#I have been heated over this since s5 dropped

[mskwtz]

BUT WAIT THERE IS MORE

I know the writers desperately want us to forget that ha.wk was a whole ass force and want us to think he isn’t as good as s.am, r.obby, m.iguel, and t.ory but they’re stupid and wrong so allow me to explain his train of losses.

His confidence got fully decimated after ck cut off his Mohawk. That was after he spent months feeling guilty about all the shit he had done at his worst when he was in ck. He had been trying to prove himself, to prove he wasn’t a bad person, to prove he was loyal and redeeming himself. That shit was trying enough but then they took away something that was so detrimental to him and his personality and his identity. When he showed up at the dojo in season one with a wild ass haircut and he was seen as something more than just the scar on his face, he became a new person. E.li was gone, H.awk was born. He didn’t want to be e.li anymore, he didn’t want anyone to think of him as the kid he was. He took this new life and he rolled with it and it was nice until it got out of control. At that point he was trying to figure out who h.awk was when he wasn’t in ck. Then they ripped his security blanket out right from under him and he was crane kicked back to reality.

He felt like utter garbage about himself again up until the a.ll v.alley and he struggled through it until mo.on bless her heart gave him a motivating push to remember that Mohawk or not he was capable and badass and could kick Ky.ler’s ass. And he did. And he held his own against rob.by, I don’t care that rob.by got distracted because that doesn’t mean ha.wk would have definitely lost. He is fully on par with rob.by. He CAN beat any of the core four, even mig.uel even if in character my ha.wk doesn’t think he can. Fact is he has the skills to be able to do so. He became champ, even at his lowest, and that was fucking great. But he still wasn’t whole.

He went right back to trying to bring that mohawk back. I will not forgive the writers for sweeping this shit to the side when they’re the idiots who brought it up. He’s bringing back the mohawk, back to being the tough guy who can stand up to ck when they’re being assholes, wanting to be a good influence especially when the younger boy at the water park clearly is looking up to him. And the fact of the matter is, reinventing himself and becoming this violent anger fueled version of himself and then jumping ship to the more docile dojo and losing what made him reinvent himself just to go back to that mindset while also not having karate which was a motivator for him all throughout the series would give anyone whiplash. He’s stressed. He’s tired. He’s trying to just enjoy himself, enjoy his relationship now that he has it back, trying to figure out who he is if not a karate student. AND, the summer before senior year, he’s 100% thinking about college and beginning to slowly figure out plans and what he wants to do once it’s time to start applying. The ck writers can fight me on that. Of course he was thinking about it. Extensively. Obsessively. On top of all that he has to deal with ck being dick beetles, sil.ver being sil.ver while they’re not being trained anymore. Then his one sensei gets his ass kicked, and they’re back in the game of bringing down ck and now they’re looking at qualifying for an international karate tournament. He is the stressed out Mr krabbs meme.

My ha.wk especially strives to be the best, is always working towards perfection, and beats himself up if he’s anything less than that. He trains his ass off. He wants to beat ck more than most. His grudge with them is stronger than most because he fully lost himself within all of it, nearly killed a boy, broke his best friend’s arm. He doesn’t want ck to exist anymore. To him he can’t be the strong one, the best if he’s not channeling how he got there in the first place. So he dyes his mohawk green for something fresh, maybe the push he needs to win. He worked so hard and he trained all night once the boys decided he would be the one to fight for the dojo. He went in determined and resolute and ready to win, but he still had all those underlying concerns and stressors and Ken.ny played dirty. He got the wind knocked out of him and got made to look weak and nearly cost them the chance of a lifetime while letting ck win. Thankfully s.am got the win and they got into the st.

The party following this - and this is why I really have mad beef with the writers - his mohawk is scrapped of color again and rob.by asks him what happened to the green and he says “it didn’t really work out for me so I’m still trying to figure it out”. Who says that over hair? If it was just hair to him it wouldn’t matter. It’s not. It’s so much more. He’s struggling. And now he’s lost to a not even high school freshman and he’s doubting himself. But he’s trying not to show it. He goes with the group to interrogate stin.gray because he cares about his dojo no matter what and he’ll do what it takes to help them, to help his senseis, to stop ck. Before they go to try and bring sil.ver down he has a fresh mohawk color - back to blue, where he started in s1, and I find that very intentional. Things were good when he first became ha.wk. He felt good, and strong, and capable and he wanted those feelings back. So he went back to the blue. And he and dem did what they do best with the tech, and they kicked Ky.lers ass, and they took sil.ver down and it felt good but he still doesn’t feel quite himself. Who even is himself at this point.

Now we’re at season 6. He’s still dealing with the fact that he lost to ke.nny, he’s still trying to figure out who he is and who he wants to be, and now senior year is starting and college is getting closer and d.em is yapping in his ear about MIT and he doesn’t know how to tell his bin.ary bro that he has schools he’s thought about and he doesn’t think MIT is it for him. And they’re training hard for the sek.ai tai.kai which will be no joke and he himself is putting in double time bc that’s who he is.

The stress is catching up to him. He’s not performing the level he knows he’s capable of performing at. He’s getting his ass handed to him by the core four and frankly deep down it’s hard not to feel resentful about it. D.em is talking even more about MIT and finally it culminates and the truth comes out and his friend is pissed and hurt. In the woods, they encounter one another, and ha.wk is pissed too because this is his life and his choice and he should have told d.em sooner he knows that but it doesn’t change the fact that he is allowed to do what is best for him. So they’re fighting for the flag. And he kicks d.em harder than he wanted to and he feels bad. He doesn’t want to be that guy ever again who hurts people he cares about with a skill that was important to him and he didn’t want to taint. And this especially is important given d.em’s “how do you like it” comment. He’s right back to that moment and how he felt after and how he has felt since. So when d.em kicks him, he doesn’t chase him even if he REALLY wants to fight for MD at the st. He lets him have the flag. He lets him have the win.

Months pass of who even fucking knows what because the writers are lazy. I imagine of d.em being pissed at him. Giving him the cold shoulder at school and during training but them slowly starting to talk again even if just to bicker and fight. Now we’re at part 2. And ha.wk is completely off his game and he doesn’t even have a clear reason why like ro.bby does. Again, he’s doubting his skill and if he’s as good as his friends. Plus d.em is still pissed at him. Oh and he has less than a month to figure out where he’s going to school. He’s sitting on acceptance letters, and he only has until May first to decide. He’s stressed, he’s mad, it’s showing in his karate. He and d.em making up gives him a boost. And it’s a step in the right direction.

I think going forward, him finally making a college decision (Berkeley for my canon), trying to accept that he doesn’t have to be perfect 24/7, and ultimately letting go of the mohawk is going to bring him the most peace. They’ll never show that of course but that’s what I’m here for.

[theredhairedmonkey]

Do you have any theories on what might happen in S5, taking into account the episode titles that have been released?

I admit, I cheated a bit with this one by waiting until the trailer came out, but I'll compensate by having my theories be a bit koo koo bananas:

Startouched

At this point you've either seen this episode or you haven't, but not much to predict:

Team Zym have the prison.

Claudia goes off the deep end.

Callum wants to destroy the prison but everyone else isn't sure.

During the night, Aaravos takes over Callum and has him place his hand on the prison, letting Callum see into the prison and gets a vision of Aaravos breaking the pearl (imo this becomes extremely important later on).

Finally, he and Rayla head off to the Starscraper to find a way to stop Aaravos for good, while Soren goes off to find Zubeia.

Love, War & Mushrooms

In this episode, Rayla and Callum will likely have an important conversation, possibly mentioning Callum's father, as the show runners hinted at his role this season (Love). Meanwhile, Amaya and Janai prepare for war, knowing that Karim has an army and the Sun Seed (War), with Janai sending a crow for help to an "old friend." Soren and Zym meet up with Corvus and search for Zubeia, only to find mushrooms at her last known location (Mushrooms). The episode concludes with Viren arriving in Katolis and Ezran confronting him in the rain. 

The Frozen Ship

Rayla enters the ship from the promo while Callum waits outside. The ship mysteriously catches fire, trapping Rayla inside. Callum rushes in to rescue her when she doesn't emerge, realizing she stayed behind to search for her dropped coins. This scene highlights Callum's devotion to Rayla and suggests that Rayla may be more committed to her family than she initially let on. Meanwhile, Ezran listens to Viren and, despite wanting to punish him for his actions, learns that Claudia remains in Xadia and hasn't given up. This revelation leads Ezran to conclude that Soren, his companions, and the Sunfire elves are in grave danger. Determined to help, Ezran resolves to journey to Xadia.

The Starscraper

The plot kicks into gear when Callum and Rayla arrive at the Starscraper to seek help from the Celestial elves. They learn that using the Corona and Nova Blade requires more than just anyone's abilities. The Celestial elves send them on a mission to retrieve the heartstone of the Behemoth, Luna Tenebris' unsuitable heir, who roams the Frozen Sea. Callum and Rayla hesitate, as this would kill the Behemoth, but Callum proposes using a rune to extract the heartstone's energy without harming the creature. Meanwhile, Claudia hears Aaravos' voice calling her to Katolis, and Karim uses the Sun Seed to restore Sol Regem's sight, preparing to invade the Sunfire camp.

Moonless Night

Callum and Rayla pursue the Behemoth and, after a challenging encounter, successfully retrieve the energy from the rune, bringing it back to the Starscraper. However, the Celestial elves reveal that they need one more thing. Astrid explains that the Corona of the Heavens once belonged to the Star Leola, who bestowed the ability to use it upon the King of Elarion and his descendants, making them the only ones capable of wielding it. As Callum studies the quasar diamonds for an alternative solution, Rayla confronts Astrid, demanding more information since Elarion is long gone and finding a descendant seems impossible. Astrid mentions that the Celestial Elves once tracked down a man who was a direct descendant of the original King, but he had died. Shockingly, this man's name matches Callum's birth father's name. Rayla connects the dots and shares her discovery with Callum, who initially denies the possibility, arguing that it's merely a coincidence. Rayla realizes that Callum has so firmly embraced the idea of "Destiny Is A Book You Write Yourself" that he struggles to accept the possibility of a predetermined destiny. This leads to a heated argument involving their past experiences, ultimately resulting in Rayla and Callum fully reconciling and rekindling their relationship.

The Red Wedding

Karim and his army finally invade the Sunfire camp, capturing Ezran. Soren, Corvus, and Zym arrive to momentarily rescue him, followed by Aanya, who once again saves the Sunfire elves in a Deus-Ex-Machina fashion (as she is the "old friend"). During the rescue, Aanya and Ezran share a meet-cute moment. Soren and Viren reunite, with Soren reluctantly rescuing his father. As Karim takes control of the Sunfire camp, Sol Regem departs, no longer interested in petty squabbles. Meanwhile, Callum, refusing to consider Rayla's theory about his connection to the Corona, decides to connect with the Stars like the Celestial Elves. He attempts to fly blindfolded (as seen in the trailer) but fails and falls back to Earth. However, before hitting the ground, his body begins to levitate, and his eyes glow (similar to Kosmo's), but his smirk reveals the truth—he's possessed by Aaravos..

We All Fall Down

It is revealed that Aaravos had already left the prison, as the magic was designed to be impenetrable, and Claudia never had a way to set him free. Instead, Aaravos had intended on Callum & Co. to get to the prison first, then he had possessed Callum in 6x01, forcing him to place his hand on the prison, transferring Aaravos' essence to Callum. This explains why Callum didn't see Aaravos in the prison, as Aaravos has been in Callum's mind all along. Aaravos also confirms that Callum is the only person who can use the Nova Blade and the Corona of the Heavens. By bringing Aaravos to the Starscraper, Callum has played into his hands, allowing Aaravos to regain his full potential and declare war on his fellow Startouched elves (the Cosmic Order).

Meanwhile, Karim's victory is short-lived as Pharos becomes possessed by Aaravos as well. Karim is killed in a manner similar to Khessa, and Pharos transforms the remaining Sunfire elves into a new army of darkness. This army then converges on the corrupted core in Lux Area, where Pharos!Aaravos plans to gather his strength and spread darkness across the world.

Stardust

As Aaravos!Callum places the crown on his head, he feels his power return to full strength. He gloats that with the Nova Blade - the only weapon capable of killing Startouched elves - the Sunfire elf army, and Lux Aurea under his control, he can simultaneously conquer Xadia and the Cosmic Order, establishing a new empire. As punishment for her defiance, Aaravos "frees" Runaan but turns him into a corrupted version of himself that immediately attacks Rayla.

In Callum's mind, Aaravos taunts him while sharing his own backstory, revealing that he never fit in with the other Startouched elves and was ultimately cast out for his curiosity about magic. Callum empathizes with Aaravos, realizing their similarities and how the main difference between them stems from the love Callum received (and Aaravos did not). This realization leads Callum to a breakthrough with the Star Arcanum. He understands the vastness, darkness, and uncontrollable nature of the world (building on his understanding of the Ocean Arcanum) but recognizes that the sparks of love binding people together lead them from the darkness. Callum realizes that destiny isn't about who he will become (building on his understanding of the Sky Arcanum) but about acknowledging who he already is and the illusion of separation between himself, Aaravos, and everyone else.

By accepting his heritage as the Corona's true heir, Callum frees himself from Aaravos' grip and returns to consciousness. He then uses the Corona to restore Runaan and free Rayla's parents. Holding up the Nova Blade, Callum seemingly accepts that this is who he is, but that who he becomes is up to him.

Meanwhile, as Ezran and his companions march back to Xadia, they discover Zubeia, corrupted by sickness but kept at bay by the Mushroom mage. Janai achieves her own breakthrough, tapping into Light-Being Mode and purifying Zubeia. Simultaneously, Aaravos transports himself to Pharos' mind and teleports him to Katolis through a portal, where Claudia awaits (revealing Aaravos' contingency plan). Claudia uses Viren's staff to cast a powerful spell that restores Aaravos' body, sacrificing Pharos in the process. Aaravos describes the events at the Starscraper as a momentary setback, acknowledging Callum's increased power but persistent vulnerability, and resolving to bring him under his control regardless of what it takes. He then teleports himself and Claudia back to Lux Aurea, leaving Terry behind.

[matchstickdolly]

Lucifer 5B: Cutting off Touch to Spite Your Fans

Spoiler warning: This post assumes you've watched all of Lucifer, season 5, part B.

CW: There's plenty I like about season 5, but this is a negative post. I know not everyone is up for negativity about the things they love. I also generally avoid it and (try to) keep my mouth shut about things I don’t like in most spaces. It’s good etiquette. But this is my space, and I have thoughts specifically about purity culture and the treatment of sexuality and trauma in fiction. You’ve been warned!

---

I'm a professional writer (not in TV). I've worked with enough bad clients, editors, and other writers to recognize some hallmark behaviors in how both Fox and Netflix gave Lucifer's writers incredibly difficult, unfair, and frankly weird situations to create through.

Fox did them dirty, interfering and ordering too many eps in S3. Netflix did them dirty, ordering 10 eps for S4 when it clearly needed ~13. Then Netflix ordered 10 "final" eps for S5—then, just kidding(!), 6 more after they'd done their writing for the 10. (What the fuck?) And then Netflix ordered 10 more for a "final-final" S6 after the writers had done their best to tell their whole story in S5. (MORE what the fuck.)

Talk about whiplash for creators, and half of those who consume content don't even care to understand such creative pain.

So, there are problems on multiple fronts. There's much I'll forgive writers, accordingly. I go into most shows expecting plotting/pacing issues. I look, instead, for characters and relationships that will triumph over those issues.

Heart is what the show Lucifer has always had in spades, both in its characters and in the immensely committed, wonderful ways the actors have tried to realize the characters' humor, love, trauma, and—most importantly—struggle to find healing. Yet, when given the opportunity to show health alongside another in a relationship, the writers/directors of 5B chose to remove most sexual humor and physical intimacy from their female lead and bi/pan characters to, I feel, sanitize them and troll fans. What happened?

Well, for one, say hi to showrunner Joe Henderson bragging about how the writers decided to be colossal dicks to the fans who helped secure their jobs:

From CBR's 'Lucifer Showrunner Joe Henderson Dissects Season 5B's Chaos'

Have we not suffered sidelined/repressed female characters, "bury your gays," and, oh, Chloe fucking a serial killer enough? Must we also say hello to neutered relationships once characters find stable love (whether same or opposite sex)? The result of withdrawing more sexual humor and physical intimacy from paired characters is an uncomfortable suggestion that they're reformed by "pure" love—more chaste and aloof, more acceptable in polite society. This is only done to end-game committed relationships.*

The writers seem to think they're edging the viewers, but the reality is they're taking traumatized minority characters who rejoiced in sexual freedom, but lacked and craved an emotional connection, and showing they can't have both, or, if they find both, it will never last. They've taken hypersexual characters and said, here, even they can have the love and commitment they desire, but some physical intimacy, especially sexual intimacy, is what they must trade for it.

There's always one more case, phone call, or coincidence interrupting intimacy. Traumas or deaths deserving emotional and physical comfort go on to receive none or only one aspect. Done sometimes, it's fine. Done always, it's sick. Dan dies, and there's no hugging? Really?†

Don't craft characters who crave a full range of emotional and physical intimacy, only to rob them of related scenes every chance you get. That's not complexity. That's bad writing. To even achieve this in 5B, they must squash banter and sideline their female lead yet again.

What a gift to purity culture, which tells us to be more palatable by bottling and buttoning up. That sex should be taboo, but violence glorified. That there is no heated desire among "Good Women," that sexual minorities of all genders shouldn't experience it much at all.

5A is so good. At the very least, it's on the right path (clearly, since the plot payoff from 5x01 to 5x16 is great). It shows a couple working through difficulties and trauma, toward each other emotionally and physically. It even pokes fun at people who think an established relationship means the death of romantic and sexual appeal (a tired and hugely sexist trope). And then... And then 5B reverses that, pretending established relationships are barely physical during emotional struggle and that the honeymoon phase doesn't exist. It robs characters of joy and comfort through physical intimacy when they need it to move through or push beyond trauma.

It's telling that so many fan wishes for Deckerstar are about healing touch and existing in each other's spaces: amending Chloe's spicy PDA history with Cain, Chloe caring for Lucifer's wings, soft family scenes a la Monopoly night and shared meals, morning-afters, etc. Reasonable fans aren't asking for porn; they're asking for connection and humanity. They're asking for writers not to forget characters (and, yes, including hypersexual characters) on their way from Point A to Point B.

