#patches of eps i still need to catch here and there

[bakasara]

y'all lied to me that "wanna go for the title" scene is SO MUCH GAYER in context

[pompomegranate]

bite me

⇢ miguel o'hara x f!reader

⇢ warnings | 18+. very explicit smut. i will block you if your age isn’t anywhere on your blog.  slight blood drinking/blood kink, injury, and again, smut. more extensive n/s/f/w tags on ao3.

⇢ a/n | ok look i know gwen called miguel a vampire as a joke but what if. WHAT IF. miguel is a vampire here but i don’t waste time talking about logistics, this is all about the biting lmao also the title is absolutely ripped from enhypen’s new ep

⇢ ao3

Miguel never loses control unless you plead for it.

His hands gripping your hips, he splays his fingers as wide as he can – digging the pads of them into your flesh – because he can never get enough of you.

You can’t stop the moan that spills from your mouth but he happily swallows your whines with parted lips while he finally touches you where you need him to.

Where he lacks experience he makes up for with zeal – the same determination behind the mask – and it’s all for you.

It’s not as if Miguel wasn’t pursued (he was, heavily and annoyingly so); he just didn’t care to let anyone catch him until you came along.

Confident strokes of the rough pads of his fingers draw another whimper out of you. He smiles against your lips and laughs, low and deep.

“Please – Miguel, please –” You know you look pathetic begging for his touch, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Lust takes precedent over embarrassment and Miguel is acutely aware of this. He pulls back, eyes flashing a bright crimson – his smile morphs into a smirk as his fingers still work your clit slowly, gently.

“Impatient. I’ll get you there.”

There’s a finality inside of his promise and it makes you ache for more of him. You grind against his hand, desperate for a steadier rhythm –

“Ah, ah – let me savor this.”

“I need you now,” you breathe, greedy and wanting. Your palm cups his cock, hard and pulsing beneath your hand.

Miguel lets out a deliciously gravelly sigh of his own, lids fluttering shut as you rub him through the fabric of his pants. When you stop, his gaze flickers across your face – he’s considering his options.

He could tease you, could draw this out until you’re a writhing mess beneath him. Or he could fuck you now, fast, heated, hasty.

In a perfect world, he could exercise restraint every time and devote hours to worshiping every inch of you.

Instead, he caves, folding to your collective desire.

He tears his shirt off from between his shoulder blades, thoughtlessly throwing it aside before flicking the clasp of your bra, slipping the straps off of you with more care than he afforded himself.

You take in the sight. Thick dark hair lines his pecs, trailing down through the ridge of his abs, convening in a dense patch of hair beneath his belly button that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms.

He brushes his lips the dip where your shoulder and neck meet, peppering kisses up your throat towards your jaw.

God, you’re already a shaky mess and he’s barely touched you. The anticipation is always your least favorite part – you want him – no, you need him now.

He kisses you again, sloppy and open mouthed, easing you backwards towards the bed.

Your knees hit the mattress and you fall back, face to face with his waist. The outline of his cock is visible, straining against the cloth.

He watches you, brows lifted ever so slightly, a silent question in his expression.

What will you do next? Suck his cock or demand that he fuck you – now?

You tug his shorts down and take his tip in your mouth, a clear answer.

There’s something so invigorating about the ability to make a stoic man whimper.

Miguel’s are your favorite – they start out gruff and low, the bass of his voice ricocheting against the walls, like they’re too big to contain him, but they evolve into desperate sounds that egg you on, inflate your ego.

His shaft, wide and velvety smooth, slides in and out of your mouth – his hand snakes to the back of your head, cupping it with a featherlight touch.

You nod up at him, cheeks hollowed around his cock, fluttering your eyelashes to feign coyness as if to teasingly say, Fuck my throat, Miguel. You know you want to.

His pupils are blown, tinged with red, teeth sinking deep into his bottom lip as he bucks into your throat. Strokes long and precise, fingers tangled into your hair, Miguel O’Hara fucks your mouth relentlessly.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight – Miguel panting, gasping, groaning, lips forming praises followed by your name. You can barely bring yourself to blink – you don’t want to miss any of this.

Spit bubbles and drips down your chin onto your chest, gasping breaths around his length but you’re more than happy to oblige because you know it’s just a matter of minutes before you’re spread open for him and he’s fucking your cunt just like this.

His chest heaves, muscles rippling down his front as he pants expletives – he’s close, and you can feel him pulsing against your lips.

When you pull away for the last time, you trace your tongue along his prominent underside vein, eyes fully trained on him. 

He’s out of words when you do that, resorting to growls as he eases you down onto the bed. Tugging your underwear off, he flings them across the room unceremoniously, the wet fabric disappearing into the shadows.

You’re laid bare on the bed, spread open, mouth curled around pleas. 

“Bite me.”

His sharp canines glint in the faint moonlight, extending fully on command.

“You’re insatiable,” Miguel says with a grin, before flipping into the perfect position to drive the both of you wild.

He’s sat on the edge of the bed, you on his lap, arms wrapped around your back – you’re completely at his mercy.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his breath shaky as he snakes a hand between your bodies, teasing your cunt with his tip. Sliding it through your folds, bottom to top, lingering right on your bud of nerves – 

Your legs squeeze around him, trembling as you do so. All you want is him. His cock, his mouth, his fingers, any part of him that’s fucked you thoroughly before – any way he’ll have you, you don’t care.

“I can’t wait, Miguel, please, now –” you beg.

He sinks into you, stretching you out deliciously slow, half-lidded gaze focused on your reaction.

Your head lolls to the side as you relax into it, lids fluttering shut until he sucks his teeth at you.

“Don’t look away, my love,” he instructs you, firm but tender. “I want to see you – I want to hear you.”

He inches deeper, deeper, until he bottoms out, your flesh meeting his.

And then you move.

He’s so strong that you’re weightless in his arms, being trained up and down on his cock like a whimpering fleshlight. One arm around your waist to keep the pace, he uses the other to touch you.

Teases your nipples between pinched fingers, palms your tits roughly, before finally settling on thumbing your clit. You don’t know what to focus on more – the sensation of him inside of you, building up the pace to a steady rhythm that’s driving you wild – or the feeling of his calloused digit, messily rubbing and flicking, his attention spread thin (not on his hands, or his cock, but on your expression).

You instead focus on his broken sentences, a mix of curses and praises. They sound all the same to you.

“Shit, you feel so – good – so fucking – tight –”

If that weren’t enough, he finally looks away from you, finding yet another patch of your body to worship.

His fangs, razor-sharp, drag across the skin of your shoulder. They press just enough into your skin to sting, but it doesn’t hurt quite yet – it’s like lightly touching a fresh bruise, but followed by his soft lips, rough stubble.

You can’t do much else but lock your arms around his neck and pull him close. Miguel smells smoky and sweet, like luxury cologne and a celebratory cigar – he feels even better.

He trails his teeth to the base of your neck before going higher, smiling against your skin when you gulp beneath his lips.

It’s not because you’re scared; the complete opposite, really. You’re excited.

He’s still fucking you, but his pace slows to a crawl, hips rolling to keep the slightest friction. Even though he’s comfortable with biting you, he’d never want to hurt you. There’s a precision required to achieve both pain and pleasure and Miguel has it down to a science.

Mortality is vulnerability as far as he’s concerned, and the fact that you share your life with him is something he never takes lightly.

“Ready?” He asks, widening his bite in preparation. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“I’m ready.”

He chuckles. “That’s my girl.”

You suck in a sharp breath when he finally punctures you, the pain as mouth watering as his cock stretching you, filling you.

He’s everywhere – inside of you in two different ways, body flush against yours, but you can’t get enough. Unintentionally, you pull him closer, grip him tighter, bury him deeper in you.

You cry out. Your neck burns, every nerve on edge as the pleasure zaps throughout your body, from your fingertips to your toes.

A heat blazes through the area underneath his mouth, a rumbling grunt coming somewhere from the back of his throat, chasing the electricity of his bite.

This is pure fucking bliss.

The sensation of his fangs and his cock have you so pathetically eager; slack jawed and jellied bones, you focus on your hips, fucking him back with no remorse, uncaring about whether or not the wound in your neck rips open – nothing matters more right now than cumming on Miguel’s cock.

You lean back and Miguel tilts with you, your clit pressed against his thick patch of neatly trimmed pubic hair, the last stimulant to shove you over the edge.

He pulls back, retracting his teeth but laps up the stray drops of blood eagerly.

“You taste – like heaven, my love – shit –” He pants, eyebrows pulled inward. “Are you – fuck – are you alright?”

He always asks you this after he bites you without fail, and every time you’re enveloped in pleasure. You nod, unable to form words as he drives into you, picking up his speed. 

The bedroom is obscenely symphonic, all loud moans and slapping skin.

“Lay back,” you say instinctually, barely registering the glint of lust in his eye when you push him down.

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, hands settling at the bend of your hips, thumbs caressing you.

“Just talk to me – I’m almost there –”

It’s true. You’ve been on the cusp of an orgasm and you want to come with Miguel moaning underneath you.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me –”

Miguel’s hands slide up from the base of your stomach to your tits, cupping, squeezing as he does so.

“You take it so well, my love – no one does it like you –”

You sway your hips front to back, elongating your strokes, and his lids are threatening to close all the way.

“Open your eyes.”

They flash open, Miguel’s gaze salacious and fiery as he obeys your command. He loves when you take charge.

Your palms, flat on his muscled chest, give you the right amount of leverage to bounce, and he meets you halfway, curling his hips underneath you at an angle that has you nearly weeping – it’s so perfect – he’s so perfect for you.

“Are you –” he moans “– are you close?” “Yeah, baby, I’m close,” you manage through pants.

“Good – I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he says, then draws you close till you’re chest to chest.

And then he picks up the pace, really driving into you – harder, harder, until you’re biting down on his bare skin to cope with the sensation. You’re nearly overstimulated, so close that you can taste the orgasm that’s about to flood through you.

“That’s it, yeah,” he purrs into your ear, palms lifting and settling you on his dick with no effort on your part.

“Come for me – fuck – I wanna feel you squeeze my cock with your –” he’s pulled you all the way up to his tip and back down again. “God, I can’t even think straight you’re so good –”

Miguel comes, a mix of expletives and whines, and keeps fucking you, teasing your clit, your nipples, anything to get you there and you –

You say his name, broken and desperate like a prayer – gratitude laced in your tone because fuck, this is the best it’s ever going to be and you’re on top of the world, with him, with Miguel O’Hara.

The both of you finally come down. You crash on the mattress next to him, curling against his side, slotting against the taut ridges of his muscles perfectly.

The first thing he does is run a featherlight over your neck and the wound he’d left there.

“How was it? Was I too rough?” He’s concerned, the foggy afterglow disappearing as soon as he remembers that you bled because of him.

He’s always been afraid of pushing the limits to the point of losing his composure – and hurting you because of it.

“No, no,” you reassure him with a kiss on the jaw. “It was perfect, Miguel.”

You kiss away the rest of the dreamlike haze, floating back down to Earth with a view of the city bathed in moonlight outside your open window.

You’re right – it is perfect.

[wanderingrain]

Blogging through Till the World Ends Ep 2

Ooh starting off with the guitar scene. We love to see it. Lol

The painting above the bed reminds me of Sean's door from Not Me.

Am I crazy or is this TharnType's apartment from 7 Years of Love?

Why does this college student who needs a scholarship to pay for university have a two bedroom apartment?

Golf is acting so much like a serial killer. Why am I laughing?

Lol he's trying to explain away hitting Art in the back of the head with a guitar hard enough to knock him out and have him bleeding all over the floor. You can't tell me this isn't peak comedy.

Art doesn't remember this is great. This is the only valid amnesia storyline, everyone else go home. I'm telling you this is PEAK comedy.

Golf show him some proof. Surely there's a tv station that just repeats the bunker information over and over

Oh Baby's running away. Ok uhhh interesting idea when he's just told you there's criminals outside.

lol wait bubblegum gang leader girl? Eye patch guy? Gang initiation outside college dorms? This show really isn't taking itself seriously is it? I feel like I'm watching a video game all of a sudden.

Surely they'd still be letting people in the bunker up until the day the moon hits, right? It's not like it's a plague or something in the air and they need to keep infected people out. And is there just one bunker for all of Thailand or is it just the Bangkok area?....You know what, I should be focusing on the actual story.

Oh a Moment. Bi panic. Love to see it.

I was wondering when families were going to come up.

For the most part the subtitles make sense and then they throw out "What kind of soup that got everything inside?" What the heck does that mean? 🤣

Ohh it was a joke it was just worded really strangely.

Take a shower? You just finished rewrapping his head and you're telling him to take a shower?

Wait why does Art keep staring at the medical statue thing with all the organs on display? That's suspicious. That's weird.

Babes why would you call his name like that if you didn't want him to come in? Babes why would you ask him to get you a toothbrush if you didn't want him to come in?

Oh this is definitely TharnType's apartment.

Yes feeding each other.

This is some real himbo energy Golf are you sure you're smart enough to be a doctor?

They're pretty chill for people who think they're gonna die in 9 days.

Nvm here come the tears.

Aww the way Art just melted. Such a cute sad bean.

And they ruined it. Lol

Uhh hey where'd the light go?

New recruit and eyepatch are an established couple? Didn't see that coming. How much you wanna bet new recruit Is somehow Art's little brother even though the timeline doesn't make sense?

Always love when they leave the kiss sounds in. It feels weird when they cut them. Anyone else agree?

Uhh did he just catch a firefly between his fingers? Ok there's fireflies now and they make eyepatch emotional.

Surely you're not thinking about trying to run again Art.

He's trying to run away again. Boy do you want the queer bubblegum gang to kill you?

Honestly I don't know what I'd do in Art's situation either. But I'm not here to take this series too seriously, I'm here to have fun. So I'm not going to think too hard about it. This kind of show is great for binging. To episode 3 we go!

[angelfic]

— ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS STAY

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader, slight steven grant x fem!reader

summary: all marc knew was how to leave, albeit for the greater good of the world. this time, you intend to know why and to make him stay

warnings: enemies 2 lovers, kissing, angsty marc lol when is he not, angst, a bit of fluff, slightly sexual themes alluded to at the end

a/n: i should write a warning for the writing too since I wrote this in like an hour lmao, excited for moon knight ep 4 tho!! am a bit anxious about releasing this only 3 hours before the next ep for some reason sooo let me know what u guys think ♡

The bottom line was that you and Marc did not get along. You never had. The only reason you were even his partner-in-crime (your words, not his, as he liked to constantly reinstate) was because you had the same goal and you also like to believe he wouldn’t last a day without you.

You had accidentally gotten caught up with him in Egypt a long time ago, and as soon as you discovered Harrow’s intentions to release Ammit — who would most definitely rid the world of your ass immediately — you refused to let that fate rest in Marc Spector’s hands alone.

Until he upped and left you in Cairo, that is.

It took a while, but once you found him in England of all places, you were confused to say the least. Also angry. Definitely scared. Steven Grant’s appearance was not expected, lovely as he was to you. You’d never admit it to Marc’s face, but you needed them both.

For greater good purposes only, of course.

He eventually did come back around in all his Moon Knight glory, but you lost him yet again. The only thing he left behind being broken glass, smashed to pieces in his rage.

“This disappearing act is getting really old, Spector,” you sing-song into his ear from behind him, forcing him to spin around and stare at you incredulously. “I mean, Cairo, then England and now Cairo again. Please tell me we don’t have to go back to the UK. The weather is shi-“

“We aren’t going anywhere,” he hisses, tugging your arm to drag you away from the bustle of the crowd until you’re slightly more secluded by an empty alleyway. He takes another glance at you and sigh. “What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?”

The tiredness in his voice both makes your stomach twist in sympathy and your chest sting with hurt. Despite how much you would rather have to chase around anyone else, it still pains you to know how much he hates the mere sight of you. “Look, I get that you don’t want my help and that you think I’m a hindrance,” your voice catches on the last word, but you force yourself to pull it together, not wanting him to know you’re upset. “But I have done nothing except make it easier for you and for goddamn murder bird.”

Marc takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and you can tell you’re pushing his limits, but you also don’t care. You’re good at helping him, whether that’s finding things, helping him kick ass, or physically patching him up. You’re used to him trying to push you away with harsh words and best of all, you’re used to disregarding them completely. He needs your help and for some reason, you don’t like leaving him without it.

Marc doesn’t meet your eyes, looking above your shoulder instead as he talks lowly, a warning in his voice. “You know nothing about any of why I’m saying this.”

“Excuse me?” you let out a humourless laugh as you ask this, scowling at the words that threaten to spring tears to your eyes at any point now. Your fist clenches in anger, not that you’d actually punch Marc, but his eyes widen at the movement anyway. He quickly takes a hold of your enclosed fist in his own hand, and if it weren’t for your fury, your thoughts probably would have lingered a little longer on the gentle nature of the touch and the way it make your stomach jump.

“I was talking to Steven,” he explains, pointing behind you at the window of a parked car in which he could see his own reflection.

“Oh,” you swallow, the anger diminishing quite suddenly. “Well, you’re still an ass, so I’m not apologising.”

A hint of a smile appears on Marc’s face, making you look to the ground. He doesn’t smile often, but when he does you’ve often found yourself looking away, as if it’s the sun and too much exposure will kill you. “I know. And I wouldn’t expect you to.”

When you look up after a few more seconds, his face is wiped clean of the smile, a frown painted on instead as his gaze is settled behind you again.

“Steven agreeing with me?” you ask, a grin of your own breaking through and he merely rolls his eyes. That’s a yes, then. “Tell him I say ‘Hi, pretty boy.’”

Marc’s frown deepens at the reflection and you have a strong feeling that Steven is saying nice things about you, complimenting you. As much as you want Marc to be in control of the body right now, a brief appearance from Steven and his kind, sweet nature would definitely be welcome.

“Absolutely not,” Marc mutters, eyes boring into yours as intensely as they did when you surprised him in Cairo a few minutes ago. “Now back to why the hell you’re here. You can’t just keep following me into whatever dangerous shit Khonshu throws me into.”

“I can, and I will,” you shrug, keeping annoyingly calm. You decide to stop irritating him before he literally explodes, offering up your good news first. “Plus, I know where to find Senfu’s sarcophagus.”

The trip to the hotel is filled with tense silence as you pointedly ignore Marc, knowing full well that he wants to ask questions, but not giving him the satisfaction of answers unless he bites first. He annoyingly stays silent even once you’ve entered his room.

“I think you should let Steven take control for this one,” you suggest as soon as you catch Marc’s hard stare directed at his own reflection in a mirror propped up against the wall of his room. “He could be useful when we get to Mogart’s tonight.”

“What, so you two can make eyes at each other the whole time and not get anything done?” he scoffs, getting angry at the idea of not being in control of the body. You suppose that’s fair enough, but good God are you tired of being around someone who hates you so bad. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“He’s kind to me,” you argue in response to his original comment that made your cheeks a little warmer than you’d care to admit. “And unlike you, he actually believes I’m capable enough to carry out a task without ruining everything. Steven doesn’t hate me so much that he’s blind to my abilities.”

Marc stays silent for a few seconds and you assume it’s because he can’t disagree with you. But then you notice that he’s stopped and is staring intently at you. “You can’t actually be that stupid to think I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

Your next words are meant to carry the weight of your anger, but instead your voice comes out quiet, barely audible. “Why else are you always leaving me behind?”

He leans forward, a new look in his eyes that you don’t see directed towards you. It’s free of anger and earnest and it’s like he’s trying to plead with you. “You don’t understand… It isn’t Harrow or any other person with a knife or a gun that I don’t think you’re capable of handling. He won’t… I can’t explain-”

“Then don’t,” you sigh, disappointed as you turn away to get your bag ready for later. “Leave me in the dark like always.”

You almost gasp when Marc grabs your wrist, but it dies in your throat as he tugs you towards him, a tortured expression on his face. “Don’t you realise that it’s the only goddamn way I can keep you safe?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Marc?” you demand, but the aggression meant to be lacing your tone has no effect when your breathing becomes shaky at the close proximity, his hand still wrapped around your wrist like it’s a lifeline. “I can take care of myself. It is not your decision to make!”

“I know, but it isn’t just that,” he whispers, shoulders sagging in exhaustion all of a sudden and you get the feeling there’s more to his reluctance to let you in. “You don’t understand how much Khonshu has taken from me. I can’t let him anywhere near you, or he’ll do the same.”

