#the protest bomb episode

[castle-dominion]

c4x19 47 seconds

The protest bomb ep

heck yeah! Let's go protestors! Mum & lil bro thought this was an episode of Arrow at first

She's lucky there are no swears

Cool how he kno-- wait ringo was the drummer for the beatles, not this guy's name

She got anxious there bc the filming was just a bit later than she expected bc of the drummer

heck yeah!

FUCK NO

Love how the camera one was shocked for a sec but immediately started filming again

"if you've just tuned in" girl it has been like three seconds since the explosion & six seconds since you went live

Ah, her face, she did not expect people to be injured

Oof all these injured people here.

wait is that the mime? Poor fellow there.

there is still fire here?

five dead is a LOT... 28 injured, depending how bad they might still die. Why was it so bright earlier & now so dark?

Good on her, no comment, deal with press relations

Did she somewho she recognized?

Ooh the music today.

She actually listens to someone tell her she, nypd, is not allowed to enter the crime scene, which is under control of the fbi? Wowie.

I hope they get both lanie & perlmutter (& possibly slaughter's mortician girl & alexis) here looking at bodies.

Castle looks so shocked & sad.

Ok on the outfits, castle is wearing typical castle garb & looks hot as always, beckett has a nice grey turtleneck, ryan & esposito have coats & I can't see them v well rn but I like their coats & outfits rn so yeah. grey detective-looking jacket for ryan, black collar-up for espt it looks like. I'll give another update later.

Could still be a suicide bomber but with like a briefcase bomb not a vest bomb. Also who is your medic friend? I need character names & faces!

VG, someone whom I actually respect: Listen up, people! We're still piecing together what happened here, but what I can tell you – FBI and Homeland Security will be taking point on this investigation. [Beckett looks disappointed & esposito & ryan kind of follow suit.] NYPD will act in a support capacity. Our first assignment is to determine if any of the victims were targeted because of their involvement in the protest. Uniforms are bringing families to the precinct as we speak, so…let's go hold some hands and do our jobs.

"To sin by silence when we should protest makes…cowards of men."

Heck man, look at ryan's jacket! Squares!

Dang, they were tourists..? That's honestly rly sad. & they were planning on starting a family...

[04:03, INT. PRECINCT, BREAK ROOM - DAY]

[Castle stares out the window ((btw wearing a leather dress jacket)); Beckett approaches him from behind.] ((he is not interviewing anyone, he is not excited over the case... this is something))

KB: You good?

RC: Yeah. Yeah, it's just this case, you know? It kind of gets to you. How'd it go with the rest of the families?

KB: Um, one victim was the first kid in his family to go to college, and the other was a mother of two, so… about like you'd expect. No one seems to have been targeted, though. ((How many people? We have the recruiter, the tourist, the college student, & the mom. that is only 4, who is the other dead victim?))

RC: So their deaths were random. You know, most of our victims they…they die for a reason. You know, there's a logic behind it. It's a twisted logic at times, but…at least it makes some kind of sense.

KB: Yeah, but in this case, these people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

RC: And their future and all their plans, everything is just gone in a flash. ((pUNintended))

[Beckett and Castle gaze at one another.]

KB: It makes you think about all those things in your own life that you don't want to put off anymore.

[Castle's mouth opens as he takes Beckett's meaning. Esposito enters, interrupting their confession of love.]

he says "troops" & I thought that was a colloquial term, just smth he said abt ppl congregating, but it could be actually the term for them.

I love how they show a clip of the bomb going off there. Good choice by the editor or whoever made that choice. I can't see it v well though & Ithought slowing it down I might be able to see more of it

OK SO: the reason I got into unus annus was bc during the protests in what, april, possibly may of 2020, I saw protest information including what it was like to get pepper sprayed, I saw the unus annus pepper spray video. Pepper spray sucks. They say to use milk but water is better (tho an acidic dairy product might help), however, be sure to wash AWAY from your eyes.

I bring this up because the fbi recovered a photo from one of the protestor's phones.

Do Not take photos! Don't include faces! Cover up any scars or tattoos, wear nondescript clothes. Turn off your phone's GPS, data, & wifi. In fact, turn off your phone entirely, only turn it on if you need to make an emergency call.

If a pig throws in a can of tear gas, you can cover it with a pylon & douse it with water.

Do Not wear suction swim goggles, if you get hit with a rubber bullet or even just thrown to the ground too hard, you can pop out an eye.

If you wear contact lenses: do not wear them if there is a risk of tear gas or pepper spray.

If you wear glasses: only wear them if you really need them, try to wear the most nondescript frames you have.

If you use mobility aides, use the nondescript ones, not the cane you personalized with stickers. If you use a wheelchair but can also use a walker/rollator, go for the rollator. You can still sit on it if you need to, but it is safer. If you do use a wheelchair, cover up the logo & anything you did to personalize it. I highly recommend using push-handle spikes to prevent people from moving you without consent. Hell on wheels is a business that sells them suited for your needs. You can get a pair that can be removed easily if you do need someone to push. Be aware, if rubber bullets are a risk, your mobility aid could be damaged.

& I repeat, do not take photos of protestors, I know it was a "good" thing in castle, but usually if the feds want photos of a protestor's phone, it is not good.

My question is though: why did they take a pic of where the bomb would have been?

47 seconds is a short zone, usually you have like a two hour kill zone

lots of names on the list wow.

Love the diagram on the board!

How did they get the names of all the ppl there tho? The injured ones maybe, but the ones who were just there? They would have run, they would refuse to give their names to pigs.

Holy moly only on the second intro rn! I have to go to work in an hour & a half!

Corinne: Do I look like I'm in the 99 percent?

Me: Uh, kind of. Do you have over 11 100 000 dollars?

Flashbacks are a good decision for this kind of stationary episode. (lol, really is stationary, they are in the station.) Like, even Castle is technically not in the top 1%, his net worth is like 4mil. There is a difference between rich-because-I-work-36-hour-shifts-as-a-surgeon-but-I-never-get-to-enjoy-my-mansion-because-I'm-at-work-all-the-time, inheritance-rich, rich-because-I'm-an-author-&-not-the-starving-artist-kind, & rich-because-I-commit-massive-wage-theft-on-all-the-employees-beneath-me. Now of course you can be hella rich, but the top 1% is about three standard deviations away from the mean. ofc statistics are probs wrong here. there is a wage GAP, not a nice bell curve. Anyway, you probably ARE within the 99%, just the rich side of it.

Good guy wearing a gas mask. There's the hoodie guy. There's the drummer.

Oh & btw you can LOOK at stuff online & buy them irl or vice versa. When buying my knives, I was told to go to a knife shop & test out the ones they had, find what I liked, & then buy it cheap online.

Box guy, "that's mine," spilled coffee

If he was carrying a bomb of course he'd look nervous & sweaty. Just like how the other dirty bomb the guy was calm bc he didn't know it was a bomb.

WEST SIDE WALLY! THE MAN IS BACK! Westside is one of my fave recurring characters.

(espt why do you look so weird when he says to call him westside.)

Johnny Law lmao

Love his sign. Will work protest for food. He is The Best.

Beethoven?

JE: Stop. Let me understand this. You…you saw Beethoven, [Ryan looks to the side on concern] the composer who's been dead for 200 years, in the plaza this afternoon?

WSW: Oh, yeah. And I bet that half-dead bastard is behind all this.

[Ryan clears his throat.]

KR: West Side, are you on any medications of any kind?

WSW: I don't see how that's relevant.

it's probably that he is NOT on medication lol. or hungry & dehydrated.

Man looks familiar. I swear tho, he's going to be real, not just west side's imagination.

You know, westside would look really good if they trimmed his beard, he's a really good looking actor.

Oh no, not more bomb threats...

RC: It's like trying to find Waldo in a sea of Waldos.

prioritizing interviews is a great idea.

RC: You know, the witnesses that were closest to the bomb aren't on our list. ((oof he right))

KB: *looks at him to continue*

RC: Maybe dead men do tell tales.

Jesse Freidman? More like Jesse fried-man eyo! Sorry that was distasteful. He wasn't even fried, he died in an explosion from blunt force trauma, not the fire of the explosion.

Oh poor alexis.

Except that Dr Parish said alexis needed to get stuff done. Lanie might say the same thing but Dr Parish said to get the personal effects done. You should at least talk to the staff & ask if you can take her home & let beckett know you're taking alexis home & staying, not talking to alexis for a minute like you implied when you said you needed a minute.

K but the film clips don't seem like they were what they were at the beginning of the episode

MR: Honey, do you ever wonder why I never visited you at the precinct the first year you were working there?

RC: I always thought it was because of the harsh lighting.

MR: (chuckles) Well, that was a consideration. No, I thought if I—if I saw you acting like a cop, I'd start thinking of you as a cop, and I just…whew. That—that brought on all manner of nightmares.

RC: How did you get over it?

MR: Eventually, you realize, your children are gonna make choices you don't like. Just a fact of life. ((this made my mom hug me so tight))

RC: Well, if the bombing proves anything, it's that bad things can happen no matter what you do. Nobody's tomorrow is guaranteed.

((In Cree the word for tomorrow is "IF the sun rises tomorrow" which implies that we don't KNOW that the sun will rise tomorrow, we just have FAITH that it will. wapaki. Edit: see the rest of this comment after the quote))

[Martha raises her eyebrows.]

MR: So…how do you plan to act on this realization?

RC: What do you mean?

MR: Oh, you know what I mean. Richard, how much longer are you gonna drag your heels before you tell Beckett how you feel?

[Castle shifts uncomfortably.]

MR: And I mean, while she is awake, not lying on the ground with a bullet in her chest.

((Wapaki comment, continued: I actually spell it wapaké bc that's how I was initially taught to pronounce it but other ppl say wapagi bc in cree k/g, t/d, n/ng, p/b, s/sh, & ts/ch are all both kind of considered the same. Ojibwe has different spellings but similar words: pimohte means walk, bimo'tee I think is it in ojibwe, & ojibwe is an anishinabe language so I saw an anishinabe word that meant "walk in a good way" & at first I didn't understand a thing, but then I saw the relation to the ojibwe word & I related it back to Cree. Languages are so cool. You know, I thought celtic languages would be removed from romance languages, I thought they might have a bit of german influence, but slainta means health in gaelgie (irish gaelic) & sante is health in french. That's the only relation I can remember rn but I think there was one more that I learned of recently.))

Martha is so right. I love her with all mu heart.

they are in LOVE!

RYAN NO YOU ALSO INTERRUPTED THEIR LOVE CONFESSION ACH (at least ryan is pretty)

castle it cannot wait until after the case, you never know if you have a tomorrow

This is why you turn off your gps.

That is a damn good friend!

Where did they get the audio from?

Andrew Haynes

I don't think he's planning on bombing you.

*just eating their food*

lmao he probably is not even in the 1%

She's making buddy buddy with him.

*all close to her*

lmao I hate him. Most of these people HAVE jobs, they just are still poor bc the wage is stupid. Besides, SOMEONE has to mop floors & wipe tables, who is going to do that job? They still deserve to live. Covid taught us which jobs are actually essential. Factory jobs, cashiers, medical professionals (including people like porters & janitors)

That's freidman, right? Who turned around Haynes?

Man this guy is so dumb.

& the longer you go, the more they forget & witness accounts get scrumbly.

The drummer <3 as a busker, I really respect him.

Well he's probably infamous, like that guy who plays the drum while on a skateboard in the city nearby. Everyone knows him. If he was drumming near the protest, he is probably going to be at the next protest.

I really respect him, not wanting to say anything. "I gave the wrong answer?"

Haynes should TOTALLY remain in custody.

VG: Not you Mr Castle, I have a special task for you

Me: "get out of my investigation?"

VG: I'mma get u to speedread

She actually thinks he has value uwu.

"no I'm not" she says & Iove her

ALEXIS' CHOCCY CHIP PANCAKES

Well he also does it bc he's in love with beckett

Well… they say genius… skips a generation WOW THAT'S--

Apparently, so does funny.

"Hey bobby" he says with a GUN

holy crap I need to take a pic of ryan's outfit

Man's an early greying bro.

Castle is back with COFFEE

"& I missed it?"

Castle acab moments

OH NO SHE'S NOW REVEALING THE TRAUMA THING.

Girl you can NOT remember every second of it. Different people have different reactions. Plus, at what point do you not remember?

& castle talks to her to himself

Talking to his mom. They have such a great relationship.

Maybe she didn't say anything bc she has that wall in her or bc she doesn't remember as much as she thinks

(But also bro you can't remember all of it, at what point do you not remember? Do you remember the surgery? No, they put you under. Do you remember every second of the shot & falling to the ground & that means "Every second of IT" it meaning the shot & nothing after.)

He's right. It is about MORE than books, more than HER even.

You can redirect love... & also he has worked with her for YEARS but he was pining with hope, not pining hopelessly

Castle you're communicating like a girl. You say these double entendres & half expect her to understand that you were watching.

There are only so many garage door opener frequencies out there so sometimes in big parking lots or alleys you can beep your car or try your garage door opened & someone else's will open.

*Tosses evidence bags FULL of that stuff*

He's a pickpocket?? I mean sexy ig but bro you're preying on OTHER POOR PEOPLE

The beethoven

& THEN THE MUSIC CHANGES LIKE THAT SO GOOD

Oh he has so much guilt bc he didn't mean to bomb anyone

WHY did they show freidman's photo? maybe bc he was the closest so he was chasing the backpack

RC: And since he placed the bomb between two dumpsters…

KB: He didn't think that anyone would get hurt. Then Bobby stole the backpack.

chronology!

"haranguing"

"business opportunity" lmao

How do they know it was seconds? Right they had his phone records w/o the ophone

Hold on, Westside knows that this is beethoven's 5th?

She called HIM? when?

Except when did SHE call HIM?

it was NOT the best vantage tho bc it exploded in a different place?

Except she would have had to continue reporting, she didn't just pop in for a few seconds, blow the bomb, then run to the storm drain

She KNOWS he's talking to HER but she DOUBTS it

Music recall & she gives congrats

captions said holler, sounded like he may have said yell. Does that mean he'll call her later?

LOVE HEARTBREAK GAACK

as always, thank you livejournal transcript https://scriptline.livejournal.com/64171.html

#castle 4x19 #castle 4x19 spoilers #castle s4 spoilers #castle 4x19 quote #the protest bomb episode #plot heavy but only in the sense that beckett accidentally revealed to castle that she doesn't remember nothing

[swiftfootedachilles]

bro… weird

OKAYYYY⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

#LIKE WDY WANT FROM MEEEEEE #go carpet bomb j0hn wells' mansion liek i just want mickey to have a jewish wedding BYEEEE #acting like im the one who wrote the shameless episode revealing a white supremacists to be jewish.....go protest outside showtime hq idk #asks #anonymous

[ohnoitstbskyen]

A quick list of favorite video essays on YT?