That 5B lacks these things isn't a "tee-hee frustrating" slow burn or a cockblock. It is, in so many scenes, excising from characters a core part of what nearly every human and fictional monster craves. And it's a slap in the face to the "found family" trope. When you remove or tamp down a casual physical intimacy that was previously there, characters and their relationships fall flat, even if only partially. They become blunt weapons creators wield against watchers or readers begging for scraps of warmth.

Minorities shouldn't be killed off with ease, and they shouldn't be stifled with ease, either.‡ And maybe there shouldn't be deep trauma driving a wedge in a romantic relationship if you're not going to explore it through that relationship, too—physical intimacy included.

I'm still reserving some judgment. I loved the family drama and the end. (Although, again, where was the physical intimacy? No intimacy when Chloe or Lucifer return from the dead? Really?) I see where they could do awesome things, and could have done more if not for network BS.

But I no longer trust Lucifer's writers and directors. They thought S5 was the end. And what they gave us of Deckerstar, of the relationship that symbolizes health and healing in their fictional world, is this: cold distance. And they got a kick out of doing it, apparently.

If this is a "love letter" to me as a fan, I'm burning it. I can only hope S6 course corrects. If not, the writers who made these choices shouldn't write sexual minority and/or traumatized characters again. If you don't understand most of us, you should stop fucking using us.

---

* If you don't believe me about the differences between casual/short-term relationships and end-game relationships in Lucifer, go back and look at how Lucifer and Maze are with strangers in all the other seasons. Look at Chloe's sex dream, her propositioning of Lucifer in a library, her sex with Pierce in the evidence closet. Look at how much physical intimacy there is between Lucifer and Eve, and then between Eve and Maze (if only as a ploy). Across seasons, there are sex/kink jokes and scenes galore.

Compare this to how these same characters are portrayed when with their end-game loves. Notice the gentle pecks on the lips and the huge general drop in sexual humor between 5A and 5B. How boring. Where's the spice these characters had? Also, give me a damn break. Buttoning up in a relationship is contrary to four and a half seasons of emotional character work that's been communicating security in our relationships is personally freeing.

† I'm not just talking about sexual intimacy in this post, though that is a big part of it because of the characters. 5B lacked crucial found family scenes, too.

Chloe should have been at God's family dinner, but being so would have prevented more ham-fisted angst. Chloe never even has a one-on-one with God, probably because that would demand a straight answer about her miracle status, which I would guess will be used to drive yet another wedge between her and Lucifer next season, but we'll see.

In multiple before- and after-work scenes, there was no reason for Lucifer and Chloe to be apart more, even, than they were in S1 and S2. Monopoly night was in S3, for crying out loud. Most horrifying of all? No one touches Chloe after Dan's death, but Trixie. Meanwhile, Linda, Amenadiel, Ella, Maze, and Lucifer all receive physical comfort. No wonder Chloe's tired of being strong.

‡ If you don't think it's offensive that they stuffed all their wlw content for two hypersexual characters into a few clunky, irrational, and chaste scenes that rushed I love yous, a marriage-like proposal, and the mention of soulmates, I don't know what to tell you other than get off my lawn.

[mymostimaginaryfriend]

QoTS 5x02 Reaction Post

My brain has basically been Jeresa airhorns since the episode aired lmao but I’m going to try to add some Thoughts to my liveblog from last night.  Here goes:

First of all thank you to @gild-and-fire​ for making this tag meme for me that is ALREADY coming in handy.

Iiiiiiiinteresting that the moment James’ name is cleared the Ice Queenpin of last week thawed quite a bit, right?  Sure the trademark cool under pressure business dealings were there for Teresa (including a bit of ruthlessness) but in very calculated, ultimately successful way rather than terrifying.

James is back like what? 48 hours and already throwing up speed bumps for the descent of Teresa’s soul.  It’s gonna be a tough job, but if anyone can do it....

How to say I love you without saying I love you: Some guys bring you flowers, some bring you a personal army.

This episode was a Jeresa Callback All U Can Eat Buffet

There were SO many from the greatest hits: Take Care of Yourself, You too / “Smart” / You Deserve That / I Want You to Stay etc.  to even visual cues from past Jeresa scenes - the talk outside about going to NYC / 2x04, the lunge into the kiss from 3x09.  And of course the cigarette scene that @medievalraven​ goes over in her great meta.  It was an episode tailor made for parallel gifsets. 

I’m kinda shocked they didn’t add a driving together scene for old times sake.  Still holding out hope for a S5 Jeresa adventure episode too.

These two, as ever, are so so soft and so so stupid lmao.  But even with the interruptions of their private scenes, they packed SO much in. And I loved how you could both tell they’d learned from their past miscommunications.

They were a little rusty at first - doing that thing they do approaching it from an angle instead of head on - T: “You didn’t have to come back.”  J: “Yeah I did.”   T: “Are you staying?” J: “Do you want me to stay?” But right out of the gate James is like this is what I feel, I need you to verbalize what you want from me. Which by end of the episode Teresa does.

But then he says “these Russians are animals” and you can practically SEE Teresa visualizing his death in her head so she’s like "you should go”.

LOL at James playing the emotional game of chicken with THE master of the game Teresa Mendoza.  Him being like “Okay I’ll pack...this is me walking to the bed slowly...packing...to leave...this is me leaving....and I’m going to wander around the house...slowly... in case anyone needs anything...just in case...do a shot with Pote...get to know Chicho...oh hey, I’m already packed let’s go to NYC” lol.

“I’m a quick healer” If only, my friend.

The laugh!!! the smiles!! the heart eyes!! the “people who you love” meaningful eye contact!!

The KISS - THE LUNGE - THE WAY JAMES CUPS HER HEAD WITH HIS HAND AND THEY TILT THEIR FOREHEADS TOGETHER - THE WAY JAMES TOUCHES HIS LIP AFTER LIKE WE’RE IN GODDAMNED PRIDE AND PREJUDICE!

The smoking scene.  Poor James was probably thinking of a victory celebration a la 3x09 like “will my stitches hold for that?? Lets find out” and then

Teresa comes out with a CLEAR “I want you to stay”!!!! growth.gif

Only to  drop the (albeit heart eyes included) hammer of “You and me can’t happen.”

I love how James didn’t technically agree.

Can’t wait to see if Teresa caves physically or emotionally first....

Just gonna leave these lines here: “I thought we could be like normal people” / “Get lost for awhile, get these hands clean” / “[change] is the only way to survive in this life” / “we can’t happen...maybe in some other life but not this one.”  Mmmhmmmmmm.  

Non Jeresa stuff:

I really like Oscar the Dominican so far.

Teresa’s “We can double our business or go to war. These are my terms.” CLASSIC Teresa smarts with Queenpin power...I loved it.

The judge: “You’ll be the next Mexican I set on fire”. He can’t just die now, his death better top Cortez’s death by chainsaw b/c this had me ready to drive to NOLA and do it myself.

I loved the expression on James face when Oksana said “[Kostya] wasn’t sure you’d save my life.” LOL like saving other ppl’s lives is kinda what Teresa does, if only I could get Teresa to save her own.

Is the Oksana stuff legit?? It felt really convenient that the “sleeper cell” was dead before Teresa could talk to them.  Were they really rogue or did Oksana just kill off everyone who knew otherwise?  We’ll see. Kostya agreed to her new terms for now.

I loved that of all the many conflicts introduced in the first ep (James, NYC Russians/Dominican rivalry, waterfront $$, the kill team, etc) so many had some sort of resolution or solid movement FORWARD in this episode.  That’s something I really missed from the earlier seasons: mini conflicts that had a 2-3 episode arc instead of *cough* dragging out all season (s4).

Speaking of which, Boaz’s sixth sense of when things are going too well for Teresa remains unparalleled lol.  But I can’t wait to see what JT does next. He’s killing it. Maybe literally...

And now.....the baby news.

At first I was too happy to get an extended James and Pote conversation to care but is anyone else kinda irked that it was POTE who shared the Tony story? I get it story wise w/ his own Tony redemption opportunity on the horizon with KA’s pregnancy they wanted to get that “this world is not for a child they make you weak and vulnerable” ominous foreshadowing in there but oof.  I wish it had been a Teresa/James convo first. 

A baby can be a catalyst for a lot of things (as if Teresa isn’t already feeling the pressure to get legit fast) but what I’m wondering is this:  If it comes down to protecting pregnant Kelly Anne or Teresa, in the heat of the moment, who will Pote choose? He violently reacted to the incarcerated teen boys and that was before he knew KA’s news.   

I’m glad James stayed.  Teresa needs someone who is focused on HER safety alone and as evidenced many times this episode, she definitely will need it.

CANNOT WAIT TO HAVE MARCEL BACK NEXT WEEK!

[lit-in-thy-heart]

I'm so excited you've jouned in!!! 💕

You owe Merwaine some happiness after your VERY angsty episode analyses so I would love those two and Sleepy hug please!! 😍

@little-ligi i hope this makes up for the angst!!! thank you for sending a prompt and have merlin and gwaine falling asleep together when with the knights and arthur on a trip thing (unspecified) between s4 and s5 💕

once again, under the cut because this is the longest one yet...

Rearranging his cloak so it provided greater coverage from the brisk wind, Gwaine glanced over at the group who were gradually drifting off amongst the fallen foliage. Despite the undiluted thoughts that inevitably streamed through his head when on watch, Gwaine relished the uninterrupted opportunity to softly observe Merlin without having the eyes of the other knights on him. If he had an apple for every time one of them – usually Percival or Arthur, despite Elyan’s quiet requests for them to shut up – had called him out for supposedly undressing Merlin with his eyes, he would certainly have a bushel of them by now. Granted, Gwaine sometimes did have the habit of mentally undressing Merlin with his eyes when he looked at him, but more often than not the knight was simply gazing in wonder at how such a beautiful being had chosen to devote his life to Gwaine of all people.

Merlin had been out of his sight for the past couple of hours, having accompanied Elyan to retrieve firewood, but Gwaine knew that they were both exchanging new spells that they’d learnt over the past few weeks. Elyan had told Gwaine about his magic before Gwaine had even had his suspicions about Merlin confirmed. Or, rather, Gwaine had stumbled in on Elyan, when the call of nature had echoed in his head on the night they had first met, and had witnessed him throwing all five of Gwaine’s knives without touching a single one. Gwaine had been more bothered by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed that his knives were missing than by the fact that Elyan was a sorcerer. And then, several weeks later, after Merlin had confessed to Gwaine on the night they had found themselves in bed together after an evening in the tavern, Gwaine had told both Elyan and Merlin to meet him in the Darkling Woods, greeted them with the statement that they both had magic, and had left them to it. Although he forced his unwavering support onto Merlin at every given opportunity, Gwaine knew the value of having someone close who knew precisely the struggles being faced, and he was grateful that Merlin had that in Elyan, and vice versa.

With a smile, Gwaine’s gaze slid over to Merlin, cocooned in a blanket and laughing at some remark that Elyan had sleepily murmured, and he settled himself against a tree trunk, moving his eyes back to the space in front of him as he withdrew his sword and positioned it across torso, the point of the blade hovering dangerously close to his neck. It was probably best that he was keeping watch alone, so he wouldn’t get distracted by talking to someone – but it also meant that there was nobody to check him when his attention slid, as it always did, to Merlin. He squinted up at the sky, seeking out the moon. At least he wasn’t expected to keep watch all night. Not that there was much need. Perhaps it was somewhat of an invincibility complex but, ever since donning the cloak bearing Camelot’s emblem, Gwaine had felt untouchable. Almost. The cloak hadn’t made Lancelot untouchable. Setting his jaw, Gwaine took a deep breath and focused on the lazy wave of the leaves opposite, on the stars splattered across the deep canvas of the sky like a bloodstain, on the soft melody of the wind.

‘Come on, now, Gwaine, you know full well how hot you look when you hold a sword like that.’

Perhaps Gwaine, who had not noticed Merlin – Merlin, of all people – approach, had not been the best choice for watch. He looked up with the smile that always graced his lips whenever the warlock was near, eyes dropping with Merlin’s body as he settled himself next to him. ‘I am by no means opposed to making out right here, right now.’

To satiate his desire, Merlin scattered a trail of kisses along his hairline. ‘I don’t think the others would appreciate it.’

‘Mm, you’re probably right there,’ Gwaine murmured, his fingers tracing Merlin’s face. ‘And you should sleep.’

‘I’m okay.’

Gwaine’s hands found the shadowed purple beneath Merlin’s eyes and he fixed him with a look. ‘I know that you haven’t slept properly for the past two weeks. I can see it written all over your face.’

Scowling, Merlin pushed his hand away. ‘Well that’s rude.’

‘But not a lie.’

Expression softening, Merlin wrapped the blanket tighter around his body.‘That’s because you’ve been on night patrol for the past two weeks and haven’t slept next to me.’

‘I don’t enjoy it.’

‘No, but at least you get to talk to Elyan. I’m left alone with the ceiling and my thoughts, and you know how much I hate that.’ Realising how he sounded, Merlin leaned closer into Gwaine. ‘I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I know full well there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Just as Merlin knew that, Gwaine knew full well that he shouldn’t do what his arm had already started to do but, noticing Merlin’s poorly-concealed shivers, he set down his sword and drew Merlin in so the warlock was resting his head in Gwaine’s chest. Then, kissing the top of his head, Gwaine pushed him away as swiftly as he’d pulled him in. ‘Go to bed, love. If you fall asleep here then your neck will not be thanking you in the morning.’

Looking up, Merlin held his gaze for several moments. With a sigh, he lifted his head and kissed Gwaine on the mouth before reluctantly standing and stumbling back to the makeshift camp. Gwaine watched as he settled himself at a slight distance from the other knights and Arthur, his back turned. The flickering embers cast subtle shadows across Merlin’s back and Gwaine’s gaze remained turned towards him for several moments more before he forced his eyes to travel away from the warlock’s form. Gwaine didn’t need to see it to know how it moulded to his palms when they were alone.

When around other people, Merlin always seemed to skirt around Gwaine, always leaving at least several inches between their bodies, as if afraid of causing Gwaine to shatter as a mirage if he made even the slightest contact with his skin. Gwaine had started wearing gloves more frequently in the hopes that Merlin would be more liberal in brushing against him then, but it had all been to no avail. Then Gwaine had continued to wear gloves anyway, just so that his bare hands wouldn’t have the nerves numbed by grazing surfaces before they reached out for Merlin’s skin. The result was a warm tingle that, to some, would be more of a scald, but Gwaine savoured every moment that his skin was set alight by Merlin. Having a particular skill with fire spells also helped him not feel the agony of burning so much, too.

When they were alone, though, Merlin was the one to remove Gwaine’s gloves and, every time his fingers skimmed the bones in Gwaine’s hand, the knight had to focus so as not to release skittering flames in Merlin’s direction. There seemed to be a ritual with Merlin when they were alone. The warlock would gently draw the gloves from Gwaine’s skin, toss them to one side, and then dedicate a substantial amount of time to tracing the marks on the knight’s hands, no matter how many times his fingers had already followed the cellular paths that day.

First, he always looked for new scalds or burns, disregarding Gwaine’s protests that they didn’t hurt in the same way that their ancestors had when he had first started learning magic, skimming his fingers over the marks as if the touch formed a mental note to treat them at a later date. After assessing the damage, Merlin’s lips always trailed behind his touch, silently reassuring each of Gwaine’s imperfections that they were so wonderfully loved and successfully sending shivers up Gwaine’s spine. Though those shivers always were abruptly severed when Merlin’s touch made its way to the thick scar just below the fold of skin between his right thumb and forefinger. Merlin had never once pushed him for more information about his childhood amongst bandits, but there was always a part of Gwaine that worried Merlin would one day get sick of the sight of the small branded letter, not quite concealed by the path the knife had taken so long ago, and would abandon him to the abyss he had been lost in before meeting the warlock.

But that hadn’t happened yet.

After studying Gwaine’s hands, Merlin then moved to stripping him of his knighthood and it was a death that Gwaine would gladly watch again and again if it was at Merlin’s hands. The chainmail was cast aside, the cloak thrown over a chair, and the sword noisily skimmed the floor until Gwaine was stood in only a shirt and his trousers, equal to Merlin. The only armour Gwaine had ever wanted covering him, since that day at the tavern, was Merlin’s hands. Arthur hadn’t really given him an opportunity to turn down the knighthood and, even if he had, there was always the possibility – in Gwaine’s mind, at least – that Arthur would have been offended enough to maintain his banishment, and then Gwaine never would have seen Merlin again. Being a knight did have its advantages, though: Gwaine never went hungry, nor did he have to sleep with one eye open, and he had been getting into fewer and fewer brawls over the years. Though that last one was perceived as more of an advantage in Leon’s eyes, who had always been the one to drag him out of any frays and then let him cool off in the cells on the odd occasion. Even when that had happened, though, Merlin had always slipped in and spent the night with Gwaine, heating his body up to unnatural temperatures to keep Gwaine warm. The first few times that had happened, Gwaine had been terrified that Merlin would spontaneously combust, but Merlin had frequently assured him that such a trick was not possible.

So they would stand there, facing one another in silence, Gwaine’s materialistic armour strewn across the room, and then Gwaine would take Merlin gently in his hands, tracing segments of the form he knew so well, and then their souls would fuse together with their lips.

 

When the stars had shifted substantially, Gwaine hauled himself from his position and shook out his legs in the vain attempt to rid himself of the cramp in his limbs, slowly advancing towards Leon’s form. He gently prodded him awake, instinctively lunging backwards as the reflexive swipe came from the blankets, and held out his arms to receive said blankets when a thickened voice quietly called out his name. 

Turning around, Gwaine could just make out Merlin’s hands stretching out in a half-hearted wave in the heavy darkness and, telling Leon to forget about the blankets, picked his way through the sleeping knights, guided by the dropping syllables of his name. By the time he reached Merlin, the warlock’s hands had fallen to the ground and, smiling fondly, Gwaine hastily stripped down to his gambeson and slid into the nest Merlin had made.

There were significantly more blankets than Merlin should have had – not that Gwaine was complaining – and Merlin drowsily pushed several layers towards him, turning around to face Gwaine. His eyes flickered in the darkness as his hand fell against Gwaine’s chest and, from the point where Merlin touched him, the knight could feel a comforting heat pushing into him like a blade. Gwaine realised he probably should have tied back his hair so Merlin didn’t accidentally try to eat it in his sleep, but he was too comfortable to do that. With a smile, Gwaine encircled the warlock with his arms and rested his mouth against Merlin’s forehead as his eyes closed.

‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you, too,’ Merlin murmured.

Gwaine frowned, one eye cracking open. ‘You were asleep. You couldn’t have missed me.’

There was a pause. ‘You know I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I couldn’t sleep properly without you next to me, right?’