“This is about Khonshu?” you furrow your brows and Marc nods stiffly. You sigh, lifting his chin up with your finger so he can look at you. “As much as that oversized pigeon pisses me off, he’s trying to stop Ammit, and if anything happens to me then at least I’ll die knowing-“

“Don’t,” he hisses, under his breath breathing harder than ever. “Don’t you dare. I am not letting you die, that is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid and I have to explain that to Steven. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. That you show up. Because he’s right. You’re in danger and I can’t- I won’t- I-”

“Marc,” you cut him off, placing both your hands on the sides of his face before he spirals into full blown panic mode. His eyes don’t leave yours when you do so, and you push down the jolt in your stomach when you notice how close you are to him. “Even though you try and push me away, I still know you. And I know you feel terrible about the things you’ve had to do and the lives that have been lost, but listen to me. If I die or whatever, it’ll be on me. I’m telling you now that it doesn’t have to be on your conscience, I asked for this.”

Marc narrows his eyes, shaking his head as he glances at the mirror for a few seconds, no doubt listening to Steven. “You’re right,” he says to his reflection. “She still doesn’t get it.”

“I hate it when you do that,” you grumble. Marc doesn’t seem to be listening to you as he turns back to face you, removing your hands from his face and placing his own gently on your cheek, a determined look replacing his previous distressed one. “What was Steven saying I don’t g-”

Marc cuts you off by kissing you fiercely, moulding his lips to yours like it’s the last time he’ll do so, despite it being the first. He fits perfectly against you, and you against him as your bodies angle towards each other, hardly coming up for air.

And every time you do, it only lasts a second before he’s kissing you again, gentle but firm. Like he doesn’t want to break you, but like he needs to keep you close.

You don’t know if it’s been minutes or hours when he pulls away to look at you, hand still firm on your waist. You probably look a state right now, lips swollen like his most likely, and you wonder if your hair is just as messy thanks to your uncontrollable hands.

Marc is the first to break the silence for once, leaning his forehead against yours as he speaks. “I don’t give a damn about my conscience. If you were to die, I would have no conscience, ‘cause I wouldn’t let myself live. Do you understand?”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Marc,” you say, still a little breathless as you cling into his bicep to keep yourself upright from the information overload. “If anything, I’m a little more confused.”

Marc opens his mouth to speak before his eyes flicker behind you to another reflective surface. “I’m not letting you out. I’ll tell her.”

“Tell me what?” you whine, almost stomping your foot. This time when Marc rolls his eyes at you, there’s another hint of a smile. And this time you let yourself stare.

“I can’t let anything happen to you, because I love you. That’s why I leave,” he mumbles, his expression suddenly becoming cautious as he awaits your reaction.

For a minute you can only stare in shock, and you can feel Marc regret his words when he starts to pull away from you, misinterpreting your silence.

“Come back, you idiot,” you sigh, exasperated. Clutching the collar of his t-shirt, you pull him closer to you and he swallows roughly as you lean forward to brush your own lips lightly against his. “I love you too. And I’m not going anywhere, so you and Steven can tell that stupid bird to piss off. Okay?”

Marc nods, distracted by the feeling of your mouth so close to his, eyes flicking over your shoulder for a second and returning to your own gaze with a grin. “Steven agrees.”

“Good,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his and laughing against him when he lets out a groan at your hands tugging lightly at his hair. You pull away, much to his dismay. “Now, let’s go pay Senfu’s sarcophagus a little visit.”

“I can think of something else I’d rather be doing.”

“You and me both, buddy. Steven too, probably.”

© angelfic 2022.

[ejzah]

Hi! I LOVE your stories! I have a story prompt for you, in case you're interested. I haven't really found any good fics for the end of A Land of Wolves.

Any thoughts on what happened from when Deeks and Kensi reunited in the woods to when they got into bed at home? The chopper ride, the hospital, Deeks convincing the doctor to let Kensi go home, or him caring for her at home? ☺️

A/N: I wrote several fics related to this episode, including a couple post-eps if I’m not mistaken. So, this might bear some resemblance to those.

***

The Ninja Rests

He hates seeing her in pain. It’s definitely not the worst injury Kensi’s experienced in the field, but the thought of her being chased down by the fake militia group, fighting tooth and nail for her and Rosa’s life makes him shiver. Deeks just wants to hold her, but that will have to wait until her bullet wound and other injuries are seen to.

Deeks glances at Kensi where she’s curled up on a exam table, crinkly paper scrunched beneath her as she rests her head on the poor excuse for a pillow. There’s blood staining all of her clothing along with days worth of dirt and grime. He shivers again.

The medics on the helicopter had patched her up as best they could on the ride back over the boarder, but Kensi still needs stitches, x-rays, and treatment for the plethora of abrasions and cuts covering any visible skin.

As he watches, she shifts on the bed, grimacing.

“Baby, are you ok? Do you need something? Water, maybe I can grab a nurse and get some pain meds,” Deeks offers, dying to do anything for her.

“I would kill for a cheeseburger right now,” Kensi answers softly. Turning her head just enough to see him, she offers a weak smile. “I’m starving.”

“You mean there weren’t any McDonald’s in the middle of the desert?” he teases, knowing that Kensi doesn’t need his anxieties and fear piled on her right now.

“Not even F-rated Chinese.”

“Well, when we’re done here, I promise to buy you all the burgers, fries, and shakes your heart desires.” Kensi grins at that.

“Sounds amazing.” She’s silent for a moment, then shifts onto her back, her expression turning pensive. “Do you see where they took Rosa? I tried to keep contact with her, but I lost track of her after we got here.”

“She’s in surgery right now,” Deeks tells her. “She’s in good hands.”

“Good. I can’t even think about what would have happened if I hadn’t been there,” she murmurs, voice catching a little. “They killed everyone else in seconds. If I’d been any slower or hadn’t—” her face crumples a little as she breaks off, the weight of it all hitting her, tears welling in her eyes.

“Oh baby, come here.” He reaches for her and Kensi lurches into his arms, burying her head in his neck. “You did amazing out there. Don’t think about what might have happened, because you were there and you fought tooth and nail to save her. You were her hero, you crazy ninja assassin.” He smooths his hand over her hair, as much for her comfort as his own.

Chuckling wetly, Kensi wriggled her good arm free to brush her thumb across his cheek.

“I was pretty awesome.” Her body is slowly relaxing bit by bit. “Did I tell you I broke a window with my head and pulled out the pieces with my teeth?” she asks casually.

“Wait, you what—Baby, that is so not the thing to say two hours after you were just rescued from a self-made militia group,” Deeks says, horrified as he gently cups her jaw. “Did you cut yourself?”

“No, I was very careful. But even if I wasn’t, it’s much better than the alternative.”

“Oh my god, you’re insane and amazing as always, but please never leave the country without me again.”

“Deal,” Kensi whispers. “Thank you for coming and rescuing us,” she adds.

“Yeah, like you needed it,” Deeks says. Horrifying as the thought is, he’s almost certain Kensi would have found a way to save herself and Rosa in the end.

“We were stuck, Deeks, and you swooped in and saved us.” Her eyelids flutter a little bit, exhaustion taking over now, and she sighs again. “Promise me you’ll never stop saving me. Even when I do crazy, dangerous things.”

“Never,” Deeks promises easily.

“Mm. And that you won’t let them keep me overnight.” Kensi makes a sleepy sound. “I hate hospital food and the beds are too hard.” Despite everything, Deeks finds himself smiling at Kensi’s sleep-induced silliness. He runs his hand through her hair again, ending at her mid-back

“I’ll break you out if I have to.”

“Best husband ever,” she murmurs right before she succumbs to sleep.

***

A/N: Yes, this does mirror the final scene, but I liked the idea of them having a little bit more emotional discussion. Of course, with a touch of lightness as well. Plus, I imagine Kensi would be extremely tired.

Thanks for the prompt and your support!

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

dance

Written for Day 4 of @aangweek! Read here on AO3.

~*~

4. dance - if you hit a wall, climb over it, crawl under it, or dance on top of it

What year did Fire Lord Sozin battle the Air Nation army?

The Air Nation army.

What army? The ashen remains of bones that littered the Air Temples? The memories of a past erased and rewritten by the conquerors? The whispers and cries of voices drowned out by roaring flames? That army?

Aang shuddered, pulling his knees to his chest. Was that how his people were remembered? As part of a history reformatted and reworked? As aggressors instead of defenders? As casualties, no, as soldiers instead of victims? Was that how the world had chosen to immortalize his people?

Aang sighed, releasing his legs before slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. And besides - he could see the sun inching upwards over the horizon. Daybreak had almost arrived, which meant it was only a matter of time before everyone woke up and they continued travelling. There was no point in him trying to catch an extra hour of shut-eye.

Maybe he could meditate for a bit. While he waited for morning to come. It could help him clear his mind, he supposed, of… of those more painful memories. Of false knowledge force-fed down his throat.

But as Aang stood to find an open place for meditation, he was distracted by the presence of Sokka. His friend was already awake, hunched over and scribbling away at his lengthy schedule.

“We can shorten our stay here,” Sokka muttered, “and taking this route shaves two hours off our total travel time if we only take one break instead of two -” He stopped when Aang joined him, the airbender plopping down on a patch of grass. “Good morning?” He paused. “Uh… What are you doing up so early?”

Aang gave his friend an amused smile, folding his legs criss-cross. Considering he himself was usually the first one up, Aang couldn’t help but find Sokka’s question rather hilarious. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Sokka shrugged. “Just trying to rework our schedule. I have to take in account the extra days we stayed in that cave if we want to arrive at the meet-up point for the eclipse invasion on time.”

Aang flinched at the reminder. Of the upcoming eclipse or the additional days he’d encouraged his friends to stay in the city, he wasn’t sure. When Sokka glanced at him, Aang looked away. Down at his feet. “Right. Yeah. I guess we do need to make up for that… lost time.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, at first not commenting. He rolled up his schedule and placed it aside. “So, why again did you say you were up so early?”

Aang hadn’t.

He sighed, leaning backwards to stare up at the arrival of dawn and bracing himself with his palms. Clouds of orange and red and yellow burned before Aang. Hues not dissimilar to fire. “Dreams.” Memories.

Sokka nodded. “Nightmares?”

“Kind of.”

“Want to talk about them?”

The Air Nomads didn’t have a formal military.

Aang shook his head. “Not really.”

Sokka nodded. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.” He tucked the group’s schedule into his bag. “Want to talk about something else?”

Aang didn’t answer immediately. Stuck on some twisted loop, his mind traced over and over and over the surprise, the shock, the disbelief of every kid’s face in the cave as he’d danced before them. They, too, had been robbed of their childhood. Not in the same way, no. Not at the same price. But it had been stolen from them all the same.

“Do you think I helped them?” Aang finally whispered. His fingers dug into the dirt beneath his palms, collecting behind his nails. “The Fire Nation kids, I mean.” He sat up straight again, this time making eye contact with his friend. “Toph told me I helped them to be free.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Do you… Do you think she was right?”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Uh, what are you talking about?” Aang opened his mouth to explain, but Sokka continued before he could get a word out. “Of course she was right.”

Aang’s voice disappeared into his chest for a full ten seconds before resurfacing. “She was? But it was just a dance par-”

“It wasn’t ‘just’ a dance party, Aang,” Sokka interrupted, giving him a wry smile after his use of dramatic finger quotes. “You gave those kids their first moment of independent thought. I know I called them ‘depraved little monsters’” - Aang snorted at the reminder - “and while I don’t think I was too far off with that assessment, I’ve come to the conclusion that…” Sokka pursed his lips. “Well. Deprived might be a better word.”

Deprived.

Yes, that was fitting.

“I still can’t believe they didn’t know how to dance,” Aang said after a pause. “A hundred years ago, the Fire Nation was - was the place to be for dancing!” He learned everything he knew from Kuzon, after all. “And now…” Aang sighed. “Sure, I gave them a taste of fun, but they’re all going to be punished for it.” If they hadn’t been already. “Was that - Was it even worth it for them?”

“I think it was,” Sokka answered, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “Like I said - it wasn’t just a dance party.” A beat passed, and he winked at Aang as he held a finger over his lips. “It was a secret dance party.”

Aang laughed. “What are you talking ab-”

“You taught them to challenge authority!” Sokka continued, throwing his hands in the air. “You taught them that sometimes, to learn the real truth, you have to think outside the box and track down other sources.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Aang, you showed them that adults can be wrong. That people in power are not infallible.” Sokka grinned at him. “So you didn’t just teach them to be free. You taught them how to find their own freedom, too. And in a brainwashed, messed-up country like the Fire Nation?” He snorted. “Spirits know they need that.”

Brainwashed… Not an inaccurate term to describe the misinformation - the lies - Aang knew their country had built its new foundation on.

“Thanks, Sokka,” Aang said, giving his friend a soft smile as tension eased from his shoulders. Maybe it was a good thing, then, that he’d stayed those extra days in the cave. Those kids were the future of the Fire Nation. Change would have to start with them.

“You’re welcome, buddy.”

Aang bit his lip. A beat passed. “Can I ask you another question?”

“I mean, you technically just did - kidding, I’m kidding,” Sokka amended as Aang rolled his eyes. “None of you have a sense of humor.”

“Sokka, you know I think you’re the funniest guy in the four nations.”

“And you would be right!” They both laughed, and Sokka continued once their snickering had died down. “But sure, go ahead. What’s on your mind?”

Aang opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, out of nowhere finding that it was thrice as difficult for air to enter and exit his lungs. How embarrassing for an - the last - airbender.

Deep breaths. In and out.

Well, I don’t know how you could possibly know more than our national history book.

“What… What were you taught about my people?” Aang found himself staring at the ground, at his feet, at anywhere but Sokka’s eyes. “The Air Nomads?”

“Uh… not much,” Sokka admitted, and Aang grimaced. “We knew Sozin massacred them in an attempt to kill the Avatar, which started the war. Gran Gran told us they were a peaceful people, too, and were all really gifted benders.” He hesitated, giving Aang an apologetic glance. “I’m… sorry I don’t know more.”

Aang’s chest ached with an emptiness he sometimes feared would never be filled. But at least Sokka hadn’t been told -

“You know my people didn’t attack first, though?” His voice faltered, and Aang cleared his throat. “That - That they never wanted to fight?”

Sozin defeated them by ambush.

“Yeah,” Sokka said quietly. “I know.”

He forced down the lump in his throat, and when Sokka moved to pull him into a tight embrace, Aang allowed himself to fall apart in his friend’s arms.

When the sun had risen and his tears had dried, Aang spoke.

“After I defeat Fire Lord Ozai… you’re going to dance with me.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “I’m gonna what now?”

“Dance with me.” Aang gave him a small smile. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re too much of a picken to dance with your best friend.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “You know what? Sure. Why not. When you defeat Fire Lord Ozai, I’ll dance with you.” He grinned at Aang. “I look forward to it, hotman.”

Aang laughed. “Flameo!”

~*~

i am prepared and willing to throw hands with anyone who says "the headband" ep was pointless filler (it really and truly was not). also, i read something and it said flameo was a curse word, and idk if that's true, but you're welcome to interpret the final line as aang being like "fuck yeah!" if you'd like. thank you for reading, and i hope to see you tomorrow for day 5 - air temples!

[detectivecarlosreyes]

Would you Rescue Me?

Ao3 | 1.7k | Rated: Mature | Song-fic: Rescue Me by OneRepublic  References Buck Begins; callback to ep Merry Ex Mas with Maddie’s flashback about Doug and the christmas tree trigger warning: Referenced domestic violence/abuse

Summary What if when Maddie decided to leave Doug, instead of in the show when she just showed up at his apartment without any warning, she calls Buck and asks if she can come to him in hopes that he can be her escape even after not speaking for 3 years.

We don't talk much, not anymore Broken bottles and slammin' doors But we still care about each other Say we care about each other I know life took us far away But I still dream 'bout the good old days When we took care of each other We were livin' for each other

When she’s alone, Maddie stares at the postcards wondering what could have been. When things are at their worst with Doug she looks at the first one Buck ever sent, the one from Georgia. The one where he said that he mostly forgave her for not coming with him and leaving Hershey and Doug for good.

She felt awful leaving him that note that day, doing the exact thing that he said that she should do for Doug. Hated herself for it. Hated that Doug had such a tight hold on her life. Deep down she knows that Evan had forgiven her, because why else would he continue to send postcards if he didn’t. So, she clung to those written words of forgiveness because they were the only hope, the only beacon of freedom that she could see.

The number of times she picked up the phone and dialled in his number over the years, just wanting to hear his voice. Hoping that he would hear the things that she didn’t or couldn’t say. But she didn’t, not wanting to drag Buck back home, to a place he didn’t want to be, into the mess of her life.

She wished she had told him that day he came to her after crashing his bike asking to come live with her, told him what was really going on. Wished she had been braver, wished she said more in that note. Wished she had listened to him when he said he didn’t like Doug back when he was just her boyfriend. Maybe then she wouldn’t be in the position that is she’s in now.

Maddie hates how much distance was between them now, that she couldn’t take her own advice and run. It had been three years since he left to find himself in the world. Three years since they saw each other’s faces. Three years since they had spoken to each other.

And now it’s Christmas and all she wants is him as she patches up her latest set of wounds in the bathroom. Disinfecting and covering the broken skin while staring at that first postcard and the most recent one from his fire station, imagining the person he has become.

It’s only after she heard the quiet click of the front door and the ignition of the car engine does she venture from the safety of the bathroom, postcards clutched in hand.

Feeling a moment of bravery, she searches out her phone, a cheap prepaid one that Doug didn’t know about that was bought with cash. Maddie dials the number that she has so many times before and hits the call button for the first time in as many years.

It rings and rings; so long that she wonders if he would ever pick up.

And then he does.

“Hello, Buck speaking.”

And she resists the urge to hang up there and then.

“Hello?”

“Evan,” it’s all that she’s able to utter.

“Maddie? Is that you?”

Maddie could feel the tears forming, blurring her vision over just hearing his voice again.

“Yeah Buck, it's me.” She hated how small her voice sounded.

“Are you okay? You sound strange.”  Just hearing the concern in his voice, causes the tears to spill and she could feel her voice thicken with emotion.

“Remember when you said that I should just leave a note and work out the rest when I don’t come home?” Maddie says as she wipes away the tears trailing down and stinging the cuts on her cheek.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I think- I think I’m going to leave that note now.”

Closing her eyes, Maddie grimaces as her stomach clenches at the thought of upsetting Doug further, of what he would do if she did, but Maddie knew that deep down that she couldn’t take it anymore. She was at the end of her tether and all she can do is hope that Buck will there to catch her when she lets go of it.

Maybe it was the tremble in her voice that he could hear or the fact that Buck could just hear what she wasn’t saying, because Buck’s response had a sense of urgency to it now and she couldn’t help but love him more in that moment, “Did you want me to come to you? I can- I can book a flight right now and be there in like 8 hours.”

“No. No, you don’t need to do that. I- um, I’ll come to you? See how bright that LA sunshine is?”

“Okay. Let me know how you’re getting here, and I’ll meet you. I’ll meet you wherever you need me to.”

The knot in her stomach loosened slightly in relief and with a hitched breath, all Maddie could think of saying was, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Maddie. I love you, stay safe.”

Maddie bided her time, waiting until the next morning when Doug left early to go to work. And then she left. Dragging two suitcases that held everything that was important to her behind her. She left behind anything that could be traced by Doug, withdrew what cash she could and made her way to LA.

She was exhausted by the time she got there, anxious, and constantly looking over her shoulder the whole time half expecting to see Doug’s calmly furious face trailing her. When she saw Buck waiting for her, she all but collapsed into the comfort of his arms, cocooned by his warmth.

It felt like a millennium since she last saw him, and yet it didn’t feel like any time had passed at all. He still felt like the Evan she knew, more filled out and sturdy, but her brother, nonetheless. Eventually pulling back out of the embrace, she surveys him properly and doesn’t see that lost kid anymore but a young man who looks like he finally found his place in the world.

“Welcome to LA Maddie.” He says with an easy grin, but it did nothing to mask the worry in his eyes as he catalogues the visible injuries.

They talk about everything and nothing, avoiding the elephant in the room as they get reacquainted on the drive to his apartment. His girlfriend’s place. The most serious relationship that he’s ever talked about before, and it makes her so proud to hear it.

Eventually, they do run out of things to talk about, sitting on the couch with stomachs full of a dinner he cooked, a bottle of wine shared between them. It's then that the atmosphere of the room becomes sombre, with Buck unable to ignore the reason that she was here with him, injuries on display.

Buck’s hand travels to her face and stops under her ear, cupping her jawline as his thumb gently runs along the fine cuts on her cheek, not unlike the way Doug did not even a day ago and it makes her heart race, frozen for a moment by that familiar action alone.

Remembering that it was Evan and not Doug sitting next to her, Maddie puts her hand over his and pulls it from her face not wanting to compare them in that way, even if there was a vastly different feel to the action. It's only then could she look him in the eye.