You fool! You have activated my trap card! Now suffer the flood of recommendations!

We'll start with the more famous ones and work our way down to smaller and smaller creators as we go:

The Nostalgia Critic and The Wall by Folding Ideas: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rokAtlFGa7Y

Violence & Protest by Philosophy Tube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh4G1Gjv7bA

Mel Brooks, The Producers, and the Ethics of Satire about N@zis by Lindsay Ellis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62cPPSyoQkE

Weighing the Value of Director's Cuts | Scanline by hbomberguy and Shannon Strucci: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6OT77T7YlE

Incels by Contrapoints: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fD2briZ6fB0

POLYBIUS - The Video Game That Doesn't Exist by Ahoy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7X6Yeydgyg

Disney's FastPass: A Complicated History by Defunctland: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yjZpBq1XBE

Dropping the Bomb: Hiroshima & Nagasaki by Shaun: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCRTgtpC-Go

The Alt-Right Playbook: How to Radicalize a Normie by Innuendo Studios: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P55t6eryY3g

TRAINWRECKORDS: "American Life" by Madonna by Todd in the Shadows: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCMNzdm_RKo

The Speedrun Where Link Stares at Rupees for 17 Hours by Lowest Percent: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2nRW3wKnVY

The Simpsons and the Death of Parody by Jonas Čeika - CCK Philosophy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hi_fxwLBSFo

CATS & The Weird Mind of TS Eliot | An Analysis by Maggie Mae Fish: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tYcPuVYDHw

Fashion in Final Fantasy by ThorHighHeels: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3Yl0Moy_ic

action button reviews boku no natsuyasumi by Action Button: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=779coR-XPTw

Transvestigation: The Conspiracy Theory That Everyone Is Transgender by Mia Mulder: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH5-MDXzfmg

The Matrix Sequels Are Good, Actually by Sophie from Mars and Sarah Zedig: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0VnYcMHuDc

The Last Unicorn: Why Must You Always Speak In Riddles? by What's So Great About That?: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNrTM74pdTk

Bisexual Lighting: the Rise of Pink, Purple and Blue by KyleKallgrenBHH: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gU3IA4u-J8

I Watched ALL the Swan Princess Sequels by Laura Crone: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saM3afhPfO8

Knives Out: The Simple Art of Trolling Everyone by let's talk about stuff: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_2kzuC3GM0

Crime & Humanity in Yakuza by HeavyEyed https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbElfOjJJbw

FAKE FRIENDS EPISODE TWO: parasocial hell by Shannon Strucci: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLA-uFKjQ-g

Left Wing White Supremacy? by JohntheDuncan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZaOCR-mUm8

How Will Games Be Preserved? | Capturing the Frozen Flame by Transparency: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVo4M57wWLc

Queer Relativity by Aranock: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=di1aTOJUncM

#tb answers #video essays #video essay recommendations

[mooncurses]

To add to the current trend of calling out the bullshit that Zionists spout, here's a collection of not so fun facts for my friends outside of Italy.

Some of you may have heard of how Ghali, one of the most famous singers in Italy who is of Tunisian descent, has been criticized by Israel's Ambassador to Italy Alon Bar, who accused him of spreading hate just because he called for a ceasefire in Gaza. Then to remind us all of how much of a grip on the balls of our entire nation Isr*el has, a letter recounting the October 7 happenings was read on air to "balance" things out politically speaking (as our useless Deputy Premier and Foreign Minister stated, whatever the fuck that means). On his part Ghali responded with confusion and honesty, simply saying that as an artist he's always going to use his platform to talk about what he thinks is important, besides the fact that he's always been supportive of the Palestinian people since he was a kid (thus reiterating how their struggle has NOT started on October 7). In no part he ever invoked anything but peace, and yet he sparked controversy.

Of course what this episode merely sheds light on is the shameful and blatant climate of selfcensorship that has taken over the Italian mainstream media. It's not even an isolated accident: just days prior another contestant of the Sanremo festival, Dargen D'Amico, was attacked by the mainstream press after he dared take a minute after his exhibition to remind everyone that with our silence we are all complicit in the deaths of countless children right now. Sure enough he was forced to apologize "for getting political" the very day after.

To protest this cowardly and disgusting attitude that has become the standard in Italy, a peaceful sit-in was organized today in Naples in front of RAI (the public TV network that broadcast the Sanremo festival and that is funded with tax payers' money). After the protestants tried to hang a pro-Palestine banner on the fence of the building, police brutality quickly ensued and several people got hurt after being hit in the head with batons (you can find a video of the whole scene unfolding here).

So the thing here is that you can see how the top brass of our government desperately wants us all to just be complacent in the killing of Palestinians at hands of Isr*el. Much like what happened with the bombing of Rafah carefully made to overlap with the Super Bowl, the pro Isr*el Western governements very much hope that our silence can be bought with as little as good old panem et circaenses. And I've gotta say, at least in the case of Italy, it's almost like in doing so they forget how we young people were taught about genocide in the first place.

They drilled an acute awareness of what genocide looks like into each of our heads throughout our whole grade school life. We would hold our yearly minute of silence for the victims of the Holocaust on Remembrance Day without fail, we would read "Se Questo È Un Uomo" by Primo Levi as early as eight grade and analyze it thoroughly. We would study Hannah Arendt's philosophy while focusing especially on her ideas about the banality of evil that she witnessed during the Nuremberg Trials. Most high schools organized mandatory conferences with Holocaust survivors as speakers and visits at the local synagogue, as well as extra curricular activities (I'm talking weeks long train trips to Dachau and other concentration camps while accompanied by members of survivors associations and historians) to further spread awareness about the horror of the Holocaust and make sure that we would never let it happen again, that we would take a strong stance against it if the situation ever called for it.

And now we are living through the first genocide that's being documented live for the whole world to see and yet apparently nobody can say nothing about it. The countries that so far have taken a strong stance against Isr*el are so few it's absurd considering the enormous amount of damning evidence of war crimes, human trafficking, and ultimately ethnic cleansing that Isr*el is carrying out. It's even more absurd if you think of how casual the Isr*elis are about all of this, perfectly knowing that as long as they are backed by the world's largest powers they are basically untouchable. The banality of evil for real.

But here's the thing. Isr*el is just a country run by the military and made up of brainwashed ultranationalist colonialists, who think it is their birth right to kill every last Palestinian and mock their suffering because that's what they've been told confidently their whole lives. They think that the suffering their people lived in the past made them beyond moral reproach today, that their right to self-defense can spill over to offense and nobody will ever blame them, and they are so convinced of this that they will respond to actual accusations of genocide and war crimes simply by saying "that's antisemitic" and moving on.

Even just recalling the words of Holocaust survivors who spoke up about genocide has stopped clicking in the heads of many people because they see everything pertaining to the Jews as exceptional in its political, social, and historical dimensions, even when it's not. To better explain what I mean let me summarize another fun fact from very recent happenings in Italy. This last January 27, on Remembrance Day, several protests by young people of Palestinian descent and other supporters were held in various cities to condemn Isr*el's actions in Palestine, despite having been forbidden for "security reasons" after some complaints of the Jewish community called for the protest to be rescheduled. Some of the words that were written on the banners that the protestors held are quotes of Primo Levi, a writer and Holocaust survivor who passed in 1987. The aftermath of the protests was basically centered around Noemi Di Segni, the president of the Union of Italian Jewish Communities (UCEI), who said that the remembrance of Levi's words should be left to Jews, and then called for an end to the "verbal violence" against Jews that pro Palestine stances imply.

"Cease the fire of words against us is what we say to those who continue to accuse Israel of war crimes and genocide, with slogans based on nationality and faith, giving credence only to Hamas propaganda and giving new life to prejudices that we had hoped were extinct," Di Segni said. She also said that this kind of "Islamic suprematism" should look for quotes elsewhere, basically.

The funny thing here, however, is that the words that Levi originally spoke and that Di Segni and many other Zionists say have been "appropriated" by Palestinians were words that were never meant to be exclusively related to the Holocaust and the persecution of Jews specifically. All the contrary, they invite caution especially by reiterating that everyone needs to retain awareness of the horrors of genocide, because anyone (even Jews themselves in theory) could let such unspeakable things happen again if they let themselves forget. These are the words:

"Se comprendere è impossibile conoscere è necessario, perché ciò che è accaduto può ritornare, le coscienze possono nuovamente essere sedotte ed oscurate: anche le nostre". (trans: "If understanding is impossible then knowing is necessary, because what happened can come back, the consciences can again be seduced and obscured: even ours.")

This is important because to imply as Di Segni did that the Holocaust is a self contained episode in history, that words of warning against genocide in general can only be used in the context of a particular genocide that happened over 75 years ago, is the exact opposite of what survivors like Levi wanted the world to think.

The title Levi gave to what his English-language publishers called “Survival in Auschwitz” was “Se Questo È un Uomo” (“If This Is a Man”). The Nazis’ crime, he believed, was to treat the Jews as if they weren’t men—human beings. But the Jews’ suffering, he said, did not make them better people, or give them special rights. They had to observe the same moral standards as anyone else. Levi abhorred what we now call “exceptionalism.” This affected his views on Israel. He repeatedly condemned the Israelis’ treatment of the Palestinians. When, in 1982, the Israelis stood by as the Christian Phalangists massacred the Palestinians at Sabra and Shatila, he called for the resignation of Ariel Sharon and Menachem Begin. “Everybody is somebody’s Jew,” he told a reporter, Filippo Gentiloni, from the Italian newspaper Il Manifesto, and he cited the abuse of Poland by the Russians and the Germans. At that point in the interview, printed on June 29, 1982, Gentiloni closed the Levi quote and added a sentence of his own: “And today Palestinians are the Jews of the Israelis.”

Anyways, keep calling things as you see them. It may piss off some people, but it's the only way things can actually start to change in such a mud pool of empty politics and performative activism such as what we're witnessing in most Western countries.

#palestine #italy #sanremo #free palestine #anti israel #ceasefire

[slyscoutess]

BLOUKOUT || FORMULA 1

I think we're all chronically online enough here to know what's going on, and rightly so, on TikTok right now, but don't worry, if for some reason you've been in a cave the last few days and haven't heard , let me explain everything with such precision.

In recent days, the Met Gala 2024 was unveiled, and with it celebrities from all lists came together with a single cause, to put themselves in the spotlight with exaggerated clothes and a ticket more expensive than yours and my life. Among these was the influencer hayleyybaylee, an American influencer who thought it would be wise to record, edit and publish a video with her exaggerated clothes, heading to a dance that only the elite within the biggest elites have the right to go to, in the audio of the video? a line that is certainly historically excruciating.

while Rafah, the only theoretically safe place, or at least that was what had been promised to the Palestinian people, was being completely bombed, Hayley was publishing a video with the audio of Marie Antoinette: “let them eat cake”. If you, like me, are a history lover, you know well the episode in history that the French people lived from then on.

With the memory of this audio, we reclaim our power as the people in control, we gave these people the platform and from these people we can take the platform away at any time we want. If the government and the rich are not giving their time to those in need, we will need to force their gaze in the direction we want.

Here we have a term: the people for the people.

because it's literally all we have.

with that, we brought our guillotines outside and decided to take from them what they don't know how to use; their voices and their platforms. blokout2024 is a line that anyone can participate in, the best way to help is to share lists and that includes your own, but it was bothering me how there were names that never appeared there, the formula 1 drivers.

These playboys who spend the year doing Vrom Vrom don't pay attention to anything that doesn't affect them and this was seen with the whole Christian Horner harassment case and some of the reactions to this case. It's time to demand some responsibility from them, they are not babies, they are not children, they are men who are always ready to defend harassers and say that they respect racists and criminals.

“but love, boys can't talk about it” Sir Lewis Hamilton, as always and once again, proved that they can. the man continues to publish links and news about Palestine, and this is not recently, and we know that when Lewis makes donations, he is not in the habit of taking a stand on them, just as he recently did for the Brazilian people with the case of Rio Grande do Sul, the other pilots and their partners just don't care. not to mention the teams and their bosses. This even affects the Formula 1 Academy, with Charlotte Tilbury as a sponsor and frequently in the paddock, for those who don't know, Charlotte recently fired Bella Hadid, a Palestinian woman, for protesting and continuing to speak about the country of her blood and family.

remembering that there are convinced Zionists within the paddock, such as Lance Stroll's girlfriend, sister and brother-in-law, the latter is also Daniel Ricciardo's best friend. Tell me who you hang out with and I'll tell you who you are.

I'm not here telling you to stop liking your favorites, I'm not here telling you to stop watching the races, I love some of these and it will hurt me to block them, but not as much as it hurts me to know that they close their eyes and remain quiet in all their luxury, I'm here saying that we need to demand a position from these men and women, we were the ones who gave them the platform, how many people in Palestine can be fans of these people who ignore their suffering on a daily basis? so keep writing fanfics, follow the gossip pages, but the officials need to take a stand

If even the swifties are doing it, why can't we do it?

Let’s Start Big:

BLOCK

FIRST HALF || SECOND HALF

HONORARY MENTION

LN4 |

LN Rancing Kart |

Lando JPG |

Lando Movie |

Quadrant |

Max Fewtrell |

Lec |

F1Academy |

Nico Rosberg |

Romain Grosjean |

Jenson Button |

Kimi Räikkönen |

Sebastian Vettel |

Mick Schumacher |

Magui Corceiro |

Ollie Bearman |

Liam Lawson |

James Vowles |

Bianca Bustamante |

Sky Sports F1 |

Zak Brown |

Christian Horner |

CS55 Racing |

Arrow McLaren |

1 paper cut doesn't really hurt, but 28 million paper cuts can kill you. Let's fucking hit the pentagon, only follow trought fan accounts.

We, the damned of the earth, have only each other. And that will be enough.

#art by: Henry James Garrett #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #lando norris #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #lewis hamilton #george russell #fernando alonso #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x you #sebastian vettel #logan sargeant x reader #charles leclerc x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lance stroll #logan sargeant #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 4 May 1970, the Kent State massacre took place when the Ohio National Guard fired 67 rounds into a crowd of students protesting against the bombing of Cambodia during the Vietnam war, killing four and wounding nine others, including bystanders and one person who was permanently paralysed. Those killed were Sandra Lee Scheuer, aged 20, Allison B. Krause, 19, Jeffrey Glenn Miller, 20, and William Knox Schroeder, 19. The repression galvanised anti-war sentiment, with students in New York hanging banners stating "You Can't Kill Us All" and in the next few days millions took to the streets in protest. Learn more about the movement against the Vietnam war in our podcast episodes 43-46. Listen wherever you get your podcasts or here on our website: https://workingclasshistory.com/2020/09/23/e43-46-the-movement-against-the-vietnam-war-in-the-us/ https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=620281590145060&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[mousy-nona]

Two's Company (Three's a Crowd)

Vox cuts into Alastor's radio broadcast, and quickly figures out why that was a Very Bad Idea.