‘I did not.’ Gwaine waited until he felt five of Merlin’s exhalations drape themselves around his throat before speaking again. ‘Whatever did you do before I came into your life?’

‘Had a decent night’s sleep, because I wasn’t aware of your existence and consequently didn’t have to constantly worry about preserving it.’ Merlin shifted against him, hands crawling under Gwaine’s shirt and settling themselves on his stomach. ‘It’s so strange to think that we didn’t even know that the other existed. That we had no idea that one day we would be right here, in this moment.’

Merlin, when tired, always became philosophical. And usually when Gwaine was tired he couldn’t make head or tail of what his significant other was saying, but perhaps the cool night air had cleared his head more than ale usually did. ‘I think I prefer it that way,’ Gwaine murmured. ‘If we’d known that the other was out there, then I think we would have spent all our lives searching. We would have pinned our entire existence on the other person and that’s...That just doesn’t feel right. Not that I’m saying I don’t love you.’

‘No, no, I know...I know what you mean,’ yawned Merlin, pushing his head into Gwaine’s chest.

Tightening his arms around Merlin, Gwaine listened to the rhythm of the warlock’s breathing pattern, trying to match his own to it, and gently kissed the top of his head. There was a slight mumble, and something that might have resembled an ‘I love you’ and Gwaine murmured it back, just in case. It had been too long since the two of them had drifted off together, wrapped in one another’s beings, and Gwaine would forever bind himself to the soft form that was quite literally touching his heart.

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

“Why Not Me?”

Spike x Summers!Reader, BTVS

Warnings: angst, character death, cursing, some sexual content

Description: The reader is struggling with their sister’s death and needs a helping hand. Set between the end of S5 and the beginning of S6.

This has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute while I’ve been working on other stuff. It’s actually one of the first Spike pieces I wrote 🙈 I’m not in love with it, but I’ve been busy with other things lately and I wanted to release some new content, so here you go! I’m currently working on figuring out how to put together a masterlist and link my stories with the read more thing that I see on other fic writers’ pages so things are a little more organized.

Also (last thing, promise), I just wanted to say how much I appreciate the likes and comments you guys leave! @kind-wolf especially has helped motivate me so much in releasing new work, even if I feel it’s not my best ❤️

The first few days are hard. You wouldn’t be able to get yourself out of bed if not for Dawn. Everyone keeps peeking glances at you like you’re broken, like after your mother died but worse.

Infinitely worse, because Buffy and Dawn are your responsibility. You’re the oldest. You’re meant to protect them, to shield them. But all you’ve ever done is watch as your sister saved the world. And now even that has been taken from you.

You keep busy. You can only take so many days off work, trade so many shifts. Soon you have to go back and Dawn has to go to school, unless you want her to be taken from you, too.

Spike watches her for you while you’re at the diner. You’ve shortened your hours so you can sometimes be there with her before she goes to bed, but you’ve still got bills to pay. And you can’t bring up downsizing like you once meant to. Not when the house is the last thing linking the formerly whole Summers family together.

Willow does her best to play therapist, considering how you can’t go to a real one. First of all, they’d probably commit you for telling them your story. Second, you don’t have the strength to let anyone else in. Expanding your world to include more people only means that you have more of them to lose.

You made some mistakes in the first few weeks. You’re not proud of them by any means, but you’re doing your best to own them.

The worst one involved Spike.

One night (or, rather, morning) after your shift was over, you had come home and showered. As usual, you cried for as long as you could justify letting the water run. Then you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel that you almost dropped when you saw him waiting in your room.

“I think we need to have a chat, Summers.”

He patted the bed next to him, just like he had when he tagged along for the first time to your diner shift all those months ago. The gesture made you want to cry again.

“Let me get dressed,” you mumbled. You rummaged through your dresser for a tank top and sweatpants, the only types of clothing besides your uniform that you had been using since the funeral. Then you locked yourself in the bathroom.

You strongly considered crawling out the window, but you were too loud when you tried to pry it open and Spike rapped loudly on the door.

“Don’t even try it, love.”

Resigned, you came out to sprawl on your bed and wait for the lecture.

Spike started in as usual by saying that you weren’t taking care of yourself. Once again, you reminded him that you were a perfectly capable adult who was keeping an entire household running and that you didn’t need him or anyone else questioning you.

“I know you’re capable, that’s not the point—”

“Then what is the point? What right do you have—”

“I’ve been right here beside you the whole time! I’m allowed to have some input—”

“I’m sorry, is your name Spike Summers? No? Then get off my ass about—”

You could see in his eyes that he wanted to shake some sense into you. He thought you were the one being obtuse. But all you were doing, all you had ever tried to do, was to hold everything together.

“Summers,” he growled. The two of you had been inching closer together during your heated argument, your voices raised dangerously, considering Dawn was still asleep. For a moment, you saw a flicker of his other face. Even knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, you gulped. “Stop being so bloody thick about everything. You’re working yourself to death, and who’s going to be here for Dawn if you’re carted off to the hospital?”

Normally, this was the point where the tears would flow against your will, but you only felt frustrated. Then Spike tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and it boiled over.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, and you still don’t know why you did what you did next. Maybe you wanted to push him away like you had been doing with everyone else. Maybe you wanted a distraction. Or maybe you just wanted him.

You kissed him.

It was an automatic reaction, but if you had to guess, you’d say it was probably because you needed to show him that you were fine at taking care of yourself. You were still an independent agent, making your own decisions, however poor they might be. But you didn’t think that was the message he got at all, because it turned needy real quick.

His hand came to the back of your head as he wove his fingers through your hair in a tender gesture, but you didn’t want tender. You wanted the pain to be blocked out. You tried to seal yourself to him, pulling yourself into his lap. You ran your nails over his jaw, his neck, and then his chest, clawing at his shirt. He lifted it halfway, enough for you to see the defined abs that waited beneath, before he pulled away abruptly and dumped you onto the bed.

“We can’t,” he said, panting. “You’re grieving.”

“I’m fine.”

You crawled over to him and slipped off the edge of the bed to press him against the wall, but he held you back.

“You’re sick. It would be taking advantage.”

He knew before the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.

Your eyes widened and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, suddenly wanting every trace of him off you. You stepped toward the door backwards, almost tripping over your backpack.

“No, my mom was sick,” you said with your hand on the knob. Then, whipping back around, your face contorted like a Fury: “You’re sick, you know that? You chase after me for months, following me to work, to school, telling me you don’t want to see me hurt myself. You hold me while I’m sleeping and touch me when you think no one’s watching and joke in front of the others about how you’d like to see me naked and then I give you the chance to and what? Has mourning made me so awful to you?”

Spike couldn’t have been more shocked if you slapped him. He kept waiting for your knees to buckle, for you to break down, but you never did. Not in front of the others, not in front of him. Anyone would think you were the goddamn Energizer Bunny, if not for how exhausted you looked.

“Love—”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you said. “If you aren’t willing to ‘take advantage,’ I’ll find someone who is.”

You didn’t slam the door. Even now, you were mindful of Dawn, of how early it was. Instead, you grabbed your keys from the kitchen countertop and made it as far as the front porch before you folded in on yourself.

Not now, you pleaded, praying to a God you weren’t sure existed. Please, let me get somewhere else first.

But you couldn’t move. You kept seeing Buffy fall over and over again, tearing through the inter-dimensional portal like a silk screen, hitting the concrete hard.

You couldn’t breathe.

It was like you could see her and Dawn up top, before Buffy dived down like some kind of fucking Olympic swimmer. You had been on the ground with the others, but you could see them in that moment. Buffy taking Dawn’s face in her hands as she cried. Playing the hero. Telling your sister how she had to do this and to remember how much she loved you both.

You didn’t see or hear Spike come out on the patio or notice when he pried the keys from your hands. You were too busy sobbing silently to the point where he was worried you might pass out.

“It should have been me,” you said, not to him or yourself, but to whatever God had taken Buffy. Glory, maybe. Someone with more power than you. “I’m the oldest. I should have been there. Bring her back and take me.”

“She was the Slayer,” Spike said softly. He didn’t touch you, just sat a fair distance away and ached. “It had to be her.”

In your crazed state, you thought God was talking back, and he happened to have a British accent. You tried to reason with him.

“No, it wasn’t about that. It was about Summers blood. It could have been me, if I had gotten there in time. If—”

“You wouldn’t have made it up the steps past Glory, past the demon. You didn’t have a chance.”

“But it should have been me!” The words came out as more of a wheeze than anything else. You weren’t taking in enough oxygen to support your crying jag. “I should have been the Slayer. I’m the oldest. Why did you choose her? Was I not strong enough?”

You couldn’t open your eyes fully through all the tears. They swam in front of your vision like you were underwater, turning your car into a coral reef, the grass of the front yard into seaweed.

“Or if I couldn’t be the Slayer or the Key, then I should have been the one to jump. You know it’s true,” you pleaded. “Summers blood. It’s all the same.”

But it wasn’t. Because whatever blood was in Dawn and Buffy contained courage.

Spike didn’t know who you thought you were talking to, but he was worried you were going to knock yourself out on the steps and split your head open, with the way you were wavering back and forth, leaning forward to weep and then throwing your head back to ask why, why, why it hadn’t been you.

Finally, he had to restrain you, scooping you up into his lap and holding you tight to keep you from getting any ideas about taking a dive of your own off the porch. At first, you fought against him, thrashing like a wildcat, but you were too tired to keep it up for long.

“Why not me?” you asked him again. Your voice was muffled against his chest, but he heard you loud and clear. How could he not?

“Because you’re needed here. You’re the only thing keeping everyone sane, lo—” He cut himself off, barely remembering how much the word had upset you earlier. “You protected Buffy as best you could your whole life. And now you need to be here for Dawn.”

“No,” you said, wrestling out of his grip enough to face him. “I mean, why don’t you want me?”

Your eyes were swollen and you had just gotten snot all over his shirt, but in that moment he was so grateful that you were alive that his heart would’ve skipped a beat if it could have. He pulled you close and kissed your forehead, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, reminding himself that you were flesh and blood right before him. You were still here.

“Any other time, sweetheart, it would’ve been you,” he whispered against your cheek. You were going slack in his arms, relaxing like a kitten, unable to keep yourself upright and rigid when you were so completely spent. He could taste your tears. “I always want you. But not like this.”

“What do you—hic—mean?”

This was alright. You were a little out of it still, but you were coherent, and you weren’t trying to hurt yourself anymore. Spike resisted the urge to pull you closer, to feel your heart beat against his chest like it was his own, just to confirm you were here, solid, breathing.

“I want you when I can tell it’s real. That you don’t need someone to take your pain away and that’s it, even though I’d strip right now, right here on the porch, if I thought it would help.”

Spike thought he might get a laugh out of you there, but your eyes were unfocused. Frightening. He lifted you up like you weighed nothing, which wasn’t far from the truth now that you’d all but stopped eating, and carried you back into the house and up the stairs to your bedroom.

“I want you so much it hurts,” he promised you as he peeled back the covers to tuck you in. “Like when I’m starving for blood and there’s no one around.”

He checked your face quickly, thinking his metaphor might’ve been less-than-helpful, but when it remained blank he continued.

“I need you. That means I have to do what’s best for you, and right now that’s not sex.”

He started across the room, but you called out.

“Spike?” You sounded uncertain, fragile. “Will you stay with me? Not for... not for sex.”

“Of course I will, lo— Summers.”

He shed his t-shirt and slipped into the fuzzy bottoms you’d gotten him a few months ago, when things were not quite good but getting back to normal, and cradled you.

He gave it a couple minutes before he tried again. “Summers, you know, if you do want sex in the future and you’re not on the verge of a breakdown, I’m your guy.”

But you were already asleep.

[whirlybirbs]

— tenderly feral, iii.

summary: you settle in. things are okay. you’re trying. daryl is, too. together. pairing: daryl dixon x female!reader rating: t for violence, references to murder/assault/loss, s5 spoilers, if that matters. word count: 3.1k a/n: set mid-season 5. i am full feral rn, churning out chapters at the speed of light so these two can just kiss already. again, @thatdamnokie​ made a playlist for this fic. please give it a listen! it’s perfection. anyways here’s daryl dixon having a crush.

                                           ✘      previous chapter.      ✘

When you wake up, the world is quiet.

The only sound is that of your breathing. You pull open your eyes, still heavy from sleep, and are greeted with the golden rays of the morning sun creeping in through the living room’s windows. The crisp, early breeze kisses the curtains, rippling the fabric like waves in the sea. The sun is warm on your cheeks. Everything is still. Peaceful.

So, for the first time since this all started, you roll over and go back to sleep.

Your knees knock Daryl’s, thigh pressed up against his as you bury yourself into your pillow and slip back under into sleep.

And Daryl watches it all -- watches you nestle into the blanket you’d unceremoniously stolen from him during the night, watches you inhale and exhale and tumble down into your dreams for another few minutes of bliss.

You nudge his hip with yours, content with the shared body heat of the touch.

It’s enough. His skin buzzes at the contact.

He’s not a religious man -- never has been. Merle neither. His pa sure as hell wasn’t, but his ma? Daryl can remember a glimmering golden cross around her neck; he can remember a prayer before dinner, a whispered prayer and before bed. She sure as hell wasn’t anything holy, but Hershel... Hershel had spoke of angels and heaven and all things beautiful in this world.

Daryl figures you’re just about all those things right now.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

✘

You feel stupid.

You look like you belong out there. As Carol changes behind you into an outfit that screams parent-teacher meeting, you huff and shrug on another sweater in hopes of looking less like you’ve just walked in from outside. You’re supposed to be a teacher. You’re supposed to be soft and kind and even-tempered and alive.

You don’t feel like any of those things.

The problem is, it’s set in your cheeks. In your eyes. You can’t shake the outside.

You’re on your third change of clothes when Carol speaks.

“Hey.”

Your hands are shaking from frustration. You drop them to your hips and serve her a miserable look in the mirror.

“Why don’t you wear the blue one?” she says softly, “It looked nice.”

“... I don’t want to do this.”

It blurts out from your lips quicker than you can catch it.

And Carol’s face warps into a look of calculated confusion.

But, before she can console you, you swipe at your eyes and haul on the blue sweater and tug your hair up and away -- the bruises around your neck have faded off into a delicate yellow color. If you squint, they look like nothing more than a smear of dirt.

“You know...” Carol speaks after a few beats of silence, “I don’t think any of us are ready to do this yet.”

You swallow. Your eyes hit your hands and you wring your fingers.

“I wanna try,” you breathe, “But...”

“But it doesn’t feel real.”

“Like it’s a dream,” you rush out, “And when I wake up --”

“None of it will have ever happened?”

Yeah. Something like that.

Carol’s hand touches your arm.

“When you an’ Daryl found me,” you shake your head, eyes fleeting shut as you grapple with the sting of tears, “I was gonna give up, y’know. After all these months of just... running and surviving and... doing what I had to do? I was tired. I was... I was tired of being alone. A-And, now we’re here and we’re alive and I... I slept in a home... A real home...”

“It’s okay,” Carol steps in to sweep her hands along your arms, “It’s okay to be afraid.”

You don’t know how to tell her you’re not. And that’s the worst part.

You don’t feel a damn thing.

✘

You slip onto the porch before Carol, feeling out of place and uncomfortable.

Daryl’s there -- he’s posed on the railing, perched precariously against the beam as he cleans his crossbow and loads and unloads his bolts. He’s not really there, he’s miles away, thinkin’ about things that he has no business thinkin’ about. Being in these walls... He can feel himself going soft. So, his own walls climb higher and higher up. Like armor around his heart.

And then you smile at him and they just... crumble.

It’s not a real smile. It’s tight-lipped and full of anxiety. But, it’s something softer than he’s used to. Your arms are wound tight around yourself, boots toeing the boards of the deck when he speaks up.

“... You look nice.”

Compliments. That’s a thing -- ain’t it? Pretty girls love compliments.

(Daryl wonders, off-handedly, when he started caring what pretty girls thought.)

“Yeah?” you shirk, glancing down at your outfit, “I think I look stupid.”

“Nah,” he croaks, eyes lingering on your face, “You look... good.”

You don’t feel it.

You don’t feel a damn thing.

Daryl sees it.

Carol steps out before you can speak, smile cut into her features at the sight of you both. In recent days, you’ve started to like the older woman -- Daryl’s apparent respect and care for her have gone a long way in your eyes. You relax a bit at her appearance. She looks as... domestic as you do. Her face lights up at the sight of you and Daryl chatting, and she makes a point of quirking a brow his way.

He ignores it.

“Have you showered yet?”

Her hand pats your shoulder, chin jutting as if to say let’s go -- and as you descend the steps, Daryl makes a huffy sound.

“Later.”

“M’ gonna hose you off in your sleep.”

“You look ridiculous, y’know.”

“Ha ha,” Carol chirps, “Shower. At least try to make this work, Daryl.”

He tosses his hand, something playing behind his eyes as he scoffs again.

“Ridiculous!”

You’re laughing a little as you head to the school, and Daryl sees it.

✘

“She’s stronger than you think, y’know.”

Carol scoffs at Daryl’s words. Behind her, Rick’s eyes narrow as he watches the treeline. It’s still early. The morning sun hasn’t hung itself high in the sky yet.

Daryl’s hand are glued to the strap of his crossbow. He grips the black strap tight, knuckles going white. Irritation bites at his nerves, then, boiling at Carol’s sudden motherliness -- she does this sometimes, and he hates it. Merle did shit like that, too. Tried t’ be the daddy he never had. But... Carol’s different. Like a sister. A good sister. She means well.

“She’s afraid,” Carol mutters, “She’s like a deer. Skittish.”

“She ain’t used t’ settling down,” Daryl supplies, “She ain’t weak.”

“Neither are we,” Rick chirps, moving to toe at the blender by the abandoned home on the outskirts of Alexandria’s walls, “And that’s what we need right now. We don’t know if this will work out.”

“We oughta try,” says Carol, “Or... I dunno, make it seem like we are.”

Silence slips between the trio.

“For now, this stays between us,” Rick breathes, “And we try.”

✘

You don’t know about that.

Because after one day of trying and four people asking you if you’d be at Deanna’s dinner party later, you’re about ready to run. You could pack your bag and be outta here in an hour. Forget this sweater and this fuckin’ McGraw-Hill science textbook in your hands.

The kids... there’s about ten of them. In the morning, it’s the younger ones. Later, it’s the older ones. It’s a good system, but as you introduced yourself and the days materials, you couldn’t help but feel like a fraud.

This version of you died months ago.

Daryl is swaggering towards the gates when you break at noon.

You cross paths like two comets in the sky, stopping short before one another without a word.

“How was it?”

“Shit.”

“Huh.”

You shake your head and wave the textbook.