His face has always been an open book to her, full of life and expression and this time was no different. She could see the sadness clear as day and it broke her heart to know that she was the cause of it.  

“I’m sorry.”

Maddie shakes her head and places a forgiving hand on his knee, “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known how bad it was.”

“But I knew something was wrong, I knew it back when I was a kid. I should have stayed and tried harder to get you away from him.”

“I didn’t want you to know. Didn’t want to bring my little brother into this.”

“I know you didn’t, but I still wish I did more,” he insisted.

There was only so much that she could say without the conversation going around in circles with her attempting to make him see that there was nothing to forgive. So, instead, Maddie just nods and squeezes his knee in appreciation to which he smiles a soft sad smile in response.

Buck drops his hand over hers and takes her hand in his, inspecting the small cuts on her palm from when she crawled on the broken ornaments, his face turning serious.

“Maddie…  Would Doug have any idea that you’d come to LA to see me?”

“No, he doesn’t know that you live here—”

“That’s good.”

She continues “—But I’m not going to stay long though; he could figure it out if he tried hard enough.”

His gaze softens when he turns his attention back to her and looks her in the eyes with an earnest expression. “Stay with me. You’re safe here, with me, safer than if you go off by yourself. Just… let me be the one to look out for you for a change, okay?”

It’s not until he says the words, does she feel it, believes it to be true. The first time in a long time that she actually felt safe. Maybe this is the fresh start that she needed, maybe everything will be okay. Now that she has her brother by her side again, everything seems possible. She’s not sure what she would have done if she didn’t have her little brother to turn to with the knowledge that there would be no judgement from him, unlike their parents.

With her face streaked with tears of relief and gratitude, she sticks her pinkie finger out to her brother and says in her way of agreement, “You and me against the world.”

With the smallest of smirks at the phrase, Buck curls his little finger around hers, “You and me in the world.”

Would you rescue me? Would you get my back? Would you take my call when I start to crack? Would you rescue me? Uh Would you rescue me? Would you rescue me when I'm by myself? When I need your love, if I need your help Would you rescue me? Uh Would you rescue me?

[murtaghsbeard]

Season 5 ep 9 - Monsters and Heroes

Buffalo

Marsali belly. Marsali getting coy and calling Claire “Ma.” Guesss you have to move on from “hooooore” at some point. Good for them.

Indigo time. Boring voiceover by Claire about colors

More shirtless Roger and Brianna. Show, I do not have any interest in that at all. Please stop treating this as something appealing. Luckily the baby interrupts. They teach him the word shit.

Jamie is banging on the door so it’s a race to get presentable before the door is flung open. It’s hunting time and he needs help shooting game for the winter. Har! He wants a good shot to accompany him, thus Brianna. She insists that she has been looking forward to dying cloth. Sure.....That sounds much more exciting than exercising your actual talents on a hunting trip with the dad you traveled back in time to meet. Anyways, why not take Roger along as your useless lackey because the only thing he has demonstrated he could shoot is Claire from 6 feet away? Roger is so bad at everything and despite three times as many teach Roger to use a gun scenes as it took to make Brianna an engineer, no one has managed to make a good shot out of Roger. I’m sure this will be the episode where Roger proves his worth to Jamie, but I prefer watching him as a pitiable, useless lump. Ha, they still call him Roger Mac....Which I feel in my heart is a jibe, but they keep using it sincerely.

Why are you sending away Ian? He is your the best hunter. They find some bison but leave only Roger to assist Jamie. Very Suspect.

Jamie gets bitten by a viper. Roger gets hacking at Jamie’s leg. The old cut suck spit.

Roger agrees to just leave the bite victim in situ alone.

Roger must get help. Roger gets lost. Roger shoots a tree. Roger turns up at Jamie’s camp not having succeeded in getting help. Jamie, for all his agony has made a fire, prepared dinner, set up camp. Roger is not too fussed about Jamie’s snake venom issue.

Jamie kens he might be dying. He decides to let Roger in on his unfinished business-Please kill Steven bonnet, I’ve arranged all the particulars. Roger is all “ I don’t know if I can...murder, it’s just not my style.” Jamie presses him.

Roger, this show is about an audience of women. It’s full steam ahead with murdering vicious rapists here. Your prevarication wins you no fans. It’s Jamie’s unquestioning, at times reckless, fervor for righting the wrongs done to his wife and shield her from the rest that is the bedrock of this franchise. You won’t be spin off worthy until you adopt a similar mantra.

Jamie, though his body courses with poison, must lay out the situation rationally for dim Roger. It’s about the inheritance, dummy. Bonnet is going to shit all over everything, dummy. Your wife’s reputation, the paternity of your child, everything. You should kill Bonnet.

Finally the competent fellows find Jamie and Roger, led of course by the dog

Claire needs maggots for Jamie so Marsali gets all the folk out looking for them... in the forest? Wouldn’t their own barns and domestic spaces be more likely?

Jamie spies the leg saw laid out for him. He doesn’t like it.

Finally! Josiah finds a maggoty rabbit

Oh shit, it’s the bison in the yard. Claire and Brianna sort it out in 30 seconds

There is medicine to help save Jamie’s leg. The problem is no syringe

Jamie is very stubborn about the prospect of losing his leg. Ian gives him a thorough shaming in about 39 seconds. Finally, we get the dream team, Ian and Fergus, though the show cuts the glory short.

I’m sorry. What is this. A recusitating handjob??? I..... Like a magical, bring-you-back-from-the-dead handjob???

Love Fergus, teaching his toddlers about forest mushrooms! What better way to honor our fungal overloads with a little forest birth over the mycelial patch. Thanks Marsali.

Jamie is now reconciled to losing his leg and they are set to do it. But then Bri all busts in, I’ve made a syringe out of the offending snake’s tooth. There is a metaphor here!

When all is said and done, I’m very pleased that Roger did a middling to pitiable job as caretaker of the incapacitated Jamie. A triumphant Roger might give me an anyeurism. Glad that Bri experiences getting tossed by a bison without a scratch and then putting an engineering degree to use with fang syringe. Bri 4 stars, Roger 1 Star. Squirm like a worm for another day my friend.

However, Roger feels it’s his four star moment and gloats to Jamie.

Roger wants to watch Jamie kill Bonnet. I guess that’s improvement over where we last left things.

Getting a bit perturbed watching this slow build of Roger and Jamie building a relationship, when Roger threw a Molotov cocktail on every good feeling he had built with Brianna and then the narrative just let’s him drop in, say no harm, no foul. We’ll be married with no apology from me and I’ll continue to be barely tolerable from here on out, and we are just meant to accept it

So! Glad! To catch up on what this cat has been doing. Actually!

[jq37]

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 13 Family Ties

Regroup

Welcome back to Candia, y’all.

As the cast tries to get a handle on their giggles from whatever shenanigans happened off-screen between episodes, the PCs land back at the monastery of the Spinning Star. All the rescued civilians are grateful and the monks help to patch them up. The group is a little worried their enemies will follow them through the standing stones but only a high level Candian magic user would be able to do that so they’re probably fine. They also learn that all the weapons they stole are basically +1 to attack magical items--not useful to them but maybe for their allies.  

Spearia tends to Joren (and we’re cursed with the phrase “wrist milk”) and then goes Full Mom Mode on Liam with a several minutes long hug. Theo joins the hug so he can ask Spearia if she knows any other Druids that could do that transportation (she doesn’t know of any in Buzzybrook but there could always be others she doesn’t know about) which turns into a discussion about the SPF. Ruby thinks the SPF is on their side but the others are more wary and Rina, as before, is specifically against her. She says the SPF gets her powers from the Bulb and the sharp division between the two is just a kind of distraction from the bigger issue. Ruby calls it a conspiracy theory (though Theo says Lazuli believed something similar) and stalks off. Amethar runs after her but, en route, stops to have a conversation with Joren. 

He tells Joren that Rina is queen now and that he (as in both of them really) need to start doing the smart thing and not just the tough thing. Joren razzes him about the new attitude until Amethar says that Jet is dead which turns him sympathetic and basically gets him on board--it’s not the fight Liam was anticipating. He says that they’re gonna have to make a big show about recognizing Rina if this is gonna work and asks if they have any allies who can vouch. Amethar says the Dairy Islands are with them and they have a crazy plan that involves getting the Book of Leaves (St. Citrina’s Lasso of Truth book).

Theo runs to catch up with Joren and Amethar but, on the way there, catches Ruby and says they need to stick together. Then the three guys go and find Rina. They basically bend the knee to her and say they’re at her service. Rina is not as excited as you might think though. She accepts the endorsement while barely holding back tears, saying that she’s aware the support doesn’t come with enthusiasm but she appreciates it all the same. Then she goes with Gooey back to her contingent of followers to celebrate with them, not seeming like she’s in a celebratory mood at all. 

Cumulus and Liam have gone to the library of the monastery to try and dig into the info they grabbed during the fight and Ruby goes to talk to Liam. She confides in him that she thinks this plan sucks because even if they are able to get Rina onto the throne, it still means they win on the terms of their enemies. They’re still working within the system and the people who killed Jet and killed Preston don’t pay for anything. Liam says he’s still super down for killing all of these people and he really doesn’t think the plan is gonna work. He thinks it’s going to end in war either way. They try to decipher the map but it’s hard and they recruit the monks to help work on it overnight. 

Snicker-Snack talks to Cumulus and says--echoing his own thoughts--that Rina is crazy powerful and a possible heir to Lazuli’s title of Archmage. He wonders if they should swear themselves to her the way they were sworn to Lazuli. Cumulus thinks it might be a good idea and Snicker-Snack says that it’s Cumulus’s call since he’s the most senior monk.

Theo finds Rina again and asks if she thinks they’re in danger of getting ambushed by the SPF. Rina (after getting a head shake from Brennan) says no, not this night but she is worried that the SPF is working with the Bulb. She and her guys will be up all night keeping watch (and partying) so he can, “Go back to [his] family.”

Brain Food

In the morning, the monks have finished looking through all of the info the PCs stole last episode which means it’s time for a good old fashioned info dump. There’s a lot happening so I broke it into sections:

Military Movements

The south of Candia has been totally taken over by Calroy and his guys. He’s fully posted in Castle Candy and every state except for the Dairy Islands has recognized him as a legitimate ruler. 

The only non-traitor Candian troops are basically all at the Great Stone Candy Mountains (bc they were on route to help Jawbreaker). 

As in Ruby’s vision from Lazuli, the invasion of Castle Candy did fall apart due to discord. Specifically, it was a mix of Plumbeline’s troops and Bulbian troops and because the Pontifex held the position that there could be no Concord without all of the states of the OG Concord under the terms of the OG agreement (meaning including Candia) Plumbeline said, “Fine. If there’s no Concord, there’s no reason I have to help you,” and she withdrew her troops. 

So, to be clear, Calroy did a coup. The Imperial soldiers that are there are not there to invade Candia. They’re there doing peacekeeping stuff. The non-Imperial bread soldiers are Ciabatta’s men--he went home post spy session with the girls and used the info he stole to assassinate all the obstacles between him and being dictator for life and then decided an invasion of Candia was a good way to keep the peoples’ approval. Candia was picked for no reason other than it was a sitting duck due to all the other insane stuff that’s going on (chief or which is loss of Concord protection). And the church is there cause...actually, let me start another heading for this because it’s a doozy.

The Bulbian Church

The Pontifex has decided that the Ramsian Doctrine is in full effect. The reason they’re in Candia is because they’ve called a crusade. 

Kerradin has a fancy new title--Mace of the Faith--and is leading it.

She’s called open season on all Candians--not just soldiers, literally anybody. She’s calling for a full genocide. The church’s policy is, if you kill a Candian, your soul is saved. If you destroy Candian standing stones, your soul and your family’s souls are saved. It’s real chilling shit. 

There’s been pushback from bishops and archbishops about the policy--obviously Candian ones but from other countries as well--saying that they can’t support this and please can she reconsider (they can’t really be more forceful than that without risking being killed themselves). 

Calroy, sensing the way the wind is blowing, has sent out an official statement saying that he renounced his pagan ways and wants to be re-baptized into the Bulbian faith.

We learn that the reason the Pontifex is being difficult with Plumbeline about the technicalities of the Concord agreement and why it can’t just be back on is because she wants to stay in limbo for as long as possible so she has a chance to also call a crusade against the Meatlands--both for being so openly pagan and for the killing of Archbishop Raddica (mentioned in I think episode 3).  

There was a lot of money that the crew ignored while looting last episode and that was money to be used to pay Meatlander mercenaries apparently. 

Group Dynamics

So Calroy is kind of courting all three camps here. As I said before, he’s agreeing with the crusade and saying he wants to be baptized to court the church.

Cal is also saying to Ceresia that a crusade is needed to cleanse Candia and a new Concord could be formed if Ceresia were to conquer it and make it a part of Ceresia. Ciabatta in an intercepted letter says that Cal could possibly be governor of Candia as a province of Cersia--exactly what he wants. 

Whenever Calroy talks about the new Concord, he mentions a Concordant *Empress* who could be anyone, which also gives Plumbeline what she wants. He’s basically like that Always Sunny clip about playing both sides so he always comes out on top. 

Everyone is planning a meeting to talk about logistics and a new Concord and all that but Ciabatta doesn’t want to meet in Comida or Vegetania after the whole deal with his name being spoken and rejected by the Book of Leaves. Cal has opened Castle Candy as a meeting place. 

The Pontifex is bringing Kerradin and guards to protect her and the Book of Leaves to make sure there’s no funny business happening (ie: Cal conspiring privately with Plumbeline or something). 

And, to be clear, none of these people seem to like or trust each other. It’s all a matter of being able to use each other for mutual benefit. There’s lots of evidence of discord and resentment. [To that point, here is some very dope art.]

Misc.

The various baddies haven’t been able to figure out watersteel--it seems that Alfredi left something out of her notes and took the secret to her grave. They did figure out the bread constructs though as we saw last episode. 

There are notes about the Sanctus Putris which is a church doctrine that runs counter to the Ramsian Doctrine and it says that to keep the Hungry One at bay, there has to be a certain level of rot in the world.

There is a letter between Onionpatch and the Sanctus Putris dudes saying that they have located the home of the SPF (the Ice Cream Temple) and will get there tomorrow (as in tmrw from their POV). 

Finally, rumors of Rina are floating around and the policy is basically, “Who cares if she exists or if she’s legit or not? If you see her, kill her.” So Emily has gone from being a huge target to...being a huge target. That’s what happens when you play two heir apparents in a row.

And deep exhale. That was A Lot.

Gameplan 

Joren thinks the best plan is to get all their armies together and publicly take the knee to Rina at Manylicks to help legitimize her. Ruby, again, is against this plan because it would mean, at least on paper, being on the same side as Ciabatta. Spearia gets where she’s coming from but says it’s just to get things settled and they can always leave the Concord again once they’re back in control.

Gooey brings up the meeting everyone is gonna be at and Liam suggests getting someone from the Meatlands there so they can force the Pontifex to say on the Book of Leaves that they’re her next target, winning them an ally. Rina pipes up that she has allies in the Meatlands so maybe she can help arrange that. Jawbreaker also wants to just spread the word that Rina exists to make things more politically complicated and give the Dairy Islands (and possibly the Meatlands) a legit reason to side with them/stop the Imperials since the Concord will be back on. 

Rina, unprompted, says again that she doesn’t care about the throne, she’s just anti-Bulb and pro magic. Cara and Ruby kinda glance at each other while that is going on.

At this point, Jawbreaker is fully on board with her and toasts to her as queen. Liam warns her about the target on her back but she says she grew up abused by Bulbian nuns. She can handle herself. Cumulus also officially pledges the service of the Spinning Star monks to her. She’s just picking up allies left and right.

Anyway, Jawbreaker, Spearia, and the rescued townsfolk plan to go for Manylicks to rally the troops. Spearia asks for an escort so they send Jack and his sailors to protect them. Before they leave, Liam has a heart to heart with his dad about how war changes you and forcing yourself to be hard so others get to be soft in which Joren finally calls him the correct name.

Cumulus thinks that, if a crusade is happening, the monastery will be a big target so it makes sense for the monks to gather the artifacts and hang with Rina’s marauders for a bit. They also decide to disassemble the teleportation circle once they leave so they’re more secure.

Ruby and Amethar are up on the parapets of the monastery kinda doing that thing where you’re not fully talking but just being like, “*Huge Sigh*”/”Yeahhhhh” with someone you’re close to. Cara shows up and says she’s going with Jawbreaker and his people to Manylicks while the PCs go for the Ice Cream Temple. Ruby asks how long she’s known magic and Cara says Lazuli taught her. Ruby asks why she never taught them and Cara says she was going to when they matured but since they never did, she didn’t want to give them more tools to run away with. Ruby says maybe they wouldn’t have run away so much if she’d trusted them. Cara basically takes psychic damage from that and Rina, who is near enough that she can see what’s happening, catches her attention for some sympathetic eye contact because she knows what that feels like.

Amethar asks for a moment alone with Ruby and apologies for having been a bad dad. Ruby protests that he hasn’t been one but he insists that he has and says that he hasn’t known what to do to help her process Jet’s death. Ruby says it’s not his fault and there’s nothing he can do. The fact of the matter is she was never alone and now she’ll always be alone. Amethar says that’s not true. She won’t be alone because he’s there for her and Jet still is too, though in a different way. He can’t stand watching her push her friends away at every turn. He asks her to please, just be here with them. Ruby breaks down a little and says that she had to run away as the most important person in the world to her died and the only way she can even begin to live with that is by getting revenge. Oh don’t worry, Amethar says. They will be killing *all* of those people.

Sickly Sweet

The team to raid the Ice Cream Temple is comprised of the PCs plus Swifty, Jon Bon, and Gooey (who is having some mutually confusing dom/sub sexual tension with Theo which is a sentence I hate to type but posterity is the main goal here so I don’t have much of a choice now do I). They teleport as close as they can (the monks disassembling the teleportation mechanism once they get there) and then it’s still another 2-3 hours to get there. It’s very cold, like the Himalayas and everyone takes cold damage just by being there. Rina (Invisible) and Cumulus (tied to a rope held by Theo) are up front to try and keep everyone else from triggering traps as they walk up the steps. 

They eventually come upon gates in front of an arch and a hallway with a huge locked doorway in front of it. And there is a symbol of a huge spoon in front of the door. Rina passes Winterscoop in front of it and it opens. They follow her down the hallway and Cumulus triggers a trap when he takes point but Rina, holding Winterscoop, learns that if she takes the lead, she auto-disarms the traps. 

As they walk down the hall, Rina sees the eyes of the SPF and hears her voice in her head, “I can’t see you, but I know you’re here.” The SPF says the temple was made by those like her (Rina) but she (the SPF) is the only one who’s been there for quite some time and her pupils narrow to slits. 

Amethar sees an image of Saphria who says, “Long way from home, brother,” before disappearing. 

Because of how well lit the hallway is, Ruby currently has no shadow. 

Liam, as they walk, smells a quick whiff of hot chocolate and cinnamon.

They get to the end of the hallway which branches off into three directions: there’s a staircase going up to a door (marked with the Sucrosi symbol for the SPF which Ruby recognizes because Laz shows up as a quick vision and tells her and Theo recognizes as having appeared in the sky before the battle that killed Laz--Rina also recognizes it and it is the SPF’s actual name, not one of her titles, so it seems possibly magically significant), to the right there’s some weird combo of illusion and conjuration magic which makes them think that there’s a combo of true things and tricks and like maybe some of the stuff they’ve been seeing out of the corners of their eyes as they’ve traveled would be there, and to the left there’s a locked door marked armory. 

Ruby uses her thieves' tools and Mage Hand to get the armory door open and it turns out it’s actually a library (which everyone but Theo is disappointed about). Inside, they find a book in Bulbosi that’s filled with with ancient spirits of the other realms--the Jolly Giant, the Hamburger Helper, and (at Emily’s prompting) Wonder Bread. It’s basically a checklist of magical spirits from the other kingdoms that the church has destroyed and further proof that Candia isn’t more inherently magical than anyplace else. They’ve just fought to protect their magic. 

On the last page, there’s again mention of the Dracoria Azucar with an inverted symbol of the SPF covered in spikes and surrounded by magic and then in the middle of the page a chocolate egg which Rina tells Liam is what they’re there for. 

