chest and whispered, “You said stay,” then kissed the thickened skin of it. “But Mulder you need to stay.” Her eyes were two small pricks of light in the darkened room that spoke to him of a deep uncertainty, of real fear.

He gathered her whole self to him in both arms, knee hooked over her hip, and said, “I know.” He held his lips to the crown of her head and whispered, “Scully I’m not going anywhere.”

—

“You’re really sure?” She asked him, face in that half-crumpled furrow of disbelief. She wore maternity jeans and what must have been one of his own pilfered button-downs.

“Yes!” He said. “Now watch out!”

She stepped aside as he carried a cardboard box—seven books and roughly fifteen t-shirts (he wasn’t good at packing)—through her doorway.

It made sense. She had that second bedroom already.

—

A different night and very late, after two, he sensed her tension: a strained quickness to her breathing beside him. She was facing away, trying to hide it. Mulder curled his palm over her hip and asked low, “What is it?”

She stiffened. “I’m okay,” she said, but he knew her. He tapped two knuckles on her hip bone.

“Scully.”

A long sigh: a concession, an opening up because they were doing this right, now. “I’m worried.”

He nodded, careful. “About me?”

She shook her head and was quiet for a moment. Then, “I spent my whole life thinking medicine was good, that its whole purpose was to make lives better, safer, longer…” She shifted so her back pressed against his chest and he slipped his left arm fully around her. “But after everything we’ve seen, everything that’s happened to me… I just don’t know that I can trust doctors anymore.”

Mulder tucked his nose in that place between her neck and shoulder. They had taken her faith even in this, shucked her convictions in the good of medicine. The meddling hands of whatever forces they were up against reached down and out into every institution she’d once trusted. “Even your new doctor?”

She shrugged.

He let his hand slip down, covering as much of her round abdomen as he could. He loved touching her this way now, feeling the little knees and feet press outward, the subtle hiccups that came in the evenings. “What can we do?”

She covered his hand with her own and guided it to a place where some small limb pushed toward the outside world. He drew a small circle around it with his index finger and kissed her ear.

“What if we went away? Maybe…” She swallowed. “Maybe some little town in West Virginia or Ohio with a birth center? We could use different names and maybe my mom could come with us and we could just… disappear for a little bit? Until he’s born.”

“You’ve been thinking about this.”

“Since the first amnio. Since I realized Parenti was bad.” Her voice wavered—there were tears in it now. “I thought I’d have to do it alone.”

Mulder shook his head, heart breaking for her—that this was her secret, her worst fear. “You won’t be alone, Scully, I promise. We can do that. We can go. Let’s do that.”

—

In the mountains of West Virginia, a place called Willowdale that sounded beautiful and safe, they were Kate and Richard Mulvey for two and a half weeks. They made quiet preparations in a rented vacation cottage, paid for in cash to a widow named Ruth. Maggie took no pseudonym, put her name on nothing, and stayed with them in the second small bedroom. She was a steadying maternal presence bearing folded blankets and cloth diapers, years of accumulated knowledge, and endless gratitude for being asked to come.

Scully had been having little contractions off and on for days until, on a Sunday afternoon in late May, they gripped her hard, forcing her to bend over the kitchen table and bite her lips together. “Mulder,” she whimpered, voice high, and he was beside her in a second.

“Okay,” he said. “We’re ready. We’re ready,” he told them both, willing it to be true.

The birth center was small and quiet, more like a house, and it kept its medical secrets hidden: beeping machines inside cabinets, monitors and needles and IV bags tucked away in drawers and closets, just in case.

Their baby was born in what looked like a farmhouse bedroom: soft light and calm music, yellow flowers on the curtains. Maggie took photos and offered her daughter sips of water, encouraging smiles. Mulder, who had killed with his own hands, who had chased monsters through dark streets with a gun, felt a different kind of wild adrenaline now, watching his partner rock her hips to some rhythm he couldn’t know. It was the anxiety of powerlessness: her body did this. It was she who had to make it happen. He could only wait and hold her hand.

There was a tub. Of course Scully wanted a tub. She sank into the warm water and groaned a sound older than time. When the intensity passed she said, “It feels good. The water feels good,” and then after that she couldn’t speak.

Blood in the water worried him, but the midwife assured him it was fine. “Your baby’s coming,” she said. In a mirror angled between Scully’s knees, he saw the baby’s head emerge.

Scully held him first, lifted him herself from her own body through the water and into her arms, sobbing with relief while he turned from purple to pink and the midwife helped her cover him in a blanket. When the umbilical cord went soft and white, Mulder, still dazed, still not quite believing, separated mother and child at last.

“That’s good,” the midwife said. “Now you can hold him.”

The infant, wrapped and red, was pressed into his arms so Dana could stand, pass the placenta, dry off. Mulder looked down at the impossible face of his son and realized that something, for once, had gone terribly right. They had done this. In spite of everything, he found himself part of a family.

“Let me see.” He heard Maggie’s voice and she was smiling. She took their picture, he with the baby—a nervous father’s first moments—and came to touch her grandchild. “He’s perfect.”

“Yeah,” Mulder croaked.

Scully appeared beside him in the terrycloth robe she’d brought from home, eyes wild with euphoric relief, smiling like he hadn’t seen in far too long. She put one hand on the baby’s head, the other on his shoulder. “You’re both here,” she sniffled.

Mulder, catching her euphoria, bent and kissed her hard and open-mouthed, right in front of her mother.

—

Back in their apartment (theirs now), the Gunmen brought gifts and marveled at the boy child who was ordinary, yet no less miraculous. Mulder showed him off, chest puffed out in fatherly pride. William, they called him, who weighed nearly ten pounds already and had no hair to speak of.

“You are one lucky sonofabitch,” Frohike told him, wiggling his fingers in front of the child’s eyes.

Luck was part of it, Mulder knew. Things could have been so different, both better and worse. There was a universe of infinite variations in path, in outcome, in seemingly fated misstep. What if there was only one choice? Scully had asked him once, and he’d contemplated all the possible errors that might have held them apart. He wanted to believe it were fate or luck, but he knew there was also choice. He would need to choose this path, not just now, but every day. It seemed so clear, so easy.

Mulder kissed the invisible fuzz on William’s head and nodded. “More than lucky,” he said.

When the boys left, he bounced his son into the kitchen where Scully was pouring iced tea into two tall glasses. She smiled at them, bright as sunshine.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said to her. “You give this guy some lunch, and I’ll make some for you, hmm?”

Her smile widened and she reached her arms out for the baby, who fussed when he sensed an approaching meal. “Sounds good,” she told him, tugging already at the neckline of her shirt. “Get in there and make me a sandwich.”

Mulder laughed. He felt suddenly whole and warm, taken by a need to touch her. Before they were out of reach, he threw one arm around Scully’s shoulders and bent to kiss her neck: a noisy smack just below her ear. “Yes ma’am,” he murmured. He let her go and watched them settle on the couch.

— end —

#a thing i wrote #s8 #canon divergence #three iterations of a birth and death #birth story