“There’s a dinner party tonight.”

“Fuck that.”

“Right?”

You toe the dirt for a second while Daryl tries to pin the look on your face. He can’t put his thumb on it. Under the high noon sun, you glow with a melancholy sort of aura. Sad. Lonely. Makes his chest ache a little.

You sigh. “You goin’ out?”

“Might as well,” he scoffs, “Ain’t got a job yet.”

“Be careful.”

A smirk. “Me?”

It prompts another one of those tight-lipped smiles you do, the ones that are becoming more frequent. You knock his arm with your fist gently as you pass, rolling your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Need anything?” he asks as he begins to walk backwards, eyes still stuck to your figure.

“A drink, maybe.”

Daryl snorts. “M’ sure the dinner party will have some, huh.”

“Don’t remind me,” you call over your shoulder, “Have fun, wild child.”

The middle finger tossed your way is affectionate.

✘

Aaron finds him in the woods.

And they find Buttons.

And Daryl realizes he might as well try.

After Beth... it was hard to fuckin’ stomach the idea of trying. It is. Her death still stings like a fresh wound. Besides Rick, besides Carol, Beth was the only other person who’d managed to really know him. To stand him. Daryl, in all his bitterness, ended up being able to call Beth a friend -- they were different people, wildly different, but they’d kept each other sane when things got bleak and when she went missin’... He felt a part of himself go missin’, too. Just like after Merle.

That was for the best, though -- Merle’s death.

He could be Daryl, after that. Not Will Dixon’s son, not Merle Dixon’s baby brother. He could be Daryl Dixon.

And Beth Greene had been a friend to Daryl Dixon.

And you? You’re... you’re getting there.

“Who is she?” Aaron asks on the trek back to the walls.

Daryl blinks a few times at the curly haired man over his shoulder before throwing a scoff into the air. He swings his crossbow over his shoulder.

“Who?” he hoots, trying to seem indifferent, “Boston?”

“... Is that what you call her?”

Daryl shrugs. Aaron chews the inside of his lip. He sees the tense nature that creeps into the trackers posture.

“I heard you saved her,” Aaron asks, careful in his words, “In the city?”

“Almost didn’t,” he grunts, hauling through the brush. He seems to snarl at the memory, “I did, though, and... She’s a good person. Took a gamble, but she’s good. Sometimes y’ gotta trust your gut.”

“Deanna said she was a teacher... Before all this, I mean.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she wants to do it no more,” Daryl cuts in, “She ain’t... I dunno. None of us are who we used t’ be.”

Aaron falls quiet at that.

“You think you’ll try...?”

As the walls of Alexandria come back into view, Daryl wrings the strap of his crossbow.

“Maybe.”

✘

He does.

And you do, too.

You’re two beers in when you finally decide this dinner party wasn’t worth the threats Michonne and Carol had both hurled at you in an attempt to get you to go -- you tug the cardigan you’d thrown on over your sun-dress tighter around your shoulders as you decide that some air would be best and move to meander towards the front porch.

The sounds from inside sound foreign.

Alive.

And as you step outside, you catch the familiar figure of Daryl Dixon retreating down the street. At the sound of the door closing, he turns around --

And it���s like gettin’ punched in the gut.

He knew you were pretty before but... he knows you’re real pretty now. You’ve got a pretty dress on and your hair is done up in neat braids and you’ve got a necklace on that glimmers in the porch light.

If this was before everything, Daryl is convinced you wouldn’t have even looked his way. Not once. 

Your buzz peaks at the sound of his trademarked scoff. You follow the sound, lazily trudging down the steps and meeting him half-way on the sidewalk.

Something hangs in the air between you both, and your lips turn down in an amused smile. You’re closer now, noticing that he’s finally showered and changed into a nicer shirt. This one has a damn collar for god’s sake. His usual vest, though, still hangs from his shoulders as he eyes the party over your shoulder.

“How was it?” he asks finally, hands jammed in his pockets.

“Shit,” you chirp, noting the parallel from your earlier conversation as you drop your head and offer your half-full beer his way, “Not goin’ in?”

“Fuck that.”

He takes the beer and snags a long sip, tipping it back as you both begin to head back down the block towards the houses Deanna has allotted for the group. The silence is comfortable; between the sounds of your steps the night creeps out into the walls. Crickets and peepers and coyotes and... and if you close your eyes you can pretend everything’s normal again.

And you try.

And then, a voice calls out --

“Hey!”

Both you and Daryl turn, eyes wide.

It’s Aaron -- the lights of his house glow warm behind him. Beside you, Daryl’s face warps in confusion.

“Thought you were goin’ t’ that party over there --”

“Oh, I was never going to go ‘cause of Eric’s ankle,” the man glances up, laughing a little, “Thank god.”

Daryl squints, posture stiff. “Why’d you tell me t’ go then, huh?”

You blink between the two of them. Aaron does the same.

“You tried. It’s... I dunno, it’s the thought that counts.”

Aaron catches the glimmer of understanding the passes over your face.

“Look,” Aaron starts, “Come in. I made spaghetti... It’s... It’s pretty good --”

Blue eyes pass to you. You snag the beer, take a sip, then shrug.

“Don’t look at me.”

“You comin’?” he asks, brows furrowing.

“You’re both more than welcome --”

Your head moves between them both as you swallow, a bit of awe on your face as you realize Daryl’s pinned this on you; it’s a moment of comradery, a moment of ‘going down together’, and... and it’s nice.

So, you shake your head and give a little laugh and gesture for Daryl to lead the way.

And he does.

✘

You’re relatively quiet during dinner -- conversation fleets between Aaron and Eric who supply a hefty portion of noodles and wine. You have to admit it’s nicer than Deanna’s; you don’t feel like you need to smile and wave and maintain an unwavering sense of politeness. Daryl certainly feels the same way and you roll your eyes as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

You shove your boot his way under the table. He makes a face. You hand him a napkin and he scoffs with his mouthful of spaghetti.

“M’ good, thanks.”

He proceeds, then, to slurp another pile up and you pull a face.

“Sorry about him,” you mutter towards Aaron and Eric who share surprised looks between the two of you, “He’s part animal--”

The corner of his mouth is pulled upwards as he laughs, hunched over his meal. “Shut up.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

And for the first time, you flash a full smile his way before sipping your wine.

Eric just... sips his drink. Aaron kicks him under the table.

And all is well.

✘

Aaron wants him to recruit.

Your whole world is glowing from the wine buzz when he shows you both the garage, littered with bike parts. Daryl, then, seems to perk up -- he gravitates towards the table full of gears and engine components before taking pause.

It makes you wonder about the question you’d asked him the night before. About who he was before all this. Clearly, all this means something to him. You’re just not sure what.

“I don’t want Eric risking his life anymore --”

“Yeah,” Daryl breathes, “You want me riskin’ mine, right?”

From your spot in the doorway, you feel the bite of anxiety grab at your heartstrings. Eric, beside you, must have noticed, because his hand is careful on your arm. You spare him a tight-lipped smile as Daryl pulls the blanket off the bike and steps back; reminds him of his brother’s bike but... newer. This one isn’t a low-ride. It’s fast. Lean. Mean.

He catches your eyes through the bike’s frame and Aaron’s pose.

“Yeah,” Aaron exhales, “because you know what you’re doing. You’re good out there. And... because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person.”

Your eyes hit the ground.

“You talked about saving her,” Aaron says, gesturing to you, “And... And -- we need that. Alexandria needs that.”

The air is heavy when Daryl finally speaks. “I got nothin’ else to do.”

You have to laugh, smile creating dimples in your cheeks as Eric mimics the gesture. Daryl winds himself around the bike, waving to Aaron.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get you some rabbits.”

And you can tell Daryl is trying.

✘

The evening is quiet and you and Daryl are shoulder to shoulder on the front steps of the house.

The cigarette in his hands is nearing its end, embers swallowing it whole as ash litters the stoop. Daryl takes one last drag before dropping the butt to the cement and smothering it with the toe of his boot. It dies quick and the smoke that swirls around him is a little dizzying.

You’re still drunk.

He is, too, if he’s being honest. The wine snuck up on him.

You lean back on your elbows, watching him.

“You’re gonna do it, then?”

“What?”

“Recruit,” you say slowly, “For this place.”

“Might as well.”

“So, we’re stayin’?”

“Gonna try.”

He looks back at you and you snort, blinking up at the moon.

“... Alright.”

Daryl nudges your boot with his. “What’s that mean, huh?”

“Nothin’,” you chirp, lolling your head his way, “I’ll have t’ wait by the gates fer you to come back, I guess.”

His heart hammers a little.

“Shut up.”

“M’ serious,” you cry, shoving his arm, “It’s... That... I dunno.”

“What?” he presses, chin jutting as he speaks, “Use yer words, Boston.”

You roll your eyes. “That my nickname now?”

“Always been.”

“Gonna start callin’ you Dipstick,” you mutter, “Cuz you like ‘em so much.”

He laughs at that. “I’m surprised you even know what a damn dipstick is.”

“I know things,” you chirp, “I can check my own oil.”

He leans back, lip quirked. You’re still watching the sky, stray fly-aways escaping your braids. It’s cute. You’re pretty, still, in the glow of his four glasses of wine. Prettier than before. Maybe it’s the moon. Makes you all kinds of starry-eyed.

“Ain’t you somethin’ special.”

He means it.

“I will wait, though, at the gates,” you slur, “Make sure yer okay.”

His eyes narrow. Daryl mimics your posture, leaning back on the top step with his elbows and reclining a bit. You cross your legs at your ankles and sigh, prompting him to press on.

“Why?”

“‘Cause you’re th’ only person here I like,” you supply, “Besides... I dunno, the others don’t count. I like ‘em enough but they ain’t my friends.”

Friends.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

“Friends, huh?” he asks quietly, “That what we are?”

You turn your eyes to him and his dart away. “I’d like t’ be.”

“Alright.”

“Friends, then.”

“Yeah.”

For the second time tonight, you look alive.

[beautifultypewriter]

Horse Sense ~ Tommy Shelby

Requested: Yes / by Anonymous

Warnings: Smoking and alcohol

Word Count: 1,123

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x male!reader

Summary: Reader gets a job down at Charlie’s yard helping Curly take care of the Shelby horses. One day Reader is fortunate enough to meet Thomas Shelby and unfortunate enough to capture the man’s attention.

A/N: I kind of hate this title, but whatever. So sorry that this is late. Haven’t been feeling myself lately. I have a ton of requests in my inbox that I’m hoping I’ll be able to breeze through, but I’m not sure. Hope this okay. Oh and I haven’t seen the new season yet, so s5 has no influence on this story.

Things hadn’t been easy for you since moving to Small Heath. You hadn’t known anyone in the area, and it had been difficult to find a job. Luckily you had stumbled onto Charlie Strong’s yard one bleak morning. He had initially insisted that he needed no extra help, but with your persistence and your way with horses, he relented, proclaiming that, “Curly could use some assistance, I suppose. Especially with the way Tommy’s been buying horses.” He had mumbled that last bit under his breath, and you didn’t need to ask to know who he was referring to. All anyone had to do was spend one minute on Watery Lane to know who Thomas Shelby was. He ran this town and you’d be lying if you said that working for the man didn’t scare you. Because that’s what you were essentially doing; working for Thomas Shelby. It was his horses that you were taking care of and you knew that even if he didn’t know you existed, if you messed up then you’d be dead. Someone somewhere was on your side though, because you had managed to do your job well and to do it without attracting the attention of the infamous gangster. At least that was true until today.

 The day had started off normally; you had arrived at the yard just before the sun came up and you occupied your time with watering the horses and making sure they were fed. Once that was done, you moved onto cleaning out the stalls. It was at that time that Curly rushed into the stables and told you that Charlie needed you to move the latest shipment of hay into the storeroom. You smiled at the man and asked him if he could clean the rest of the stalls as you grabbed a pair of hay hooks and made your way to the hay bales.

 On your way across the yard, you caught sight of Charlie, who upon seeing you, waved you over to him. You turned slightly and made your way over to where he was standing with another man, who was staring at a collection of wooden crates while puffing on a cigarette. Moving closer to the two men, you wondered what Charlie could possibly need you for if he just told Curly to have you move hay. You were so caught up in all of the possibilities that you failed to notice the other man turn to look at you, until you could feel his eyes boring a hole into the side of your head. You acknowledged Charlie first before turning to the second man. Your breath caught in your throat when you finally laid eyes on the mystery man and saw icy blue eyes staring at you, nothing but confusion in them. Thomas Shelby was standing in front of you, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips. You swallowed as you felt heat creeping up your neck, unable to look away from the man in front of you. It seemed he felt the same as his eyes dragged over your face and down to your feet before moving back up to meet your again. He reached up and grasped the cigarette between his fingers, still staring at you. Charlie felt this was a good time to intervene, so he cleared his throat, “Tommy, this is Y/N.” Tommy nodded to you once as Charlie continued, “Hired him to help with the horses.” The confusion in his eyes was gone now. It was replaced with something that you had difficulty placing. The only word you could think of to describe it would be intense. He stared at you, still puffing on his cigarette, and all you could do was stand there and shrink into yourself.

 He nodded at you again, “You’ve been exercising them?” He motioned with his head towards the stables.

 You nodded, looking down to the muddy ground, “Yes, sir, I have been.”

 Blowing out a puff of smoke, he smirked at you, “Keep up the good work then.” And with that you were dismissed to the hay bales, Thomas staring after you.

 You had never been to The Garrison, but after the day you had, you were more than willing to stop for a drink. You walked slowly down the cobbled street until you reached the boisterous pub and made your way inside. There was a lot of activity inside, making it rather difficult to get to the bar and order. You dodged drunken stumbling and ducked to avoid excited gestures while slowly making your way to the bar. The crowd seemed to grow around you as you finally reached the bar. Unfortunately, it seemed like the bartender wouldn’t be taking your order anytime soon. He was pouring drinks and listening to orders being shouted at him at the other end of the bar and it didn’t look like he’d be moving down towards you for a while. You sighed quietly and pushed yourself closer to the polished bar top to try and create some distance between yourself and the crowd behind you. You felt someone press themselves into your arm as the familiar smell of cigarette smoke filled your nostrils. Whipping your head to the side you were met with the same icy blue eyes that had captured your attention only hours ago. You sucked in a breath as Thomas Shelby stared at you with the same intensity he showed in the yard. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a magnetic smirk, “Y/N.” You nodded at him, swallowing thickly and feeling your Adam’s apple bobbing. His smirk widened as he looked over to the bartender and held his hand up to get the man’s attention. He dropped what he was doing and rushed over to the pair of you. Thomas held up two fingers and the bartender nodded before rushing off again and coming back with two clean glasses. He dropped them on the bar in front of you and turned and ducked under the counter. He came back up with a fancy looking bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Pouring the drinks, he nodded as Thomas thanked him, before moving back to the other patrons, who had all been waiting quietly for him to return. Thomas wasted no time in picking up one of the glasses and taking a sip. He stared at you as he did so, effectively freezing you in place. He motioned to the other glass, still sat on the bar, “Y/N.”

 You looked down at the bar, feeling heat spread through your body, and you hesitantly wrapped your hand around the glass, “Thank you, Mr. Shelby.”

 The man smirked as you looked up at him again, “Please, call me Tommy.”

[lovelylogans]

:o Please please rant about the 100 and Bellamy!! I was only marginally into it so I don't know much but I love to hear your meta on literally everything!!

all RIGHT. spoilers for the 100 past this point! also i’m gonna go ahead and preface this with a warning about racism, and also that a lot of this is based off stan twitter, but like. they aren’t Wrong.

oh, also, i’m gonna go ahead and drop my stan twitter: i rarely make original posts, but, ya know. it’s a jumble of content. feel free to follow if u want.

also! there’s this whole thread of hiatus drama, if you want a fuller picture than what i’m giving you.

so a quick, general sum-up of some plot that goes into this Whole situation: the sixth season of t100 took place on a different planet, after t100 spent ~5 seasons on earth, so this introduced new characters and also the concept of interplanetary travel. in the season six finale, hope (the daughter of a character, diyoza, who was still pregnant with hope, because ~time travel~) stepped through what’s called “the anomaly,” says “i’m sorry,” and stabs octavia, dissipating her into green mist. bellamy, octavia’s brother (who has had Issues and a Lot of storylines centering around octavia, which is a whole other topic of conversation (ft. bellamy’s storylines centering around white women (bob morley, who plays bellamy, is half-filipino) octavia’s treatment by fandom vs bellamy’s, and you can probably tell which side i’m on by how loudly i screamed “YEEEEEESSSSSSS” when bellamy said “you’re my sister, but you’re not my responsibility anymore” after SIX SEASON of—okay you see, i’m getting off topic) 

anyway, the season closer was that octavia went through the anomaly, which (this is important!) a fair amount of the main characters saw (gabriel, hope, echo, and bellamy, namely) bellamy, in that same season closer, was running through the woods alone, yelling for octavia. season ending. good hook!

and then.... nothing.

seriously. the hiatus between season six and season seven of the hundred (the LAST season of the show, EVER!) there was next to no promotional material. no bts pics, no tweets from cast/crew, nada. nothing. which stirred up quite a bit of complaint in the fandom—one, it’s the last season, can we not have some promotion, and two, it’s the last season, and there’s no promotion by cast/crew/the cw, why is this happening?

seriously. the season seven teaser clip that got aired between episodes on the cw was released before the trailer. it became a meme, how long we were waiting for the trailer. like it was... what, 19, 20 days before the season aired, and all we had was like a stitched-together character poster?

there was also some drama throughout the hiatus, ft. the fandom getting on the news for not getting content in the hiatus, jessica harmon (who plays a guest role, nylah, and whose brother plays murphy) getting snappy at fans on twitter for asking for promotion, and isaiah washington, who played thelonious jaha (a character that died in s5) telling a minor (and also going into their dms!) that he’d call the fbi on them, good times, the 100 fandom is a Disaster and i live a nightmare every day

and then. the trailer drops.

which starts “where is bellamy?” like. people. were SEARCHING for bellamy. people were trying to be optimistic, but rapidly people were also coming to, like, the worst conclusions. however as always t100 fandom did have some jokes, so like, ya know

people were looking forward to other promo: the poster, and also, there’s this tradition of countdown bts photos for the show, and since bob and eliza (who plays clarke, the female lead) just got married, people had high hopes! 

and then came the poster (which had no bellamy, or characters at all) and then the OFFICIAL poster (which had characters, but still no bellamy) which started the hashtag #whereisbellamyblake, because, seriously, he’s the male lead and it’s the last season. also bonus screengrab of this from jroth (the lead writer’s) mom’s twitter lmao

so people rightfully had questions: the excuse that was being given was that including bellamy would be “spoilery,” except, like, it’s a poster? and the only shot of him in the trailer was him being dragged along the ground despite the fact that he was the thumbnail for the trailer? like, okay, which led to some twitter meltdowns, and some more, and again people were fearing the worst, because like, see lexa, jason has a BAD track record when it comes to fan-favorite ships. people were HEATED, people were RANTING, it was a MESS

also. the edited posters were pretty funny, okay, then bob and eliza, bless them, dropped some a+ twitter content, and things calmed down a bit

and then, countdown days started. usually, the order goes bob on one more day, and eliza on show day. except this year? eliza was one more day. which. people were going nuts. because it was a tradition! and keeping BOB out of a behind the scenes where there weren’t any spoilers? it just seemed unprofessional—especially damning, given jason’s past history with ricky whittle, who played lincoln, and was bullied off the set. people were worried that, one, this was affecting bob’s storyline, and two, well. remember that thing about fan-favorite ships? here’s a whole thread of that, btw. and a video of ricky whittle, here.

it is a genuine fear of a lot of the fandom that jason will, in all his pettiness, not give in to bellarke. which is kind of nutty, given that it’s the core relationship of the show, and he himself had said that he’d been foreshadowing it. bellamy and clarke are literally “the head and the heart” of the show.

oh, yeah. so hard cut to the showday pic.

cast. crew. writers. everyone.

except? no bob.

people lost their gotdamn MINDS.

there’s a lot of subsequent drama; the fact that apparently they’re pushing through clarke/gaia (even though there was ??? no previous evidence of this??) still no bellamy for four episodes (seriously, it took clarke, like, two episodes to even cotton onto the fact that he was missing at all)  a lot of criticism of jason (he’s shamed shipping and also, lmao, is trying to push through a spinoff?) and just. Yeah. 

i’m really burnt out when it comes to the 100 fandom; i’ve unfollowed a lot of the t100-centric tumblrs i used to follow, once the show is over i’m gonna unfollow a lot of the twitters and just, yeah. i care about bob and eliza, and i care about bellarke, but the fandom wears me out and the unprofessionalism of a lot of what’s gone down has kind of just? made me lose interest? they’re recycling storylines (esp centering around octavia and bellamy) and continuity doesn’t seem to really be a priority. i just... yeah. i mostly care about bellarke and the fact that i bond a lot with one of my real-life friends through this show. if bellarke doesn’t happen, i’m gonna be like Really... disappointed, mad, irritated? like. imagine. it’s literally So Easy. the actors got married, ffs, you’ve gotten in trouble for ending two ships via very tragic death (in the same season, even!) like how is this Not Clicking

anyway that’s my (entirely too long) rant about t100!!!!