The book suddenly slams shut and flies away. Outside, they hear the door at the top of the stairs open. They get out and walk up the stairs into this chamber at the heart of the mountain. It's a massive room with huge icicles coming down, dim light, and a ton of mist. They're kind of on a platform suspended above a bunch of emptiness. In the middle, there's a tower of frozen ice cream scoops and at the center is a small opening. Surrounding it and floating around it are huge freezer burned ice cream cones and popsicles. At the top of the tower, frozen into it is a chocolate egg (a chocolate smear inside the ice indicating that it was incredibly hot). 

The SPF appears in front of them in her cute glamour bearing the mended teacup, the note from Lapin, and the heartseed Liam left for Preston. She thanks them for coming and apologizes that she can’t bring Jet back but says now she can bring them to Jet. Ruby asks what that means and she suddenly sees figures in the mist--4 adult women with a younger adult woman along with a figure that looks like Amethar’s dad. There’s a brightly colored road made of illusory light going from where they are, down into the mist. The SPF says it’s a pure Candy-only place and she can take them there. The church means to burn everything sweet out of the world forever and this is the only way to keep them safe. She’s taken a lot of other spirits there already and everyone they’ve lost and love will be waiting for them and they’ll be together forever. 

Amethar openly expresses suspicion at the SPF and the SPF says she’s only using the glamour to make them feel more comfortable. Rina says she’d like to see the SPF’s true form and the SPF says, “I bet you would,” seeming ticked off that she has Winterscoop. She compares Rina to Lazuli who wanted to take everything that made Candia special and let it get used and abused by the rabble (her opinion, not mine). Look how that turned out for the Jolly Giant and the Hamburger Helper.

Ruby, in Twinspeak, asks the misty figure of Jet, “Are you real?”

The Jet in the Mist (played by Emily who is on the spot drafted by Brennan to be Jet once again for this moment) says (with the knowledge to back it up), “It’s true, but I don’t know if it’s good.”

With that answer, Ruby gives the SPF a placid thanks but no. She’s grateful that she’s been protecting the magic of Candia but they need it now to keep Candia safe. The SPF says that that’s what she’s doing. If they go into the mist, they’ll be safe. No, says Ruby. If they go into the mist, they’ll be dead. The SPF doesn’t see a difference. Safe and dead? Safe and alive? To-may-to, To-mah-to.

“Are you mad at me?” the SPF asks, childlike.

“No,” Ruby says, evenly. 

The SPF says she’s only ever tried to help. She sent Lapin to protect them even though she knew he’d die and they’d lose everything because she knew they wouldn’t come unless they lost everything.

Ruby pauses for a second that feels like ten minutes.

“Did you kill my sister?”

The SPF looks slightly sheepish. “Would you have come here if she was still alive?”

Ruby does the only thing she can do. She pulls her bow.

Looks like someone just jumped Ciabatta in her to-kill list everybody. See you next week! 

Things I’m Concerned About

I mentioned this in an ask but I’m concerned Cara is about to pull a Cat’s in the Cradle--meaning, she keeps getting brushed off so I’m worried she’s gonna get really hurt and the PCs will suddenly care and it’ll be too late. This fear is based on nothing except what I would do to be mean to my players. I have a semi-similar fear about Rina but I’m gonna let that sit for a bit.

Ruby. Girl. I know what you’ve just been through but...girl. Please be smart here.

I never love a battle map you can fall off of. That always gives me anxiety--especially when your enemy can fly so it’s not equal footing so to speak.

I feel like “concerned” is a bit of a weak word to describe my feelings on a genocide but I named this section during episode 1 before I knew where things were going so yeah. Bad.

Everyone the group hates being in one place is hypothetically very good but also has the potential to be VERY bad depending on how it plays out.

I really wanna know what the Sanctus Putris is planning is to at the Temple. How aligned are they with the mainstream church? Their main tenant runs pretty counter to what they’re doing right now. Are they potential allies? Why would they be communicating with Onionpatch, known close confidant for the Pontifex? Were they trying to sway her with something there?

Five More Things

Woah! Oh man, that whole last scene with Ruby and the SPF? The music? The tension? The constant, calm No’s from Ruby until the SPF Said That and then the instant switch into Terminator mode? What a scene ender y’all! When I watched it again for this recap, I knew what was coming and it still bodied me. The immediacy with which Ruby/Siobhan grasped the, “This is death” thing was so impressive to me. I loved everything about that last 5 mins. So it seems like the SPF is the one who set up that letter. She might have been posing as Cara in that moment, or maybe it was a full illusion--that seems to be her school of magic. I knew this Fae was shady but man! Can you imagine the world where Lapin is still alive at this point? Would love to know his take on this.   

There’s a bit I didn’t mention in the recap when they get back initially and Brennan tries to have the NPCs overrule the PCs on the cuteness levels of the corn monster from last ep that is so funny. Nothing like ganging up on the literal god of the universe you’re playing in. Also funny is him going, “No Zac, this is good,” when he starts listing out the other house spirits/brand names. Gotta love having a captive audience for your carefully constructed nonsense. 

OK, so question. What exactly is Calroy’s plan with the church, huh? Because, you can get baptized all you want, you’re still cake my dude. Is he hoping they’ll let him, what? Die of old age while slaughtering his people? Yikes. 

When Swifty opened his mouth the first time I was like, “Absolutely not,” but now I kind of love him?

So we learn in this ep that all other spirits get their powers from the Bulb or the Hungry One ultimately which is interesting conceptually. “Power is neutral except for how you use it,” is cool and also generally correct imo. Rina mentions the SPF, “Working with the Bulb” at some point and do you think she means the Bulb or the church? Because the Bulb is mindless but she doesn’t necessarily know that. And if she means the church that would also be wild considering what we learned this ep. 

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 5 "Pumpkin Patch" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

The theme was "Let Them Eat Cake," so my dad bought me this foreclosed McMansion down the street, and, like, 500 of my closest friends came dressed in 18th century attire, and, oh, the pool was filled with this, like, caviar slurry. And then at midnight, we just burnt the house down. When the firefighters came, they were actually strippers, and they put out the fire with champagne.

So walk me through this, honey.

Well, as you can see, every pumpkin in the patch is artisanal.

Then we move past the ice sculptures of demonic peeing cherubs, and yes, they will all be peeing vodka and Red Bull.

I'm sorry. Corn maze?

It's just that doing an exact replica maze from The Shining would have taken us way over budget on man power alone.

I told you money was no object.

Well, apparently, one of them died or something.

Do you have any idea what's at stake here?

Okay, well, it's not my fault that some guy died in the '70s.

I am tired of your sad-sack, I'm-a-total-downer-all-the-time schtick.

I'm over it!

Oh, my God, why are you so depressed?

Why do I have to be the homely one?

Just a second, nutbag.

God, do I have to spell it out for you?

You're a weird, psycho lunatic who's gonna end up in an asylum somewhere, staring at a wall, trying to nurse a watering can.

That's it! I can't take this anymore!

That is such a Mary Todd Lincoln thing to say.

You scream "I'm done with you" kind of a lot, and yet you're still standing here.

I think you know you have a good thing going.

You get to bask in my starlight as I do all the work and you get to grumble behind my back about how disrespected you are.

There's the door.

There's the door, bitch!

You did not deserve to be spoken to like that. Ever.

That is bollocks!

Clearly this fake kidnapping is a play to get the sympathy vote. So Gone Girl.

This is the biggest candle night of the year!

I hate you right now!

Halloween is the greatest night of the year. Greatest night. Because on this night, even kind of shy, kind of homely girls dress up like total sluts. I mean, every costume is just a slutty version of something. Slutty teacher, slutty nurse, slutty nun. I saw a girl last year dressed as slutty al-Qaeda!

See, Halloween it's a night for dudes with killer bods to walk around with our shirts off. And it's totally appropriate, as long as we call ourselves gladiators, Chippendales.

I have no idea how you got into this college.

Look, we'll just hang out and play charades!

This cannot be happening!

Hey, what about Black Hairy Tongue Disease? I mean, does nobody here care about Black Hairy Tongue?

What about my pumpkin patch?

I blame you for this.

[NAME], nice boobs.

Join me in saying you are not afraid!

Just baking some cookies for the neighborhood trick-or-treaters.

Uh, they're toenail cookies.

Pink fur coats worn in all weather, my idea. Flapper dresses made out of feathers, also my idea. Oversized sunglasses worn everywhere, my idea, my idea, my idea!

So why are you baking toenail cookies and giving them to children?

Okay, whose side are you on?

I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I'm what you call

a "switch-hitter."

Wait, are you bisexual? Because that's what "switch-hitter" means.

Do you mean "double agent"?

What are you writing?

Do you know how big Halloween is in the candle community?

Is this an ant farm?

There's a mom ant, Deborah, who mostly just lies around and she has about 100 husband ants, who come around and give it to her good, which she really enjoys. And then there's about a million sterile daughter ants who feed her and are her slaves. So, an ideal family.

She'd win. And then I'd beg to be her second-in-command, while quietly pull the strings behind the scenes like Dick Cheney.

This plan involves a lot of circuitous logic.

Oh, my God! Those are, like, $100 each!

They're the highest quality candles that can be purchased retail.

What a brilliant and revolutionary idea.

Are you cheating?

This is a clear violation of the honor code.

You must be new here.

Who are you calling?

I'm gonna get you fired.

At least you wore something nice today.

Remember to smile for your mug shot.

I'm burping uncontrollably like Robert Durst.

They'll know I'm guilty!

I'm next in line and in charge here.

You can sum up my viewpoint on this with one word; indifference.

We are her only hope.

Sometimes, in order for a person to achieve their full potential, they have to do things on their own.

I am in charge here!

I love that you're a man.

This is the most sensual song ever written.

We need to do this right now!

I just saw her boobs.

Oh, a salad date is, it's like, it's more casual than dinner, but more formal than coffee.

Whose pants are these?

You know, you're a human being with feelings and needs, right?

Enough about me and my confusion and sad dead feeling inside.

It just really hurt my feelings.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure my so-called friends are the ones that turned me in so I'm just feeling, like, super alone right now.

Man, I am your biggest Instagram fan!

I just think you are a style genius.

I will never be able to repay you for the kindness you've shown me in here.

Besties for life, I say.

Your bail's been posted.

I knew you'd bail me out.

Can I just say what a relief it is to be able to share it with somebody and not feel judged?

You know, I mean, all my girlfriends are like, "That's immoral." "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Ashamed? What the hell you got to be ashamed for?

You should be proud.

I could've lost my job.

I mean, it lasted, like, 45 seconds, and the whole time, it just felt like I was getting stabbed in the abdomen.

I tied him up and I kept my uniform on and proceeded

to read him his rights. My favorite being "You got the right to remain sexy."

Give me some!

You know he's sexy!

That was one of the best nights of my life.

Well, I've already contacted the police department, despite the fact that a person can't be considered "missing" until at least 72 hours has passed.

That's morbid.

I've already hired an investigator.

What, are you two a couple now?

What the hell are you doing?

You sold me down the river, bitch.

Wait, Gary Coleman's parents stole his kidneys?

I would never say that, because I'm pretty sure that never even happened.

Why does ratting me out sound like exactly something you would do?

You know, I've never thought of myself as a killer, but I am seriously considering ramming this pick into the back of your eye socket.

Maybe you'll get your head sawed off.

You have cameras in my room?

I have eyes everywhere, bitch.

The name of my future perfume is Revenge.

How is that something you just happen to know?

That is stupidest thing I've ever heard.

What's the password?

I just can't eat any more of these.

This ain't The Marriage Ref! This ain't Judge Joe Brown! We ain't on the Maury Show! We ain't standin' in line trying to get tickets to Dr. Phil! I am not Steve Harvey, people, and this ain't the Family Feud!

I'm tryin' to catch a killer.

Help me get the spy gear in the car!

How can you promise?

We're in a maze, you don't know where you're going!

I always knew it would come to this.

Why are we doing this right now?

I forgot the flashlights!

What am I supposed to do with this?

This is so creepy.

It smell like booty in here.

I'm getting a nervous feeling in my stomach.

I might start farting. If I cut some, you promise not to tell anyone?

Oh, my boob!

Stay where you are! I'll come and get you!

Ooh, this is nice.

It's really beautiful.

It looks like you just crossed some stuff out and wrote that in in marker.

Okay, can we talk about that for a second? Because it just happened a few hours ago, and I'm still really traumatized.

I need some cheering up right now.

Excuse me, darling, I'm exhausted.

Wait, we need to hear what happened to you.

Just wondering where you find a house with a pit. The market for them would be pretty limited.

Did you escape, or did you kill him?

I've always had a thing for bad boys.

That got way out of hand.

[bitch4vanya]

Indestructible  (Klaus x Reader x Vanya)

Ep. Number 5

Warning: Mention of drugs (cocaine/weed are abused in this series), Swearing, Pretty gay, Female POV but can be easily changed if needed, SPOILERS, it follows the same story line as the show so there’s a ton, gore

Word Count: 1.8k

“What’re you doing under there?” You asked Klaus who was digging under his bed. He popped his head out, grinning at you wildly.

“Come here,” He waved you over. You cautiously took a seat on the floor next to him. He pulled out a baggie underneath the Polaroids of the two of you.

“Klaus is that-”

“Maybe,” He smiled, he was tired, but still the excitement of doing something he shouldn't overtook the guilt that weighed on him as his deceased brother looked over his shoulder disappointingly. “It helps quiet things down.” He explained looking behind you at a tall dark figures hiding in the corners of his room.

You watched, mesmerized by the fluidity of his motions as he skillfully rolled a joint, sticking the filtered end into his mouth before digging into the box to find a lighter. He took a long hit, coughing a little before passing it to you. 

You stared at your friend’s latest fix. Looking up at him as he exhaled shoulders relaxing as the smoke left his lungs. You craved that peace. The quiet he spoke of. You breathed in the smoke for the first time, 

and for the first time it felt like you could breathe.

//

Diego wordlessly drove you back to Griddy’s where you had your car towed to by the nice man in the truck for the low low price of a thirty second hand job. You played with your hands, feeling absolutely sick to your stomach. How could you have let this happen. Sometimes- Most of the time it felt like you were the only one there for Klaus. You had always been there for him. Even Diego hadn't been the one to bail him out of jail half the time. Or checked up on him while he was in rehab. Hell, to check in with him in rehab. Maybe you weren't the best influences on each other a lot of the time but you had always been there.

“I'm sorry,” You started not looking up at Diego. His jaw clenched. You still had hope for Klaus. Diego knew Patch was gone.

“It’s not your fault.” He croaked trying to keep his voice steady.

“I could have done something-” 

“”Drop it.” You stopped, bowing your head in shame and worry. He signed feeling sorry for snapping but not having the energy to apologize. “Go on.” He says pulling up next to your car. You give him a weak but appreciative smile, getting in your car. He nods and backs out of the parking lot, wiping away a stray tear.

You wait for him to leave before settling into the back seat, an old shirt of Vanya’s as a pillow.

//

“You have beautiful hair.” You smile, running your hands through her soft, dark strands. It was late. You should be in your room but you were dazed and a little high still, just wanting to be close to someone. 

“You’re high.” She sighed, looking away, the moonbeams accentuate the exhaustion on her face. She was still so lovely, and you were sure you looked worse. On her back, her hands on her stomach, her chest ached as you cuddled into her side. She had never felt this way before and she wasn't quite sure what this was.

“Only a little, but you’re always beautiful.” You say dreamily, nuzzling her shoulder. After a moment of silence you ask a question you had been wandering yourself for a couple months now, “Vanya,” She turns her head slightly, still shy but wanting to look at you. “Have you ever been kissed?” She hadn’t left the Academy more that thrice in the last year, even less the year before. The answer was a simple no. In her sixteen years of living she hadn’t known anyone but her siblings. Who would she have kissed?

“No,” She whispered embarrassed, a little curious, definitely anxious as you lifted yourself to get a better look at her. Your face hovered over her’s, eyes flickering down to her lips.

“Do you want to be?

//

You stumbled down the sidewalk, Agnes had found you that morning shivering and whimpering in your sleep. She woke you up by knocking softly on the car window. Handing you a cup of coffee and asking if she could do anything to help. You smiled softly thanking her but ultimately having a mission. You had to find Klaus. 

A couple blocks away from Griddy’s and you saw a small explosion followed by wails that sounded far too familiar. You raced around the corner finally finding Klaus, hunched over a broken suitcase, bits and pieces of it shattered. You called his name bending down beside him and taking his head in your lap. He sobbed clinging on to you as if his life depended on it. 

You hugged him close letting his cries die down until no sound was left. You had never heard anything like it from him. He was absolutely distraught. Tears of your own pooled in your eyes as both relief and dread settled into your chest. 

Finally you got him to stand, your arm wrapped around his ribs as you made your way to the only home you had left.

“You want me to make you some tea?” You asked softly, he had complained of a headache.

“Coffee actually, thanks,” He sighed, scratching his chest and settling on his childhood bed.

“Okay,” You smile softly at him, the expression quickly fading as you turned around and headed to the kitchen. He hadn't wanted to talk about it when you got home and you let that be. What he had been through in the past forty eight hours, calling it horrific couldn't begin to describe it. 

By the time you had made the coffee, Five was speaking to Klaus who looked dazed and annoyed. Five whipped around and glared at you, you stared back at him. “Get out,” He exclaimed, frustrated by your ignoring his glare as you handed Klaus the coffee. He took it gratefully smiling up at you weakly before downing the cup. You looked at the kid, handing him your mug of coffee thinking he probably needed it more.

“I'm trying to have a serious conversation with my brother.” He took the mug anyway, chugging it faster than Klaus had. You looked over at him, he shrugged exhausted and defeated. You go to say something but leave, emotionally drained from the day's events as well.

But you felt the urge to look for the people who had done this to Klaus. You felt the rage in the pit of your stomach burn and you pushed through the tiredness from your two basically sleepless nights. 

“-Interrogation over.” Klaus huffs, leaving to go after you but by the time he makes it outside you’re gone. 

//

A knock on the car window makes Diego and Klaus jump, seeing it's you Diego rolls down the window. “You guys suck at hiding.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Same as you, I'm getting revenge,” You smirk.

“They'll see you,” Diego hissed. You shrug looking up at the mostly abandoned motel.

“”They know why I'm here,” You say looking up and catching Hazel’s gaze. You flip him off smiling grimly. 

“Get in.” You slip into the backseat digging into your jacket pulling out the gun you got the other night.

“I have a gun.” You say after a pause, making Diego whip around to see if you were joking or not.

“Why?!” He exclaimed reaching for it, you pull it out of his reach, as Klaus looks at you amusingly.

“I traded with my roommate for it.” You grin.

“Jen?” He asks.

“Mhm, well it wasn’t exactly a trade, she was like give me your drugs, bitch,” You gesture with the weapon, making Diego flinch, “and I said, Jen, please put it down, and she just kept yelling so I went and got the drugs and she threw the gun at me and told me to get out, and I mean even without any weapons she's pretty intimidating-”

“Where are you staying?” Diego asked, now more concerned than he was before. 

“In my car, “ You say casually, Klaus gave you a worried look, suddenly feeling guilty he hadn't thought about that before. “So now I have like three outfits, from when I was staying in my car last year, no drugs, and a gun.” You explain counting the things off on your fingers.

“Gimme that-'' Diego wrestled you for the gun, reaching behind the driver seat to get it. You yell as he snatched it from your hands.

“Stop! That's one of my only possessions, I gave everything for that!” You pout.

“Relax we were gonna use it for the same reason anyway.” He mutters checking to make sure the gun was loaded.

“Oh. Okay well, go get em, sport,” You grin almost sarcastically, patting his shoulder and exiting the car.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, I was gonna use the gun on them, but since you took it from me, I’ll just have to use my hands,” You smile wildly at Diego's shocked expression. He holds you back from climbing the back stairs of the motel, pushing you back into Klaus who had stepped out with his brother. 

“You two stay here.” He states not waiting for a response before sneaking discreetly but efficiently up the stairs.

“Are you seriously staying in your car?” Klaus asks, concerned etched in his tone.

“Yeah, where else would I go?”

“The Academy? Vanya's place?” You laugh at the thought. You had put her through enough over the years. “And you’re sober?”

“I had to be, I was looking for you,” You say looking over at him as you trailed behind Diego. “And I have no money,” You tease taking a breath as you two finally catch up to Diego. 

“Don't wait up,” You smile racing ahead of the two. You turn a corner into the open motel room. Empty. “Shit,” A shot rings out outside and Diego groans in pain. You sprint and take the gun from his hand, turning and shooting at the vehicle speeding up the street, hitting and shattering the back window and just barely missing one of the back tires. Another shot is heard but you barely notice as you sigh, having let them escape once again.

“Holy shit, (Y/N),” Klaus exclaims holding a hunched Diego, his eyes glued to your abdomen. You look down to see the wound bleeding through your sweater. 