//

Or, Vox finds out about Alastor and Lucifer. Jealousy ensues.

(Set between chapters 4 and 5 of All of God's Angels)

Lucifer had a radio. He dusted it off and turned it on some nights, when they were playing the oldies, or when he wanted to catch up on current events, or…

Or when a certain strawberry pimp was on air. 

(If he was being honest, he hadn’t missed a single episode since the day they’d met.) 

The demon’s voice was like liquid honey, dripping with dark things and speckled with odd ‘20s slang. It quickly became a habit: turn on the radio, pull up a few of his latest blueprints, and get to work. Some of Alastor’s more… creative suggestions even gave him a few ideas for new horror-themed rides for Lu Lu World. 

My muse, he thought, snorting to himself when no one was around.. 

That particular night, he was humming away, listening to Alastor prattle on about why the Pride ring was categorically better than Gluttony ( more interesting victims, for one! ) when there was an audible screech. The signal wavered, replaced by the obnoxious blaring intro of a news show.

He recognized that sound at once. Everyone in Pentagram City did. It was the breaking news soundtrack for 666 News.

But what was it doing here, on Alastor’s radio? 

He leaned in, new rubber duck design completely forgotten, as he and the rest of Hell waited with baited breath. 

“Gooood evening Pentagram City!” A voice – a man’s, with a chipper American accent by the sound of it – filtered through the speaker. Lucifer cursed to himself. He really needed to pay attention to the politics of Hell. He had no idea who this was. B something? The demon continued, sounding immensely pleased with himself. “We interrupt this not-so-important broadcast with breaking news: why are you listening to this washed up has-been when you could be watching 666 News on the V Network? Get with the times, you—”

The radio whined, letting out an audible protest as the signal was hijacked again – and by the sound of it, far more violently this time. 

The momentary crackle of static, then – “Apologies about the momentary interruption, folks!” Alastor’s cheery voice cut in. But underneath that ‘20s charm, Lucifer could hear a hardness that hadn’t been there before. “A mere technical error, nothing to worry about. I promise you, those responsible will be appropriately punished.” 

The last word practically crawled of the penumbra, of shadows, of Bad Things. Lucifer shivered, finding himself half-wishing he was the one Alastor was talking about. He caught himself with a frown. What the Hell was he thinking?

“Now back to our regularly scheduled programming!” 

The next morning, Lucifer came downstairs to find the entire hotel gathered around a shiny red box. 

“What do you think it could be?” Angel Dust asked. 

Husk shrugged, looking, as always, utterly unimpressed by the whole situation. 

Niffty was flitting around it so fast she was nothing but a blur, panting excitedly the entire time. “Don’t smell bugs,” she muttered, almost as if she was disappointed by the fact. 

“Only one way to find out. Let’s open it!” Charlie bounded forward, one hand outstretched. Both he and Vaggie leapt to stop her at the same time, but Vaggie got there first. She grabbed his daughter’s hand and twirled her away from the mysterious-box-potential-bomb-thing, popping a little kiss onto her nose to distract her when she tried to lunge for it again.

Yeeuch . Good for Charlie, but he was never going to get used to that. 

“What’s up, b–” He almost said bitches , but managed to catch himself at the last minute. “ Boys ?”

Better. Much better.

The “boys” glanced at each other, clearly confused. Vaggie let go of Charlie so fast she almost spun her around like a top. 

Charlie recovered quickly and pointed at the thing they were staring at. “Dad! This got delivered to the hotel this morning. Vaggie thinks someone wants to blow us up!” She said, as if she was announcing someone had sent them a birthday cake. 

Vaggie sighed. “Might, Charlie. I said someone might want to blow us up.” 

“Right! That!” 

“No worries!” Lucifer puffed up his chest, feeling a rush of pride. He was helping his daughter! He could feel their bond growing stronger already! “ I’ll open it!”

“Careful, Dad!” Charlie gasped. Vaggie pulled her backwards, shielding her with her own body. Husk surreptitiously stepped in front of Angel Dust. Niffty stayed exactly where she was – right next to the box – but Angel Dust swooped in and lifted her out of harm’s way. Lucifer waited a beat, wondering if Alastor was going to show up and swoop him out of the way. 

No such luck. He sighed, wondering if he’d gone temporarily insane to even hope for such a thing. Alastor would probably push him into the box if he was here. 

Holding his breath, he quickly clawed at the cardboard seams. The box fell open, revealing…

Angel Dust wrinkled his nose. “Is that…an old TV?” 

“It is,” Husk grumbled, recognition flaring in his yellow eyes.

The hazy gray screen was surrounded on all sides by wood paneling. There were two dials on it, one labeled UHF and the other labeled VHF. Attached to the front was a single note, written in huge, spiky letters: Remember the good times? 

He felt Alastor before he saw him. A mass of shadows bubbled in the corner and burst, revealing the tall, graceful demon in his erstwhile pinstripe suit.

Lucifer puffed up. “Convenient of you to come when the danger’s over, huh? Looks like I saved the day this time –” 

Alastor swept past him as if he was air. All his attention was focused on that damned TV. Lucifer’s voice faltered, sputtering like a flame before it finally went out. 

“Alastor, your buddy sent you a gift,” Husk muttered. 

“So it seems,” Alastor said, cold and cruel. He grabbed the note from the screen, his nose wrinkling as he read it. Then his grin turned sharp. 

Faster than anyone could blink, Alastor skewered the TV in half with his staff. The wood protested, groaning as it fell apart, revealing the black glistening gears inside. Acrid smoke started flowing, and Alastor was soon submerged in an eye-watering cloud, his wicked chuckles reverbrating through the entire hotel. 

“Looks like someone is desparate for my personal attention.” 

Lucifer bristled. Someone? Who? Someone other than him? He opened his mouth, but when the smoke cleared, Alastor was gone. 

Husk tutted and walked back to the bar, mumbling about show offs and annoying dandy-ass motherfuckers. Lucifer followed close behind, practically shoving Angel Dust out of the way. 

“Do you know who sent that TV?”

Husk turned around, so slowly it was like he was moving through molasses. “Yeah, of course. Who doesn’t?” 

I don’t, you smug little house cat. Through a great effort of will, Lucifer managed to stop himself from showing Husk exactly what his new line of rubber ducks could do. “Mind enlightening me?” 

“It came from Big Daddy V,” Angel Dust slid into the seat next to him, fluttering his lashes. Lucifer stared at him. “You know, the head honcho?” Still no reaction. “Vox?”

“Is he the guy with the television for a head?” Lucifer asked. 

“Duh,” Angel Dust said at the same time Husk said, “Who else?” 

“I think he was the one who interrupted Alastor’s radio show last night too. What’s his deal with Alastor anyway?” Lucifer was not annoyed. He was not irritated at how easily he’d been cast aside. He was definitely not upset about how Alastor had disappeared after promising to give Vox his personal attention . 

“He’s obsessed with him.” 

And Lucifer was not tempted at all to rip this Vox’s throat out and leave him to die a very slow, very painful death. “Alastor is?” He hissed.

His chest twisted, throbbing with a pain he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He held his hand over his heart, marveling at the way it pounded as hard as if he’d just fought a grueling battle with the angels. 

“No, Vox is. They’ve had a rivalry going for decades now.” Husk looked at him strangely. “You really don’t know about any of this? Aren’t you the king of Hell or something?” 

Decades. They had decades of history together. Vox would always own a piece of Alastor that Lucifer would never get to know. An irrational anger rose deep from his gut. He knew it made no sense, but it was almost unbearable to think that there was someone out there who may have a claim over Alastor that he didn’t.

And maybe he was a demon just like the rest of them, because a selfish rage rattled in his chest: Alastor was his.

Too late, he realized the silence had stretched on a touch too long. Now both Angel Dust and Husk were staring at him. Angel Dust’s knowing smile in particular was quite unsettling. Quickly, he excused himself and ran back up to this room, where he could not think about Alastor in peace and quiet, thank you very much. But as soon as he opened the door, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. 

Meet me at Rosie’s. 

The note was written in Alastor’s beautiful, old-school cursive.

“That tacky little good-for-nothing,” Lucifer grumbled. “He thinks he can order me around?” 

He crumpled up the note in his fist. He would go meet him – but only to teach the cocky asshole a lesson. 

Right. That was the only reason why. 

(He’d always been a bad liar.) 

“There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost on the way.” 

Alastor’s wide grin was the first thing that greeted him when he stepped out of the portal. He resisted the urge to smack him in the nose, because he knew how to be the bigger man. Figuratively, of course. 

“Why did you want me to meet you here?” 

“Why do I ever want to meet you anywhere?” 

Lucifer paused, running through some numbers in his head. “But it’s not the first of the month yet.”

Alastor grinned and pressed in close. His bowtie, usually so neat and buttoned up, was askew. His shirt gaped open the tiniest bit, revealing a hint of mouthwatering collarbone and the barest glimpse at the strong chest underneath. Lucifer felt his cheeks heat. “What’s a little extra healing between friends?” Alastor murmured into his ear.

“We aren’t…we aren’t friends,” Lucifer protested, stumbling only once. “Besides, we’re outside. Anyone can see us.”

“Rosie won’t mind,” Alastor smiled. “What’s hers is mine, and so on and so forth.” He crooked one finger into his tie and pulled, loosening it further. “And the Cannibals know to mind their own business.”

The rough brick of Rosie’s storefront was digging into Lucifer’s back. He winced, a surge of annoyance running through him when he realized that Alastor was pushing him around again . Alastor always did whatever he wanted. He would play with him at home, teasing him relentlessly, making his life Hell, but then he’d run off and play rivals with some other bastard the moment Lucifer took his eyes off of him. 

What kind of heartless, two-timing devil would do that?

Suddenly filled with a burning rage he still didn’t quite understand, Lucifer flipped around so he  was the one pressing Alastor against the wall. Strangely, the demon didn’t fight him. He watched through heavy lids as Lucifer pushed forward until their bodies were flush against each other. Lucifer could feel every one of Alastor’s hard muscles through the layers of clothing between them. The air crackled with anticipation as they stared at each other, the seconds dragging on as time slowed. 

Lucifer licked his lips. Alastor’s gaze dipped down to follow the movement of his tongue. His smile turned lazy, slow – honey dripping on a hot day. He reached up, undid the first button of his shirt, and pulled the collar away from his neck so Lucifer had a better view of the graceful curve of his shoulder and the firm sculpture of his chest. He swallowed, hard. 

“You won’t keep a loyal subject waiting, will you, your Highness?” Alastor asked, his radio static like a live wire against Lucifer’s skin.

Lucifer grabbed his lapels and leaned in close, not sure if he was going in for a kiss or to tear Alastor’s head off. 

“What the hell are you two doing?” 

The first thing Lucifer noticed was a man with a TV screen for a head glitching out in the street behind them. The second thing he noticed was Alastor’s smile – huge, toothy, and so very pleased that Lucifer realized, a second too late, that he’d walked into one of Alastor’s traps again . 

Alastor straightened up and re-tied his bow to cover up all his delicious, bare skin. Even though Lucifer knew he’d been played for a fool, he still felt a pang when he saw it disappear. 

“Are you two–” Vox couldn’t finish the sentence. His screen stuttered, turning rainbow, then flipping to a test screen, before finally settling on the Blue Screen of Death. FUCK YOU ALASTOR.EXE was scrawled all over it. 

“Actually –” Lucifer started, but Alastor cut in, slinging his arm casually over his shoulder as if they did that kind of thing every day. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alastor grinned, his red eyes gleaming bright with glee. “Maybe we are. Maybe we’re just very good friends .” 

Vox’s face flashed back on screen, his mouth open so wide it looked almost like a glitch in the matrix. “You – I thought you didn’t…?” 

“Didn’t what, my good man? You must start finishing your sentences. How is anyone supposed to have a decent conversation with you if you don’t? But I suppose that silly moth man you keep around might not mind. He doesn’t seem very bright, does he?” 

“Leave Valentino out of this!” Vox roared. 

“Or what?” Alastor sneered over Lucifer’s shoulder. He was still hanging off of him like he owned him. As much as Lucifer hated it…it wasn’t a terrible feeling. “Or you’ll sing a silly little song about me again? Hack into my radio signal? Is that really all you can do – cause me a few technical problems?” 

Vox wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. His eyes were glued to the two of them, taking in the casual way Alastor was touching Lucifer, at the button Alastor had accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to re-button, and the hand Lucifer still had curled around Alastor’s lapel. 

“But you don’t –” he tried again. “I asked you! You said no!” 

“It looks like I found a better offer,” Alastor said. He looked positively demonic as he delivered the blow, his eyes glittering with euphoric glee as he watched Vox sink down from disbelief into a black cloud of depression. As much as Vox annoyed him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man.

But that didn’t stop him from doing what he did next. 

Lucifer looped his hand around Alastor’s neck and pulled him down so they were face to face. Before Alastor could react, he pressed his mouth to his. 

Alastor’s lips were cold. They were as icy and hard as the man himself, but his taste…he was like spice and smoke, like cinnamon and poison and the woods in the summer. He tasted better than all of Heaven and the Earth, and for the first time Lucifer understood why humans got addicted to their silly little drugs. If it felt anything close to this…

Alastor broke the kiss first, his eyes hooded and unreadable as he pulled back. He licked gold from his teeth, and Lucifer realized with a start that he was bleeding. Alastor brought his fingers to his lips and licked the dripping gold off of them slowly, his eyes never once leaving Lucifer’s. 

It was the single most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He felt dizzy, drunk with desire in a way he’d never once felt with Lilith.

“Assholes!” Vox’s sudden exclamation brought them both back to reality. “Don’t eye-fuck each other while I’m still here!”

Snarling, Lucifer whirled around. “Do you mind? We were in the middle of something here.” 

Vox cringed backwards, his hands flying protectively over his face. For a brief second, he looked terrified . Lucifer looked at him strangely, wondering what his reaction was all about, when he saw red horns out of the corner of his eye. 

He’d transformed? 

He glanced at Alastor, who was staring at him with an expression he’d never seen before. If he had to describe it, he would say Alastor looked…proud. 