[i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind]

To Forgive and Forget - Chapter One

Hello! 

Sorry I haven't been very active lately… life has been very intense. I'm waiting very eagerly for word on s5 though! 

This is my next multi chapter, prompted by my lovely @lurkingwhump. It's different to my usual work and I'm a little nervous about posting this. 

Warning for my first attempt at smut. If you're not into that then skip to the first break in the chapter. (Marked with ***)

Hope you enjoy the start of this :)

Jane and Kurt woke up tangled in each other's embrace, the sun starting to filter in through the curtains.

"Good morning." she whispered.

"Good morning yourself." he replied, bending down and kissing her on the nose. She smiled up at him, her eyes lighting up. Kurt found himself getting lost in the depths of her green eyes. "God you're beautiful." he murmured, cupping her face and pulling her in for a soft kiss.

He felt Jane smile against his mouth.

"You're not too bad yourself." She grinned, kissing the palm of his hand. She climbed on top of him and straddling his hips.

Kurt cocked his head to the side, his eyes lighting up at her sudden change of position. 

"Come here." he whispered, pulling her down towards him. Their lips met with a familiar passion, that only comes from years of explored intimacy.

She sighed against his mouth, letting his smell and taste fill her up in a sensory overload. Even after all these years, he still managed to tip her over the edge, without barely having to do anything.

He moved his arms down her back, fingering the elastic of her sleeping shorts. She let out a small shudder as he moved his hands to her front, running his nails along her hip bones.

"Kurt.." she sighed when his teasing was starting to cause impatience. 

He chuckled as he slid his fingers into her heat, giving her what she wanted.

Jane moaned in pleasure, arching her back to give him better access. 

"Come for me baby." he murmured low in her ear, speeding up his actions.

Jane allowed herself to let go, allowing the waves of pleasure to swallow her whole, until her climax crashed down on her, causing her to cry out and see stars. 

Kurt hummed in satisfaction, flipping her onto her back. He removed her shorts, before discarding his own boxers and crawling on top of her, covering her petite body with his own. 

She whispered his name, pleading for him to put her out of her misery.

He entered her gently, allowing her time to adjust, before moving in rhythmic thrusts. 

Their lips met in breathless kisses and they moaned each others names.

Their movements became more erratic and Kurt knew they were both close. He waited for Jane to lose control again, before allowing himself to let go. They climaxed at the same time, shuddering against each other, before Kurt collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.

Jane recovered much faster, stroking the back of his head, as he slowly regained his breath.

"God I love you." he said, looking up at her. He smiled at her lazy smile, her expression one of pure bliss. 

"I love you too." she whispered, eyes shining. 

He lay his head back down on her chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of her heart.

"We should get up…" Jane said regretfully.

"No." Kurt replied defiantly. 

Jane grinned.

"Come on." she laughed, pushing him off of her. "I call first shower."

"Good." Kurt murmured. "Means I can stay in bed longer."

Jane rolled her eyes, getting to her feet and making her way to the bathroom. She turned the shower on and popped her head back into the bedroom

"...you know you could always join me…" 

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

They arrived at work to find the rest of the team already waiting for them.

"You've got something?" Kurt asked.

Patterson nodded, looking nervous.

"Is it another tattoo?" Jane asked, glancing at her husband. The tattoo cases seemed to put everyone on edge ever since Roman had died.

Patterson cleared her throat.

"No… not a tattoo." At Kurt's raised eyebrow she continued. "We've had reports of a disturbance at a foster home in Queens."

"Ok? Why does that involve us? Shouldn't the local PD be taking point on this?" Tasha asked.

Patterson nodded. 

"The foster home is run by Anna Lee Mckewan."

"Why do I know that name?" Reade asked.

Patterson pulled up a mugshot of a lady in her mid thirties on her screen.

"Anna Lee was arrested a few years ago for having ties to the Irish Mob." Patterson said, changing the image to a rap sheet.

"If she was involved with the mob then how come she can run a foster home?" Jane asked.

"All the charges were dropped." Tasha said, taking point. "Someone very powerful, yet very anonymous managed to sweep everything under the carpet." 

"What were the charges?" Kurt asked.

"We're still trying to figure that out. Her whole file has been redacted." Patterson answered. "Anyway we got an anonymous tip from the neighbour's that there were some disturbances at the home and Weitz wants us to handle this quietly." she said rolling her eyes.

"Of course he does." Reade muttered. "Check it out."

Tasha, Jane and Kurt all turned and walked back out of the office. All Jane was wondering was why Patterson looked so nervous.

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

They arrived at the address to find a very normal looking suburban home. There were bikes strewn all over the lawn and an unkempt garden stretched up the side of the front path. They got out of the SUV and walked up to the front door. Kurt knocked on the door and stepped back.

The sound of kids yelling came through the door before it was opened and a disheveled looking woman appeared from behind it.

"Can I help you?" she asked, slightly out of breath.

"Ma'am, my name is Kurt Weller. I'm with this FBI. This is Jane and Tasha." he said gesturing to the girls behind him. 

"Is there a problem?" Anna Lee asked, her smiling falling off her face.

"We've had word of some disturbances from within the home." Kurt said.

Anna Lee laughed.

"Of course there are disturbances. I have six children under the age of ten here. What do you expect?" 

Kurt nodded his head in acknowledgment of that fact.

"I understand Ma'am. Can we come inside?" he asked.

Anna Lee scoffed.

"Suit yourself." she said moving aside.

The three agents moved into the house. The moment they entered the living room, they felt like they had been hit by a tornado. 

There were kids toys everywhere, and there were kids everywhere. They were all yelling at each other, trying to be heard over the others. 

"All of you out!" Anna Lee shouted. They all looked up at her in a hurry and scrambled out of the living room. 

Kurt shared a look with Jane and Tasha. Clearly the kids were scared of her.

"Now, what do you want? What do you need to see?" Anna Lee asked, clearly impatient.

"As I said, we are just here to follow up on a tip." Kurt replied.

"This is because of what happened a few years ago, isn't it?" Anna Lee asked, getting angry. "I was acquitted of all charges. You feds are just trying to cause trouble!" 

"Ma'am we have to follow up on the information we've received." Kurt said, trying to diffuse the situation. He could see her getting mad very quickly.

She rolled her eyes.

"Be my guest. Look around. You won't find anything." 

Kurt nodded to the girls and they walked off to check the rest of the house. He stayed in the room, wanting to keep an eye on Anna Lee in case she was a flight risk.

They sat in silence for a while, waiting for Jane and Tasha to come back.

It didn't take too long before the two agents walked back into the room.

"Everything looks fine." Tasha said, raising her eyebrows. She was surprised that they hadn't found anything. The way that Anna Lee was acting, she had expected to find some skeletons in the closet.

"I told you." Anna Lee said, shaking her head.

"Sorry for the disruption." Kurt said. "A social worker will be along tomorrow to check in with you."

"Fine." she replied.

Jane frowned. This lady was acting like a bratty teenager. No wonder there had been a call in about her.

They were just about to leave when one of the children came back into the living room. Kurt smiled down at the little boy that stood at his feet.

"Hello there bud." he said kneeling down to his level. 

"Are you a policeman?" the boy said. He couldn't have been more than six.

Kurt nodded.

"I gots to tell you something." the little boy whispered. He looked scared.

Kurt caught Jane's eye. She nodded, knowing Kurt wanted her to distract Anna Lee while he spoke to the child.

He walked out into the hallway with the child.

"What did you need to tell me?" he asked, kneeling down again.

The little boy looked down at his shoes, biting his lip.

"It's ok." Kurt said softly. "You can tell me. I promise you won't get in trouble."

The boy looked up at him with wide eyes. He was frightened, but Kurt could see trust in his eyes.

"Did Miss Anna tell you about the other children?" he asked in a small voice.

"What other children?" Kurt asked. He could feel his heart rate pick up, but kept his face impassive so he didn't scare him.

"The ones that live under the floor." 

Kurt's heart dropped.

"Can you show me?" he asked kindly.

The little boy nodded and took off towards one of the bedrooms.

"What are you doing out here?" Anna Lee asked, storming into the hallway.

Jane and Tasha followed behind her, shooting Kurt an apologetic look. They had tried to distract her as long as possible.

"This young man was about to show me where the other children are." Kurt said flatly.

Anna Lee laughed maniacally. 

"This is Fletcher. Fletcher likes to tell lies." she growled grabbing the kid by the elbow.

"Let him go." Kurt warned. "Tasha." he said, indicating for Tasha to hold the woman while he and Jane followed Fletcher.

They made their way into the bedroom and Fletcher opened the wardrobe. He pulled back the carpet, exposing a trap door. 

"That's where they are?" Kurt asked softly.

Fletcher nodded. 

"Do I have to go down there?" he asked, tears forming in his eyes.

"Of course not!" Jane said, looking like she was going to cry herself. 

"Oh good!" he said. "Sometimes if we are naughty, Miss Anna makes us go down there with the others." 

"How about you just wait on the bed for us." Jane said, lifting him so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

She turned back to where Kurt was waiting for her. He opened the trap door, exposing concrete steps leading down to the basement. They started down the stairs, the air growing colder the further in they got. They turned their flashlights on.

Jane felt a chill run down her spine. Images of a dark shadow leading her down a staircase flashed through her mind. She felt nauseous and had to reach out and take Kurt's hand to steady her nerves.

"You ok?" he asked gently, knowing this would be triggering her flashbacks. 

She nodded, not wanting to trust her voice. She took a deep breath and carried on descending. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs to find a large wooden door, bolted from the outside. 

Kurt hit the padlock with the handle of his flashlight. It broke after the third strike and he threw the lock on the floor in disgust. He pushed the door open. They both had to cover their mouths with their shirts at the smell that assaulted them. 

It smelled of urine and faeces and Jane knew that what she was about to see would haunt her for the rest of her life.

There were old dirty cots lining the room, and on each cot was a skinny child, clad in only filthy rags. 

She felt her face grimace and her breathing pick up as images of the children from the orphanage she grew up in replaced the children in the room. She was back in that hole and if it wasn't for Kurt's steady hand on her back, she knew she probably wouldn't have been able to make it back out of her own head.

Kurt pulled out his cell phone and called Patterson.

"I need you to send backup and a lot of ambulances." Kurt said quietly. 

"What happened?!" Patterson asked frantically.

"Lots of children." was all he replied.

Seeing how distressed his wife was getting, Kurt lead her back up the stairs. They found Fletcher still sitting on the bed where they had left him.

"Did you see the kids that live under the floor?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah we did bud." Kurt replied softly. "There's people coming to help them."

Fletcher nodded.

"What about Tyler?" he asked.

"Tyler?"

"She's my bestest friend." Fletcher said. "Miss Anna's friend took her away." he paused, looking down at his shoes look sad. "I haven't seen her in ages."

Kurt looked at Jane. So not only had they discovered the children in those conditions, they also had a missing child on their hands. 

He sighed.

This was going to be one long and awful case.

[thegeminisage]

merlin thots about the s5 opening episodes.......

here’s your courtesy cut

one of my favorite things about s5 so far is how very nicely arthur and merlin have both 1. grown up and 2. grown into each other...they still give each other shit 24/7 but it’s a lot more companionable and comfortable now than it ever has been. furthermore, both of them exhibit the use of MULTIPLE braincells even at the SAME TIME. they work very well together as a team even in the heat of battle (we did see shades of this near the end of s4), despite merlin being kind of useless at physical combat when he couldn’t rely on his magic for a boost. they can have entire conversations without a word and they’re just INCREDIBLY synchronized. the whole #vibe has really gotten a level up

timeline-wise, it’s been roughly a decade since season 1. in s1 they said the purge began 20 years ago (upon arthur’s birth), and shortly after, he had a coming of age ceremony - 21′s an important number, so in season 1 arthur began as being 20 and turned 21 before the end. season 2 = 22. gap year for s2-s3 = 23. season 3 = 24. s3-s4 gap year = 25. season 4 = 26. 3 gap years betweeen s4-s5 = 27, 28, 29. season 5 = 30. i don’t know how long it was in real life between seasons 4 and 5 (definitely not three years), but i really do feel like they’ve both aged SO much and they absolutely act like people who have known each other for a decade.

gwen as queen is AMAZINGNGLSDKJGHDSLFG she’s SO PRETTY i love her SO MUCH. love that she has her own serving girl now! this is what she deserves

the round table is good too altho it looks a bit too big for that room. it’s amazing though like...FUCK uther pendragon arthur has come SO FAR

merlin being nice to the new girl is very charming. makes him seem older and w-w-WISER (love that word) by comparison

also love that merlin gets to ride a horse while some of the footsoldiers walk. that’s #status. that’s *** ******

pretty sure i had a stroke during merlin’s vision of arthur’s death. the whole thing was done SO well - they go from the battlefield and arthur’s incredibly dirty face as he very realistically looks like he’s falling down and dying and then cut to a very alive and present arthur asking what’s wrong. you can really FEEL the whiplash, and also the dread settles in nice and deep, at least it does if you’re me and you’ve read spoilers, like, “only you can keep arthur safe” BUT I KNOW HE DOESN’T I KNOW HE CAN’T I KNOW HE FAILS and merlin might as well know it too because he looks ready to CRY and thru the rest of this 2-parter opening he acts like he thinks arthur may drop dead at any moment

i feel like i read somewhere once that actors don’t like to eat during a scene unless absolutely necessary because when you do 30 takes of something you get very full very quickly and some even go so far as to have a spit bucket just out of sight so that they can just get rid of it without having to eat any more. which makes it absolutely bananas to me that so often in merlin the characters are not only eating but eating very quickly as though they really have been roughing it in the wilderness all day & are absolutely famished...they don’t have to show them eating so often BUT THEY DO

arthur getting merlin into a tight spot by insisting he perform, planning on laughing at his failure? funny. merlin ACTUALLY USING MAGIC TO TEACH HIMSELF TO JUGGLE so that he could watch arthur’s jaw hit the floor? PRICELESS. i wonder how long it took him to do that, he definitely wasn’t using a body double

merlin is acting so bleak and dire in these episodes that even mr no-empathy himself asks him whats wrong, multiple times. they’re doing a VERY good job at really driving home the fact that arthur’s time is running short and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. merlin’s so sick with dread he’s making ME sick with dread. arthur’s here and being his normal dumbass self but the distance between them feels HUGE during the moments merlin is thinking about arthur’s impending doom

arthur all “i cant believe u can juggle i didnt even know you could catch” and then throwing the boots at merlin only for merlin to NOT CATCH THEM and arthur goes “see explain that” and merlin goes “wish i could” and i D I E 

because he’s KNOWN HIM FOR A DECADE and he still can’t explain the magic and at this point it must feel like to him that he never, ever will UUUUUGH it’s funny how they can feel so close to each other one second and like THIS the next i am DYING

the little conversation they have when they make camp the next night is the same. the sad music plays, merlin keeps looking at arthur like it might be the last time he sees him, and arthur keeps insisting on asking merlin what’s wrong and trying to make him feel better...they’re really for real friends!!! they’re so serious and grown up!!!!!

ive lost count of how many times either merlin or arthur has been nearly dead and had to get hauled around by the other one

also of how many times merlin used his magic in a way that should have been obvious to bystanders and wasn’t