“I'm keeping this.” You state calmly about the gun, aiming to finish what you started. You turn the corner before writhing in pain. Maybe Klaus was right. Maybe Vanya would take you in, at least for the night. You struggle up the street, gripping your stomach, she was only a couple blocks away.

//

“What about my family.” Five muttered.

What about them” The Handler spoke, unamused.

“I want them to survive.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them,” he paused looking over at Klaus, “And that (Y/N), I want her alive to.”

The Handler chuckled, “Well you don't have to worry about that,” She grinned. Five gave her a suspicious look. She shrugged “I'll see what I can do,”

Tag list, 

@anthonystarksglasses 

[tsarisfanfiction]

Grounded pt4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

7k words later and this thing that was supposed to be a short explanation for what I saw as a plot hole in Venom is finally at an end. Got rather out of hand but since when is that unusual with fics? This’ll be proof read, edited, and then posted on AO3/FFN soon; I’m still undecided if I should chapter split it or have it all as a oneshot but it won’t be exactly as it’s been split here because I’ve posted this as I wrote it.

Someone mentioned ‘what if the ep was really like this’ so I’ll reiterate some of my earlier notes: this fic is a reaction to the lack of TB1 or Scott doing any sort of piloting in the S3 Venom despite it being a rescue where speed was important.  All the events in part 2 fit around the events we see in the episode seamlessly (I literally watched it in 5 sec bursts as I was writing to make sure of that), so to them and everyone else who thought that: this fic is designed to be that episode, just viewed through a different lens.  And then I made it worse after the episode was over because why not.

The reaction to this has been fantastic so far, way beyond anything I expected!  Thanks for that, and I hope you enjoy this last installment as much as the rest of it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There was a steady beeping, calm and methodical.  Beep… beep… beep… it went, more of a reassurance than an irritant to the dregs of his consciousness.  Scott recognised it, but couldn’t place it, and found himself more interested in the fresh air flowing around his mouth and nose.  That was more immediately familiar, a constant from his last bout of consciousness, and it didn’t take his stirring brain long to label it as a rebreather.

Was that really necessary? Frowning slightly, he lifted a hand to his face and tugged the machine away, fresh air replaced with warmer air that had just the faintest tang.  The air of the sea.  He’d been on Thunderbird Two, but Thunderbird Two’s air didn’t taste of warmth and salt, rather the recycled air of an enclosed plane in flight, crisp and just a little bit off.  If this wasn’t Thunderbird Two and he was tasting sea air, there was only one place he could possibly be.

He smiled, hand still holding the rebreather falling to his side limply.  He was home.

Opening his eyes was a little more of a challenge, eyelids still heavy and eyelashes catching on each other, but as he blinked his way into awareness, beads of moisture forming in the corners of his eyes but not falling, he realised that he was almost sitting upright, the bed raised to its full extent so he was facing the wall with its fake holographic window rather than the plain and boring ceiling.

Scott appreciated that, letting the rebreather fall from his fingers as he wiped the sleep and moisture from his eyes.  He’d spent far too many hours staring at the ceiling that never changed, and at least the hologram could change.  The actual reasoning behind his positioning was more likely his rib, which Scott would worry about later.  It wasn’t his rib that had tried to kill him, and he looked down at his left arm.

A neat band-aid – a childish one, decorated with bright red biplanes soaring across a blue background that he’d always fought for as a kid – stood out against his bare skin, just below the elbow, and he smiled, wondering which of his brothers was responsible for that one.  On that same forearm he also saw a cannula, attached to tubing with translucent liquid passing through, and grimaced.  He never liked being on a drip.

He was no longer in his uniform.  Part of him – the part that contained his pride – bristled at that, wondering who had stripped him while he was unconscious and why, but the clothes he was wearing were comfortable, well-worn, and unmistakable as his favourite pyjamas even without him looking at them.  His comfort-pyjamas, although he was fairly certain he’d never made the mistake of letting that slip to anyone.  The ones he turned to whenever things got particularly rough, a plain unassuming dark grey with worn patches from the times he’d needed all the support he could get.

It could just be a coincidence, although Scott was uncomfortably aware that if there was one person he couldn’t keep anything truly secret from it was John, but whatever the reason, he was glad of them now.  There was nothing like comfort clothes after a near-death experience.

Considering he’d just had a near-death experience, the lack of anyone in the room with him was somewhat unusual.  Virgil in particular he’d expected to see, his younger brother blaming himself for bringing him out on the mission even before he’d been bitten, let alone afterwards. Kayo hovering unassumedly in the corner, sharp eyes full of concern.  John flickering by his side, watching him for the slightest change. Grandma, retired from caring for strangers but never too old to stay up all night with her family.

Scott eyed the drip. If none of his family were with him, physically or virtually, then that meant something else was going on that trumped his condition.  In their family, there was very little that trumped an unconscious brother or grandson. And if they weren’t with him, he had no intentions of staying put.

He’d removed drips hundreds of times – his own and other peoples’.  By this point, he had it down to an art, even if his sneaky family had tried to make it harder on him by putting it in his dominant arm; there were benefits to being ambidextrous.  He reached across with his right hand, fingers gently probing the needle, and had just found the sweet spot when there was the unmistakable hsss of the door sliding open.

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?” Grandma demanded, striding in and gently but firmly forcing him to release his grip.  “That’s there for a reason.”

“Hey, Grandma,” he greeted, grinning at her and ignoring that she’d just caught him trying to escape. “How long was I asleep?”

“Your siblings brought you back four and a half hours ago,” she told him, picking up the discarded rebreather and placing it on the bedside table before perching on the bed.  Scott watched her carefully, accepting the hand cupping his cheek as a thumb swiped at what was presumably some sleep he’d missed.  “Trust you to wake up the one time I have to use the toilet.  This old bladder can’t hold it in like it used to.”

Scott grimaced good-naturedly at the tmi and she chuckled at him, patting his cheek lightly twice before letting her hand rest.

“You gave us all a scare there, Scott,” she said softly, eyes running over him once before meeting his own.  “You don’t have to try and beat Gordon on that score, you know.  It’s okay to let someone else have that crown.”

“I’d appreciate it if he never gave me another scare in my life,” Scott admitted, before glancing around the room again.  “Where are they, anyway?  Not to sound self-centred, but I don’t usually wake up here alone.”

“Alan and Kayo are dealing with a stalled freighter just outside of orbit and Gordon and Virgil are responding to a sinking cargo ship,” Grandma told him.  “They’ll all be back soon, and delighted to know you’ve decided to re-join the land of the living.”  She tangled her fingers with his, pressing them to her chest with a hand that was almost trembling.  “It was a close call, Scott.  Your brother almost didn’t make it in time.”

His brother? Virgil?  John?  John had had a plan, he remembered that much, although he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the details.  Wait…

“I heard Thunderbird One,” he said, recalling the roar that had soothed him to sleep like a purr.  It could have been a figment of his imagination, but he didn’t think so.  A smile spread across his grandmother’s face.

“Of course you did,” she laughed.  “You boys and your machines.  Well on your way to see your mother and you still recognised your ‘bird.”  The smile was bright for a moment before it dimmed again. “Alan flew all the way to a lab in China to collect a dose of the antivenom before rendezvousing with Thunderbird Two to deliver it.  I’ve never seen that ‘bird fly so fast without you in the hotseat.”

Alan.  Scott could well imagine his youngest brother, face screwed up in concentration and fear, sat in the pilot’s seat.  The idea tied a knot in his chest, but at the same time there was pride, and an unexpected thankfulness for the rib injury that had kept him grounded and subsequently given Alan more flight hours in his ‘bird. Without that…

Without that, he might well have died.  The realisation doused him like cold water, his eyes leaving his grandmother’s to stare blindly at his lap.  He’d known he was dying, remembered a desperate fight against whispered promises of the stars and seeing his Mom again, but sitting in the infirmary, home and safe, it carried a different weight.

“Oh, Scott,” Grandma whispered, releasing his hand and cheek only to draw him in to a careful hug around his shoulders.  “It’s okay. It’s over.”  After a moment his hands found the back of her always there purple onesie, fisting around the fabric as his head rested in the crook of her neck.  “It’s okay.”

There was the slightest of cracks in her voice, a reminder that no matter how much steel she was made of, she wasn’t immune to the idea of loss.  Her parents, long ago, before Scott’s memories began.  Her husband, daughter in law.  Her son, who might still be alive and waiting for them.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, as much for her benefit as his.  “I’m okay.”

Her hand found the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair softly as though he was a young boy woken from a nightmare again.  It was the sort of treatment she didn’t give him in front of his brothers, knowing that he preferred to keep up the illusion of strength in front of them, no matter what.

“I want you to take it easy,” she told him after a minute or so, releasing him and instead gripping his hands in hers.  One pair was trembling, but he didn’t know if it was his or hers.  “I know that’s not in your vocabulary, but I refuse to let you throw yourself back in harms’ way until you’re fully recovered after what happened today.”

“But-” Scott protested, complaints and reasons why he shouldn’t be bedbound queuing up one after the other on the tongue.  A single look from his grandmother quelled them all before he could vocalise any.

“If you can’t do it for the sake of your own recovery,” she said, something in her voice implying that she thought he should treat himself better – he treated himself fine! – “then do it for our peace of mind, Scott.  We were all terrified when we heard what happened. Virgil was stuck watching you slip away with no way of stopping it.  That fear doesn’t magically go away, Scott.  We all know that.”

He was saved from answering by the swish of the door opening again.  He glanced over, wondering who it could be when he hadn’t heard any Thunderbirds come in to land.  Brains and the Mechanic were the only others on the island, and while it wasn’t unusual for Brains to check up on the infirmary, Scott didn’t want the Mechanic near him in his current condition.

It wasn’t the Mechanic. It wasn’t Brains, either – or MAX, for that matter.

“h’Oh, you’re h’awake!” Parker said with a surprised but delighted grin as he fumbled his way into the room carrying a tray laden with food.  “h’I was just bringing food for Mrs Tracy…” he trailed off, but continued to approach the bed.

“Parker, you shouldn’t have,” Grandma smiled, releasing one of Scott’s hands to move the rebreather off of the bedside table.  The older man set the tray down before stepping up to Scott’s side.  He didn’t reach for him, keeping his hands loosely behind his back, but sharp blue eyes raked him up and down.

“’Ow are you feeling?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m fine,” Scott replied, ignoring the eye roll from his grandmother, who clearly didn’t agree with his assessment.  Aside from some token weariness, which he knew was normal after a spell of time unconscious, he really did feel perfectly fine.  Even his rib wasn’t bothering him.

“h’I suppose that’s because you’re h’on the good stuff,” Parker shrugged, making Scott pause.  He should have realised that, especially after all the trouble his ribs had given him on the mission.  The temptation was there to ask how badly his recovery had been set back, but that would have just given Grandma even more ammunition to stay in bed. Besides, he’d be told eventually. Of more immediate interest was Parker’s unexpected visit.

“What brings you to the island, Parker?” he asked, glancing around the room again.  “I don’t see Lady Penelope around?”

“M’Lady’s in the lounge,” Parker told him.  “We came ‘ere to drop off the Centurion-21 fuel for Brains, but ‘eard h’about you and M’Lady requested to stay h’a while.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Grandma reminded him, and Scott smiled in agreement.  “Is she making any progress?”

“h’I couldn’t say for sure,” Parker shrugged.  “But I know M’Lady and Master John won’t stop h’until they get their way.”

Scott frowned.  Combined, John and Lady Penelope were an almost unstoppable force, but he couldn’t think of any reason for that tag-team, not right now.

“What are they doing?” he asked, because anything that big, he needed to know about.  Especially if working on that was a higher priority for John than checking in on him – John, the brother who was too used to sitting out of the loop and firmly inserted himself virtually into any situation with a brother operating at less than one hundred percent.  Scott knew he wasn’t at one hundred percent, not even by his own standards.

“Making sure today’s events never happen again,” Grandma answered, curling her hand back around his again.

Today’s events. The rescue?  Him being bitten?  That was all bad luck, how could they possibly ensure it never happened again? Although, he supposed, if anyone could, it would be the duo currently working on it.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Parker took it upon himself to explain.  “h’It transpires that the reason the ‘ospital ran h’out of h’antivenom was a funding problem,” he said, sounding somewhat unimpressed.  Scott didn’t blame him – whenever money was the problem, he found himself wanting to strangle whoever had decided lining their pockets was more important than human lives. “M’Lady h’is setting up a charity to make sure all ‘ospitals can ‘ave all the h’antivenoms they need.”  Admirable and welcome, but that didn’t explain John’s involvement.  He certainly hadn’t been needed in any of her past charity ventures.

“So what’s John doing?” he asked, hoping his brother was not ruining whoever had decided money was more important than lives.  It wouldn’t be the first time, and while Scott agreed that they deserved it, sometimes John could go a little too far.

“Arranging for International Rescue to have our own stock of all known antivenoms,” Grandma told him, squeezing his hands gently.  “We might not be able to stop spiders sneaking into our Thunderbirds, or you boys throwing yourselves in front of each other, but there is no reason why you should have had to suffer for an hour because you didn’t have the right antivenom on hand.”

That made sense, and Scott nodded his approval.  International Rescue did have a stock of common antivenoms, as well as everything they needed to deal with the local fauna on Tracy Island, but if they could broaden that, at least to the most dangerous venoms, it would only be a good thing.

It was also a typical John reaction – finding out why something had gone wrong and immediately finding a way to stop it happening again.  That, at least, told Scott that John was okay.  If he’d found a solution to the problem then he would be satisfied. No doubt Scott would find himself under close holographic scrutiny in the near future so John could see for himself that he really was fine, but with a solution the what-ifs wouldn’t be playing on his mind.

His other siblings would be less easily pacified.  He had no idea what Gordon knew, having not seen his water-loving brother at all that day thanks to a fishing trawler in trouble, but Virgil and Kayo would be kicking themselves black and blue, and Alan would be stuck in the what if I’d been too late loop.  Scott knew that feeling very well indeed.

He hadn’t yet decided if the fact that it had launched rather than exploded made the fact that he’d reached the Zero-X too late better or worse.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever decide.

“Still, I think we’d better let them know you’ve woken up,” Grandma said, releasing his hands.  “I won’t be long, so don’t even think about getting out of that bed, young man.”  She shared a look with Parker.  “If you’re hungry, see if you can eat some of that food Parker’s brought in.”  A gentle hand touched his cheek lightly before she stood up and left the room.

One look at Parker told him he wasn’t going to be going anywhere, especially when the man perched on the section of bed Grandma had just vacated.  Parker was the one he’d learnt many of his escaping tricks from – if there was one person that would see through them all, it was the butler.

“h’I wouldn’t be in too much of a ‘urry to h’escape, Master Scott,” the older man said, and Scott found himself relaxing back against the bed.  Master Scott.  It was his favourite of Parker’s ways of referring to him, but also the rarest.  He’d graduated to ‘Mr Scott’ after the Zero-X, the man’s acknowledgement that he was now the head of the family without using the dreaded Mr Tracy.  Parker never called him that, not even in public when the rest of the world insisted. Sir was a substitute when society demanded, and Scott always appreciated that.

Master Scott only came out when Parker was being fussy, and never with an audience.  Just like Grandma, he knew and accepted there was a front to be held in front of younger siblings – even if neither of them approved.  If he was Master Scott, he wasn’t expected to make any decisions or take on any of his father’s responsibilities.

“Some food?” the butler asked, gesturing to the tray.  It was homemade, but not by Grandma, and Scott would have to be far worse off to even consider declining that.  In answer, he reached for the toast, only for Parker to lightly touch his wrist and stop him. “You’ll get crumbs h’everywhere if you h’eat like that,” the older man scolded lightly.  “Stay still, there’s a good lad.”

The tray was relocated to his lap, and Scott tore into the offering as soon as Parker retracted his hands, to an amused chuckle from his companion.

“h’It’s not going anywhere, Master Scott,” Parker reminded him.

“He’s just trying to finish it before the others get home and want to share,” John commented, and Scott’s head jerked up to see his brother’s hologram materialise alongside him. He looked tired, not that that was an unusual occurrence over the past few weeks.  “You’re looking better, Scott.”

“I can’t imagine that’s hard,” he managed through a mouthful of food.  The last time he’d been aware of John’s presence, he’d been deep in the clutches of deadly venom.  If he’d looked half as had as he’d felt, it would have been an awful sight.  “How’s the campaign going?”

John pulled a face.  “They’re asking for money, which by itself isn’t a problem because I expected that, but they’re trying to charge us triple what they charge hospitals, and as Lady P’s working to get those rates reduced because they’re extortionate, I’m not letting them use our lives to line their pockets.”

Scott grimaced along with him.  Money grabbers were the worst.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, because there was no way John was letting that slide.

“Persuading them that it’s better in their interest long-term to not try and bankrupt us,” John offered, a bemused look on his face.  “We could afford it, but if they think that they’ll be driving the prices up with every new shipment.  More realistically, I’m talking to Colonel Casey to see if the GDF can’t pull some weight. As they’re military and not private, the companies couldn’t charge them as much.  It would leave us needing the GDF’s good will for access, but we already know the GDF don’t dare put us out of business.”

It was Scott’s turn to pull a face.  He hated getting the GDF involved in anything; for as long as Colonel Casey was a dominant figure in the organisation International Rescue wouldn’t have any issues, but in the longer term he was brutally aware that she was their father’s generation.  At some point, she would be forced to retire and then they’d – he’d – have to handle the full force of the GDF without inside help.

Still, he trusted John and Colonel Casey.  Anything they implemented would be beneficial to International Rescue.

“Let me know what you come up with,” he requested, and John nodded, turquoise eyes briefly scanning across him.

“Alan and Kayo will be returning home in five minutes,” he told him.  “Do you want me to tell them you’re awake or let them find out for themselves when they check in?”

“Tell them once they’ve landed,” Scott decided.  “Virgil and Gordon, too – what’s their ETA?”

“They’re racing Thunderbird Three home,” John shrugged.  “But Thunderbird Three will win.”  Scott chuckled.  Alan somehow always won their races home, no matter how much further away he’d been.

“What are they betting this time?” he asked, and John grinned.

“Loser gets to be your slave for the week,” he said.

“Mine?”

“Well you’re not doing much on your own any time soon,” John told him matter-of-factly.  “Has Grandma given you the rundown?”  Scott blinked, pausing mid-bite.

“I thought I was supposed to be walking around with the ribs,” he ventured tentatively.  “But no, I haven’t been told what the damage is yet. Care to fill me in?”

John glanced away at something Scott couldn’t see.

“Your rib re-broke,” he started bluntly.  “Which I’m sure you’ve realised.  So that’s another six weeks grounded, and this time no-one’s sneaking you onto a Thunderbird before that’s up.”

“Six weeks?” Scott groaned.  John raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Well what did you expect?” he asked.  “Kayo filled us in on the mission details once you were stable.  You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“But-” Scott protested. “What about the mission to find Dad?” John shook his head.

“The new Zero-X will take longer that to construct,” he told him.  “Brains and the Mechanic finished the T-Drive while you were out in Brazil and we’ve got the fuel, so they’re going to test fire it tomorrow to make sure it’s all working before they start on the craft itself.”

“Tomorrow?” Scott asked. “If it’s ready why not today?”

“Even engineers need breaks sometimes, Scott,” John scolded lightly.  “They’ve been working almost non-stop for the past five weeks, which I know you know.”  There was a slightly accusatory tone at the end of his sentence, and Scott realised John knew how closely he’d started watching the two engineers.  “Besides, Grandma and Virgil won’t let you out of that bed for at least twenty four hours, and we all know you won’t be happy unless you see it for yourself.”

Well, they weren’t wrong.

“You still haven’t told me why I’m getting a slave for a week over a broken rib,” Scott realised, and John once again raised an eyebrow at him.

“You haven’t tried to get out of bed yet?”

“Don’t h’encourage ‘im, Master John,” Parker groaned.  “Mrs Tracy ‘ad to stop ‘im h’earlier and ‘e ‘asn’t ‘ad h’a chance since.”

“It was an hour before the antivenom reached you, Scott.  The damage doesn’t get miraculously fixed just because the venom’s gone,” John continued.  “Your blood pressure is still low so I’d wager you’ll probably pass out if you try to stand right now, no matter how ‘fine’ you feel, and we don’t yet know for sure if it’s done any damage to your heart.”

“My heart?”  The soft background beeping caught Scott’s attention and he turned his head to the EKG.  It was on, signalling that it was receiving data from wireless transmitters.  He put a hand to his chest; underneath the pyjamas he felt the tell-tale patches, leaving him with no doubt that it was his own heartbeat it was recording.  “Oh.” That was low.  Not dramatically so, but lower than his normal resting rate.