Alastor pulled Lucifer to his side, so smug it practically rolled off of him in noxious waves. “You heard the man. Or rather, shall I say the king?” Canned laughter roared through the street. Vox flinched at the not-so-subtle reminder of exactly who he was dealing with. “It’s been fun catching up, but we must be off. Lots to do, lots to see!”

Waving merrily at the glitched-out TV, Alastor pushed open the door to Rosie’s shop and ushered Lucifer inside. The second the door closed, Lucifer whirled around, glaring at a wholly unrepentant Alastor.

“You planned that.”

Alastor grinned. “Of course I did.”

“You used me.”

He raised his brow. “My dear, I am a demon . Surely you can’t be too surprised I dabble in deception?” His expression darkened. “That fool interrupted my show. That kind of behavior must be punished. Besides, I daresay you used me a little bit yourself.” 

Lucifer’s cheeks reddened and his mouth watered at the thought of that kiss. That magical, wonderful, positively wicked kiss. 

“Ah, ah!” Alastor wagged his finger at him, as if he was a naughty child and not a fallen angel powerful enough to blast him halfway back to Earth. “There will be no more of that today. You’ve got your payment.”

Lucifer sighed. For a man who hated physical contact, he sure could be a massive tease. He was even worse than Angel Dust. “What was Vox talking about? What did he ask you?” What did you say no to?

“He asked me to join his team. A waste of breath, if you ask me. As if I’d ever stoop so low.”

“Just his team? As in, business partners?”

“Why? Does it bother you, your Majesty?” Alastor teased.

Lucifer thought about the despair on Vox’s face as he took in the possessive way Alastor had grabbed his shoulders. The betrayal in his voice as he’d stuttered but you don’t–! The hurt as he slumped to the ground, the electronic nodes of his brain scrambling to understand that Alastor might be capable of wanting more – and that he just hadn’t wanted Vox . 

Would Alastor do that to him one day? Would he leave him half-broken on the ground as he pranced off with his new rival of the month? 

Lucifer turned away, unable to keep looking at him. “No. It doesn’t bother me at all.” 

Alastor hummed, sing-song. “I appreciate your help in this rather annoying matter. I must say, it’s not so bad having a partner after all.” 

Lucifer stiffened, hardly daring to breathe. “We’re partners?”

"Who knows?" Alastor shrugged. "I do so dislike labels. But this is the first time the idea hasn't made me want to vomit. And the look on Vox's face when he saw you..." His laugh was dark and more than a little insane. He wiped a few gleeful tears from his eyes. "I could get used to that."

Lucifer chuckled along, the possessive beast within him satisfied. For now. "I'm a better offer, huh?"

When Alastor looked at him, the odd expression on his face took his breath away. He took Lucifer's hand and kissed it, his sharp teeth grazing the thin skin there. "Certainly the tastiest I've had in quite some time."

Lucifer's heart thudded so loud in his ears it was all he could hear.

"You have any other rivals you want to piss off?"

#alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #jealous lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #duckiedeer #radioapple #appleradio #hazbin hotel

[burstanddecay]

hi, lovely x

how about our baby Matt Murdock + "X pulls Y in for a kiss by their necktie"?

I hope your brain is nicer to you soon xx

Hi darling! I had an absolute field day with this one, thank you!

I'm working on the brain thing, but it's a slow journey. We'll get there eventually though! 🤎

lavender haze

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader Summary: Matt comes home late, soaking wet from the rain outside, just as you're taking a bath. It leaves you with a question you're a little hesitant about, but he encourages you to ask it anyway. Wordcount: 1.5k Contains: Past jealously, mentions of fingering. Mainly just soft fluff 🧡

The rain seems unrelentless today, pouring down from the moment you opened your eyes this morning, continuing all throughout the day with no end in sight. It pounds against the windows, pelting razor sharp drops as if it was an act of vengeance, trying to prove a point to an uncaring world.

You’re standing in front of the one reason you fought tooth and nail for this apartment: the massive bathtub, currently filled with water so hot the steam caused the mirror to fog up as it filled. The bath bomb you lowered in turned the water a lovely soft lavender, filling the air with a citrusy scent you can’t quite place.

The wick of the candle you’re lighting crackles in protest before a small flame settles on the neatly trimmed wick. You carefully place it back on the vanity, a fair distance away from your towel and other things, the thought of an accidental fire always an anxious thought in the back of your mind. Almost ready to finally get in, you flick the light off as you move to hang your robe off the hook on the door, leaving the bathroom to be lit by the candle alone.

The water is scalding and you bite back a satisfied hiss as you lower the first leg into the water, sitting down on the edge of the tub as you acclimate, barely needing a minute before you fully sink into the tub.

A wave of ease washes over you as you close your eyes, letting the warm water melt the tight muscles in your back, there thanks to the stress that came along with a day full of meetings. The sound of the rain is a welcome accompaniment to your winddown, something you seek out as your ambience of choice for a variety of things. It’s something Matt lovingly likes to poke at, the teasing endless when you once jokingly said it feels like I’m a little mouse reading under a mushroom. It's called escapism, Matthew. The inevitable reply had poked fun at the subway rats that he could hear scuttling about, telling you with a completely straight face that they strictly listened to either smooth jazz or Eminem, no in between.

The delivery had been so stone-faced that you paused for a second before picking your book up and continuing reading where you left off.

A few minutes pass before you open your eyes again, moving to reach for the tablet you placed on the stool next to the tub, hesitant between the choice of listening to the audio book you’re slowly making your way through, or rewatching an episode of New Girl you’ve already seen more times than you’d like to admit.

The decision is made for you as you hear the front door unlock. There’s only one person with a key that would let themselves in, that person being Matt. He’d called earlier in the day and mentioned he’d be late, no guaranteed timeline as to when that would be. When those words are uttered, it usually means pulling an all-nighter, the case they’re working on so complex it eats into his Daredevil hours. In a rare exception, it wasn’t as late as you thought it would be: it was around eight when you started setting everything up, something that usually took no more than thirty minutes before you could actually take your bath.

You pause when you don’t hear the door close immediately behind him, straining to hear what’s going on, Matt’s voice inaudible compared the shrill voice of your neighbour that always seemed to be mysteriously running into him in the hallway.

You had been snarky about it once, when hormones had been wrecking your body mid-period and you ran out of the patience that Matt seemed to have in spades sometimes. He calmly explained that she had a crush on him, her heartbeat and breathing telling on her, and that she definitely did not run into him by accident, but rather lingered near the door and just conveniently went to get her mail just to talk to him.

He proceeded to give you an orgasm that was so mind blowing that it still lingers in your mind, all as was he sat behind you on the couch with an unwavering steadiness to him, letting you know he wasn’t going anywhere.  

That doesn’t deter her from trying to get her way, so you close your eyes again, slipping down in the water until your shoulders are submerged, revelling in the warmth as you leave them to their conversation.

“Sweetheart?”

“In here.” you reply, eyes still closed. “Bathroom.”

You hear his footsteps approach before he softly knocks on the door. “Can I come in?”

You hum in reply, opening your eyes as the door creaks open and Matt slips in.

“Hi,” you smile in amusement as he comes into view. Though barely visible in the dim light, you can see his hair is slicked back, plastered to his head by the downpour outside. “’s bit wet outside, huh?”

He snorts, leaning against the vanity with his arms crossed. “Only a little. Took a cab, so managed to stay mostly dry.”

Part of you stills feel like it’s intrusive to ask how Matt experiences the world, though he had been honest about it when things started to get serious between you two. You still struggled to understand what was too much, what he could tune out. That line was something you still toed, something he apparently picks up on.

“You’re worried,” he says. “Anxious. Did anything happen at work today?”

“Nooo,” you breathe, sliding down a little further, the water silently sloshing. You hesitate again, not sure about what you want to ask.

“Just because I can hear your heartbeat, doesn’t mean I’m a mind reader, sweetheart,” he says, taking his glasses off before placing them on top of your towel. “It sounds like a panicked rabbit.”

“Have you ever seen a rabbit before?”

“Stop deferring the question,” he says, no malice behind the words.

“I wasn’t aware we're in court, mister Murdock,” you smile at the seriousness on his face. You can see the faint outline of a bruise on his cheekbone with his glasses off, his scruff a little heavier than usual. “Nothing happened at work. A question popped into my head and I’m not sure it’s rude or not. That’s all.”

He hums quietly and pushes himself off the vanity, taking off his suit jacket before sitting down on the edge of the tub. A hand comes up and softly brushes your cheek as he smiles at you.

“The fact that you even consider the fact that whatever comes into your mind might offend me, says a lot. But it won’t.”

You pause and look at your boyfriend, whose unfocussed gaze rests just off your face, his thumb brushing across you chin, body language relaxed and open.

Sometimes you still struggle to believe you got this lucky.

“I…” you start, searching for the right words. “The rain. Does it like… mess with your ability to do your thing?”

His face breaks into a bright smile at the question. “That was your question?”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles. “A little. Depends on how tired I am,” he says honestly. “It’s harder to hear my surroundings, it gets muddled. Takes more energy to listen and pick up what I need, leave what I don’t.”

You smile and sit up, pulling your knees to your chest as you do. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

You shrug. “Answering my question.”

His hand wanders to one of your exposed knees, tracing circles with his index finger. “Don’t think that’s something that warrants a thanks, sweetheart.”

“Oh?”

“You can ask me whatever, baby. Any time, any day.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you look at Matt, who smiles at you in reply, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

You don’t say anything, but instead reach for his tie and pull him closer until his breath ghosts over your face. It halts, stuttering in his throat as he waits for what’s going to happen. You grin, twisting the tie around your hand, the other coming up to his cheek as you place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“In that case, wanna get in?” you ask, toying with the silk fabric in your hand, the other scraping alongside his jaw. He looks fully content, a step away from purring, his eyes hazy as he leans into your touch.

“I think there’s something else I’d rather do,” he murmurs, the hand that was leaning on your knee sliding down into the water, disappearing between your thights.

“Wh—Oh,” you gasp, jerking at unexpected sensation, soaking his pantleg in the process. “Shit, yeah, okay. Or we do that. Jesus.”

He grins, giving you a quick kiss before getting up, moving your towel onto the stool next to the tub and taking his exit.

“See you in a bit, sweetheart.”

You groan, sinking back down into the water, rubbing your face as you do, knowing there’s a long night ahead of you, curtesy of Matt Murdock.

#matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock

[saninthebuilding]

love kills. or does it? - xavier thorpe

summary: crackstone has been brought back from the dead, and it seems that along with mass destruction, there are also some other forms of chaos to be dealt with. feelings, so to speak.

(inspired by the last episode of wednesday)

word count: 2.1k (i got excited)

warnings: potential spoilers for wednesday, modified plot, swearing, emotions, mention of injury & blood, L-bombs, confession, xavier & reader being idiots in love

a/n: recently finished wednesday and i cannot tell you how bad i have wanted to write something for xavier since then. and i finally did!

hope you enjoy it! <3

~

there was chaos everywhere.

students were screaming as they ran out the front gates of nevermore, grabbing their friend's sleeves to drag each other away from the large fire sparking in the center of the quad. people collided and stumbled as they shoved past in an attempt to get away.

crackstone was back.

ms.thornhill- or should i say laurel, had been successful in resurrecting the century-old outcast-hater in his crypt because i was unable to stop her in time.

and now he was wrecking havoc all throughout the nevermore campus.

crackstone was back.

and it was all my fault.

gritting my teeth, i forced a path through the crowd of panicked students, attempting to reach the quad before any real damage could be brought about.

this is my fault.

the fact that it had come to crackstone actually being able to fulfill the prophecy of destruction was on my hands.

maybe xavier was right-

no.

rowan's mother had painted that based on a vision, and they only gave the seer half the story. i had learned that countless times based on my own experiences.

i can fix this.

anger rising at the chaos surrounding me, i managed to find an opening between the students and pushed forward, ignoring the shouts of protest from my peers as they tried to piece together why i was going in the opposite direction.

i rushed into the quad and headed straight to the staircase. from what i could recall, there was a sword set on display on the upper floor of the building.

if i can get that, i can finish this.

halfway up the stairs, i heard a scream and whirled around, peering over the railing to see crackstone entering the quad, staff glowing green.

"i have arrived to rid the world of thy kind!" he roared, energy pulsating through the air.

shit.

taking the stairs two at a time, i slid into the hall of the second floor and instantly spotted the blade. spirits rising, i ran towards the case and swiped it off the stand, giving it a quick once over before turning back towards the staircase.

running down the steps, i went over what goody had told me back in the crypt.

through his black heart, huh?

when you put it like that, his teeth and his heart seemed to be twins.

clearing the final step, i rushed into the quad, and saw crackstone raise his staff at a couple huddled together in front of him.

seriously, did she really step in to protect him? ridiculous.

"howdy, pilgrim." i called to the walking-dead man before he could blast the two of them to ash.

he whirled around, shock etched across his rotting face, and the pair of love-struck fools took the chance to rush out of the main gates to safety.

no wonder there's that saying about love and death.

"how canst thy heart still beat?" crackstone spits, his eyes wide and filled with rage.

"the real question here is how can yours? you look like a walking corpse. oh wait- that's exactly what you are." i adjust my grip on the blade in my hand, before looking the man up and down.

"quite an ugly walking corpse as well."

his face twisted inhumanely, and he let out a seething roar as he raised his staff, moving to charge at me.

suddenly, there were thuds echoing behind me, and a voice yelled out-

"stay away from her!"

xavier.

i spun around, eyes wide and breathing ragged, just in time to see him shoot the arrow lodged into his bow at crackstone. it sped through the air straight at the space between the man's eyes, directly on target-

but it didn't hit its mark.

i watched in horror as crackstone raised his staff, and it glowed green as the arrow simply...froze in place. he twisted his fingers, and the arrow turned in midair, aiming for xavier.

no.

crackstone spread his palm, and the energy his staff released compelled the arrow toward xavier.

no.

i lunged forward, throwing myself into the arrow's path. it struck me straight in the chest, and the sheer force of it threw me off balance. the sword i was holding flew out of my hand as i rolled across the wet grass beneath me, before landing hard on my back.

"no!" xavier cried out, and within seconds he was at my side.

"y/n! what the fuck- would you do that!" he snapped, but instead of anger, there was fear in his voice. his eyes fell on the arrow sticking out of my chest, before meeting my own.

he's scared.

"go, xavier" i winced, struggling to keep my breaths even. i gripped the arrow at the base, before clenching my teeth down and breaking the shaft from as low as possible. i let out a scream as my vision blurred, and my body jerked upward at the sudden pressure being applied to the wound.