“if morgana doesnt kill you i will" “threatening a king is treason merlin” “what about threatening an ASS” listen. look me in the eyes. this is TOP TIER banter

remember how in the early seasons they’d bend over backwards to leave plausible deniability when expressing affection? like “we’d be good friends if you weren’t a prince” or “you’re not wise or anything but yeah you’re wise” or whatever dumb toxic masculinity bullshit...those days are OVER with. merlin speaks DIRECTLY from the heart. “i’m worried about you” and “i swear i’ll protect you or die at your side” he is not fucking around even a little bit. this fool is in love

they were ALMOST cuddling when they slept together under that overhang

the two of them trapped in that net was PRICELESS. in the early seasons i got a little tired of the frequent slapstick/juvenile humor and wished the series was a bit more serious but now that they’re here i cling to every shred of levity with my whole heart

i was SO relieved to realize gwen wasn’t actually planning on killing that poor girl - i kept saying the entire time it was very out of character for her, no way could she be that cruel

arthur: “you wanna kill me fine but my last request is for you not to kill merlin” merlin: “you wanna kill arthur fine but you’re gonna have to go through me” arthur: “for fucks sake”

merlin: i never do as i’m told! that’s *** ******

i dont care if mordred DID save their lives i NEVER wanted to see him less i am so full of dread

i can’t BELIEVE morgana also has a pet dragon. she and merlin could have been the BEST foils and i’m STAYING mad about it. she was actually so good in this episode - way less full of evil smirks - that i briefly rejoined the morgana defense squad and got REAL pissed when mordred eventually shanked her, ESPECIALLY after she was so happy she was nearly crying to see him again. WHAT IS IT WITH THAT KID AND STABBING PEOPLE KNOCK IT OFF

the snowy environments in this episode were soooo good. the scenery was just...top fucking tier and it’s nice to see them somewhere other than the same old places. also like NO allo but arthur looks really nice just wandering around through a bunch of fucking snowbanks with dirt all over his face

arthur and merlin’s little ploy to steal that dagger by arthur faking a collapse was SO GOOD. they’re SO IN SYNC. i was THRILLED. better still: he winked when he was done. he used like FIVE WHOLE BRAIN CELLS AT ONCE and he was ALMOST as proud of himself as i am proud of him. what a guy, that arthur pendragon

their escape was really good too. the nonverbal communication? top tier! they just give each other little looks and then proceed to wreck the whole scene. doubly funny when the slaver is like WHO SPILLED THAT STUFF and arthur just kind of jerks his head over at merlin. snitches get stitches, YOUR HIGHNESS

i barely felt one whole emotion for sefa or her dad but him dying was like. sad. this show is sad. why the fuck am i watching it. i hate character death. they were hugging

arthur seemed like he was having just the time of his LIFE sneaking into that big ol tower of doom. dude was all cute little quips and smiles. popped his head outta that lil minecart like a kid at christmas

i love also that you give percival nothing but a single sword and in short order he goes about liberating all the slaves, killing all the slavers, and then reappropriating their swords to a better cause. he’s a one-man army. i was SO impressed. and he really looked like he was having fun too

merlin seeing that lil baby dragon again was SO fucked up and sad. why can’t it TALK :(((

also lmao “merlin you cant be that stupid” “no i am if you dont believe me watch” and merlin bolts and arthur sighs with SO much longsuffering and says “im going after him”

the light in morgana’s eyes when she talks about wanting to have arthur’s head and then her stabbing him over and over without actually killing him...she’s batshit insane. rip

i do like that arthur sort of TRIED to talk her around...it’s the first time he’s really gotten to speak with her since the end of season 3 when he found out who she was

on a final note, though, i am less than thrilled with the knighting of mordred...how is it arthur can KNOW who he is, that he’s a druid, and can do magic, and LET HIM INTO THE KNIGHTS, and still have sorcery be outlawed in camelot?? it doesnt make any SENSE

[spnjediavenger]

Chapter 8: Sacrifices

FINALLY!

Super excited to finally get back into White Wolf again. And also excited to work with @sarimaposthumous again in a glorious fanfic collaboration, crossing over our two SPN fics! Love ya, girl!

Disclaimers: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters; nalusa falaya research/info was taken from a few different websites which are tagged at the end

WARNINGS: like...two curse words?

Time frame: Between S5 and 6

Spoilers: Season 5 and 6 spoilers?

Notes: Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! And much love to those who have liked and/or reposted!!! <3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 5.5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Elliana’s Journal

Chapter 8: Sacrifices

Elliana sighed and Jenny rubbed her eyes before each grabbed another one of Bobby’s lore books. After finding out about Lucifer’s cage having a “backdoor key” of sorts, the girls had been spending hours trying to find any kind of leads on the location of either. 

           Jenny groaned and closed her eyes before resting her head on the book in the hopes that osmosis would work this one time. “I need a break,” she sighed. 

           “Me too,” Ellie agreed, hopping up on Bobby’s desk while Jenny leaned on the corner rubbing her temples. Bobby had gone out just a few minutes prior for a food run, leaving the girls to continue researching.

           “I don’t know about this, Jenny,” Ellie said. “It’s taken us so long to find this key thing and now we’re coming up with nothing.”

           “Well hello, ladies,” a Scottish voice said from behind them.

           The girls turned to find Crowley standing in the doorway, glass of whiskey in hand. 

           Jenny rolled her eyes, “What do you want Crowley?”

           Crowley stepped towards the scotch and poured himself a tumbler. He swirled the amber liquid and took a sniff before scrunching his nose slightly. He took a sip, relishing the annoyance from the huntresses. Taking another sip, he stepped towards them before speaking, “What do you girls know about Orenda Alley?”

           Jenny shrugged, “Only that it’s dangerous and most people who go there don’t usually come back. Why?”

           “Wait - Orenda Alley?” Ellie stepped in. “Where the nalusa falaya supposedly lives?”

           The room’s other occupants looked at her, saying nothing, and Elliana looked between them before stopping at Jenny. “Nalusa Falaya? Native american legend?” 

           Nothing.

           Ellie jumped off the desk and over to one of the bookshelves, running a finger along the spines until she picked one out. She flipped through the pages and placed it down on Bobby’s desk for Jenny to take a look.

           “Nalusa Falaya is an old Choctaw legend; translates to ‘long black being.’ The Nalusa Falaya adults would hide in the swamps and call to travelers. When their victim came close, they would jump out and scare them unconscious. Then, they would jump on the unconscious victim and eat them. The Choctaw elders would warn the tribe against going out at night and to travel in groups when the Nalusa Falaya were near. 

“Others believed they would attack at twilight and bewitch victims with its evil magic - which is where ‘orenda’ comes from; translates to ‘magical power’ in Iroquois. It would first attract a hunter’s attention by calling out to him. Then, when the hunter turned around, he was so affected by its power that he would fall helpless to the ground. When they couldn’t fight back, the nalusa falaya would insert a thorn in them and possess them from there. It’s a common rumor that there’s only one left. And it’s supposedly in Orenda Ally.”

           “Smart girl,” Crowley complimented, nodding his head a bit.

           “Okay, I’ll repeat myself...why?” Jenny arched a brow and crossed her arms. 

           “I have a job for you two.”

           “Excuse you?” Ellie scoffed, crossing her arms as well. “You think we work for you or something?”

           “Now, now,” Crowley appeased. “No need to get counteractive, my dear.”

           “Just get to the point, Crowley,” Jenny let out an exasperated sigh.

           “The nalusa and I have some...unfinished business, of sorts,” Crowley said. “I’d like you two to bring him to me.”

           “Again, do you think we work for you or something? You can’t just pop in here and-”

           “So I suppose you don’t want to get your dear Sam Winchester back, then?”

           The girls froze and looked at Crowley.

           It was Jenny’s turn to scoff at the king of Hell. “Do you really expect us to believe you want the Winchesters back in action? I’m sure business has been booming since they shoved Luci back in the cage and Dean hooked up with Lisa.”

           Crowley put his hands up as a show of mock surrender.

           Ellie looked at Jenny, skepticism lacing her features. 

           Crowley finished the drink and set the tumbler down. “Maybe I miss the good old days. Regardless, you bring me the nalusa and I will give you back your beloved moose. As for you, Jenny, I might be able to scrounge up something valuable to sweeten the deal for you.”

           “How can you get into Lucifer’s cage?” Elliana challenged. “We’ve been reading for days - and that’s after I spent a week of my own researching - trying to find a way into the cage and you expect us to believe you can get in?”

“Always one for quarrel, aren’t you, little wolf?”

“Only Gabriel can call me that,” Ellie said in a heated tone.

“I’m the king of hell, darling. I have my ways, I can assure you of that.” Crowley turned to Jenny now. “Call me when you have it.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a black business card with red lettering on it that read ‘King of Hell’ along with his phone number. 

           The two gave him a bewildered look as Jenny reached out to take his business card. “Just trying something new,” he shrugged. “Oh, and by the way, girls,” Crowley said, turning back around for a moment. “Our dear ‘lusa requires a sacrifice before making any deals.”

           “What?” the girls said in unison. 

           “What kind of sacrifice?” Elliana asked, though she didn’t really need to.

           “I have a feeling you already know the answer to that, darling,” Crowley countered before vanishing.

           “A human,” Ellie said with disdain. “It wants a human sacrifice. Either to eat, bewitch, or mate with. According to most lore…”

Jenny paced around Bobby’s living room. “Maybe we don’t have to sacrifice anything? We could just knock it out, shove it in a trunk, and drop him off at Crowley’s doorstep.” 

           “We don’t even know what to expect with this thing. I’ve read probably five different descriptions on what nalusa falaya look like.”

           Jenny paused in thought. “Okay, what are the most common characteristics?”

           Ellie thought for a moment before sighing lightly. “Tall, almost emaciated, melts into shadows like a phantom. How do we catch something that can become a shadow?”

           “You use a trap,” a voice said from behind the girls. They snapped their heads up to see a skinny, unknown man standing in the doorway with a wide, kind grin on his face.

           Ellie immediately backed into a bookcase as her heart rate sped up a bit; Anaya remained quiet but still went to stand protectively in front of her.

           “Elliana, this is Garth. It’s ok, you can trust him. Wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Bobby said soothingly as he stepped into the room as well, back from his errands.

            “Well, not unless it has fangs,” the younger man joked, wide smile still on his face.

            Ellie let out an airy laugh and a small smile crept onto her face; she moved into the room a bit more, feeling comfortable enough to leave the wall.

            “Wow – you already got a smile,” Bobby said, impressed. “Takes a lot to get one from her these days.” Elliana threw Bobby a Winchester bitch face. He knew the reason she didn’t. But Ellie knew he was only teasing her.

            Garth simply shrugged, smile never leaving his face. He then turned to Ellie. “Elliana is a beautiful name,” he said kindly.

            “Thanks,” the girl said, blushing a bit. Elliana quickly grew comfortable around Garth, his demeanor friendly and lighthearted. How was this guy a hunter? she thought.

           “And Garth, this is Jenny. Another colleague of mine.”

           “It’s nice to meet you, Jenny!” he said, reaching out his hand to her.

           Jenny shook his hand and gave the hunter a surprised once over as she took in his scrawny frame. It was a wonder he hadn’t been killed yet.  

           “Likewise. So, tell us about this trap?” Jenny said. 

           “Getting right to it, I see,” Garth noted.

           “It’s been countless hours of research. It’d be nice to not have to dive back into those books,” Jenny closed her eyes and shook her head. Bobby cast Garth an affirmative nod. He smiled back and walked up to Bobby’s desk, pulling aside a pencil and a piece of paper.

           “Ok, so you know how there’s devil’s traps for demons, soul eater traps, anasazi protection symbols, and other things?” he asked the girls. At their nods, he continued. “The choctaw indians have their own symbols as well. These,” he said, drawing out two symbols. “Are two such symbols. One is called a ‘Shaman,’ which represents the medium between the visible world and the spirit world; the other represents control over forces and the gravity of the earth. Put them together,” he draws another. “And you get the choctaw spirit trap.” Garth smiles a bit proudly as he finishes.

           “That’s great, Garth,” Ellie said, a small smile of interest on her lips. “How did you find this?”

           “I didn’t.”

           “What?” Jenny asked in unbelief.

           “These things are really rare,” Garth defended. “Any story or sightings you hear of, either no one has gotten close enough to notice anything, or they...don’t come back. So I looked into the most common choctaw symbols. Sometimes we have to learn as we go. Like I heard Ellie did with the grootslang.”

           “It’s the best thing we have right now,” Ellie said. “We don’t have anything else to go by,” she continued, pleased enough with the information. “So we have an idea - or at least the start of an idea, on how to capture the nalusa falaya.”

           “Now we just have to figure out where Orenda Alley is.” Excitement began to lace Jenny’s features. 

           “I think I might have that covered,” Ellie said with a faint smile. She ran upstairs and back down with her leatherbound journal in hand. 

           “Though I’ve never seen one, I’ve had an interest in the nalusa falaya legend and researched it a little while ago. While the Choctaw tribe is from Mississippi, nalusa sightings have all come out of Michigan, which is where Orenda Alley is supposed to be.”

           Ellie had opened up her laptop and brought up a map of Michigan.

           “There’s an old, run-down dock at the edge of one of Michigan’s lakes. Many sightings have come within a 20-mile radius of it, and a few disappearances from the area as well,” she reported, looking at her two companions.

As the three continued to discuss their plans, Jenny and Elliana filled Bobby in on everything that happened before he returned. He was grumpy that Crowley had been in his house again; and his scowl deepened as they told him this was something Crowley had asked of them, making him suddenly a little less accepting of the idea. But when Garth announced he would go as well, Bobby reluctantly agreed but still made sure to note he still didn’t like it. He wanted to accompany them, but the girls convinced him not to, saying more people would give a bigger risk of being noticed if the nalusa falaya were to somehow sense them.

With a defeated sigh, Bobby grumbled, “So who’s doing what? You’ll need a negotiator, sacrifice - which I still don’t like, and a lure to draw this thing into a trap - which you still don’t know how to do.” What a great confidence builder he was, the trio thought.

“I’ll be the sacrifice,” Ellie said after a moment of exchanged glances.

“No!” Bobby said sternly. “I ain’t lettin’ you get yourself killed if things go south.”

“Ellie, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” Garth said, already becoming a bit defensive of the youngest in the room.

“I’ll do it,” Jenny said confidently, also not wanting to possibly risk Ellie’s life.

“No,” the girl shook her head. “I’ve already gotten you into enough trouble with...when Luc-...when I got taken,” she continued with some difficulty. “I’m not letting you be put in another situation again.”

“Have Garth do it - no offence, Garth,” Bobby said.

“No, I’m with you,” Garth said assuredly.

“Out of all of us, it would probably want me the most. And being the youngest, I doubt it would take me seriously as a negotiator.”

Garth turned to Jenny and Bobby for help, a begging look on his face that the other two shared for a moment. But since Ellie was adamant about being bait and would not hear otherwise, they reluctantly agreed. 

 As the group of hunters packed for their hunt, tension filled the air. Ellie brought some of the duffel bags to the truck before saying goodbye to Anaya, not wanting to risk her for a more dangerous hunt. 

Jenny was about to head out and Bobby grabbed her and Garth by the shoulder. 

“You idjits best not let anything happen to her,” Bobby lowly spoke in his gruffy tone. He knew Ellie would throw a fit if she thought he believed she couldn’t handle herself. 

Jenny nodded and let out a sigh as she swung her own duffle over her shoulder and stepped outside.

The trio waited for dusk in Upper Michigan before they would put their plan into motion. The beautiful colors of the sunset were a stark contrast against the rundown and dilapidated harbor below them. It’s been years since it was last functional; due to all the situations and strange happenings, it had quickly fallen into disrepair.

The sun now below the horizon, Garth slipped off to begin drawing the choctaw spirit traps. 

“You ready?” Jenny asked Elliana. The younger girl nodded, trying to refrain from frowning; she didn’t want to let out how anxious she was as she internally fought off a panic attack.

The girls checked their weapons one last time; earlier while trying to think with a similar mindset as with the grootslang, the group had tried to think of what might be able to injure the nalusa. Thinking of what the native american tribes used as weapons, they figured there must be some sort of rock or stone that weakens it and came up with agate - which is supposed to be one of the best stones for protection. It can supposedly drive away spirits, protect from psychic attacks, and stop magic. So they filled shotgun shells with it.

Jenny cuffed Ellie’s hands behind her, the cuffs broken in a way that appeared to be locked, but Ellie could easily escape at the opportune moment.

The girls took a deep breath before walking down a set of stone stairs and out onto the docks. Jenny scanned the darkening waters looking for any signs of the nalusa falaya. They began walking past one of the boat houses when she heard something that made her freeze. 

“Jenny,” she heard Shane’s voice whisper to her from the shadows. 

“Fuck.” 

While she was distracted, a bony hand gripped Elliana’s mouth to prevent her from screaming and pulled her away from Jenny and into the boat house they just passed. When inside, Ellie was thrown to the ground, handcuffs broken off; but the freedom of her hands did nothing when she froze upon the being in front of her.

 “Jenny, it’s okay. We can hunt this monster together. I’m here for you,” the creature whispered from behind her in Shane’s voice. She shook her head and spun around only to find Ellie missing. 

“Shit.” Panic coursed through her as she began to call out for Ellie, but was stopped short before she heard his voice which caused fear. 

It was Lucifer. 

“Remember when you said you would do anything for me?” he chuckled. “Well that time is now.” Jenny let out a shot toward the shadows near one of the boathouses. 

The moment after she did, the creature practically melted out of the shadows, its tattered hood covering the majority of its face. Only its mouth full of sharp, crooked teeth could be seen. Its emaciated form was pronounced by the dilapitated cloak dusting its shoulders. As it made its way towards her, Jenny noticed its stick-like arms with long, bony finders at the end; each one wielding razor-sharp nails. Beneath the creature’s protruding ribs, its body dissolved into a misty, shadowy form giving the appearance of a phantom. 

 Elliana looked away from the nalusa before her to try and get a grip on herself. I will not be another victim of this thing, she thought.

Ellie stood and pulled a knife out of her boot; a piece of agate she and Bobby were able to cut into a blade so she would be able to hide it away in case of a situation like this.

She advanced on the creature and took a swing at it with her knife, only for it to deflect her arm and push her to the ground. It dug its nails into her back, only eliciting a pained hiss from the girl, as she didn’t want to give it any satisfaction. It lowered its form closer to the ground and its face to her ear.

“What. Does Crowley. Want?” it whispered dangerously, digging its nails in a little deeper.

             Jenny raised her gun ready to shoot before Garth’s voice rang out behind her. “Hey you fugly monster! Come get it!” The creature turned towards Garth and made its way towards him, but stopped before the trap Garth set, and turned its face up in a snarl. Garth opened his mouth to say something, but Jenny raised her shotgun and fired off an agate-filled shot at the nalusa. It caught the creature off guard and stumbled into the trap and began struggling. 

Garth looked up all bewildered at Jenny. “Nice job, but, it’s practically invisible; what if you shot me?!” 

Jenny shrugged, “I took a shot, it worked. Make sure it stays put while I go find Ellie.” 

She took off towards the boathouse where she originally heard the whispers. She shone her flashlight around it and noticed a covered set of stairs that led down to the water. Pushing back the bushes, Jenny gingerly made her way down the steps, shotgun in one hand and a flashlight in the other, and found a landing below the docks along with a hidden door. Forcing the door open, Jenny took a deep breath and made her way inside and down a very dimly lit, grungy passageway. She quickened her pace when she heard muffled screaming and stepped into a dim, moldy room. 