“It’s recovered reasonably well, but Grandma and Virgil still aren’t happy with it,” John told him. From his tone, it wasn’t only the family medics unhappy.  “I know you don’t like staying in bed, but unless you want to fall over and make your ribs worse, I would suggest you stay put.”

Scott scowled.

“You’re also recovering from dehydration, so drink up and leave that drip in,” Grandma added, walking back in with a large cup, complete with straw.  “I see there’s nothing wrong with your appetite,” she observed. Parker obligingly removed the now-empty tray away from Scott’s lap and stood so that she could sit back on the side of the bed.  “Drink.”

Obediently, he took the cup with both hands and sipped at the liquid, which revealed itself to be simply water.  A dull rumbling even through the soundproofing of the infirmary told him Thunderbird Three was back.  John confirmed that before signing off to talk to their returning siblings.

Scott made a note of the time, wondering how long it would take before he had visitors.

Three minutes later and the door slammed open to find Kayo and Alan shoulder-to-shoulder, clearly racing each other.

“No running in the house!” Grandma barked, but neither of them looked the least apologetic.  They did at least walk the distance from the door to his bed, where Grandma had slipped off to let them get closer.  Both stopped short, Alan fidgeting from foot to foot at he stared at him with open relief, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Come here,” he told his youngest brother, spreading his arms in demand of a hug.  As always, Alan needed no further invitation, crashing into him and wrapping his arms around him tightly, although it didn’t miss Scott’s attention that it wasn’t Alan’s usual rib-squeezing hug.  He appreciated that, curling his own arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Alan was trembling.  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he mumbled into Scott’s neck.  “I thought-”

“I’m still here, kid,” he interrupted quietly.  “And I hear I have you to thank for that.”  The sniffle he got in response told him it was Alan, the baby brother, rather than Alan the emergency responder he was dealing with.  “You did good.”

“I thought I was too late,” Alan mumbled, and there were tears against Scott’s skin.  He tightened his grip on his brother.  “You looked d-dead.  I d-didn’t think you were breathing.”

“I’m here and breathing,” Scott reminded him, letting him sob on his shoulder as long as he needed, rubbing the neoprene – both siblings were still in uniform – underneath his hand reassuringly.  He remembered the same reaction after EOS had first made herself known to them, only that time it had been John Alan had clung to in tears, post-adrenaline rush. They needed to stop putting their lives in Alan’s hands like that.

But Alan would settle, barring the new nightmare fuel that never went away, once he’d let out the initial emotions.  It was either a blessing of youth, or a coping strategy he’d been forced to employ too young. Kayo, who was watching with unguarded relief across her face, was like John; pragmatic and level-headed.  A serious conversation would settle her, although when she met his eyes, he linked his hands together behind Alan’s back and made them flutter, shooting her a quick grin.

The resulting glower she sent him didn’t hide the softening in her eyes, or the way her shoulders slumped. Satisfied for the moment, he returned his attention to his youngest brother, who seemed content to stay where he was.  Scott let him, nodding at Parker when the older man gestured that he was going to leave the room.

No sooner was Parker gone than Gordon burst through the door, Virgil hot on his heels.

“Scott!”  Gordon skidded to a stop just behind Alan, reaching out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder where he could.  “Don’t do that again,” he demanded, amber eyes flicking to the EKG for a split second before he found some space to perch on the bed behind Alan.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Scott shot back.  Gordon grinned.

“I won’t if you don’t,” he said.  “Deal?”

“Deal.”

They couldn’t really promise that, not in their profession, but Scott saw something lift behind Gordon’s eyes, the banter regardless doing something to reassure him.  Gordon had always used humour to cope.

Four siblings down, or at least addressed, and one to go.  Somehow, Scott didn’t think a hug or joke would work quite so well on Virgil. Guilt was deep-set in brown eyes, but Virgil didn’t look at him directly, focusing on the EKG and drip as he bustled around.

“Virgil,” he said, pulling one hand away from Alan to catch his brother’s arm the moment Virgil got in reach. It was the arm with the needle in it, bright band aid stark against his skin.  Virgil’s eyes focussed on it and Scott sighed, tightening his grip on the neoprene beneath his fingers.  “Look at me.” He couldn’t do much, not while Alan was still clinging to him, but hell if he was going to let Virgil shut himself away and stew in a self-inflicted puddle of misplaced guilt.

Virgil stilled, but didn’t obey.  Scott closed his eyes and sighed again, squeezing Alan lightly.  The blond snuffled but didn’t otherwise move.

“Virgil.”  That was John’s voice, his final brother reappearing holographically at the foot of Scott’s bed.  The middle brother ignored him, too.

“Kid, your brother’s talking to you,” Grandma chipped in.  “At least have the manners to look at him.”  Despite the words, there was no scolding in her tone, just a quiet encouragement.  Virgil glanced up at her, and a look passed between them that Scott couldn’t see before Virgil slowly turned to face him.

“Thank you,” he said before Virgil could apologise, or say something else nonsensical.  Whatever his brother had been gearing up for, it clearly wasn’t that; he blinked, startled, before opening his mouth to probably-protest. “I know it was Alan that got the antivenom, but you’re the one that kept me alive long enough to get it.”

“I’m the reason you needed it in the first place!” Virgil snapped, looking away again.  “If I’d paid more attention… if I-”

“If nothing,” Scott interrupted, conscious that they had an audience but unable to ask anyone to leave.  He wanted his family there, with him, and knew they were all busy reassuring themselves that he was going to be fine.  “You’d have done the same thing if our positions were reversed, except I’m not as good as you with all the medical stuff.”

“You’d have done enough,” Virgil mumbled, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“And you did enough,” he returned.  “No what-ifs, Virgil.”  Hell knew he’d told himself that enough through the years, with varying levels of success.

Virgil at least met his eyes again, even though Scott could see it wasn’t enough to lift the guilt. That would take much longer, including him making a full recovery and a conversation without the rest of the family listening in, intentionally or not.

“You’re staying in that bed,” he said instead, and Scott made a grumbling noise of protest.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied.  “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but John made quite the compelling argument.”

“Does this mean you’ll listen to me for once?” John asked disbelievingly, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean, for once?” Scott asked.  “I listen to you!”

“When it suits you,” John rebuked.  “I have a list, if you’d care to hear it.”

Scott wouldn’t put it past John to actually have a list.  He turned his attention back to his other brothers without responding, to an amused noise from the space monitor, and gave Alan a grin as the youngest finally pulled back from his shoulder, eyeing him with teary blue eyes.

“I’ll sit on you if you try and get up,” the youngest told him firmly, look somewhat ruined by those eyes. Gordon laughed.

“Alan, you’re a twig.”

“Am not, fishboy!”

“Are, too!”

“Not!”

“Boys,” Kayo interrupted, taking a few steps closer to the cluster on the bed.  With one arm now free, Scott reached for her and got a light hug at his silent request.  It didn’t last long, but it was enough for the rest of the tension to leave her shoulders before she stepped back, out of his reach again.

“Hey, where’s my hug?” Gordon demanded, and Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want a hug, you’ve got to come get it yourself,” he said.  “I’m not moving.”

Permission gained, Gordon shoved Alan out of the way, the younger falling off the bed with a squawk of indignation, and wrapped himself around Scott.  It was far looser than his usual hugs, but out of all his brothers, Gordon was best at gauging what an injured person could take.  Scott rested his chin on his shoulder, feeling the dampness of the neoprene that betrayed that Gordon had been in the water during his mission.

Tension drained out of his aquanaut brother’s powerful shoulders and Scott found himself relaxing as well.  He’d always found it easiest to relax and wind down when his brothers were okay, and with three out of four openly reassured, his own nerves were less on edge.

“I’m still sorry,” Virgil said after a moment.  Scott still had hold of his bicep, and glanced up at him as he spoke.  That pain and guilt was still there in brown eyes, but it was Gordon and Alan that Virgil was looking at.  A big brother himself, he too was being drawn into some sort of reassurance by the youngest two calming down.

There were many responses Scott could give, and maybe later once it was just the two of them he’d dive deeper in if Virgil hadn’t managed to settle himself and needed a stronger release, but in that moment, with his family around him and the knowledge that whatever happened next, they’d survived this hurdle, there was only one thing to say.

“I know.”

Surprised brown eyes met his, as though Virgil had expected another rebuke, another it’s not your fault, but Scott knew better.  He didn’t blame Virgil at all, but it wasn’t his forgiveness Virgil needed; his brother needed to forgive himself for his perceived transgressions, and that he couldn’t do as long as Scott stayed stubborn.  He tugged at the bicep in his grip, coaxing Virgil closer with an inviting smile.

Virgil hesitated, understanding but unsure.  Scott didn’t say anything else, didn’t push harder, but then Grandma put a hand on Virgil’s other arm and whatever remaining fight there was seeped away.

It was Gordon’s turn to squawk as he found himself nudged out of the way, but he went willingly, surrendering the space to Virgil as Scott’s dark-haired brother wrapped his arms around him cautiously.

“I’m okay,” Scott murmured into his brother’s ear, returning the hug as fiercely as he could.  Like Alan before him, Virgil shook ever so slightly under his touch, but unlike the youngest, no tears were shed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Virgil mumbled.  “You stopped breathing for a minute just before Alan arrived and I thought that was it.”

“I heard you,” Scott admitted, just as quietly.  “I don’t think I’d have had the strength to keep fighting without you.  Alan might have got the antivenom, but you saved me, too.”

Virgil gave a shuddering breath and his arms tightened, just a little.

They stayed like that for several minutes, Scott managing to relax further now that was the fifth and final sibling’s immediate concerns addressed, but eventually Virgil pulled back, the ghost of a smile on his face.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Gordon crashed into him.

“Group hug!” he declared, reaching out to snag Alan and pinning an unprotesting Virgil in place as Scott’s three youngest brothers gathered as close as they could for a tangle of arms and bodies on Scott’s bed.  Alan flailed in Kayo’s direction and the woman stepped closer, slipping an arm delicately around the back of Scott’s neck and more tightly around Alan.  Scott grinned at her before looking past the mass of brothers to lock eyes with the one he couldn’t reach.  John grinned back at him, and even though he wasn’t physically there, Scott didn’t need it to know his immediate brother was just as relieved.

The hug lasted until Grandma intervened, suggesting that they let him have a little bit of space. He didn’t need space, but they all heard the underlying reminder that he was in that bed for a reason.  After that, it was back to business as usual, his on-Earth siblings scattering to change on Grandma’s order and reconvening later in their civvies with various forms of entertainment while John went back to his latest project.

Lady Penelope poked her head in later, but he didn’t see Brains – or the Mechanic – until the next day.

“I-it’s time to t-test the T-Drive e-engine,” the engineer told him the next morning, after checking him over in his own desire for reassurance; there was some guilt there as well, for pushing him out on the rescue, but thankfully Brains was much easier to calm than his brothers – the fact that Brains hadn’t seen him almost dead helped.

“Give me five,” he said, reaching for the drip stuck in his arm.

“Make that ten, Brains,” Virgil rumbled, catching Scott’s hand.  “Scott’s not up to walking even if he thinks he is.”

Scott groaned, but Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought John made a convincing argument for you to stay in bed?” he challenged, and Scott shrugged.

“That was yesterday.”

“And your heart rate still isn’t back to normal, so it’s the hoverchair or nothing,” Virgil rebuked, rolling his eyes.

Scott sighed but dutifully held out his arm for Virgil to remove the drip instead.

“No, that’s coming with you,” Virgil corrected, gently pushing it down to his side again.  “Just the EKG.”  The machine was turned off, but Virgil made no move to relieve him of the transmitters, telling Scott that it was being linked back up later. Wonderful.  “Now then, let’s get you out of this bed-”

Scott leaned forwards and swung his legs around, placing them on the floor and pushing himself to his feet.

“Woah!”  Virgil sprinted around the bed and caught him as his vision fuzzed.  “John’s compelling argument?”  Scott was vaguely aware of being shifted around as the world spun around him, but it was a surprise to find himself in the hoverchair by the time he was fully aware of his surroundings again.  Usually, Virgil would dump him straight back in bed.

“Okay, John’s compelling argument still holds,” he admitted, leaning against the back of the chair and closing his eyes briefly as the world tried to spin a little more.

“Let’s get going,” Virgil sighed.  “Hands off the controls; I’m steering.”  Scott grumbled, but had no doubt that the controls had actually been disabled.  “As soon as the test is over, you’re coming straight back.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked, and Virgil chuckled.

“Not at all.”

They were last to the balcony; it didn’t escape Scott’s notice that the Mechanic was the other end to the rest of them, talking quietly to Brains but otherwise ignoring the Tracys. That suited Scott just fine; if the test worked, he was well aware he owed the man an apology for his accusations of sabotage.  Although maybe he’d keep that back until the Zero-X2 launched successfully and Dad was home. Just in case.

“You look pale,” Grandma commented.  “Did he try to stand up?” she asked Virgil.  Scott glowered as Virgil rolled his eyes in answer.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.  “He didn’t pass out entirely, otherwise the test would be happening without him, whether he liked it or not, but it was close.”

“He is right here,” Scott grumbled.

“And he’s going to keep his mouth shut and drink this up,” Grandma informed him, pressing a cup of water, complete with straw, into his hands.  “You shouldn’t be out of bed at all, young man.”

“T-test is ready,” Brains announced before Scott could find a retort that wouldn’t get him taken straight back to the infirmary.  “I-igniting T-Drive in three, two, one.”

Without binoculars, it was difficult to see what was happening on the platform, but nothing exploded and after several moments all that could be seen or heard was the whining of an engine.  It was higher pitched than the engines Scott was used to, but there were none of the warning noises suggesting that something was wrong.

Beside him, Virgil sighed in relief while Gordon and Alan whooped.

“C-cutting engine,” Brains called, and it powered down easily.  Smooth as any of the best plane engines Scott had piloted – and he’d piloted many.

It had worked.  They had a T-Drive engine.

They could go find Dad.

“Scott?”  Virgil sounded worried, and he opened his eyes – when he had closed them? – to look up at his worried brother.  Alan and Gordon hovered nearby, and he looked at them all in turn, even John’s silent hologram – his ginger brother hadn’t been there when the test had started, hadn’t been expected after he pointed out their holotech’s range didn’t reach that far.  “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?  He had a broken rib, was recovering from a near-fatal spider bite and its side effects of dehydration, bradycardia and hypotension, and the man who had almost killed his brothers multiple times was standing the other end of the same balcony.

But they were one step, one significant step closer to Dad.

“Yeah,” he said, staring out past them, at the platform cradling the most important engine International Rescue had ever created.  For the first time since that horrid trash mine day five weeks earlier, he could honestly say, “I’m okay.”

Fin

[ofsvnlightt]

it’s been a while since i’ve done one of these! update for jester

her memories were up through episode 130 but now they’ll be from 136! instead of doing an in character self para, i’m just going to do bullet points this time. it’s still going to be a very long post though. 🤷‍♀️ 

also, a quick note, i loved using amanda arcuri as jester’s fc because of her blue hair but she had minimal resources and she looked too young for how i picture jester. so now she’s back to laura harrier, who i’ve used previously. and despite her being brunette, jester still has blue hair!! :)

jester’s updated memories, aka a walk through 6 episodes of critical role:

short version:

currently ahead of the tomb takers, the mighy nein arrive at a secret entrance lucien had mentioned and begin their way into another section of the aeoran ruins. setting a trap, they successfully ambush the tomb takers, killing 3 of the 5. lucien and cree get away and now they’re chasing them...again, instead of being ahead like they were.  finally catching up, lucien opens a portal to the astral sea. him and cree jump in, threshold crests in hand, and begin floating toward the cognoza ward. beginning to fight but ultimately avoiding a huge water elemental, the nein also make it through the portal in pursuit of the two remaining members of the tomb takers. they need to stop them from bringing this section of aeor back to the material plane.

loooong version: numbers in parentheses are the ep numbers  

so, where we last left off, the nein were bedding down for the night in caduceus’ home, the blooming grove. (130)

the next morning, caleb teleports the nein to eiselcross. magic is tricky here due to the ruins of aeor, but luckily, they’re only about two days away from their target, the vurmas outpost, where essek is located. (131)

they make it there without issue, and recruit essek for their trip into some of the ruins as well as their eventual fight against lucien and the tomb takers. 

making it to lucien’s secret entrance (thanks to the wildmother) the nein begin their trek into the depths of aeor to try to beat lucien to whatever he’s planning to do to bring the cognoza ward back.

 they almost immediately get attacked by 3 undead ice giants. (132) but they make it out alive, killing two and turning one into a sloth.

as they continue their journey and after some yasha/veth hijinks, they’re still down hp but run into some more monsters, behirs. they defeat them too though. (132/133)

continuing, they come upon a portion of the city. with invisibility from veth and flight from caleb, caduceus checks it out.

finding it safe, the rest of the nein make their way to the center of this ruin, an amphitheater. there, they find a blue dome, with people on the inside, still. frozen in time.

there’s nothing they can do, unable to find the root of the spell or whatever made the dome, so they continue on their way. after a lot of discussion of how to ambush the tomb takers since they’re ahead of them, they back track a little and set a bunch of traps. juster casts the symbol spell halfway down a cliffside, and just below, caleb, beau, and essek set 3 intuit charges.

they then go into caleb’s tower and jester prepares a hero’s feast so they’re ready for the tomb taker’s arrival. caleb takes watch (through frumpkin) outside of the tower but out of range of the intuit charges; everyone else sleeps in the tower, but in the foyer together instead of in their rooms. 

about 5 hours into their night’s rest though, essek gets word from the rangers hidden outside the ruins that there are 5 figures approaching - the tomb takers.

fjord orders to engage, hoping to slow them down a little so the nein can get a full rest. they don’t however. caleb is notified via frumpkin disappearing that the intuit charges went off so he dispels the tower, popping everyone out and waking them up.

they all rush to the location of the charges seeing 3/5 tomb takers unconscious, lucien and cree the only ones standing.

out of frustration and self preservation, cree dimension doors the two of them away.

fjord, yasha, and veth take final blows on the 3 unconscious tomb takers to super make sure they’re dead and can’t come back. veth shoots one through the mouth with her crossbow, yasha and fjord decapitate the other two. (133/134)

the nein then make their way back to the ruin from the day before, following a blood trail left by cree. 

when the trail runs dry momentarily, they continue on their way through the destroyed city. beau and veth scout ahead, coming back to report that they saw bodies of some strange aeoran creatures.

they all backtrack once again, checking out the amphitheater. essek is unable to ascertain anything about the dome as well. finding a somewhat still put together body, caduceus casts speak with dead on an aeor citizen. (ooc: they gain some important information but nothing necessary for how i’m playing jester.)

veth then inspects an automaton that was near the dome. using a scavenged gem from much earlier in the nein’s explorations of the aeoran ruins, she inserts it into the robot, bringing him to life. he’s very damaged and can’t walk, but can speak. jester offers to carry him on her back. caduceus names him charlie.

the group making it to where veth and beau were before, they all see the carnage of the battle that was done here, most likely by lucien and cree. 

stealthily going past it, they continue down the thoroughfare before coming to a wall or giant sheet of rock. following it to the left, beau finds an opening. walking through, they find more spatterings of blood, cree’s most likely. the tunnel opens into a chamber, with a pulsing spire in the middle of it. electrical. 

realizing they’ve been followed by a creature similar to the ones they’d seen earlier, that’d been killed by lucien and cree - an aeoran reverser, they run into the electric chamber and caleb casts globe of invulnerability.  from one of the other hallways, they’re greeted by another experiment, an aeoran absorber. 

they fight the creatures and slay them all, making it out alive. coming to some doors that charlie believes is to the genesis ward, the group lay outside them and take a much needed rest.

before going to sleep, jester scrys on cree. her and lucien are patching themselves up. she curls into a ball (as a cat does, she’s a tabaxi) and rests while lucien, who doesn’t need sleep, takes watch.

waking up, beau and caleb both have a third eye marking - beau’s on her chest, caleb’s on his left palm. (135)

approaching the doors, veth and fjord try to open one but a hinge snaps and it gets stuck. yasha and jester then try, successfully getting the door open. entering, the nein see before them, a wide open area, much like previous places within the ruins they’ve seen. 

however, in the center, this section of the city curves upward, as if there was an explosion of some sort from underground.

beau climbs the crater and looks down, seeing partially ruined and sheered off remnants of a subterranean city.

they all climb up to be with beau and looking down, jester sees a room just a few levels down that looks familiar from her scry.

using rope to climb down into the crater, everyone stops on the first level where there is a records room. caleb is in heaven. yasha and essek stay behind with him while the rest move on.