"y/n!" xavier's voice was full of panic, and he instantly moved to help me, but i pushed him away with my free arm, exhaling sharply at the pinpricks of pain shooting through my sternum.

"i'll be fine, but you need to help the others."

he stayed crouched next to me, shifting slightly to take the other half of the arrow from me and throwing it away, showing no sign of moving. grimacing, i reached over to grip the hand he had placed on my shoulder and squeezed.

"go, xavier."

his eyes locked on mine, and he hesitated for a moment. suddenly there was a scream echoing from somewhere behind him, and he shook his head, before squeezing back and forcing himself to stand.

he ran.

i watched him go and pull the last few students who were standing around with him out the gates of nevermore, before i turned over and pulled myself up.

ah, that's what the saying is. "love kills."

i stomped down on the handle of the blade, and it shot into the air.

but is this love?

ignoring the thoughts rushing through my mind and pangs of protest from the arrowhead that was still lodged into my skin, i turned to face crackstone.

whatever. at least if i die tonight, it'll be in a swordfight and not of blood loss.

"i suppose you seek an honourable death by my hands" he sneered, before swinging at me with his staff.

"oh please, as if a dead man attacking innocent civilians has any honour" i bit back as i ducked out of the way, before jabbing at his side. he sputtered angrily, deflecting my blade and swiped low, aiming for my feet.

i jumped backwards, slashing the sword up at his face, but rather than nicking skin i ended up knocking his hat off his head.

it hit the floor with a light thump, and crackstone stared at it for a second, frozen in place, before looking up me and letting out a snarl.

"you seem to be taking the revelation of your thinning hair a bit too personally" i smirked, but was quickly overwhelmed by the sudden blast of energy his staff let out. it hit me with more force than the arrow, and i was thrown into the building wall behind me. my sword shattered upon impact, metal bits flying everywhere.

"or a lot too personally" i wheezed, struggling to breathe under the pressure of his magic. a metallic scent filled the atmosphere, and i could feel goosebumps rising on my skin.

"silence, you wretched piece of filth!" crackstone roared, and i felt the strain on my body increase as his magic surged, trapping me. i gasped, fighting for air as my lungs were crushed by the invisible force he had over me.

crackstone grinned at me, his face scrunching up to reveal numerous scars and missing teeth. "finally, thy voice will be silenced forev-"

he didn't get to finish his sentence because there was a blade pointing through his stomach. from behind.

the attacker pulled the sword out of crackstones chest, and it distracted the man enough to weaken his hold on his powers. i slid down the wall and landed on my side, letting out a hiss of pain.

"be gone, you vile creature!" crackstone roared, and i looked up to see him hit xavier in the head with his staff, sending him stumbling back into the fountain.

"no!" i yelled, pulling myself up once again, except this time everything was drowned out. the pain from the arrow wound, the exhaustion from being thrown up against the wall, everything.

except xavier.

i grabbed one of the blade shards that were littered across the grass, and as crackstone turned his attention back to me, stabbed him straight through the heart.

he let out a sputtering sound, looking down at the metal lodged into his flesh. i pushed it deeper, twisting it for good measure, before looking up at him.

"you be gone, you fucking waste of space."

as if on cue, he burst into ashes, and the magic he had both within and around him flooded the quad. i held my ground, and when the air was clear, rushed to xavier's side.

"xavier!" i breathed, dropping down next to him. cringing at the pain that was resurfacing from my arrow wound, i gently pulled his head into my lap, before brushing his hair out of his face to get a look at his head.

"you're a fool, you know that? why the hell would you come back?"

trying hard not to panic, i cut off a strip of my skirt to wrap around the wound, only to stop as i felt him shifting in my grip. looking down, i saw him staring up at me with an unbelieving look on his face.

"are you serious right now?" he breathed, and i raised my eyebrows in question as i proceeded to wrap his head. pushing my hands away, he exhaled sharply as he pushed himself to sit up.

"stop moving!" i snapped, gripping the side of his face with one hand to keep him in place. using the other, i finished tying the cloth together. "you might have a concussion."

"'why would i come back?'" he ignored my protests and pointed at my chest. "you took a goddamn arrow for me and you're telling me i can't try to save you?"

"you could have died!"

"so could you!"

"but i didn't!" i said, gesturing at my completely alive self.

"what if you did? huh? then what?" xavier was getting increasingly irritated, and i couldn't figure out why.

there's no way-

"what do you care?" i tsked, and was about to tell xavier to drop it but he was faster.

"because i love you!" he yelled, "i love you, y/n! for fucks sake, i love you, and that's why i care!"

i froze in place, my heart pounding in my chest.

i suppose that love does not actually kill, which means that whoever said that line was terribly wrong.

"what?"

"did you not hear me? i said i-"

i cut him off before he could finish his sentence, grabbing the sides of his face to pull him down to mine.

and kissed him.

xavier let out a startled sound, before letting one hand rest on my hip as he gripped my collar with the other. i could feel the sweat and blood coating his skin, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of him.

despite the chaos, his hands were steady and he was sure of himself as he kissed me back. i let my hands wander, tangling them into the hair at his nape, tugging gently. he groaned slightly before letting out a surprised laugh, and i laughed as well, savouring the fact that he was here and he was safe and he was alive.

ironically, i seem to have become the very fool i was unimpressed by not so long ago.

i pulled away, breaths coming out in short gasps as i gazed up at him, clutching onto the front of his sweater.

xavier opened his eyes and gazed down at me, breathless. his eyes were blown wide, and there was a small smile playing on his lips.

then again, you don't fall in love every day.

and he was just so, so, beautiful.

"be mine" i whispered.

he stared at me, before sighing.

"y/n, i have always been yours. you just had to ask."

my heart sped up- "will you?"

"of course."

i smiled, wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my head against his chest. i could feel my wound protesting, but for now i focused on him and only him.

"i love you, xavier"

xavier placed a hand on the back of my head, carefully drawing me close and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"i love you, y/n."

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fic #xavier #thorpe #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday drabble #wednesday fic #xavier thorpe drabble #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday oneshot #xavier thorpe wednesday #why is he so fine #deadass gonna rewatch the show soon #love him sm #love this #gonna go cry now bc he aint real

[arsnof]

Robert Evans as the Riddler.

It is 2019 and riots are breaking out all over Gotham. What started as peaceful protests over police violence, accountability, and the death of Joe Chill quickly escalate when the GCPD GCPDed. People are angry that the police managed to solve the Wayne family murder in under a week while thousands of existing cases are ignored.

Moreover, just as quick as elderly black man Joe Chill was implicated in the murder, he was also shot dead by police. The cops said they exchanged gunfire with Chill and he was struck while running away. The autopsy showed that he was beaten before being shot point blank in the back of the head. The cops were never even put on leave. Gotham exploded.

Enter journalist Ed Nigma. Nigma, a brash, 30 something thinkpiece writer has covered conflicts across the globe and even he has never seen violence on this level. He jumps into the streets, covering the inner-city war zone.

Police tanks parade down the street. Rows of armored police shoot tear gas and beanbags into teenagers with gas masks and cardboard signs.

Ed is interviewing first aid teams carrying milk jugs when he is caught in a kettle. Despite wearing a vest and helmet loudly declaring him as PRESS, he is beaten into a coma.

Six months later, the riots have been suppressed. A handful of cops have been suspended as a concession to the people. Tanks still roll in the streets. Ed disappears from his hospital bed.

Another year and the security theater has only grown. The police coffers swell and they are spending as quick as they receive. New transfer Jim Gordon doesn't get it. Drones and acoustic deterrents and crowd suppressants andAI facial recognition.. Jim's too old for that.

A beat cop from Chicago, Gordon keeps it clean. Descendant of militant abolitionists, Jim will do what's right, no matter the cost. His sense of justice led him to police work. His sense of morals led him into the path of his superiors, who punished him by sending him to the dirtiest precinct in the country.

His first assignment is reports of a strange podcast (what is that even? You have to what? What's an app?) that seems to be threatening local industrialist Derek Powers. Jim listens through the three available episodes. They cover Powers; his early life in South Africa and Venezuela. Inheriting his fortune. Claims of slavery and rape and murder. Each episode ends with a promise to kill Derek.

The episodes are listed as a four parter, with the last one streaming tonight. Jim tunes in with the help of his daughter, Barbara (that girl is smart!). Jim makes her leave as the host has a rather filthy mouth and is quite raunchy.

It starts normally enough. A list of social connections that reads like a terrorist watch list. Flights to isolated islands. Associations with the police. This last part catches Jim off guard, as it details Powers' involvement in the Joe Chill protests. The host alleges that Powers paid off commissioner Loeb to get extra protection around his building and giving them permission to get extra hands on if necessary.

"And that's it for ol' international pervert and expert trout seducer Derek Powers. Hey, Sophie, you know what- what really.. really.. uh, explodes? My office building? Aw, fuck, I fucked up that transition. Anywho, join us next week on the podcast whose name is literally just a question mark when we start a three parter on Ace Chemicals and the incredible world of crowd control!"

Gordon sits in silence for a minute. If what this.. 'Riddler' says is true.. Powers is a monster. A sick Bastard. A.. a.. His phone rings. It's Bullock. Jim thinks Harvey Bullock is only putting on the airs of a dirty cop. Somewhere under that trench coat and cigar is a decent guy trying to do good in a place that actively tries to beat you down. Bullock says to turn on the news. Powers Plaza has been bombed. Derek and six shareholders are dead.

His eyes move from the burning tower on the TV to the podcast app on his computer. The question mark logo purple on green. What the hell is going on in Gotham City?

#the riddler #robert evans #behind the bastards #ed nygma #jim gordon #batman

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

This may be a weird request, but pls hear me out. Could you do something in the format of those headcanons you write for EM characters—like which planet they are associated with—but just describing the character and their role in the series/movie in like 2-3 sentences? Like a trivia of sorts. I’ve only seen HOTD, and while some of his chars can be googled easily, like Osferth or Tom Bennet, the ones like Genyen or Michael are very obscure to me due to not having seen the stuff they’re from yet, and there isn’t always a wiki page available for them. You being the #1 Ewan Mitchell expert, I don’t really know who else to approach with such a thing. Please & I’d be very thankful 🏵💞🍀

Yeah, I can certainly do that for you. Below the cut!

Abraham - features in only one episode of a long running soap opera called Grantchester. The main protagonist of the series happens across a Romani camp. Ewan plays a character who is engaged to a girl named Luella. Luella keeps disappearing off. When Luella's father won't tell Abraham where she's going, he kills him with a fireplace poker. It later transpires that Luella is having an affair with the farmer whose land they're camped on and she doesn't want to marry Abraham at all. He's upset, not only at the loss of his wife-to-be, but also because he was next in line to become leader of their settlement, and has ruined that by killing someone from their community.

Aemond - Second son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower. Bit of a twat, resentful because his dragon egg never hatched in his cradle. Claims his dead aunt's dragon, and his nephew gets the arsehole with him and knifes him in the face for it. He loses hie eye, but puts a gnarly sapphire in the socket in its place. Kills his nephew for rocking up to Storm's End and cockblocking him, which starts a war within his family and loads of them die. Gets distracted by a big tiddy witch and spends the rest of the war slinging one up her until eventually him and his uncle commit murder suicide.

Billy Taylor - sweetest little treasure in the world. Works as a bell boy at a hotel called the Halcyon, which quite frankly ought to be shut down for its negligent business practices. Anyway, Billy is sweet on a maid called Kate. When a hotel guest assaults her, he pulls the guy's own gun on him and narrowly avoids getting the sack for it. His mum interferes in his drafting, because she doesn't want him going overseas to fight in the war, so he's stationed at the London army barracks manning the anti aircraft guns. Dies anyway, because he gets blown up.

Billy Washington - hopeless brother of boss bitch Lana Washington. Doesn't have a job, has been refused from the army and feels pretty shit about life. His girlfriend has left him and his flat's a shit state. Because of his mardy outlook on life, a fascist organisation is able to radicalise him and frames him for vandalising a Halal butcher's. They later plant a bomb in his car, with the intention of it going off when he gets out at Farringdon station, where an anti fascist protest is taking place. Lana intercepts him on route, and he drives to Cranstead Gardens instead. He panics in the car, not knowing what to do, and against all advice, ends up opening the door to get out, which sets off the bomb and kills him.

Ettore - on board a space ship with other death row inmates to try to find alternative energy resources. Essentially understood that it's a suicide mission, but the doctor on board is conducting heinous fertility experiments on everyone. They are not allowed to sleep with each other, but have a "box" that they can go into to masturbate. Ettore is generally considered creepy by everyone on board, and he is really perverted - lots of inappropriate staring, etc. One night, he sneaks into the cell of an inmate called Boyse and tries to rape her. When her bunkmate, Mink, tries to defend her he beats her up. Eventually, male members of crew are alerted and Ettore is beaten to a pulp. Mink then stabs him through the eye and he's chucked out of the airlock.

Genyen - Only in one episode of a soap opera called Doctors. Introduced in a Buddhist centre with a senior monk called Jinba. Jinba tells him to go out and collect money for the centre. A doctor from the series runs into him while he's collecting and feels sorry for him because he looks cold. He gives him his lunch and donates £20, which Genyen tucks into his robe instead of the charity box. Jinba sees and takes the money off of Genyen. At this point it seems as though Genyen is being mistreated by Jinba, and the doctor seems to think this too, so when Genyen wants to leave he gives him cash to help him. It then transpires that the reason Jinba doesn't want Genyen handling large sums of money is because he steals. He stole Jinba's bank card when he left and empties his bank account at an ATM. He is apprehended by the doctor though and the police are called.

Jack - from the short, Fire. Jack has an ability where the angrier he gets the more fire he is able to produce. His dad and him have made a living out of stealing cars. Jack runs away when he decides he doesn't want to do it anymore and his dad pursues him through the woods. Gets so angry his fire powers causes him to fell an entire tree.

Jason - from the film, Just Charlie, plays a guy hanging out at a play park. Beats up a girl when he finds out she's trans.

Michael Gavey - a student at Oxford. Befriends Oliver Quick because he believes him to be a social outcast, much like he is. Is a mathematical genius. Is quickly ditched by Oliver when he manages to befriend the more popular students. Incredibly abrasive, outspoken and looks down upon the popular students as he believes them to be "vapid cunts".

Osferth - King Alfred's bastard. Enrolled as a novice monk, but leaves the monastery when he's of age to join Uhtred, as his uncle Leofric had always spoken fondly of him. Not a particularly seasoned fighter, but brave in his own right and extremely loyal. Incredibly kind and maintains his faith throughout, but has some absolutely cracking one lines. "What is smite?" "Well, it's a word, isn't it?" Fucks like a dinosaur, according to the prostitutes of Winchester. Dies when he's stabbed in the side during battle, and it's honestly one of the most heart wrenching scenes I've ever watched in my life.