Ellie had been tied up by her wrists, bruised, and blood stains formed on her back. 

Jenny rushed to her aid, but Ellie’s eyes widened and she shouted out in warning, “Jenny, no!”

Jenny was suddenly flung across the room. Her gun slid to the other side and a second Nalusa approached Jenny. It began mimicking her mother’s voice. “Sweetie, stop fighting and give in.” Jenny fell to her knees, overcome by the magic radiating off the creature. Its thorn was out and ready to pierce her, but not before something lodged itself in the nalusa and incapacitated the creature. Ellie had managed to break free and strategically threw her blade and Jenny snapped out of her trance. 

She looked up at Ellie and grinned, “About time.” 

Ellie let out a faint chuckle, “Sorry, I was a little tied up. Took you long enough to find me,” she smirked lightly, rubbing at her raw wrists.

Jenny stood up and drew a trap under the nalusa to keep it from moving. “Well I was busy with my own Nalusa. Hopefully Garth is okay. I guess we should get these two to Crowley before they wake up.” They dragged the body to a worried Garth, with his own furious Nalusa who was still trapped, and shoved the second one into the same trap. Jenny pulled out the business card and dialed Crowley. 

“We’ve got them…”

“Them?”

“Well, you can say it’s a two for one special...do we need to summon you?” 

“No, love.” Crowley appeared behind them with a few demons who grabbed the Nalusa Falayas and vanished. “Well done. Here is your gift Jenny.” He extended an empty hand. 

She looked at him incredulously and scoffed while crossing her arms, “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Oh right...my mistake.” He snapped his fingers and both Jenny and Ellie fell to the ground from a searing pain in their eyes. 

Garth knelt down by Ellie, “What are you doing?! Let them go!” 

“No need to get your knickers in a twist,” Crowley looked at his watch. “C’mon, I haven’t got all day.” Jenny blinked and looked up. In Crowley’s hand, was a little black puppy. “Your very own little hellhound and now the two of you can see hellhounds...you’re welcome.” He handed the puppy to Jenny and turned around.

           “Wait, what about our agreement?” Ellie spoke up before he could leave. 

           “We’ll be in touch.”

“Woah wait - what do you mean ‘we’ll be in touch’? You said you’d get Sam if we caught this thing,” she said hotly.

“It took an army of angels to free Dean from hell. Things like this are a bit more complicated than these little hunts of yours. Be patient.” With that, he snapped his fingers and vanished. 

Ellie let out a deep sigh before turning back to her two companions.

“I guess we should start heading back to Bobby’s,” Garth said, a sympathetic look on his face.

The girls agreed and the three began their ascent to the street when Ellie stopped.

“Wait! I forgot about this,” she said, pulling out a tattered scroll from her pocket. “I found this when the second ‘lusa had me in the boathouse. I have no idea what language this is but it seemed important.”

Jenny and Garth shared a confused look before Jenny took it carefully in her hands.

“I have no idea. Let’s take it with us and see if Bobby can find something to translate it.”

Elliana nodded and they went back to the truck and drove away.

Jenny, Elliana, and Garth returned to Bobby’s, exhausted. Garth helped him patch Ellie up before Bobby ordered the three of them to get some rest, promising a good meal when they woke up.

That said and done, Jenny handed him the scroll Ellie found. He said he’d never seen anything like it but would start hitting the books. “Again.”

About a week later, everyone said goodbye; Garth moved on to start another hunt, telling Ellie he would be willing to help her out if she ever needed a hunting partner; Jenny returned to The High Priestess with her new Hellhound, Duke, and a copy of the scroll that was found amongst the Nalusa’s possessions with a promise to keep looking for ways to get Sam out of hell; and Elliana stayed with Bobby, trying to figure out what to do next.

Epilogue

 *another week later*

Via text message

 To: [Jenny]

Something’s wrong with Sam.

“Research” credits to:

https://sasquatchchronicles.com/nalusa-falaya/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Choctaw_mythology

http://www.native-languages.org/morelegends/nalusa-falaya.htm

https://listverse.com/2014/10/21/10-disturbing-mythological-beings-from-around-the-world/

https://www.google.com/search?q=choctaw+symbols&client=safari&rls=en&biw=1323&bih=735&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=koDrPbZDgxdN6M%253A%252CJMgcxEuO2OKqYM%252C_&usg=AI4_-kQabYtW5fJPeRhzywhyqDCxsgAbZg&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjQyJHXwevgAhVRtlkKHXBfDJIQ9QEwAHoECAIQBA#imgrc=zRLfiMnY6xYxVM

https://www.google.com/search?q=nalusa+falaya&client=safari&hl=en&prmd=imnv&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiVlMPCvtrgAhUGhOAKHcUZCw0Q_AUoAXoECAwQAQ&biw=320&bih=454&dpr=2#imgrc=A1H78NFqoqGKaM

https://www.ghostlyactivities.com/stones-that-protect-against-evil-spirits/

Chapter 9 ->

Forever tags: @bellero

[hayleysstark]

Title: Better You than Me  Words: 1462 Warnings: Mild swearing Summary: "Oh, my god. Branch, my parents are parenting YOU." / Or the one where Cloud Guy calls Branch out, and Branch has a few dozen revelations. All extremely uncomfortable. Tag to 5x02. Slightly AU. Very silly, zero substance. Notes:  ~ slightly AU, Cloud Guy's parents don't actually move in, just drop by a lot ~  y'all should know this bitch had the working title "shameless self-indulgent garbage" b/c there is literally no point to this except Cloud Guy's mom just,,,,,,, quietly adopted Branch in S5 and that is,,,,,,,,,,, Objectively Beautiful. tbh.

Read on Fanfiction or AO3 

"You," Cloud Guy says, proudly, like a little kid who's finally figured out how one plus one equals two, and wants to share it with everyone in the vicinity, "you like this. Don't you?"

"Um." Branch is not, exactly, one-hundred-percent sure what's going on right now, or even how he wound up here in the first place, but objectively speaking, he's pretty positive that is not something he wants Cloud Guy to say to him, ever, especially when the stupid goofball has got him pinned to the bed. He shifts slightly, and the springs creak loudly beneath his back. "What?"

"You like them." And maybe Cloud Guy realizes the uncomfortable position he's put Branch in, because he leans back a little. "My parents."

"Oh." Okay, there it is—it's still not clear why the guy felt he couldn't say this until he dragged Branch into the bedroom and bolted the door behind them, but at least he's gotten to the point. Small miracles, and all of that. "Well." Branch has to think about it for a minute. A few months ago, he probably would have denied it to his dying breath because he had a reputation back then to keep up with, and that reputation had not included liking much of anyone, especially not two cheery little clouds who'd quite literally taken his bunker and his entire life by storm. But. Well. Things are different now. He can say it. If he wants to. "They—they mean well," he says, and leaves it at that.

Cloud Guy snorts. He rolls sideways off Branch, and down onto the mattress, his puffy, feather-light body barely making a dent in the soft covers. "You like them," he says, for what's got to be the millionth time since he hauled Branch in here.

Branch flicks his eyes heavenward. Okay, we're done with this. "Yes, thank you, we've established that, now can you—?"

"You like them," Cloud Guy spirals over onto his stomach to look at Branch in a strange and searching kind of way, like he's seeing absolutely everything, "parenting you."

"I—" he doesn't remember, he doesn't know anymore what he was about to say, but it kind of doesn't even matter because the inside of his mouth has gone suddenly bone-dry and he can't seem to swallow and his tongue feels heavy and awkward and clumsy and he's about ninety-percent sure his face is about to catch fire, which is really stupid and makes no sense because this is—this is just—that is not—

"I don't—" he falters, noticeably, and Cloud Guy's mouth quirks up in one of his stupid, triumphant little smirks, and oh, God, everything is awful and he just wants to die. "—I d-don't—" he tries, again, and flounders just as spectacularly the second time. "I-I don't know," he manages, finally, and sits up on the bed, and puts on his best don't-mess-with-me glare, even though it's never, ever worked on Cloud Guy, ever, and it's also rapidly losing its effect on Poppy, too, which is unfortunate, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Cloud Guy raises his eyebrows, the picture of politely bewildered incredulity. "Your face says otherwise."

Branch tries to scoff—he really, really tries, but the furious blush has gone all the way to the tips of his ears at this point, and he knows the stupid sapphire flush is probably a damned beacon right now, even in the low light of the bunker, and all he can really manage is a small, shaky breath. It's about the farthest thing from a scoff. Ever. And he hates it. "Don't be ridiculous. They aren't—they aren't p-parenting me, or whatever," no, he does not stutter, he does not trip over the word, and that is just the beginning and the end of it, "they're—they're—"

But.

See.

Here's the thing.

They kind of are.

And there is no getting it past Cloud Guy. "Branch," he doesn't even bother with one of his annoying-but-admittedly-creative nicknames, "yesterday, Mom pulled me aside, and begged me to make sure you had a second helping of that casserole she brought over for dinner last night because she says you're too thin and she's worried you're not taking care of yourself."

And damn it all to hell, but the first thing Branch feels is not absolute and unremitting indignation at the thought that he, utterly independent for a good ten years or so at this point, is somehow incapable of looking after himself, no, it's not that at all, it's—

Well.

It's.

It's kind of the complete and total opposite, because there's something suddenly warm and bright growing up inside his chest, this golden little glow, like the miniature flame on the end of a lit match, but the heat of it goes all the way through him, and that's. Okay. That's not good. That is—that is not good, because he is not supposed to feel good about this, at all, ever, he's just—he's just not, because it's ridiculous, it's unbelievable, it's infuriating, for God's sake, he can mind his own damn self and he doesn't need anyone else and that's who he is, isn't it, someone who is alone, someone who wants to be alone, someone who doesn't know how to be anything but alone, and it's not right and it's not fair for Cloud Guy's parents, of all people, to just come crashing into his life and make him think any different.

"And!" Cloud Guy sits up, too, and jabs a finger, hard, into Branch's chest. "You. Like. It."

At least he expects the accusation this time—without the sting of shock and humiliation it initially carried, he's able to put up a half-decent defense. He even manages a proper scoff now, and he smacks Cloud Guy's hand away. "No. I don't."

Cloud Guy has the nerve to laugh. "Pretty nice fib, puffalo rib, but you can't hide nothin' from me. Just do yourself a favor, and don't ever, ever let Mom in on it. She already thinks you're lonely, has a good cry 'bout you every time she comes over."

Branch stops dead. "What?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah." Cloud Guy flops back on the bed again, arms clasped comfortably behind his head. "Practically had kittens about you when I told her you've been down here since you were twelve. Thought it was best not to mention the whys and hows after that."

"I—" Branch can't even speak for the sheer mortification of this moment, his mouth working furiously as he struggles to find the words. Oh, God, Cloud Guy's mother feels bad for him. He literally cannot think of anything worse. Death would honestly be kinder.

"She'd—" Cloud Guy breaks off to let out a low chuckle. "She'd probably adopt you if I did."

Yeah. Okay. No. Branch shuts his mouth. There really is absolutely nothing to say to that.

"Anywhoozle," Cloud Guy pushes himself back up, and rolls right off the side of the bed—Branch waits for the telltale thump of his body hitting the floor, and hopes it really, really hurts, but it never comes—he tucks up his legs and catches himself an inch from the ground, floating up to the ceiling. "You want my advice?"

"Uh—" Branch's brain finally decides to work again, grinding back into gear. "No. Not in the slightest."

Cloud Guy laughs again. "There's the sauce I've been missing. As I was sayin', just try to look a little less lost-boy 'round Mom, 'kay? She'll lay off eventually. Although," he pauses, like he's just singlehandedly had the world's greatest idea, "now that I think of it, well," he shrugs, and floats toward the door, extending an arm to slide the heavy metal bolt back. He flicks the door open, and tosses one last glance at Branch over his shoulder, "better you than me."

[operation-firecobraclaw]

prompt) can I please please get pidge and shiro telling Sam and Matt that they are a couple right after they rescue Sam

Another one done! :D  Thank you for the prompt, anon!  It might not be exactly what you asked for, though… Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! ^-^

WARNING: Contains some S5 Spoilers

Unnecessary side note: I’m weak for Shiro in glasses and ponytail Pidge

Pidge wasn’t sure if she was quite ready to drop the Shiro bomb on her family yet, but she couldn’t stand lying to them, lie of omission or otherwise.  After years of searching, through the endless expanse of outer space no less, they were finally reunited.  Her brother and father were safe and by her side again.  There was too much time lost between them for her to keep secrets, and yet she paced the Castle lounge, anxious and undecided.

“Takashi, what do I do?” she groaned, tilting her head back with a sigh.  

Shiro sat on one of benches, an arm draped across the back of it and an open book in his lap.  He glanced at her over the rim of his reading glasses, his eyes following her as she treaded back and forth.  His lips turned up with an amused but sympathetic smile.  “I think you know what to do, Kate.”  His eyebrows rose as Pidge pulled her hair back into a ponytail; she said it helped her think.  

“I know, I know,” she muttered, reaching up behind her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose.  “But what do I say?  ‘Hey Matt, Dad.  So Shiro – you know Shiro?  We’re kind of together, and, just so you’re aware, we definitely do all the things that couples do.  All the things.”

He chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck.  “Maybe don’t lead in with that?”

“But that’s what they’re going to hear, isn’t it?!” she cried as she dropped down beside him, settling herself into the crook of his arm.  Shiro pulled her in closer, and she brought her legs up to her chest, folding her arms over them with a huff.  Before she knew it, she was rambling, gesticulating with every frenzied phrase. “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t be this nervous.  Why am I so nervous?  You’re so great, and they pretty much love you already.  I mean, not like I do, obviously, but–”

She stopped when Shiro brushed the back of his fingers along her jawline, tilting her head up so he could look her in the eyes.  He breathed out a quiet laugh of disbelief through an impossibly warm smile.  “You love me?”

Pidge’s eyes widened as she felt a rush of heat burn into her cheeks and around her ears.  Her lips parted, but whatever response she could have possibly had was caught in her throat.  Oh, god.  Oh, my god, I said that out loud.  She glanced away, unable to hold that soft gaze of his any longer.  “I… I mean, of course I do,” she muttered.  Her heart was beating like crazy.

“I love you, too, Katie.”

Shiro kissed her then, and she could feel his smile against her lips.  When she returned his enthusiasm, she couldn’t help but think about how right this all felt.  How could she possibly be nervous about telling her family about the man that she loved?  It was going to work out; she was sure of it.

Shiro pressed his forehead gently against hers.  He was still smiling.  “Ready?”

She nodded.  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They found Matt and her father in the laboratory, examining the headpieces that Ryner let them borrow.  Matt glanced up from his work when they walked in and greeted them with a small wave.  “Hey, you two.”

“Hey, Matt.  Dad,” Pidge started, starting to feel a little anxious again.  “I have to tell you something.”  She glanced up at Shiro, who only gave her an encouraging nod.  I’m just gonna say it.  Just say it.  “Shiro and I… we’re together.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.  I was just really nervous, and I don’t know why.  Maybe it was because it was such a big change and–” She was rambling agan.

Sam and Matt glanced at each other, and Pidge was surprised to see that her father was chuckling.  He smiled at her in the way only Samuel Holt could smile at her – with nothing but love and understanding.  “We were wondering when you guys were going to tell us.”

“You… knew?” she asked tentatively.  Shiro looked just as surprised as Pidge felt.  

Matt went back to entering data on his computer but scoffed out a quiet laugh.  “Um, yeah.  You two are not very subtle.”

Slightly embarrassed about the implication, Pidge hadn’t realized she was smiling until Sam approached them and pulled them both into a tight hug.  “I’m happy for you two.  Just promise me you’ll take care of each other, okay?”

“Always,” Shiro vowed, returning his embrace.  “Thank you, Commander Holt.”

“I love you, Dad,” Pidge whispered.

“I love you too, kiddo.”

When Sam pulled away, Pidge reached out a took Shiro’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers together.  It had been a long time since Pidge felt this happy.  Even so, she still  longed for home, for her mother, for laying in her bed with Bae Bae sleeping in her lap.  But now she had something even better to look forward to – when this was all over, she could go back to that life, with Shiro by her side.

[diminuel]

Fic Reading List: January

I’ve done this before, but I thought I’d try to keep track of the fics I’m reading and share them with you too. I added little notes after the summary. There are all types of genres, from canon to A/B/O.

I’ve added the archive warnings in the brackets in case there were any, but didn’t include the tags. So make sure to read them.

Enjoy! ♥

I Wished for This by Piper_Halliwell1979 (Mature, 3.5k)

After the decision is made for Heaven to repopulate, Castiel is excluded from selective pairing. Since his biology will be affected anyway, he and Dean discuss the possibility of having a biological child of their own.

Post S13 mpreg. One-shot, with a calm and fluffy atmosphere.

Family by Piper_Halliwell1979 (Mature, 5.5k)

After a one night stand Castiel finds himself pregnant by Dean. After some miscommunication they come together to bring a new Winchester into the world.

Not season specific canon compliant story. A lovely story about an unexpected pregnancy and how it makes everything else fall into place.

How to Romance a Human by cloudyjenn (4k)

Based on a prompt from moonlettuce for the Renegade Angels challenge. The prompt was "Castiel tries to woo Dean using a Cosmo article entitled 20 ways to get your man."

S5 is canon compliant story. An immensely amusing fic. 

A Song of Wind and Wings by triedunture (Explicit, 10k)

The Angelborn have not been seen in Westeros in hundreds of years. Lord Dean Winchester and his brother Ser Sam arrive in Lady Ellen's Highroad Keep after receiving word that one has been taken captive.

A lovely one shot that borrows from Game of Thrones, but it’s easy to read it as a wonderful fantasy AU without any knowledge of GoT! Also features some wing care~

Untitled by jinxedambitions (Explicit)

Castiel woke in an unfamiliar bed with the aches and pains of a night spent debauching.

A nsfw one shot where Cas wakes up in a Dean’s bed and can’t remember the sex they had. So Dean decides they should do it again.

Long Exposure by Rosewhipped (Explicit, Rape/ Non-Con, 107k, WIP)

When Dean kicks Castiel out of the bunker, they have no contact for months. Once the Gadreel/Ezekiel situation is finally resolved, Dean tries to reach out, but cannot get in touch with Cas. To his horror, he soon discovers his friend has been in trouble for a long time. Dark Fic.

Still a WIP, but it’s really long and it’s a wonderful hurt!Cas story. I’ve read it twice now and it’s been a delight both times!