jester leading the way, they rest begin to climb down to the room she recognizes, but they stop on the next floor down as the rope begins to fray.

when the other three finish, caleb begins to climb down the rope, not knowing it’s somewhat compromised, and it snaps. he casts polymorph, turning himself into a bird, thus making it the rest of the way fine. essek floats down (that’s like his thing), and yasha bamfs out her wings, flying herself down. she then carries everyone down to the third level, the one they want to be on, as said by jester.

they walk down the hallway and come to a chamber where there are three rooms. one reads repair terminal. they take charlie there to fix him, setting him inside a tube. it closes and when it opens, what was once a damaged, half-robot, is now a fully functional one. he introduces himself as devexian.

fjord asks about threshold crests, mentioning the astral sea, and he tells them to go to b9. within the immensus gate, that’s where the planar tethers are. he leaves, wanting to try to recover any allies

exiting the repair terminal, the nein head into the rejuvenation experimentation room. there, they find two tubes, one is damaged. fjord goes into the undamaged one and as a gem glows at the bottom of the tube, he gains the benefits of a long rest. essek ascertains that dunamancy is at work here and takes the gem from the damaged tube and gives it to caleb, for later use.

going back into the central chamber, they are crossed with another creature - this one an aeoran nullifier. a battle begins.

another creature shows up mid fight, but caduceus banishes it. finishing off the nullifier, the nein run back to the entrance (the crater) and since they have no rope, some use fly and others feather fall  (via veth) to float down to level b9, hot on the trail of lucien and cree.

coming to b9, they all land into rushing water. something from far ahead is causing this stream of sorts. (136)

beginning to move forward, beau notices that the shadows aren’t as intense as they used to be. one of the eye markings has given her (and caleb) darkvision. they also now have true sight (can see through illusions) and can speak to others and each other telepathically. 

caleb also reveals that during jester’s scry the night before, sprinkle was chittering in her ear. during this ritual, artagan usually appears to help her out, but this time, even though he was, only sprinkle could be seen. this means that sprinkle has been artagan (almost) the whole time!!!! he’s been inhabiting him. artie then appears and explains that he wanted to be close to jester ever since the iron shepherds incident. (ep 26)

continuing down the hall they come to a closed door labeled t-dock project. opening the door, jester, yasha, and caleb walk down the lead-lined hallway into a small room. investigating it for a little bit, yasha grabs essek, and him and caleb check out the runic circle in the middle of the room. the symbols are a combination of both transmutation and dunamancy. they deduce (with help from journals in the room) that it was used for temporal alteration - aka, time travel.

while the group is semi-split up with some in this chamber, the connecting hallway, and the main hallway, veth and fjord hear (and fjord can see) a monster jump down to their level. after some chaotic planning, the group decides to just walk away and not engage with the monster. 

continuing down the main hallway, stealthily now as to not alert to monster, they come to two more rooms. beau investigates. one in labeled kitchen, the other common area. she sees two aeoran absorbers napping in the kitchen, so she let’s the others know and they head toward the common area. entering, caleb approaches a plaque that reads immensus hall, but gets too close to an unseen intuit charge, setting it off. a trap set by lucien and a taste of their own medicine.

the blast also injures and awakens the absorbers. deciding to run instead of fight, the nein enter the immensus hall and caleb puts up a wall of force to keep the two absorbers and the other monster out. it works to their benefit and the creatures fight each other instead.

descending down some stairs, the water has gotten deeper and underneath, beau spots two more intuit charges. caleb uses dispel magic to disarm them.

seeing another threshold into another room, veth invisibly stealths ahead. entering the room, she sees a ring pillar on a raised platform and two figures darting around the pillar. within the ring is a crackling blue line - the source of the water. she returns to everyone else and tells them.

beau and caleb hear lucien in their minds (he can speak telepathically too....he has nine eyes, where as beau and caleb have 3) saying that he’s set up precautions (intuit charges) but he’d like to chat first.

[enter villain monologue]

cree inserts a tuning rod, lucien lifts a lever, and the thin crackling line opens enough to let out a mass of water. she switches out the rods and lifts the lever once more, the new portal fully opening to the astral sea.

lucien invites them to follow, but as they begin chase, a huge water elemental forms from the last rush of water lucien let out. the group fights a little bit but ultimately circumvents the elemental and jumps through the portal

jester’s the last one and as she jumps through, the elemental grabs her, but with a clutch mage hand move by veth, she pulls the lever on the other side of the portal, closing it and severing the hold the elemental had on jester.

and now they begin/continue their pursuit of cree and lucien, now floating in the astral sea. next stop: the cognoza ward, to stop the two remaining members of the tomb takers in setting the threshold crests and bringing it to the material plane.

and that’s where episode 136 ends! i could’ve/should’ve just gone to 138 to have her memories fully caught up, but we’re close to the climax of this current arc and so much is going to happen in the coming week(s), that i didn’t want to do that. and look at how long this is!!! it’s 52 bullet points and it would be at least 20 more if i added two more episodes.... so i think this is okay for now. :)

if you read all this, snaps and hats off to you. ily

[margoshansons]

Desperate Measures: 8/?

Bellamy x Reader: Masterlist

Summary: After being sent the coordinates for a bunker not far from the camp, Bellamy, Clarke, and Y/N go on a road trip. Y/N meets an important figure from her past.

Warnings: Swearing, hallucinations, suicide references, violence, angst, drug use

Notes: While I love this ep, I can’t bring myself to change much of it. Based on 1x08 ‘Day Trip’

She refused to speak to Marcus, even after he had threatened Clarke and Bellamy. She knew he didn’t mean it. Marcus had a one-track mind, one of the few things the two shared. 

One of the things she had learned from him.

Bellamy left the radio tent, catching Y/N’s lingering gaze before he sat down beside her, staring into the flames. “Your dad is really pushing to speak to you.” 

She remained silent, sharpening her makeshift daggers with a rock she had found outside the camp. After her encounter with the grounders a few days ago, she had learned that she had a skill for throwing knives, but they needed to be sharp to do any damage.

“I believe his exact words were ‘let me see her or I’ll blow up the camp myself.’” Bellamy’s smirk crept across his face, shifting his gaze to Y/N’s profile, her jaw clenched.

“I told you,” She began, “He’s not my father” Her eyes were downcast, anger stirring in her stomach as she recalled the last thirteen years aboard the Ark. How everything had finally been going right until the flaw was discovered, until she asked his justification for the culling. Until he cuffed her and sent her to the skybox.

“Too many people.” He had said. 

Callous, insensitive, heartless.

She’d spent so long wondering if she was the same way. If she shared the same insensitive nature surrounding others. Her eyes peeked at Bellamy through her lashes, catching the bright smile on his face and her chest burst into a thousand butterflies. She tucked both sides of her hair behind her ear and stretched a smile on her face. 

There’s no way she and Marcus shared his callousness, not when just looking at Bellamy sent her stomach fluttering.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps. Clarke appeared before the two of them, pack slung around her shoulder and a determined look on her face. “Kane gave me coordinates to a bunker a few miles from here,” She tossed Bellamy a pack, an expectant look on her face, “We’re heading out soon, so get packed.”

“I’m coming with” Y/N spoke up, throwing the rock away and tucking the freshly sharpened knife into her boot. 

“No, you’re not” Bellamy ordered, standing up alongside her. He grasped her bicep, halting her in her tracks, “You just finished recovering.”

“Which is why I need to come with you,” Y/N explained, grasping the other small blade and tucking it in her waistband, “I’m tired of sitting around and doing nothing.”

Clarke smirked at her friend’s impatience, “All right fine.” She shrugged, reaching around to grab an extra pack.

“Clarke--” 

The blonde sighed before facing Bellamy’s furrowed brow and pressed lips, “She knows the area,” Clarke defended, drawing her gaze to Y/N’s jacket pocket, “And other than Raven, she’s the smartest person in this camp.”

“Smarter actually,” Y/N bragged, trying to push down the twisting feeling in her stomach at the thought of Bellamy using Clarke’s name. “Mechanics is small stuff, fixing things that are broken, I make sure things never break in the first place.”

“Oh yeah?” Raven called teasingly from the water tent, “Is that why Mecha was without power for three hours last year?”

Y/N bit her cheek, a smile pulling at her lips “That was not my fault Reyes,” She tried to defend herself, but the memory sent a bright feeling erupting within her and she resisted the urge to laugh.

“Really Franco? Because I distinctly remember someone deciding that a quickie with her boyfriend was worth not checking the converters.” Raven replied, waggling her brow at the engineer.

Bellamy chimed in, crossing his arms, “Boyfriend?” His brow was furrowed, eyes narrowing. 

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, her chest thumping at the thought of Bellamy finding out about Kyle. She was unsure why, but alarm bells went off nevertheless. She threw the pack over her shoulder “Doesn’t matter, let’s go.”

The three of them set out of the camp, gate closing behind them as Bellamy continued to flash nervous looks toward the two girls next to him. 

“You know the first dropship will be coming down any day now,” Clarke spoke from between the two of them.

“And?” Bellamy asked, feigning innocence. Y/N couldn’t blame him.

“And you can’t avoid Jaha forever,” Clarke reminded the two of them. Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Jaha and she definitely didn’t want to think about how Marcus would be on the first ship down. 

“I can try” Bellamy breathed, walking a few meters ahead of Clarke. 

The blonde turned her attention to Y/N, “You know Kane’s gonna come down too.” 

She rolled her eyes, not wanting to talk about him. “You talked to Abby yet Clarke?” She shot back. Y/N knew it was a low blow, but she caught the smirk growing on Bellamy’s face and her chest lit up again.

“Here we are” Clarke breathed, stopping in front of a patch of grass. Y/N skid to a stop, her eyes fixed on the clearing before them, jaw slack as she scanned the ruined buildings, trying to recreate what the world would’ve looked like before the bombs.“There has to be a door somewhere.”

“Let’s split up to look for it” Y/N encouraged. She shook her head free of awestruck thoughts and gripped her knife tighter as she separated from the group.

 “Stay within shouting distance!” Bellamy warned the two women, sending a nervous look Y/N’s way before she moved away.

She hated being this exposed in grounder territory. Even if a grounder got close enough to slice with the knife, or she could throw it far enough, there was a chance of her opening her wound again, and the last thing she needed was Bellamy finding out about her genetic anomaly. 

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to keep it a secret. Miller knew, she assumed Clarke knew, even Marcus knew. Why was she so worried about others discovering it?

She popped a nut from the new ration packs in her mouth, relishing in the sweet taste that coated her tongue. A twig snapped behind her and she whipped around, brandishing the knife at the intruder, lowering it when she saw a familiar freckled face appear in the tree line.

“What the hell Bellamy?” She asked, relaxing her shoulders.

Bellamy held his hands up in surrender, “I was following you, making sure you were doing okay.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, “I told you, I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes and pressed forward while Bellamy’s hand latched onto the tips of her fingers. “I almost lost you yesterday” His brown orbs held a certain vulnerability she had only ever seen around Octavia, and he bit his lip as he stared down at her, “Excuse me if I want to check in on my friends.” He nudged her side playfully and she rolled her eyes. The vulnerable look he had been sporting disappeared when the two of them heard their names called.

“Y/N!, Bellamy!” Clarke’s voice rang through the trees and the two of them ran back to the clearing they had entered earlier. Apparently, Clarke had discovered a door to the bunker, and Bellamy leaned over to hit the lock with his ax, shattering the metal.

They pried the door open and the smell hit her before anything else. “So much for living here,” She crinkled her nose in disgust as they descended the worn staircase. Cobwebs hung from the walls and the rancid smell seemed to get worse as they descended deeper into the forgotten bunker. 

The three of them dispersed as they searched for something, anything that would be helpful against the upcoming winter. 

Y/N used her knife to pry open a chest perched on a rickety shelf. Orange met her eyes and she reached forward, her hands grasping the soft material.

“Blankets,” She muttered angrily, tossing the blankets back into the chest and running her hand through her hair. Clarke’s hand softly grasped her arm.

“At least we have protection for winter.” The ever-optimistic leader reminded her. 

“Yeah? We’ll still freeze,” Bellamy huffed in annoyance, “How about medicine or food or a decent freaking tent?!” He kicked a barrel over, leading to several clangs against the floor. 

Y/N knelt down, examining the liquid before shining her flashlight on Bellamy’s findings. A hundred or so guns lay packed in the barrel, ready to be fired. 

Ready to be used. 

“This changes everything,” Bellamy smiled as he picked up the rifle, examining it in his hands before handing it to Y/N, and picking up another one for himself. “The grounders won’t know what hit them.”

The two girls shared a nervous look before crossing to the middle of the bunker, one question leaving Bellamy’s mouth catching them off guard.

“Ready to be a badass Y/N?” He threw a jobi nut in his mouth as Y/N examined the rifle in her hands. Marcus had taught her how to shoot from the moment he had taken her in. It was his idea of bonding, but she saw guns as a waste of time. 

Why use them when bombs and grenades were much more effective?

She stole a smirk at the older guy, flipping her ponytail behind her shoulder, “I’m already a badass.” She lined up the shot, recalling Marcus’ voice whispering in her ear. 

Use the scope.

Prepare for the kickback. 

“Here,” Bellamy moved forward, pressing his body close to hers, arms wrapping around hers as she tried to calm the rising movement in her stomach. Her breathing grew faster, and she focused in on the red banner serving as her target. She couldn’t look at him. Not when she felt her cheeks growing rosier as he moved closer, correcting her grip. Bellamy stuttered as he pulled away, the air growing cold where his warmth had once been.

She fired off a round, ignoring Clarke’s raised eyebrows and Bellamy’s flustered expression. 

The bullet hit dead center, and something deep inside her told her that Marcus would be proud. 

“So,” Clarke’s voice rang through, running a hand over the deadly weapon,  “We need to talk about the guns, who has access, where they’re stored.”

She turned toward Bellamy, invading his personal space and sending a shot of irritation through Y/N’s stomach and up to her chest. “You left Miller in charge,” Clarke continued, “You must trust him, both of you.”

Y/N nodded, her loyalty toward Miller unflinching. “He’s one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met” She appealed to Clarke, “He’ll be a good asset”

“You should keep him close,” Bellamy spoke, shifting his eyes down toward the ground before readying his own gun to take aim at the red curtain. 

Clarke narrowed her eyes, “Why do we need to keep him close?”

Bellamy’s feet shifted, refusing to meet the two girl’s eyes. Y/N shifted her eyes from the floor to the freckles on his face, something uneasy stirring within her as Bellamy continued to sway awkwardly. She moved her furrowed gaze to his pack, stuffed with rations taken from the camp. She already knew what his plan was.

“You’re gonna run.” She spoke, her tone resigned. 

“Y/N--” Bellamy moved forward,

“Don’t” she stopped him, holding up her hand, a lackluster smile hanging from her lips, “I-uh I thought you were different, turns out you’re just like everyone else.”

She shoved past him, disappearing behind the curtain before storming up the staircase, anger wracking her chest as the all too familiar numbness returned. The cold metal of the stairs seeping through her jeans. 

***

Bellamy stared at the empty spot where Y/N had stood, his head bowed as the familiar guilt slithered through him. He had proved her right. 

“You can’t leave Bellamy.” Clarke tried to appeal to him, but he simply grit his teeth and turned away from the blonde. “Octavia needs you.”

“Octavia hates me” Bellamy mumbled, refusing to think about his failing relationship with his sister. “She’ll be fine.” He lined up to take another shot when Clarke placed a hand on the barrel.

“If you won’t stay for Octavia then stay for Y/N.”

He froze at the mention of the girl he had grown close with over these past few weeks. He shot off a round, trying to ignore Clarke’s knowing stare at his back.

“I see the way you look at her,” The blonde continued, “You need her, and though she won’t admit it, she needs you too.”

He shook his head and handed her the gun, “Keep practicing,” Bellamy instructed, refusing to entertain the idea Clarke was offering, “I need some air.” 

As he pushed past the curtain, he met the cold stare of Y/N as she sat atop the metal stairs, the moonlight at her back, illuminating her seething figure. He tore his eyes away from her and pushed himself upward into the forest air, closing his eyes to try and calm himself down, wondering if Clarke was right and she needed him as much as he needed her.

***

She tugged at her jacket sleeve, picking at the loose threads while she contemplated her relationship with Bellamy. He was just going to leave her without saying goodbye. What gave him the right? Who told him that was okay?

“Love is weakness” A cold voice stated beside her, Y/N looked to her side to see a dark-haired woman with a somber look on her face. “That’s what I decided to teach you.” The unknown woman’s dark gaze met her own, “and I think that is my biggest regret.”

“Who are you?” Y/N asked, unsure what this woman was talking about. She was much older, probably in her early thirties, and she bore a striking resemblance to her late mother.

“My name is Becca, and I’m the one who’s been appearing in your dreams” 

Y/N pulled back, wondering why this woman was sitting next to her and how she had survived the bombs. This was the woman whose screams permeated her mind? The woman she saw burned at the stake every night? 

The woman whose voice had driven her mother mad?

“My goal was to create a permanent solution for the human race. To make life better.” Becca paused, letting out a sigh, “Instead I caused a nuclear apocalypse and came to earth, leaving my child alone in the hopes that she would atone for my sins,” 

Becca stared up at the ceiling, drawing her lips into a straight line before her glassy eyes turned back toward her, “And instead she had you." 

Y/N sprang up at the news, catching her breath as realization struck her. Her mouth hung open. 

This was the Becca her mother had talked about? This was the Becca whose notes she had taken as gospel? This was her grandmother? 

"What the hell are you talking about?" She stormed out of the bunker, her body shaking. Becca following her into the forest.

"I don't have much time, but I need you to know this," Becca called growing frantic, grasping ahold of her shoulders. It almost felt real. 

"You grew up in a world where there are two choices. Death or survival. But there's always another choice. Always.” Becca bit her lip as she scanned her granddaughter’s face, something akin to love in her gaze, “You're ruthless and that helps you down here, but there's one lesson I need to impart. One lesson I forgot to give to my commanders and Alie."

Y/N creased her brow in confusion at the rant, unsure what Becca was talking about or how any of this related to her.

"How you reach the goal matters." Becca began to dissipate, fading from her touch, "More than anything."

She shook her head free and found herself staring at the ground with a searing headache. Jesus, what was in those nuts? Was what she just saw real? Had she really seen her long-dead relative alive? Or was that another nightmare that had decided to plague her as well?

"No please!" 

Y/N turned around at the voice, knowing exactly who it belonged to.

"Bellamy?!" She called through the trees, sprinting toward the voices calling out for help.

"I'm sorry!"

She crawled through the thicket of trees until she was standing near the edge of a small ravine. Bellamy sat on his knees, mumbling to himself.

"Bellamy?" Y/N called again, standing in front of the hallucinating adult. Bellamy shook, eyes glancing beyond her, gazing at some unseen entity.

"Please, kill me." Bellamy whispered before shouting into the abyss, "I can't fight ANYMORE!"

She knelt down next to the leader, her heart pulling itself into pieces at the phrase. The same phrase she had told herself so many times. 

"Bellamy, Bellamy listen to me!" Y/N called, "You are not allowed to die okay? Not on my watch. You're going to be okay" She grasped his shoulders, hoping it would be enough to pull him out of it. 

"Bellamy, you're a fighter, okay? You have to keep fighting. For Octavia, for the camp. For me." She pleaded, breaths growing shallower as tears began to stream down Bellamy's grimy face. "If I'm not allowed to die, you're not allowed to die! You hear me?"

Bellamy froze in place, his hand reaching upward to grasp the hand that had moved from his shoulder to his face. His glossed over eyes returned to their original brown as he met Y/N's pleading gaze.

"Y/N?"

She let out a relieved laugh at her name falling from his lips. "It's me, I'm here." She reassured him as he pulled her in for a tight embrace, "I'm here Bellamy."

His body tensed and she pulled out of the embrace and whipped around to see Dax, gun pointed at the both of them. He let out a round. Y/N rolled away, barely avoiding the bullet.

"Nothing personal" He sneered as Bellamy reached beside him, his hand pulling up nothing.

A click of the rifle pulled Y/N away from the scene before her, Clarke standing at the tree line above the ravine, gun drawn. She began to stand up as Dax was distracted by Clarke.

"Put the gun down Dax" Clarke ordered, weapon trained on the bigger delinquent. 

He disobeyed her warning and the click of the trigger was heard, except no kickback followed. The bullets were duds. Dax shot back, Clarke narrowly dodging it by diving behind a tree.

Y/N launched herself at the bigger kid, wrapping her arms around his neck as she climbed aboard his back, hoping she had enough strength to weaken his windpipe.