Poacher - from the short, Stalker, this film is minutes long and Ewan appears in it for seconds and says nothing. Plays a poacher that is in trouble for illegally hunting deer on private land. Just stands there holding a rifle.

Scott - from the film Stereotype. Literally only a voice part - a voicemail of Scott encouraging his friend to beat someone up.

Tom Bennett - a troublemaker that always seems to be attracting the attention of the police. He doesn't want to be drafted into the war, so decides to sign up as a conscientious objector. However, when it transpires that his latest crime is more serious than he realised, he enlists in the navy to avoid going to prison. Is stationed aboard the HMS Exeter and has a canary named Vera, which he takes bets for which ports she'll lay eggs in. Survives the Battle of the River Plate and it matures him. He's short in Dunkirk and ends up in a hospital in Paris around the time that they surrender to the Nazis. Is snuck out and across the Spanish border. In season two, somewhere on his way back home he stopped for a haircut that was administered by a lawnmower. His father died when their house was shelled and he blames his sister for it. He then goes back to war.

Will - from the short Salad Days. Robs people's houses with two of his friends. Discovers a gun in one of them and uses it to hold up a post office. Takes a worker hostage and his friends freak out and run away. He lets the guy go, but when his friend reveals he wants to go to the police about what they did, he beats him up because he doesn't want to go to prison or give back the money they stole.

#asked and answered #ewan mitchell #ewanverse headcanons

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

As ever, thank you so so much for your love on this fic. It means so much.

I cannot believe we are at 60 chapters on this fic!! It's truly mindblowing, and I am so so grateful you are all still here for the ride. As I always say, I love this version of them and have a lot of plans for them - so as long as you are still enjoying it, I'll still write it! This chapter also brings us to the 200k words mark for this fic!!

Since we are celebrating two milestones with this chapter...it's a bit of a special one, loosely based on a Castle episode.

I look forward to the yelling.

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 6.3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily curses under her breath as she rushes around the kitchen, grabs her phone and shoves it into her pocket. 

She was running late. 

Her team had been called in to scout out an abandoned building that was thought to be the base of an unsub who had sent bomb threats to several politicians. It was rare for her to leave for work before Aaron and it had disrupted their morning routine, making her feel off-kilter. Aaron had taken over with Lily that morning, right down to feeding her to give her time to get ready. It meant Emily hadn’t nursed her little girl like she usually did first thing in the morning, something that she liked to do, the quiet time that was often just her and Lily precious to her.

Emily pats herself down, ensuring she has everything she needs, and she winces as she swallows down a gulp of far too hot coffee. She walks out into the hallway and feels herself calm down the moment she sees Aaron standing there, Lily on his hip and a muslin thrown over his shoulder to protect his suit because Lily had only just had her breakfast. The little girl had a knack for spitting up on their work clothes more than she did on anything else they wore, Aaron always joked it was their daughter’s way of protesting them going to work. 

“Look princess,” Aaron says, tickling Lily’s belly to pull a laugh out of her, smiling when the sweet sound does what he’d hoped for and eases some of the tension in Emily’s shoulders, “Mommy is all ready to go.” 

She smiles and walks over, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s cheek, “I used to be able to get ready so much quicker than this.” 

“To be fair, sweetheart,” he says, adjusting his hold on Lily so he can wrap an arm around Emily and pull her closer, allowing himself to enjoy a moment with both of his girls in his arms, “You never used to have to feed a baby or pump before you left the house in the morning.” 

She hums in agreement and reaches over to cup Lily’s head, running her fingers through the baby’s soft hair. 

“That is true sweet girl, I used to be much more punctual before you,” she leans forward and kisses Lily’s cheek, smiling when she giggles again, “Good thing you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she looks at her watch and groans, “I need to go, my boss hates me enough as it is.” 

“Carson doesn’t hate you, Em,” Aaron replies, smiling wryly at his wife. 

“Well, he doesn’t like me as much as my old boss did,” she says, raising her eyebrow and smirking at him. He narrows his eyes playfully. 

“Considering you married your last boss I should hope he doesn’t.” 

She chuckles and leans in to kiss Lily’s forehead, “Mommy loves you, baby,” she says, pulling away again, “I’ll see you later.”

Aaron smiles at  her and raises his eyebrow, “What about me?”

She winks at him and kisses his cheek, “Mommy loves you too,” she jokes and he grimaces, making her laugh again and she stamps a kiss against his lips, “Love you, honey.” 

“Love you too, sweetheart.” 

She pulls away and grabs her bag from the floor, smiling as she turns back to look at them, “See you later.” 

He waves goodbye, smiling when Lily does the same, and turns his attention back to her when the door closes.

“Well, Lily-Pad, looks like it’s just the two of us. And it’s almost time for you to go to daycare.” He says, and Lily spits up, in response, managing to narrowly miss the muslin on his shoulder, staining his suit jacket. He sighs and starts to walk upstairs, “Okay, change of clothes first, then daycare.”

___

“Nice for you to join us, Prentiss.”

Emily forces a smile onto her face as she walks over to her team, her bosses clipped words in the air around them, an attempt to embarrass her that she won’t let him have. She comes to a stop when she’s level with them all, “Sorry, sir.” 

Peter Carson raises his eyebrow at her but doesn’t say anything else as he starts to address the team as a whole, “We need to check every floor. Bomb squad has done a sweep already and did not find any devices. Pair off to make it quicker,” he looks at Emily and then the man on her left, “Connors, you’re with Prentiss. Show her the ropes. You guys take the fourth floor.” 

Emily clenches her teeth to stop herself from saying anything until he’s out of earshot, flanked by other members of the team as they start to walk into the building. Once Carson is out of earshot she rolls her eyes.

“Show her the ropes,” she mutters under her breath, “I’ve been in the FBI since I was 24. I think I can handle a building sweep,” she hears a chuckle next to her and narrows her eyes at him. Steve Connors was the closest thing she had to a friend in the counterterrorism unit. He was old school, and had been around for so long everyone always joked he was like part of the furniture. He reminded her of Dave, and it was always nice to have someone on her side. “What’s so funny Connors?” 

He shrugs at her, “I’ve told you before, Prentiss,” he says, “You’re still the new kid on the team. He’ll let up eventually.”

“I’ve been here four months,” she grumbles as they enter the building, ‘When do I stop being the new kid?” 

They walk up the stairs to the second floor, their footsteps loud on the metal steps, echoing around them in the otherwise silent building, “As soon as someone else joins the team.” 

She huffs out a breath and shakes her head as he opens the door for her and lets her in ahead of him, “Excellent,” she replies sarcastically, looking back over her shoulder at him as she walks further into the room, “So I have to deal with this until you retire or die of old age at your desk.”

His response is cut off as she takes a step and a loud click rings throughout the room. It echoes, bouncing off the bare walls, seemingly taunting them as it makes its way back to them, louder than it had been before. She looks at the ground beneath her and sees that the floorboards are new, a fresh patch of wood in comparison to the rest of it, stark and bright against the rest of the grimy and partially rotten floor.

“What the hell was that-”

“Don’t come any closer,” she says, cutting him off, desperately staying as still as she can, her body tight as she tries not to move, “I…I think I’m standing on a pressure plate.” 

Steve’s eyes go wide as he looks at her, his eyes drifting back down to the floor, “You’re standing on a bomb.”

She swallows thickly, her breath shaky as she replies, not even daring to nod her head, worried that the slightest movement could set off the explosives beneath her feet.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I’m standing on a bomb.” 

___

Aaron rolls his neck as he moves another completed case file from the ‘to-do’ pile to the ‘completed’ one. He hated paperwork just as much as everyone else, but he was grateful for it when it meant he wasn’t away on a case, when it meant he’d be able to go home to his wife and daughter instead of to an empty hotel room in the middle of nowhere.

He smiles when he looks at the pictures he has on his desk, a double frame with a picture of him, Emily and Jack on the day they got married, his palm on Emily’s bump as they all smile at the camera. The second picture is from the day they brought Lily home, a selfie he had taken of him, his wife and his little girl. He can see the exhaustion in his own eyes, a moment in time when he’d felt so many different emotions all at once trapped behind glass. The overwhelming love clear in the way his cheek was pressed against Emily’s, the way his palm was gently placed on a newborn Lily’s back. He can also see the desperation in it, the way he was still reeling from how he could have lost one or both of them. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on his office door, and he smiles tightly as he looks up to see Chief Strauss standing there. She smiles, a nervous edge to it as she walks into his office and closes the door behind her. 

“Chief Strauss,” he says curiously, standing up and abandoning his pen on the desk, “How can I help?” 

She clears her throat as she folds her hands in front of her, “The BAU has been asked to assist another unit with an urgent case,” she says, pressing her lips together before she continues, as if she’s choosing her words carefully, “I’ve asked Agent Morgan to brief the rest of the team.” 

He frowns, his curiosity turning into concern, an edge of irritation wrapped around it at the realisation she’s asked Derek to lead the case, “Why is Morgan in charge?”

She sighs and steps closer, “The unit in question is the Counterterrorism unit,” she says, a hint of kindness in her voice that seems misplaced, only making him more anxious, “An agent stood on what they thought was a pressure plate. It’s just been confirmed they are standing on enough C4 to take out the entire building.” 

“How the hell did that happen? Didn’t they sweep the damn building?”

She places her hands on her hips and nods, “They did, but Carson didn’t wait for them to finish. I have it on good authority he assured the team it was clear before he sent them in.” 

He feels himself shutting down. Anger and fear making him nauseous as they fill his chest, corrupting his lungs as he tries and fails to heave in a breath. The pictures on his desk almost taunting him out of the corner of his eye as he tenses, his heart dropping into his stomach as he asks a question he already knows the answer to. 

“Who’s the agent?” He asks, his voice tight as he stares at her, his gaze unrelenting. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything, and he feels himself losing whatever grip he has left on his control, “Erin,” he says, making a point of using her first name, a blatant mix of insubordination and attempting to reach her on a personal level, “Who’s the agent?” 

She closes her eyes and nods, “It’s Emily.” 

He’s already moving, stepping out from behind his desk before she can stop him. He’s out in the bullpen already by the time she does, the way she shouts his surname echoing around the usually bustling office. 

“She is my wife,” he says, ignoring how the team are looking at him from the conference room, their gazes burning even through the glass “You can’t expect me to just…sit here and wait for news.”

She sighs and nods, “I know I can’t,” she says, and he takes it as a green light, turning around again before she carries on, “Aaron,” she adds, and he looks at her, his body practically vibrating with everything he is feeling and she clears her throat, “Just don’t do anything that will mean I have to fire you, okay?” 

He swears he sees a flicker of a smile go across her face, but he doesn’t have time to analyse it, already on the move as he replies.

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

___

Aaron doesn’t remember a single second of the journey to the site. 

He’s out of the car in seconds after it’s parked, his badge in his hands to flash at the cops on the barricade, the combination of it and the glare on his face enough to get him through. 

He feels fury burning in his blood the moment he sees Peter Carson. He’s walking over before he can stop himself, throwing off any attempts from Derek or Dave to stop him, and he’s got his hand wrapped up in Peter’s jacket as he pushes him up against a wall before he can think about what he’s doing. 

“Hotchner,” Peter says, his eyes slightly wide as he tries to pull himself out of Aaron’s grasp, unable to do so as Aaron tightens his grip, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He clenches his teeth, “Don’t do anything stupid?” He seethes, anger he’d never felt before taking over, the bitter taste of a man he once swore he’d never be on the tip of his tongue. ] “Like send my team into a building before I was sure it was clear of explosives.” 

“The bomb squad-”

“They told you they had one more floor to check,” he says, his grip on the other man’s jacket so tight he thinks he might rip the material, “And you sent them in there anyway. If anything happens to her, if she has a single scratch on her, I will destroy you.” 

He lets go, letting Peter fall to the floor as he walks away without saying anything else, ignoring the looks on the other agent’s faces. He’s stopped as he’s about to enter the building, a member of the bomb squad placing his hand on his chest to prevent him from going any further. 

“Agent, I’m sorry but no one else-”

“That’s my wife in there,” Aaron says, cutting him off, “I’m going in with or without your help.” 

The air is tense as the agent in front of him looks to his superior, but Aaron watches as the men exchange a small nod. He has a Kevlar vest pressed into his hands, something he knows wouldn’t help him if the bomb went off, and he nods, pulling it over his head as he walks into the building, determination in every step.

He takes the steps two at a time, desperate to see Emily, to help in whatever way he can. As soon as he’s on the second floor he gives himself a moment to gather himself, to pull himself together. He knew she was strong, it was one of the many things he loved about her, but he also knew if he walked in, worry etched on his face, she’d start to crack. She often said he’d crawled underneath her walls, that he’d cracked her impenetrable armour from the inside out. He had to keep it together for her.

He could fall apart later, when she was home and safe with their little girl in her arms. 

He blows out a breath and steps into the room. He smiles in a way he hopes is encouraging when she looks up at him, confusion and panic flashing through her eyes.

“Aaron,” she chokes out, clenching her fists by her side, her nails digging into her palms as she reminds herself that she couldn’t rush over to him like she wants to, “What are you doing here?”

He steps closer, but is stopped by a man in the room he hadn’t seen when he walked in, his hand on his shoulder, “You can’t get any closer, sir,” he says, pointing at the circle on the ground, drawn around where Emily was standing and the surrounding area, “The pressure plate can be triggered within that space.” 

He nods, clenching his teeth as he tries to suppress the anger, his jaw so tight he thinks it could break. He looks back over at his wife and forces a soft smile, desperate to act like this was normal, like she wasn’t standing on a bomb big enough to kill them both and everyone in the surrounding area. 

“Strauss told me what happened, I had to come see you,” he says, “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t come to check on my wife who is standing on a bomb?”

She glares at him, his attempt at humour falling flat as she feels her heart break in her chest, “Aaron-”

“You would have come too,” he says, cutting over her protest, “If it was the other way around, you would be standing right here.” 

She sighs, knowing that he’s right. She would have done exactly what he has and she can’t deny it, “It’s stupid.” 

He chuckles slightly, the sound rough and painful as it tears its way past his ribs, “I never said it was smart,” he replies, and she smiles at him. The moment fades, the seriousness of the situation washing over them again, “What's the situation with the bomb?” 

“The bomb squad are trying to disarm it,” she says, blowing out a slow breath, “But it’s complicated and… there's a timer. It’s got…” she drifts off, unable to remember how much time was left, her mind hazy with fear she was refusing to feel, and thoughts about never seeing her daughter again that she was not going to entertain. 