Timer by galaxystiel (2.1k)

Dean doesn't have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak.

Cute soulmate AU one-shot with a dash of angst!

To Build On Ruins by SillyBlue (18.8k)

When Dean comes of age, he's presented with a choice that is supposed to keep the Winchester pack strong and unified: exile or submission. With war having recently ended and the winter being bitter and dangerous for a young exiled alpha, Dean doesn't really have a choice but to submit. But less than four years later Sam is presented with the same impossible question and Dean's forced to act.

Dean-centric, gen story.

You Send Me by thelonelywriter (26k)

Some months go by of Dean and Cas living together without a hitch.

Some months go by of Cas and Dean living together without Cas' heats being an issue.

And some more months go by before something shifts.

It takes awhile, but Dean realizes soon enough that he's in a little too deep...

Lovely a/b/o, friends with benefits/ room mates to real mates story!

The Unclean by TheIttyBitty (Mature, 53k)

Dean should know by now to expect the worst when his brother calls him in the middle of the night with words like, we have a situation on his tongue. Still, he's more than a little surprised when Sam asks him to take in a young man recently rescued from a cult.

Castiel - malnourished, abused, and afraid - might be more than Dean can handle, but someone's got to do it. Dean searches and finds a bright, loving man buried under those years of abuse, and he'll do just about anything to help Castiel feel whole again.

This is a hurt!Cas story that focuses on the healing afterwards! Also, Dean’s a witch, but the good kind.

What Once Was Sacred by saltandbyrne (Explicit, 55k)

Los Angeles detective Dean Winchester works tirelessly to atone for the sins of his father one case at a time. When his best friend Charlie drags him to visit Sam at his new job, Dean stumbles onto a bizarre string of deaths that brings him uncomfortably close to his past.

Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel, an enigmatic DJ who plays the sexiest music Dean's ever heard. A chance encounter at Castiel's house reveals that Castiel is an incubus, and Dean must face the lies and the reality of his childhood as a hunter. Dean comes to see that he and Castiel have more in common than he thought, and that guilt can be the hardest thing to cast aside.

What I loved a lot about this story was that even though Dean had been hunting as a child, Dean convinced himself that his father had just been delusional. It’s also got great scenes scenes and an interesting plot!

Daughter of a Killer by xHaruka17x (Explicit, Violence, Rape/Non-con, 8.2k)

Her Father was a Killer. But she wanted to know why and Papa wouldn't tell her.

Dean was in prison for 16 years and this is set after he is released. It focuses on his daughter (who never met him) finding out what exactly has happened.

No Vacancy by 60r3d0m (Explicit, 2.8k)

The shower water’s ice cold but the sweat and grime on his body is enough to make him stay.

For a long time, he holds Dean’s borrowed shorts in his hands. He turns them over, feels the fabric worn soft with age. They’re favoured shorts. Slept in often because they’re comfortable and loved and maybe echo of home.

Something that Cas doesn’t have.

After the Rit Zien attacks Cas at Nora's house, Dean takes him to his motel room to treat his injuries. He ends up staying the night.

(or in other words, the very famous fanfiction gap of 9.06 Heaven Can't Wait)

I can’t get enough of fics who address 9x06, but if you’re looking for something that fixes it? This fic isn’t it, this fic attacks your emotions. Just the kind of pain I enjoy!

He Can't Sleep by 60r3d0m (mature, 18.9k)

“I wish I could stand,” Cas says.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

Cas holds up his hand, flexes it, stares and then drops it.

“This weakness is unsettling. I can’t—I can’t even hold a pitcher of water, Dean.”

Dean makes a small sound in his throat, a non-committal hum.

He’s done soaping up Cas’ hair. He grabs the sponge at his side and starts to scrub at Cas’ skin, up along his arms, his neck, down his chest. When he runs it up his legs, to his thighs, Cas shudders and then there’s a hand cupping Dean’s cheek, cold and dripping water and soap, and Dean falters, looks at him for the first time.

“Will you sleep with me?” Cas says. “Tonight?”

Dean swallows.

He says yes.

After Lucifer's possession, Castiel stops talking.

This story spans a couple of years and gives me the worst case of second-hand pining ever. All the time Dean and Cas lost to silence...! So sad! But with a happy ending.

Sunrise, once more by 60r3d0m (Mature, 3.2k)

It’s the sun rising. It’s what he thinks as he’s walking back to the cabin, where Jack and Sam will pretend that his eyes aren’t swollen red, where they’ll pretend that they didn’t see him cry as hard as he did. But the great light that comes from behind him isn’t that. The fire that ignites from the heart of the pyre isn’t the goddamn sun.

It’s Cas.

(fix-it coda for 13.01 where Cas comes back because I miss him)

Very sad at first, but then fixes everything! ;w; I also like Jack in this one. (Attention for Dean’s suicide attempt. It’s not explicit and very short, but he drives the car into a pole. Jack fixes him up.)

Rain, Rain, Go Away by angvlicmish (Explicit, 3.5k)

Cas and Dean are in love but when they’re caught by Cas’ mother Naomi she accuses Dean of rape and lands him in jail. When he is let out for insufficient evidence a few years later he has trouble adjusting and finding work. He leaves town and goes under several different alias to try and start a new life. Cas is determined to find him to apologise and when he does find Dean he continues to pursue him even though Dean is still mad at Cas for not standing up for him.

The fic is slightly different from the summary, which was the original prompt for the story. It’s a sad story, but one with a hopeful ending. Attention: for mentions of Cas harming himself and wanting to commit suicide.

A Winter’s Tale by NorthernSparrow (64k)

Summary: Set in mid S9. Cas is sick and Dean finds a journal that Cas kept about his time alone as a human. Retelling of first half of S9 from Cas’s POV. Sick fic, hurt/comfort, journal fic. Lots of Cas angst/loneliness and a correspondingly equal volume of Dean guilt. Holiday fic too - covers Cas’s Thanksgiving and ends with Christmas.

Canon compliant hurt!Cas story that never fails to wound me and comfort me at the same time.

Spontaneous combustion by KoshiSekisen (18.4k)

Summary: “So you’re saying,” Sam repeated, his eyebrows arched high in disbelief, a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. “Janine just…”

“She… poofed,” Sheriff Emily Burke insisted, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

An interesting case fic. It’s gen and it’s got some nice hurt!Cas~

Rutnam Shore by mnwood (21k)

Summary: Dean Winchester has never been past the city limits of the sleepy town of Rutnam Shore. Except in his dreams, where he travels the country in a classic car and fights mythical beings with his little brother. It's the only time he gets to see his brother, since Sam died in a car crash when they were kids. Dean wants nothing more than to get as far away from Rutnam Shore as he can, but unfortunately he's afraid of driving and feels like he's stuck.

I can’t say too much about the story without spoiling a major plot point! It’s interesting and satisfying to read! It focuses almost exclusively on Dean and him trying to figure our just what exactly is going on.

[whirlybirbs]

— tenderly feral, ii. 

summary: you are starting to trust daryl, but neither of you trust alexandria. pairing: daryl dixon x female!reader rating: t for violence, references to murder/assault/loss, s5 spoilers, if that matters. word count: 2.3k a/n: set mid-season 5. this is shorter, but there’s some bonding + touching, so pls enjoy daryl & boston becoming closer and closer. also, @thatdamnokie​ made a playlist for this fic and i cannot say enough good things about it. please give it a listen! 

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Deanna seems... nice.

All of this seems nice. Too nice.

Like a dream.

(You’re waiting for the twist; when does this dream turn into a nightmare? When does someone pull a gun, force you to your knees, and pull the trigger?)

The floorboards creak under your boots as you move through the living room, eyes drawing up the walls decorated with wallpaper and photos and curtains and... life. This home is full it, bursting at the seams with it. It smells like vanilla and laundry. Outside, the birds chirp and the sun filters in through the windows to dance on the carpet.

It feels like some sick joke.

“Do you mind if I film this?”

You swallow, lashes kissing your cheeks as you blink away your cynicism. Your head swivels, flying to find Deanna standing in the doorway. There’s a creeping feeling under your skin; it’s a mix of distrust and confusion and fear...

“Who are you?”

“I could ask the same of you,” she says softly, settling in, “So sit. And we’ll talk.”

So you do.

✘

You leave the house after an hour.

A shaky breath falls from your lips as you pull the door shut and find Daryl lingering on the porch. He turns, cigarette hanging between his fingers as you wring your own hands. Blue eyes slip along your form, eyeing your posture and expression -- worry flashes across his face like a lightning strike.

(He’d been waiting close by. Didn’t wanna leave you alone. Not with some stranger. Not in some... house. Daryl doesn’t trust this. You don’t either. He can see it on your face.)

“You okay?”

His voice is a rumble. Like thunder on a humid night.

“M’fine,” you breathe, stepping forward. The others watch the exchange from the lawn. You move to pass but slow up, letting your shoulder touch his. After a beat, your raise your chin you speak lowly, “Be nice.”

His lip quirks. Like a snarl. He flicks his cigarette off the porch and drops his head. He exhales a laugh.

He’s last to go.

“Me?” he croaks, brushing by, “M’ always nice.”

✘

“What did you do?” Deanna had asked, “Before all this?”

Your lip had twitched. You had fussed in your seat, crossing your legs and leaning forward and shaking your head. The look on your face, at that moment, was steeped in an emotion shaken and stirred with nostalgic regret. You scratched your brow as your mouth moved... but, nothing came out.

So, Deanna waited.

Your eyes traced the pattern in the rug for the hundredth time.

Then, you cleared your throat and spoke.

“I was a teacher.”

✘

Rick insists on sleeping in the same house tonight, together.

While everyone begins to hunker down, you poke around the house. It’s nice, something that would go for a million in the suburbs outside of Boston. It’s got a lotta space and good lighting and better bones.

Michonne catches you in the upstairs bedroom. She leans in the doorway, head tilting as she watches you fleet from wall to wall. When she does speak, her voice is soft. You jump.

“There’s a change of clothes in the dresser,” she says, “Should fit you... and the shower’s open.”

You blink at her. Shock draws up your brows.

“Shower?”

A nod.

“... Hot water?”

Michonne just smiles.

(The paint in the bathroom reminds you of your cousin’s house. Heron grey.)

You spend a good hour in there -- scrubbing and washing and grinning ear-to-ear for the first time since this whole thing went down. The shampoo smells like a life you lived before and when you step out into the steam of the bathroom, you can almost pretend the world is normal again. The towel is soft and the air is warm and your happily pull on the pair of jeans and sweater that Michonne had laid out.

You pad downstairs, face happy and eyes heavier.

Daryl is in the kitchen, poking around for a snack, when you wander in.

You smell like... fruit. Flowers and fruit.

He squints.

“You clean up nice.”

He means it.

You snort through your nose and snake around the counter. There’s a basket of fruit there -- so you pluck an apple from the bunch and move to lean against the marble island. Daryl, still dirty and still fussing, continues to dig through the cabinets.

“You gonna shower?” you ask after a few bites of the apple.

“Nah,” he spits, “Later.”

You roll your eyes. Daryl catches it. He drops his crossbow on the counter with a rattle and hops up, legs swinging. You move closer, crossing the kitchen to lean against the counter next to him and look out the window above the sink. In the next room, the chatter of the group washes out the silence.

You raise the apple, offering it.

The moon hangs high in the sky.

He takes it, bites, and hands it back.

“Think we’ll stay?”

“Dunno,” Daryl mumbles, “... I dunno.”

You just nod and chew your apple.

✘

“We have a school,” Deanna had explained, “And we need teachers. Our children... they’re our future.”

You fell quiet, arms wrapping around yourself as your knee bounces.

It hurts to remember your classroom -- to remember your kids, your coworkers, your school. When things got bad, FEMA rolled in and made it a shelter, but with no National Guard left for stationing and a rampant looting problem spreading through the city, things went south fast. Those children... your chest aches to think about where they are now. If... If they are... if they just are.

“I know that.”

“Will you help?” she asked, “Teach them? Math, art, science, history... anything.”

“I taught fourth grade.”

Deanna smiled at you like you were the sun, then.

And you felt sick.

✘

The living room is full.

There’s a roof over your head and food in your belly and a pillow under your head. You’re safe, as safe as you probably could be. Behind two feet thick steel walls and the four more that make up this damn Alexandria mansion. Rick and Michonne and Daryl are here. Glenn is here. Maggie, Sasha, Carol... Everyone.

Except Tyreese, except Beth.

But, you’re here. And you’re safe.

And still, you can’t sleep.

You roll, hips complaining from the position you’d taken up in the corner. The blanket around your shoulders is warm, and falls around your waist as you sit up, hair wild, and sigh.

Daryl, still perched at his spot by the window, can see the frustration written on your face from across the room.

Your eyes catch his, and he speaks softly.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

✘

You wrap your arms close around you, steps falling in line with Daryl’s as you sniffle and shiver a bit. It’s getting colder now with autumn creeping in -- it’s not as cold as Boston, though, so you suppose you’re thankful. The first winter there was miserable; the walkers froze solid, so it was safer, but with no heat and no food?

You were as good as frozen.

The sound of a pack of coyotes baying in the distance brings you back.

Alexandria is quiet -- the only lights come from the moon overhead and the candles glowing in windows here and there. The tops of the trees bleed into the horizon like ink in water. It’s peaceful, air filled with peepers and crickets and the kiss of the wind in the trees.

Daryl’s hands are shoved in his pockets.

His breath, glowing in the cold, curls around him as he speaks.

“... She give you a job?”

You’re quiet for a while after he asks. As Daryl walks, he watches your face out of the corner of his eye. You’re thinking -- your face is warped into a look he’s never seen before. It’s heavy with concentration. But not on the conversation.

Once you hit the end of the block, you shrug.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “She did.”

Daryl blinks up at the stars. Tries to play off his interest.

“Somethin’ good?”

“Somethin’ I used t’ do.”

His brow lifts. “Before all this?”

“Yeah,” you parrot with a lack of substance, “Before all this.”

His head falls. His hair is in his eyes when he stops short and looks at you.

“Why?”

Your nose scrunches.

“Why what?” You keep walking.

Daryl hops to catch up.

“Why th’ whole...” he gestures at you, “... Why’re y’ mad?”

“I’m not mad,” you mumble as you walk, shaking your head. You turn to catch his eyes. In the light of the moon, he seems more boyish than before. A little worried, a little scared. You slow down to let him catch up fully. “It’s just scary. I don’t... I don’t trust all this.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Neither do I.”

“That why you weren’t sleeping?”

Daryl nods. You hum.

“You?”

You laugh bitterly as you round another corner, shoulders brushing his. “I’m just... I haven’t slept in a house in... months, maybe. Not one where I didn’t have to keep an eye open, or... Or one where I knew I was... safe. But, I don’t know that. I don’t know that I’m safe. I want it to be true, but...”

“But, we don’t know.”

You cross your arms tighter and inhale as you stop, facing him fully. He takes pause, too, and rocks on his boots. As your eyes scale him, his drop. He shrinks, then, toeing the pavement.

“What did you do,” you ask then, spurred by a moment of wonder, “Before all this?”

Silence is the response. Then, he reaches and digs out a cigarette from his vest.

“Does it matter?”

His lighter clinks open, then closed. His face is illuminated by the embers of the Marlboro.

“It did,” you shake your head, eyes glimmering with exhaustion and sadness, “To them.”

“I was nobody,” he chirps, wetting his lips and shrugging. He turns on his heel. You follow, “Nobody.”

“You were somebody to someone,” you mumble, not complaining when his arm brushes yours. He’s heading back to the house, “Right?”

He dodges the question, fast and hard. “What about you, huh? Before shit went down, what’d y’ do?”

“Fourth grade.”

“What?” he squints.

“I taught,” you laugh a little, dry and sad, “I taught fourth grade.”

Daryl slows up, for a second, and lets his face soften. He can see it now -- you, showered and in fresh clothes and looking happier. He could see you, wrangling in a bunch a’ screaming kids. Teachin’ math, or arts ‘n’ crafts. He can see you being not-so-feral. Reading along, recess duty, and PTA meetings.

You note the expression on his face. Yours warps into one of sheepishness.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he chirps quietly, taking a drag of his cigarette, “I can see it, s’all.”

“You can see it?” you jab, knocking his arm, “What’s that mean?”

Daryl just shrugs. And you let the ghost of a smile play on your lips.

As he makes his way up the steps, you linger. He takes note and leans against the porch beam.

“Y’know,” he rasps, “This is th’ most you’ve ever talked, but you ain’t sayin’ much.”

You guess he’s right.

So, you follow him inside.

✘

“Your friend outside... Daryl, is it...?”

You pulled up your gaze from the carpet, a soft look flickering there. Deanna saw it. It brought a smile to her face, then, and she nodded knowingly -- her hands were knotted as she spoke.

“Is that what you are...?” she asked, “Friends...?”

You felt like you’d got cottonmouth.

“... Why don’t you ask him that?”

“Oh,” she laughed, “I will. But... I have a feeling he’s gonna give me a run for my money, isn’t he?”

“... He saved my life.”

“You owe him,” she spoke quickly, “Or... you... feel like you do?”

“Maybe.”

She hummed.

And you let that hit you like a ton of bricks.

✘

“Quit squirmin’.”

You’re tossing and turning and it’s not until you’ve accidentally elbowed Daryl twice in five minutes that he speaks up. The whisper falls on your ears with a pointed edge, weighed with the bleariness of sleep. The archer kicks his legs then, rolling to look at you from over his shoulder.

You groan, palming at your eyes as you roll flat on your back and huff.

You croak out an apology.

Daryl exhales, making a point of his sleep-driven irritation, before he rolls back over to face the wall.

He, however, does not go back to sleep. Instead, he stares at the wall and thinks.

Daryl Dixon does a lot of thinking -- might not show, but he does. He sure as hell doesn’t speak his mind, but the man works things out up top before he acts. He’s grown past firing from the hip... most of the time. Doesn’t mean he doesn't get angry or frustrated or violent. Just means he’s careful.

And right now, he’s got a lot on his mind.

Your breathing never evens out -- it’s still shallow and you’re still fussing. So, Daryl decides it’s in his best interest to do something. Y’know, so you won’t keep him up and he can get some damn sleep.

He promptly rolls flat on his back and hauls his blanket up over the two of you.

He sees your lashes dances as you blink, confusion flying across your face as you turn to eye him. He dodges your glance, eyes focused on his hands as he tucks the blanket over you and rolls to lay on his stomach. He drops his face into the pillow, ignoring the way your shoulder fits up against his ribs and how your legs touch his, and croaks out a grouchy:

“Go t’ bed.”

And that’s that.