She slammed the ground as Dax threw her off, pointing the barrel directly at her head.

"No!" Bellamy cried as he lunged toward Dax, grabbing him around the midsection and temporarily pinning him to the ground. Y/N struggled to her feet, her side splitting in pain as her arm wound reopened. Dax was atop Bellamy, his hands wrapped around his neck.

"No" Y/N cried, voice hoarse as she crawled forward, Dax's elbow knocking her to the ground. She watched as Bellamy stuck the dud bullet in Dax's throat, causing the bigger delinquent to fall to the ground. 

Dead.

She propped herself against a tree, putting pressure on her newly opened wound. Bellamy joined her soon after, their ragged breaths the only sound in the forest.

"I'll get that." He finally spoke, gesturing to the open wound.

Y/N shook her head, "Worry about yourself first," she responded, gesturing to the cuts and bruises that covered his tanned skin. Bellamy had already cut a strip of cloth from his pants, using the dark material as a makeshift bandage, tying it off. 

She was thankful for the darkness, it kept her from wondering why Bellamy didn’t seem phased by the color of her blood.

Clarke joined them soon enough, pushing herself against the trunk, she whispered to herself, "Okay, we're okay."

"No, I'm not" Bellamy stared at the ground, horror written across his face, "My mother…if she knew what I've done…She raised me to be good. Instead, all I do is hurt people."

He inhaled.

"I'm a monster."

Y/N spared a sympathetic glance toward him, her heart began to pull at itself once again, urging her to move forward. Empathy for his plight overwhelmed her, pulsing through her veins until she stopped being stubborn enough to listen to it.

There's always another choice.

"You aren't a monster Bellamy," Y/N promised, causing his eyes to glance up at her. "You're a survivor. You're a fighter. You kept me alive when all I wanted to do was die. Now it's my turn. We'll get through this, I promise,"

She shifted her body to face his.

"You may be a total ass half the time, but you've helped us survive." She made her choice, "I need you, we all need you. You can’t run."

When Bellamy gazed at her she knew she made the right one. 

Love is not weakness.

"Jaha will kill me when he comes down." Was all he said.

"No, he won't." Y/N spoke, determined, scooting closer to him, "I won't let him, and we'll figure something out."

He sighed as he leaned his head upward toward the sky. "Can we figure it out tomorrow?"

She joined him, her hand mingling with his loose fingers near the base of the tree.

"Whenever you’re ready."

Bringing the rifles back to camp had calmed the chaos down. They no longer had to be afraid of the grounders. They could defend themselves. They could survive.

Except Becca's words wouldn't stop ringing in her head.

How you reach the goal matters.

Why would she need to know that? What else awaited them on the ground?

"Hey" Bellamy's voice called from behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Hey" she swallowed the nerves down her throat, finally recognizing them for what they were. "How was the pardoning?"

"Done," Bellamy smiled softly, "Turns out, Jaha's pretty okay with blackmail."

Y/N let out a small chuckle at the joke, the warmth in her stomach flooding her whole body.  When had he become so essential to her? When had he started to matter?

"I think your boyfriend's waiting for you," Bellamy said tightly, gesturing his shoulder toward the radio tent.

Y/N creased her face in confusion, "I don't have a boyfriend," She announced, watching as Bellamy's eyes lit up at the news before he turned back to his stoic self.

"So who's Kyle Wick?" He asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

The butterfly-like sensation returned as her body flooded with endorphins at the name, racing toward the inside of the tent to talk to the dirty blonde engineer that had appeared on the radio.

"Kyle!" She yelled into the earpiece.

"Hey, Sparky!" Wick called from the monitor. "Kane didn't want to let me see you, but thank goodness for Sinclair am I right?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Marcus is a dick, you know that better than anyone." She giggled, unaware of how much she used to laugh in Wick's presence. She missed it. "I finally met the Monty you were so excited about."

Wick's eyes lit up, "Hell yeah, I knew you two would get along. So how's the ground?"

She still couldn't believe she was talking to him. "It's…amazing and terrifying."

"Sounds perfect for you then." Kyle teased, a smile tugging on his lips.

"Shut up, Mr. I have perfect follow through." Y/N threw back, her smile never leaving her face.

"I Do!" Wick protested, sending the woman on the other side in a fit of giggles. When they died down he finally asked his question. "So who's the moody guy who wanted to know who I was?"

Y/N sighed as she braced herself for this conversation. "Bellamy Blake"

"The guy who shot Jaha?" Wick's eyes widened, voice rising in surprise. "Never pegged you for the dangerous type."

"He's just a friend Wick." Y/N explained, her stomach screaming in protest as it flipped and flopped around.

Wick raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I think you better tell him that." He leaned back in the chair as he continued, "Look, Y/N, it's totally okay if you want to move on--"

"No" She cut him off, not ready to have this conversation, "It's not that."

"So what is it?" Wick asked, growing curious. "I know we couldn't make it work, so if you need closure--"

She cut him off again, "Just--I'll tell you when you get down here. But for now, there's no 'we' it's just…me and Bellamy."

He leaned forward. "Do you want it to just 'you and Bellamy'?"

"No. Yes? Maybe? I don't know." Y/N confessed, finally admitting to herself what she actually felt for the older leader. "Just get down here soon so I don't have to deal with these…feelings all on my own."

"Copy that" Wick announced, "feelings are disgusting, I'll be down as soon as I can."

Y/N smiled softly, placing the headset down and joining Miller at the firepit, gaze latching onto Bellamy's, a small smile shared between the two of them.

Oooooh. Looks like Bellamy isn’t the only one catching feelings. Also, I love Wick and felt like his character was so wasted on the show. I have a really cool arc for him and Y/N if we get to season two, so please keep commenting and reblogging!

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[ofimpala]

@fcllencngel​ starter because hashtag the finale never happened, 18 eps sure is a weird number for a season, what a shame covid stopped them before they could make 40 solid minutes of reciprocation lmao

         His phone is vibrating again. It keeps doing that,  Sam’s name keeps popping up on the screen. It’s the seventh time now. Dean’s sure that, in a minute, it’ll be eight.

         He just can’t bring himself to answer. Can’t bring himself to do anything other than stare at the empty spot in the room where Cas was and now isn’t. He’s felt this before. This deep howling void of absolute shell-shock where all he can hear is roaring in his ears and his own panicked heartbeat. It had happened after Mary had died, once when he didn’t speak for six months afterward, once again over her empty shell. Sam; stabbed in the back, fallen into the Cage, torn apart by vamps. Charlie’s bloody lifeless corpse in a bathtub. John in that hospital bed, soul torn out. And Cas-- god, so many times. More times than he wants to remember.

         Dean thinks, maybe, that he should be used to this. Should be used to getting the people he loves torn away from him.

         But this is different. This is Cas telling him about a deal he’d never fucking mentioned before. This is Cas smiling so wide, tears in his eyes as he tells Dean things that nobody’s ever been kind enough to say about him. This is Cas looking at peace while he’s swallowed by the Empty.

         This is Cas saying I love you.

         This is Cas sacrificing himself yet again, this time explicitly for Dean. This is Cas dying because he loves Dean.

         His phone starts up again, the shorter buzzes of incoming texts.

         [Sam]: Everybody vanished          [Sam]: Jack’s still here with me          [Sam]: Dean answer your fucking phone          [Sam]: At least let me know if you’re alive

         Dean thinks of Sam earlier, pale and drawn as he’d frantically texted Eileen, how the texts had just stopped. His thumb hovers over the reply button, because he doesn’t want Sam to worry, he really doesn’t, but a glint out of the corner of his eye stops him.

         Death’s ring, lying small and so harmless looking on the concrete floor between the shelves. Her scythe, fallen awkwardly against some books. They must not have gone with her to the Empty, remaining on earth for the next Death to assume the mantle. Maybe they’ll just pop over to the next reaper that dies, but he doesn’t know how many reapers are even left. Earth might be without a Death for a while, but it’s not his fucking problem. Not right now.

         He opens up a text to Sam, and pauses. His gaze goes right back to that ring.

         He thinks about Jack saying Billie had been there when he’d woken up in the Empty. How the original Death had traveled anywhere he’d damned well pleased. He remembers the deal he made for Sam’s soul, slipping that ring on, graveyard-cold and heavy, touching the almost-dead and helping them pass on -- and he’s sure that Tessa did most of the work ferrying him around, he’s sure he didn’t get Death’s full powers. Maybe humans just can’t. Maybe it’s a time thing. Maybe he would have if he’d worn it for longer. Maybe he just hadn’t known how. Maybe maybe maybe.

         Maybe he can...

         There’s a mission at hand here, and at stake is everything. Life, free will, the entire fucking universe. Chuck needs to die; every single one of Dean’s nerve endings have been screaming that for months now, blinded with fury and loss of control. But Cas is gone, and Dean doesn’t know if they can kill Chuck without him. Doesn’t think he can grieve Cas again, not again, not when the last time had gone the way it had, at the bottom of too many bottles and nearly dead on the stairs of an abandoned house full of restless ghosts. It’d be easier if he could tell himself it’s because Cas is an important piece on the board, but it’s not just that, it’s something he’s been feeling for years and never could manage to be brave enough to face up to it--

         Before Dean can even really think or plan ahead or contemplate how immensely fucking stupid and dangerous this is, his hands are moving. First, to his phone.

         [Dean]: brb

         And then to the ring. It’s cold, sending a chill right down his spine when he slips it on, but he doesn’t suddenly sprout wings or manifest knowledge of the entire fucking cosmos. For a long minute, he’s pretty sure he just looks like a goddamn idiot waiting for something to happen. It’s only when he picks up the scythe that he spots it against the far wall: a ripple in the air like a loose thread, a weak spot between realities where the Empty had ripped it open and hadn’t bothered to patch it up quite right after.

         There’s no other course of action he can contemplate right now.

         He steps through.

         And, god, it’s-- Dean’s pretty sure a human mind was never meant to comprehend the Empty. Humans aren’t meant to be here. There’s nothingness and towering dim pillars of light and darkness, what must be angels and demons, and the noise is ear-splitting, rumbles and high-pitched whines, he doesn’t know how to find Cas or how to even begin looking, but he’s Dean Fucking Winchester so he marches forward. He spends a minute, or maybe an eternity, looking, running, hoping his brain doesn’t melt out his fucking ears before he catches a glimpse, a half-formed note of a familiar noise, and then--

         Everything shifts. He tumbles down through flashes of memory like Alice down the hole to Wonderland, flashes of angel wings burned into a field and Lucifer’s burning red eyes, and Dean thinks he spends time there calling Cas’ name, but he can’t say for sure. There’s a house, then, and Cas-- no, it’s Jimmy, the lines of his face are softer, and something’s circling.

         Something enormous and bright, something that, much like the Empty, Dean can’t comprehend. He sees it in dizzying half-glimpses, churning grace and twisting animal heads and gleaming ink-dark feathers.

         It’s Cas. He knows it. Knows it deep in his soul and his fucking bones.

         Dean will never be able to explain how he reaches out and grabs that celestial entity, skyscraper-massive and millions of years old, but he does it. He grabs Cas like he’s an errant puppy, tangles his fingers in what might be a feathered wing or a zebra’s mane or a spinning wheel or maybe all of them at once, and yanks.

         And proceeds to bounce right off the bunker’s warding -- maybe he’s a little bit other than Dean with the ring on, different enough that his energy signature’s changed -- and into the gravel and trees outside. He thinks his eyes might be bleeding from those tiny glimpses of true form, knows his impact into a tree scraped him up, but it’s nothing compared to the agonizing jolt of relief (he did it) and fear (oh fuck what if he did it wrong) he feels when he sees Cas sprawled out on the bunker’s winding driveway.

         “Cas.” It comes out a whisper, a croak, because what if he did something wrong, what if he brought back an empty shell like Mary was, what if Cas wanted to stay in the Empty. “Fuck, Cas--”

         Dean scrambles, dropping to his knees beside Cas’ prone form, curling a hand underneath the lax curve of his neck to lift his head, the other hand on a too-still shoulder, shaking him. “C’mon, come on, wake the fuck up.” The words want to be an authoritative bark; they come out far too wobbly for that. “You have to be alright or I’ll kill you myself for pulling that shit, Cas.”

[luci-cunt]

Hi @moonsandstarsaregay​ here’s just a list of perfect Geralt and Dandelion interactions in ONE (1) chapter [btw this is basically ep 2: the one with the Devil of Posada]

(this ended up being longer than I thought because they’re too iconic, I didn’t even make it through the whole chapter XDD maybe I’ll do a part two but I’m gonna get some food and let these dumbasses rest. 

But, spoiler: they’re literally so in love + feral/ insanely smart Jaskier is 100% canon)

[G+D leaving a pub where a bunch of people moaned about the galactic fuck-ton of monsters around them but then Geralt’s like, bye we’re leaving and Dandelion’s like ‘why?? monsters?? that’s your whole job??’]

"None of the creatures they mentioned exist.”

“You’re joking!” Dandelion spat a pip and threw the apple core at a patched mongrel [side note I have no idea what any of this sentince means]. “No, it’s impossible. I was watching them carefully, and I know people. They weren’t lying.”

“No,” the witcher agreed. “they weren’t lying, they firmly believed it all. Which doesn’t change the facts.”

The poet was silent for a while.

“None of those monsters... none? it can’t be. something of what they listed must be here. At least one! Admit it.”

“All right. I admit it. One does exist for sure.”

“Ha! What?”

“A bat.”

[You don’t even need context]

“...Eh, famous witcher? Haven’t you wondered why?”

“I have, famous poet. And I know why.”

[Riding on the road]

“Someone’s following us,” [Dandelion] said, excited. “In a cart!”

“Incredible,” scoffed the witcher without looking around. “In a cart? And I thought that the locals rode on bats.”

“Do you know what?” growled the troubadour. “The closer we get to the edge of the world, the sharper your wit. I dread to think what it will come too!”

[the afore mentioned cart catches up and suddenly the driver wants to talk, interrupting G+D bonding time]

“The gods be praised, noble sirs!”

“We, too,” replied Dandelion, familiar with the custom, “praise them.”

“If we want to,” murmured the witcher.

[and then later in the same scene]

“...I marked your expression and ‘twas nae strange to me. In a long time now I’ve nae heard such balderdash and lies.”

Dandelion laughed.

Geralt was looking at the peasant attentively, silently. 

[Still later the guy asks if they want to stop by his house cause they’re going the same way and Geralt’s like ‘hOw Do YoU kNoW wHeRe We’Er GoInG?’]

“As ‘cos ye have nae other way here, and yer horses’ noses be turned in that direction, not their butts.”

Dandelion laughed again. “What do you say to that, Geralt?”

“Nothing.”

[Dandelion talking about how gorgeous the land they’re traveling through is, Geralt teasing him like ‘oh so you know about agriculture?’ ‘Duh, poets know everything my dear fellow and agriculture is v important--’]

[Geralt] “you’ve exaggerated a bit with the [significance of agriculture in] entertainment and art.”

[Dandelion] “And booze, what’s that made of?”

“I get it.”

“Not very much, you don’t. Learn. Look at those purple flowers. They’re lupins.”

“They’s be vetch, to be true,” interrupted Nettly [the other carriage driver].

[Then Geralt zones out because now Nettly’s talking]

“The Valley of Flowers, that’s Dol Blathanna.” Dandelion nudged the witcher [...] “You paying attention?”

[They get to Nettly’s house and meet the village elder Dhun who want to hire Geralt]

The elder of the village nodded and cleared his throat. “Well, it be like this,” he said. “There be this field hereabouts–” 

Geralt kicked Dandelion–who was preparing to make a spiteful comment–under the table.

[Dhun’s explaining the situation more and then--]

“...stretches right up to the forest–”

“And what?” The poet couldn’t help himself. “What’s on that field there?”

“Well.” Dhun raised his head and scratched himself behind the ear. “Well, there be a deovel prowls there.”

“What?” snorted Dandelion. “A what?”

“I tell ye: a deovel.”

“What deovel?”

“What can he be? A deovel and that be it.”

“Devils don’t exist!”

“Don’t interrupt, Dandelion,” said Geralt in a calm voice. “And go on, honorable Dhun.” 

“I tell ye: it’s a deovel.”

“I heard you.” Geralt could be incredibly patient when he chose.

[Oh and, might I just add: this is Dandelion’s perspective–he’s the one pointing out how patient Geralt can be. I stg, TV!Geralt is quaking.

And, lmao, this whole scene feels like Dandelion was teasing Geralt for not wanting to deal with other company but now that there’s a job and Geralt’s attention is more on that he’s all pissy and that’s just hilarious]

[Dandelion goes on to interupt the story about 2 more times and Geralt tells him to be quiet both times and now he’s sulking]

Dandelion cackled again, then flicked a beer-drenched fly at a cat sleeping by the hearth. The cat opened one eye and glanced at the bard reproachfully. 

[Geralt takes the job even tho devils don’t exist, Dandelion is pissed, ‘why take the job if you know it doesn’t exist!?’]

“...I take it you haven’t abased yourself so as to get us bed board and lodging, have you?”

“Indeed,” Geralt grimaced. “It does look as if you know me a little, singer.”

“In that case, I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?”

“There’s no such thing as devils!” yelled the poet, shaking the cat from sleep once and for all. “No such thing! To the devil with it, devils don’t exist!”

“True.” Geralt smiled. “But, Dandelion, I could never resist the temptation of having a look at something that doesn’t exist.”

[alkjdf;klasdfjkdsafl LITERALLY k;aldsjflsd WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS???]

[They finally manage to hunt down the devil and feral bard is 100% canon]

“Uk! Uk!” Barked the monster, stamping his hooves. “What do you want here? Leave or I’ll ram you down. Uk! Uk!”

“Has anyone ever kicked your arse, little goat?” Dandelion couldn’t stop himself. 

“Uk! Uk! Beeeee!” Bleated the goathorn in agreement, or denial, or simply bleating for the sake of it. 

“Shut up, Dandelion,” growled the witcher. “Not a word.”

“Blebleblebeeeeee!” The creature gurgled furiously, his lips parting wide to expose yellow horse-like teeth. “Uk! Uk! Bleubeeeeubleuuuubleeee!”

“Most certainly”–nodded Dandelion–“you can take the barrel-organ and bell when you go home–”

[this goes on for a while. btw yes, those are the noises the book describes the ‘devil’ making aksdjf;alk]

[then they have to run away because Geralt didn’t bring his sword and they get back to the house--]

“Well, well, Geralt.” Dandelion held a horseshoe he’d cooled in a bucket to his forehead. [you really can’t make this stuff up he’s such a disaster] “that’s not what I expected. A horned freak with a goatee like a shaggy billy goat, and he chased you away like some upstart. And I got it in the head. Look at that bump!”

“That’s the sixth time you’ve shown it to me. And it’s no more interesting than it was the first time.” 

“How charming. And I thought I’d be safe with you!”

[Then Nettly and Dhun give Geralt some old book that’s supposed to tell you how to deal with every monster ever]

He lay the book down on the table and turned its heavy wooden cover. “Take a loook at this, Dandelion.”

“the first Runes,” the bard worked out, peering over his shoulder, the horseshoe still pressed to his forehead. “The writing used before the modern alphabet. Still based on elfin runes and dwarves’ ideograms. A funny sentice construction, but that’s how they spoke then [...like a whole page of Dandelion being brilliant..]”

[^^^ that book is also unreadable but there’s a really old lady who has it almost completely memorized so Geralt flips through it to prove it and lands on this page--]

The etching showed a disheveled monstrosity with enormous eyes and even larger teeth, riding a horse. In its right hand, the monstrous being wielded a substantial sword, in its left, a bag of money. 

“A witchman,” mumbled the woman. “Called by some a witcher. To summon him is most dangerous , albeit one must; for when against the monster and vermin there be no aid, the witchman can contrive. But be careful one must be–”

“Enough,” muttered Geralt. “Enough, Grandma. Thank you.”

“No, no,” protested Dandelion with a malicious smile. “how does it go on? What a greatly interesting book! Go on, Granny, go on.”

“eee... But careful one must be to touch not the witchman, for thus the mange can one acquire. And lasses do from him hide away, for lustful the witchman is above all measure–”

“Quite correct, spot on,” laughed the poet.

[This moment--]

[Geralt] “...This time ‘tis grateful I’d be to heareth more, for too learn the ways and meanes ye did use to deal with him most curious am I.”

“Careful, Geralt,” chuckled Dandelion. “You’re starting to fall into their jargon. It’s an infectious mannerism.”

[And just over a page later--]

[Dandelion] “...ye furnished him with ammunition for two years, the fools ye be!”

“careful.” The witcher smiled. “You’re starting to fall into their jargon. It’s infectious.”