“Two hours and ten minutes left,” the man in the corner of the room answers and Emily nods in thanks.

“Yeah, two hours and ten minutes,” she says, her eyes boring into Aaron’s, “So if they can’t figure it out in time…it will still blow up no matter how still I stand on it.” 

“It won’t come to that,” he says, sounding more sure than he feels, “And if it gets close we’ll-”

“What? Replace me with a giant bag of gold coins?” She asks incredulously, her eyebrow raised as she looks at him, “This isn’t a movie Aaron. If I move I…If I move, I die. So does anyone else thats too close.” 

Her words hang heavy in the air around them, cloying and suffocating as they try to breathe, the implications of what this could mean too much to bear.

“Like I said,” he says eventually, “It won’t come to that.”

They mostly stand there in silence, long stretches of deadly quiet occasionally interspersed by one of them making an occasional comment. He doesn’t sit, even though he could, because he wants to show solidarity, provide physical support even though he can’t hug her like he wants to. 

Time moves slowly, the seconds agonising as she feels every muscle in her body burn from standing still for so long. Her legs are stiff, sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was possible and she groans, clenching her fists at her side again in an attempt to distract herself. 

“How are you feeling?” Aaron asks, and she looks at him, her glare sharp as their eyes meet, and he clears his throat, “Physically I mean.” 

“Like I’ve done a triathlon or something,” she replies, “My entire body aches. Especially my feet.” 

“When we get home I’ll give you a massage,” he says, “And run you a bath with all your favourite-”

She knows he doesn’t deserve it, that he’s just trying to help, but his relentless optimism, a defence mechanism she knows is his attempt at keeping himself together, is starting to grate on her. She could feel every one of her nerve endings starting to fray, and it was easier to be angry at him than at the situation, because he’d forgive her. 

Whether she survived or not. 

“Aaron,” she says, cutting him off, “Just stop it. I might not make it home.” 

“Em,” he replies, as if physically wounded, taking a step back from her, “Don’t say that-”

“It’s true,” she says, pressing her lips together, the look on his face enough to break her heart in two, “It’s true and we need to talk about it,” she waits until he nods, a subtle thing that seems to knock down the rest of his defences, his shoulders sagging as if they had the weight of the world on them, “I need you to promise me something.” 

“Anything.” 

She can’t help but smile at the lack of hesitation, as the promise escapes without him consciously meaning it to, his love for her as natural to him as breathing, “If…if we get too close to the countdown you have to leave.” 

He frowns and he shakes his head, his chest constricting as he attempts to refuse a request from her, something he had rarely done, “Em, no-”

“Lily will need one of us,” she says, her words a physical blow. She knows it’s mean, that it’s playing dirty, but it’s also true. The mention of her daughter makes tears press at the back of her eyes for the first time since she’d walked into the building, the thought of never seeing her daughter again, of Lily growing up without her, enough to break her, “She can’t lose us both. Jack needs you too and…” she drifts off, a tear breaking free and sliding down her cheek. She can’t move to wipe it away so she lets it burn a track in her skin, leaving behind a mark she’s sure will be permanent, “You have to promise me.” 

He hates it, hates that she’s asking this of him, that she wants him to walk away and leave her behind if the worst comes to the worst, but he knows she’s right. That it would be selfish for him to stay behind, to die with her, when he has the chance to walk away and be with their children. 

“Okay,” he says, the word bitter on his tongue as he promises her, the relief on her face enough to make him want to cry himself, “Okay, I promise.”

___

He wants to take it back.

As the deadline for the bomb gets closer, he wants to take his promise back, the thought of leaving her here enough to tear him apart. The silence around them is loud, and overbearing, and he hates that this could be the last time he sees her, that his final moments with the woman he loves would be spent uselessly standing away from her, unable to provide any kind of comfort. 

“There are 15 minutes left,” the man in the corner says, “They are clearing the block. The squad trying to disarm the bomb will be here until the last possible second.” 

“Aaron,” Emily says, her breath shaky as she says his name, “It’s time to-”

“No.”

She sighs, tears spilling down her cheeks again, “You promised.”

He clenches his teeth and closes his eyes before he turns to look at the man behind him, “Can we have a couple of minutes alone please?” 

He nods and leaves them alone, standing just on the other side of the door, an apologetic look on his face that tears through them both. 

“How am I supposed to just walk away, Em?” He asks, pleading with her, “How do I just…leave you here to die?” 

She doesn’t have an answer, because she knows if their positions were swapped and he’d asked the impossible of her she’d struggle too. Their love for each other keeping them tethered together, a connection they’d sworn to never break. 

“Please tell Lily about me,” she says, ignoring his question on purpose, knowing she’d never answer in a way that would help, “And tell her that I love her so-”

“Emily,” he says, cutting over her, “Please, don’t-”

“And tell her that I’m sorry, that being her mom was the best thing I ever did with my life and that more than anything I wished I could have stayed,” her chest aches with the sobs she keeps trapped in it, terrified that if she let herself breakdown in the way she needed to she’d move, her body carrying itself forward towards him by some kind of instinct. She can’t stop the tears though, streaming down her face and making her cheeks and neck sticky as they run over tried tracks, “And tell Jack too, make sure he knows I love him just as much as I love her.” 

He clenches his teeth, angry at his wife in a way he hadn’t been before, the anger easier to feel than the preemptive grief climbing up his chest, his words rough as they tear themselves up his throat. “I’ll tell her. She’ll always know what an amazing mother she has.” 

“I love you so much,” she says, pressing her lips together as a laugh she can’t contain slips free, the sound as absurd as it was inappropriate, “I love you so much it makes me feel like I’m crazy sometimes, like I’ve turned into one of those women in the romance novels I hate. But I wouldn’t change a thing,” she smiles wryly, “Except maybe the stepping on a bomb thing.” 

He laughs, and it hurts, catching on a sob that had gathered around his ribs, “I love you too. More than I can say. I…” he drifts off, shaking his head at himself as he struggles to find the words, “You’re the love of my life Emily Hotchner. And my best friend.” 

She smiles shakily at him, “You’re mine too. You’re everything,” she looks past him at the guard they’d had looking at them through the window and she sighs, “You’ve got to go.” 

It goes against every instinct in him, forcing him to fight himself as he nods, “I love you,” he says again, wanting to make sure it was the last thing he said to her, that she would remember it. 

“I love you too,” she says, smiling at him before he turns away, looking back at her as he walks out of the room, his smile tight and unnatural before he disappears from view. She blows out a shaky breath and feels more tears burn down her cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

Her apology echoes around the empty room around her, bouncing around the space as she tries to figure out who it’s for.

___

The moment he steps outside he sees the team. Derek rushes over to him, his brow creased as he makes it to his side.

“Hotch, where is she?” 

He nods over his shoulder, “She’s in there, she made me leave-”

“We got the unsub,” Derek says cutting over him, his words filling Aaron’s chest with something close to hope for the first time in hours, “We got the plans for the bomb too, Garcia sent them to the bomb squad.”

“How long will it take?” Aaron insists, the thought of being able to save her but not having enough time almost worse than not being able to do anything at all.

“How long have we got?” Derek asks, looking back and forth between Aaron and the building behind him. Aaron checks his phone, the countdown he’d put on there staring back at him.

“Ten minutes.”

Derek nods, “Then I guess it will take ten minutes.” 

Time moves like syrup as they wait for the bomb squad to get in touch, and Aaron can’t help but pace back and forth, impatience and anxiety forcing him to move. If he stood still, if he stopped even for a second, he’d run back into the building to be with her, breaking his final promise to her. 

He freezes when he hears the crackle over the handset in Derek’s belt, his whole world narrowing down to the voice he’d never heard before, “We’ve got it. The bomb is disarmed.” 

Aaron feels his body sag, relief making him briefly lose his footing, “It’s done?” 

“It’s done.”

___

Emily blows out a steady breath as she closes her eyes, counting down seconds, her chest stuttering every time she tries to suck in air. 

She wonders if in another situation, in another world, if she’d find some kind of peace in this, but she can’t. The thought of everything she was leaving behind, everything she was going to lose, was too much to bear. She’d spent so much of her life alone, so many years purposely not making connections with people because they hurt too much. People had always let her down in the end until she fell in love with Aaron, his loyalty something she still wasn’t quite sure she deserved. 

She jumps when she hears a loud noise, her body getting briefly tense as she realises she’s moved, and she opens her eyes, her breath catching in her chest when her gaze lands on her husband.

“Aaron?” She asks, fury burning at her insides, anger that he broke his promise and made this the last thing he would do for her flowing through her, “What are you-”

“They disarmed the bomb,” he says, cutting over her anger. He suppresses a smile as she frowns at him, her eyebrows creasing together as she shakes her head. 

“What?” She stutters, staring at the ground, the place she’d stood for hours, “No. They said…”

He walks towards her, crossing over the line that had been drawn around her and he stands just in front of her. He reaches out and touches her cheek, revelling in the ability to do so after thinking he’d touched her for the last time.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, “It’s over.” 

She collapses into him, her legs giving out as she wraps her arms around him and lets her take her weight. She sobs with relief, her face pressed into his neck as she squeezes him tighter than she thought she’d be able to.

“It’s over,” she sobs, her words muffled against his skin as she grasps at his shirt, needing to touch as much of him as possible, “It’s over.” 

He kisses the top of her head as she continues to repeat the words to herself, as if she still doesn’t quite believe them. He lets her take all the time she needs, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as he enjoys holding her close, his lips against her forehead. 

“Can we go home?” She asks eventually, her voice quiet and gravelly, everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel all day finally set free, “I really want to see Lily and just…I need to see her.” 

“Of course,” he says, pulling back to look at her, stamping a kiss to her lips that has an edge of desperation to it, “We’ll go home,” he takes a step back and she stumbles, her legs unsteady, and he wraps his arm around her waist, “Do you need me to carry you?” 

“If you try I’ll kill you,” she grumbles and he laughs, kissing her temple as he lets her lean on him, most of her weight against his side. 

They slowly make it outside and he feels his wife tense against him as the others all rush over. She’s overwhelmed, sensitive to the bright sun after being trapped inside for most of the day, and sore, her entire body aching like she’d been in a fight. He doesn’t step away from her, both because he doesn’t want to and because he knows she wants him to stay, so he gets caught up in the hugs that she’s pulled into. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, princess,” Derek says, wrapping an arm around her quickly, “I know I said I missed working with you, but I didn’t mean I miss saving your ass.” 

“Thanks, Derek,” she replies, smiling tightly at him as he pulls back, “Trust me, I haven’t missed that part of it either.” 

“Garcia mentioned going for drinks,” Spencer says, stepping closer to the group, “She said it’s tradition.” 

Emily laughs tightly and she shakes her head, “I just need to go home,” she says, not missing the disappointment on their faces, “I want to see Lily and just…lay down quite honestly.” 

JJ is the first to nod understandingly and she hugs her friend, “I’ll run interference with Pen and make sure she doesn’t call you a thousand times,” she says, squeezing Emily’s shoulder as she pulls back, “I know how insistent she can get.”

Emily smiles and nods, “Thank you,” she looks up at Aaron and she squeezes his hip, “Can we go?”

He nods and pulls her closer, “Let’s go home.” 

___

Emily sighs as she settles into bed, her muscles more relaxed now she’d had a bath. Aaron had, as promised, done it for her - all of her favourite salts in the water to help soothe her sore body. He’d sat on the edge of the tub to keep her company, sensing without her needing to tell him that she didn’t want to be alone. 

She knew it would take a long time for her to process what had happened today, how she’d come so close to dying, to accepting that she was going to die. The thought of leaving Aaron, Lily and Jack behind had been enough to break her, and now it hadn't happened, now she’d survived, it felt all the more awful to think about.

Jack would have had some memories of her, moments of their time together attached to things she’d bought him and events. Hazy pictures brought to life by stories Aaron would tell him once it was no longer too painful to talk about. Lily wouldn’t have remembered her at all. It’s the thought she can’t get away from - that she could have died today and her daughter wouldn’t remember how much she loved her, or the sound of her voice. The warm touch of her skin against hers as she comforted her when she was sick or sad. 

It makes her wonder if she’s doing it all wrong, if the changes she’s made to avoid becoming her own mother were radical enough. She had no need to work financially, but she still chose to. She wanted her children to be proud of her, to know she had done something that made a difference, but if they hadn’t been lucky today, all Lily would know as she got old enough to understand was that Emily had made a choice to put herself in that position. 

She blows out a steady breath and wipes tears from her cheeks, shaking her head at herself as if to physically get rid of those thoughts. She looks up as the bedroom door opens and she smiles at her husband and their daughter, the little girl dressed in her pjyamas and happily sitting on her father’s hip. 

It was strange to think it was just this morning she’d seen them like this. It felt like a lifetime ago, the time that had passed whilst her daughter happily played in daycare some of the longest hours of her life. 

“Here she is,” Aaron says, walking over and handing Lily to her, the baby willingly going into her mother’s arms, “One adorable baby girl in a fresh diaper.” 

“Did Daddy help you get all cleaned up,” Emily says, laying Lily against her, the weight of her daughter on her chest easing some of the residual anxiety that remained there. She smiles at her husband as he settles into bed next to them, “He helped me in the bath earlier too.” 

“Helped. Observed,” he says, winking at her as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, tugging both her and Lily into his embrace, “Two sides of the same coin really.” 

She chuckles lightly and rests her head against him, her eyes fixed on Lily as she watches her fall asleep, her cheek pressed against Emily’s t-shirt. 

“Today was…” she drifts off as her voice catches, blowing out a breath in an attempt to calm herself down, “I don’t even know what it was.” 

He feels the same way. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions and he felt like he was still on the ride doomed to go round and round again and again until he was sick. He can’t put it into words either, can’t explain the fear he’d felt, the grief he was still grappling with at having to say goodbye. 

It would take a while for them to get their heads around it, to talk about what needed to be talked about, but for now he was content to sit here with her and just enjoy the fact that he could. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but checking anyway.

“God no, not yet,” she replies quickly, turning her head to kiss his cheek, “But soon. I promise,” she smiles softly as he rests his cheek on the top of her head, desperate to be as close to him as possible, “A little birdy told me you threatened Carson, and that you pushed him up against a wall.” 

He freezes for a moment before he hums, “Does this little birdy happen to be Italian with a love for gossip that rivals Garcia?”

She smiles as she looks up at him, “Maybe,” she says, biting her lip as she tries to suppress her smile, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yes I did,” he says, “If you’d…” he drifts off and holds her tighter, his heart aching as she reaches out and squeezes his hand, a gentle reminder that she was there with him, “I would have made the bastard pay.” 

She cups his cheek and makes him look at her, her thumb tracing back and forth over his skin before she pulls him in for a kiss, “I love you.” 

It isn’t lost on either of them that the last time she’d said it was when they were standing in a room they thought she’d die in, and it weighs heavily between them for a moment. He lets it pass, reminds himself that they are in their bed, in the home they got together, their little girl fast asleep on Emily’s chest. 

“I love you too.” 

-x-

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[ltngerbniak]

I don’t know how to feel about the course the Fallout TV show went.

I mean, it’s good, really good, go watch it, but

SPOILERS

EXTREME SPOILERS

I THINK YOU CAN ENJOY THE SHOW EVEN WITH KNOWING THIS SPOILER

YOU READY???

In the final episode, to my understanding, it’s revealed that Vault-Tec dropped the bombs, which makes so much goddamn sense. But as someone else pointed out here, the answer to who did it is not the point. The point of saying that “war never changes” is that unequivocally, outright, war is wrong. War will never cease to be ugly, dirty, and awful. The state we see the world in is the product of going to war, and spinning it as a good thing. The Canadian protester being shot in the head at the start of the first game is preceded by an upbeat proclamation of peace-keeping by the U.S. military in Canada! It’s lying, deceiving, and startling that the New America, as said by the director of “The Man from Deadhorse”, can be summed up by his next line. “Just shoot Jorge in the fucking head.” The New America is the same as it ever was, that’s the point of the Americana, it’s always been like this. America has always wanted to shed the niceties and just war.

I love that we got an answer, it changes the context of things, it can be viewed as to how the race we run with capitalism and competition and brutality is wrong, and the end-goal, the ultimatum, is that the world will go like that if we don’t try to stop it. However, I don’t exactly like that we got an answer, however gracefully it was handled.

Ah, well. The tagline is that “the world deserves a better ending”. And I think it certainly does.

#fallout #fallout tv series #fallout tv show #americana #fallout 1

[tanadrin]

good posts about overuse of “developed” and “failed state”. what do you think about “terrorism”?

as a professional opinion-haver, noam chomsky is often wrong, but he was correct about this one: "terrorism" and "the war on terror" were an enormous boon for authoritarians. even in the US after 9/11, the specter of "terrorism" was used to justify an enormous range of authoritarian policing, among the worst of which was the Patriot Act. it was a clever bait and switch: the word then evoked for the american public the concept of islamic terrorism, a foreign and racialized threat external to the body politic, despite the fact that home-grown right-wing terrorism had been killing people for years. i know i said in an earlier post political violence was at a low level in the 90s, compared to other historical periods in the US, and it was--but what episodes of political violence there were included some significant acts of right-wing violence: the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, Eric Rudolph's bombings, several murders of abortion providers, etc.

a big difference between these acts of right-wing violence and other episodes of political violence in U.S. history is that they didn't have any kind of real elite support. these were, in some ways, the Qanon and MAGA chuds of their day, the craziest of the alienated far-right fringe. and it would be churlish to deny that 9/11 was a high-water mark for casualties: there is no universe in which airplanes being turned from a subject of terrorism to a weapon of terrorism doesn't deeply fuck up how we think about certain aspects of security and policing.

but how states react to terrorism also has an ideological basis, and it felt to many people in the aftermath of 9/11 that, even as incidents of right-wing terrorism continued to be an issue, and 9/11 itself proved to be an extreme outlier, US law enforcement and US policy was focusing on the latter to the detriment of preventing the former, as though terrorism by christians simply didn't count. morons like sam harris remained terrified of muslims, and proposed some truly stupid policies to combat islamic terrorism, which would have done less than zero good.

and of course the word "terrorism" rapidly expanded in meaning: the actions of the US government post-9/11 signaled that this word was the justification you needed for almost any suspension of normal rights and protections, and this had both a domestic and international effect. the international effect was the worst one, by some margin: because the US was now ideologically committed to a "war on terror," you could avoid any nagging about your human rights record by classifying any opposition political activity as "terrorism" and banning it under "anti-terrorism" laws.

that said, i think the word "terrorism," at least as i encounter it, still has a pretty specific meaning; most people don't think a nonviolent protest is terrorism. attempts to redefine it from the right never really went anywhere--if anything, its scope got restricted temporarily in anglo political discourse to mean mostly foreign terrorism. but certainly the discourse around the word has been pretty bad for a while now, and isn't really getting better.

[scruffyplayssonic]

Are the ArchieSonic comics actually an 80's/90's syndicated cartoon? Episode 58: We have to save the environment, and so do you!

Welcome back to my look at the ArchieSonic comic series, and how it shared a lot of the same story tropes as a typical ‘80s or ‘90s syndicated cartoon! Hey kids, did you know that saving the environment is a totally radical thing to do?

Episode 58: We have to save the environment, and so do you! 

Environmentalism was a big part of cartoons in the 80’s and 90’s, which often would have episodes dedicated to telling kids about the dangers of pollution or the importance of recycling. There were some cartoons whose entire premise even revolved around this, such as Captain Planet and the Planeteers, and Widget the World Watcher. 

Many ArchieSonic stories used environmentalism as a plot device, especially in the early issues. But that’s to be expected when the main villain of the series likes polluting just for the sake of polluting. Honestly, Dr. Robotnik would have fit in quite well with the Captain Planet villains. 

Let’s start by looking at issue #3’s story, “The Bomb Bugs Me!” where Sonic overheard Robotnik planning to wipe out his enemies with a bomb. The Freedom Fighters decided to set up a fake protest to keep Robotnik and his forces occupied while they stole the bomb. 

This led to a pretty funny sequence where Rotor attempted to sneak into Robotnik’s office in disguise. 

But when they got the bomb back to Knothole and attempted to disarm it, it turned out to be not what they were expecting:

Whoopsie doopsie.

Then there was issue #7’s story, “Uncle Chuck’s Treasure.” After coming across a treasure map belonging to Sonic’s Uncle Chuck, the Freedom Fighters headed out to the Natural Park to track the treasure down. Things didn’t exactly go to plan though.

To make matters worse, a pair of patrolling Swatbots overheard the Freedom Fighters were on a treasure hunt and informed Dr Robotnik, who came roaring in with a bunch of badniks to ruin the day. 

Sonic cleverly turned the toxic environment against the robots, but Robotnik managed to get away with the treasure. 

For all the good it did him. 😛

Issue #11’s story, “The Good, the Bad and the Hedgehog,” started out with Robotnik trashing the environment again, but took an unexpected turn when Sonic tried to take a shortcut to get there quicker and accidentally wound up on Anti-Mobius, encountering his evil twin for the first time. 

But of course Sonic managed to defeat him and get home in time to save the day.

Issue #12’s story switched gears a little bit with Robotnik being savvy enough to use his anti-environmentalism to lure Sonic into a trap. When Robotnik started cutting down the Great Forest with his new mobile monster chainsaw, Sonic of course raced to stop him. 

But the chainsaw secretly housed a time teleporter that was able to zap Sonic when he got close enough and send him back to dinosaur times. …and then this happened.

Bleh.

There are probably other issues from those early days that I could cite, but you get the idea. After the comics had been around a couple of years there was less focus on stories about pollution, but they still popped up every now and then. One of the most significant stories to focus on saving the environment was in issue #110. In a prior issue, Princess Sally had turned over all intelligence they had on Dr. Eggman to their allies in Station Square. Unfortunately Station Square’s defense systems were run by an AI, and after that AI had analysed all the data it had decided that Dr. Eggman was a threat that had to be taken care of immediately. Thus it decided to go full Skynet and launch nuclear missiles at Robotropolis. That was great news in that Eggman would be wiped out, but not so great news for the residents of Knothole, who would get poisoned by the nuclear radiation.

Sonic and Tails raced to Robotropolis to warn Eggman of the incoming peril so that he would shoot down the missiles before they got too close, but Eggman smugly reminded them that he didn’t need to do that - his impenetrable forcefield would keep his city safe while the surrounding environment got wasted. Luckily Sonic and Tails were able to interfere and made sure that Eggman only activated the forcefield after the missiles were already within its radius. 

Eggman and Snively were robots and so they were eventually able to download themselves into new bodies, but they had to set up a new base of operations because from this moment onwards Robotropolis was a nuclear wasteland contained within a radiation-proof bubble. 

You would think that after getting nuked that that would be the last we’d hear of Robotropolis, right? Well actually no - that radioactive wasteland actually came back as an ongoing plot point. When Sonic returned home from space in issue #130, Eggman decided to give him a homecoming present. And what does one get the hedgehog who has everything? 

Why, more nuclear missiles of course! One was aimed at Knothole, and the other at Station Square. And deciding that overkill was just enough kill, Eggman decided to throw in a bonus gift by sending his robotic armies to destroy the forcefield keeping Robotropolis’ nuclear radiation safely contained. While Sonic and Tails led a team to Old Megapolis Harbour to stop the missile launch, King Acorn’s forces, led by Antoine’s father General D’Coolette, defended Robotropolis from the incoming horde of Swatbots. 

Knuckles, Julie-Su and Mighty came to lend a hand too, and they were also joined by Rouge and the forces of GUN. But play of the day goes to Vector and Amy Rose, who single-handedly took down the first waves of invaders.

The ruins of Robotropolis wouldn’t come up again for awhile, until after the AI ADAM attempted to take over the planet with self-replicating nanites. After that plot was thwarted Nicole took control of the nanites and used them to create the city of New Mobotropolis, which was incredibly convenient when Eggman bombed Knothole and everyone needed a new place to live. 

New Mobotropolis got its energy from a power plant that siphoned radiation from the ruins of Robotropolis and converted it into safe, clean energy. So in issue #207 the Iron King attacked Robotropolis with the intention of taking away the Freedom Fighters’ power source. 

King Acorn’s armies tried to fight him off unsuccessfully, and Sonic and Monkey Khan also struggled to slow him down when they showed up to join the fight. Sonic managed to outsmart the Iron King though, talking him into sparing the shield protecting the environment if Sonic and Monkey Khan allowed him to smash the power siphon that powered New Mobotropolis. 

The forces of evil were not happy when they later found out they’d been played.

After Eggman returned to power he also tried to strike at New Mobotropolis’ power source, this time by sending in an undercover agent to strike from within: Operation: Deadly Cuddles.

I will never for the life of me be able to figure out why Evan Stanley decided to design the Tails Doll’s monster form to look like a… that, but I guess I get the genital… er, general idea of what she was going for. 😛

In the post-reboot era of the comic, one could argue that the entire series became about saving the environment. With the entire planet shattered in the Sonic Unleashed adaptation, the main goal of the heroes became to save the planet and put the pieces back together. But there are two environmentally-focused stories that immediately spring to my mind, both of them taking place from issues in issues #260 - 263: Waves of Change and Light in the Dark (and its immediate follow up, Consequences). 

Sonic, Rotor and Amy were sent on a mission to locate a possible Gaia Temple on the coast, presumably somewhere in Soumerica. What they found instead was an underwater shrine that was being used as a chao garden, under the care of the priestess Coral, along with her apprentice Pearly and friend Razor. 

Coral’s job was to care for the chao, in particular Aquarius, who helped to maintain the shield that protected the nearby city of Meropis. Coral was still somewhat new to her position and under a lot of pressure, facing prejudice from the royal family and armies of Meropis who were blaming her for everything that was going wrong and thought that Princess Udina should have gotten the job instead. One of the problems Coral was being blamed for was pollution being washed into the city that was only being kept at bay by the shield. When Aquarius the Chao failed to be reborn from her cocoon on schedule, the King and Queen threw a temper-tantrum and stripped Coral of her title as priestess. Things got pretty bad as the devastated Coral was unable to keep the shield up, letting the dark gaia monsters into the city. 

It took the intervention of the Freedom Fighters, Chaos, Tikal, and the newly reborn and now-immortal Aquarius to save the day.

Thankfully with the God of Destruction Water vouching for Coral, the King and Queen saw reason and restored her title. The cause of the pollution plaguing their city was also discovered:

While Sonic, Amy and Rotor were busy in Meropis, Sally was leading Tails, Bunnie and Antoine on a mission to recover a Chaos Emerald. Sally had managed to hack Dr. Eggman’s files, and she and Nicole discovered a mine where Eggman had his forces digging for one of the mystical gems. The plan was to disable the security sensors, get in, find the emerald, and get back out without Eggman ever knowing they were there, so that he would waste his time and resources drilling for something that wasn’t even there any more. However that plan changed when they got inside the mine and saw it for themselves. 

Deciding to do their bit to save this environmental wonder, the heroes let the security sensors detect them and fought off badniks and an E-1000 robot to escape the mine with their prize, giving Eggman no more reasons to continue drilling there. 

The Freedom Fighters knew that there would be consequences for letting Eggman know that they'd stolen something he'd already called dibs on, but they decided they could live with that.

Are there any other environmentally-focused stories in ArchieSonic that I missed? Let me know in the comments! Next week I’ll be covering episode 59: “stranded in the ocean.” Sonic’s favourite episode, clearly. :P

#archiesonic syndicated

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 20 May 1980, as part of a city-wide uprising against the US-backed military dictatorship, hundreds of taxi drivers in Gwangju, South Korea, used their vehicles to try to break a military blockade in a key turning-point in the struggle. Since the uprising began on May 18, many taxi drivers had been beaten or killed by military forces as they tried to transport wounded demonstrators to hospital. So they organised themselves, gathered around 400 vehicles then used them to try to breach the main military barricade outside the provincial office at the end of Geumnan Avenue in the city centre. They were backed up by a couple of buses, as well as protesters in the street who attempted to help clear the path using steel pipes and petrol bombs. They drove their vehicles directly at the barricade, facing live fire, attempting to smash through and drive the martial law forces from the provincial office. While the military was able to repel the attack at that time, the sight of the organised assault on the paratroopers inspired workers and residents of the city that they could confront the army and potentially win. Soon, 200,000 people were on Geumnan Avenue, and by 9 PM demonstrators had seized City Hall and begun burning down police stations. Elsewhere in the city, protesters occupied the offices of the news broadcaster MBC demanding that they show coverage of the uprising. The demonstrators also firebombed the building, although the flames were put out by MBC employees, although the station was forced to stop broadcasting at 9 PM, at which point management evacuated the building. The next day a full-blown insurrection began. Learn more about the uprising in our podcast episodes 53-56 with participants: https://workingclasshistory.com/podcast/e53-the-gwangju-uprising-1980/ https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=629393365900549&set=a.602588028581083&type=3