#and i need a closure with bishop

[trashy-corvian]

Some nights I still dream about her...

Neverwinter Nights 2 remake...

[brightlotusmoon]

Thanks to this Anon Ask, I posted the chapter.

omg when i saw shattered light making a return!!! aaaaa!!

are you planning to continue it? absolutely no pressure because your ao3 is already the gift that keeps giving, but if not do you have any headcanons/plot points for that au? that fic really resonates with me and i love the setup for it.

have a great day ❤️

Oh, wow, I saw this just as I was writing up a new chapter! Yay, someone is interested! 😁

It's definitely continuing. I've had a block for a very long time. It's a complex storyline, too, since everyone is an unreliable narrator and I'll be moving through flashbacks of Mikey's capture.

I'm currently writing Leo and Donnie having a conversation and I just need to figure out where to end it. Next up would be Raph fighting with his feelings.

Headcanons from others are welcome, by the way. At one point, Donnie's going to make a tablet with ACC that links to a HUD so Mikey can "talk" to them on missions. At least until the mutism is completely addressed.

[infernal-lamb]

Unholy alliance spoilers

I do love the narrative arcs for the bishops, I really do. But I think it’s so funny, that, yes, the bishops have closure—they love each other, they care about each other so deeply, they lament the past and what they have done to each other (and I guess by extension the Lamb). It’s very sweet, and tbh, I think it’s very nice that at the end of it, the ex-bishops only need each other to remain happy and content.

At the same time……where is closure for the Lamb? That’s all well and good that the ex bishops see the Error in how everything had gone down but….

like the Lamb must just be like oh it’s so good :) how you are all happy :) with your family :) oh this is your home? That must be nice. It must be wonderful to have a home and a family :) No I do not feel a pit of agony in my stomach as my entire species is dead and that this ‘family’ is predicated upon my manipulation and intimidation, therefore always bringing a barrier between me as an individual and me as the God :) no this ascendancy into godhood didn’t warp my view of love being only in the lens of worship and how I can no longer connect to others around me (beneath me!) on a genuine level. I’m fine. I’m sooo fine :) what is ‘home’ for me?

[tortillamastersblog]

➶A big misunderstanding - Part 2 | Kate Bishop➴

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

Warnings: minor injuries

Summary: Following your realization, you go to find Kate to talk about your feelings…

Part 1

________________________________________________

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” I say, “Please notify me as soon as Clint and Kate return from their mission.”

The A.I. acknowledges my request and I get to work at my desk, attempting to shrink the ever growing stack of mission reports.

The hours tick by without my notice and the next thing I know, I’m slumped over the desk, my cheek pressing into the keyboard of my laptop.

I snap up and rub my sore cheek, groaning at the sight of the document on my laptop. It’s now filled with random letters and symbols and I know it’ll take ages to delete all the gibberish.

“Y/N?”

I yelp at F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s disembodied voice, realizing that it was the A.I. that woke me from my semi-comfortable sleep.

“Yes?” I ask, my voice gruff from not using it.

“Mr. Barton and Ms. Bishop have returned.”

I check my watch and get to my feet. It’s four in the morning, three days after they left, so the mission must have taken longer than anticipated.

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” I say, leaving my room in search of Kate. I know now might not be the best time to bring up my feelings, but if I don’t do it as soon as possible, I think I might actually explode.

The reports were a good distraction over the past couple days after my talk with Wanda, but now that Kate’s back I need to go find her.

I search the kitchen first, figuring she might be hungry after missing dinner but she’s not there.

Next I go to the locker rooms, but she isn’t there either, so she must already be in her room.

I walk there with trembling hands, not exactly sure how I’m going to initiate the conversation. Do I ask her about her feelings? Do I just straight up tell her about mine? Should I ask about the mission first?

When I get to her door, I notice it’s slightly ajar, allowing me a glimpse inside. She’s standing in front of the full length mirror mounted to the wall opposite her bed.

She’s dressed in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie and her hair is still damp from the shower she must have taken.

“Come onnn!” she grumbles, fumbling with something sticking to her finger.

I narrow my eyes and carefully push the door open to get a better look; it a butterfly closure strip.

Whenever she tries to unstick it from one of her fingers, it immediately sticks to another and with each passing second her frustration grows.

Her shoulders are tense and her nostrils are flared, but I don’t make my presence known until the strip folds in on itself, rendering it useless.

“Hey,” I say quietly, knocking on the doorframe.

Kate’s head snaps up and her eyes widen in surprise. “Y-Y/N… What are you doing? Why are you still up?”

All of my earlier worries fly out the window when I notice the cut on her temple and I move forward without thinking.

“Here, let me,” I say, grabbing a new butterfly strip from the opened package.

Kate watches, dumbfounded, and gulps when I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, away from the cut. It’s not particularly deep, but it will scar if it’s not taken care of properly.

“Didn’t anyone show you how to do this?” I ask with no hint of annoyance in my voice, getting to work on cleaning the wound with a sterile wipe which happened to lay beneath the butterfly strips on the dresser next to the mirror.

“Clint did… once,” Kate admits, looking up at me through her eyelashes while I work. I’m a little taller than her, which is something I only now realized because we’ve never actually stood this close to each other before. “But I forgot and I’ve been embarrassed to ask for help ever since.”

A wave of sympathy rushes over me and I pause for a moment to look her in the eyes and smile reassuringly. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s better to ask for help than to suffer in silence,” I say without realizing how deep that sounded until it’s already too late.

Kate snorts softly and lets me continue working. It’s oddly intimate, however I can’t say I mind. It makes me feel weirdly fuzzy, knowing I can help her and that she’s, for once, not trying to run away from me.

Every once in a while she winces while I clean her cut and some smaller scrapes, but she doesn’t tell me to stop, so I keep going until everything’s been cleaned and the cut has been successfully closed.

“There you go,” I mumbled, tilting her chin to the side to get a better look at my work. “Much better.”

My eyes drift over her injuries and I’m quite satisfied with my work until I get distracted by her eyes. Those damn blue, captivating eyes.

She’s watching me intently and when I don’t make a move to create more space between us, she lets out a shaky breath.

“You haven’t answered my question yet,” she whispers, and I’m so lost in her that it takes a second for my brain to process what she just said.

“What question?” I ask, distracted by the way her eyes dart from my eyes to my lips and back.

“Why are you still up?” She breathes into the small space that is left between us.

“I—“

I waited for days for you to come home so I can ask you on a date? No…

I stayed up because I can’t stop thinking about you and just had to tell you how I feel? No!

I had to tell you I love you? No! What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N?! It’s way too early for that!

I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence when I’m suddenly pulled down by a hand grabbing the back of my neck, a pair of soft lips landing on my own.

I gasp in surprise but quickly sink into the feeling, my hands finding their way to Kate’s hips.

The kiss is short because Kate pulls back a second later to tease. “You think too much.”

I laugh in her face and brush my nose against hers. “You’re one to talk, Ms. smacks-me-in-the-face-with-a-spatula, Ms. knocks-over-a-bunch-of-bows-at-the-sight-of-my-abs, Ms—“

Kate groans and clamps her free hand over my mouth. “Alright, alright! You’ve made your point.”

I smirk and lick her hand on a whim, causing her to shriek and wipe her palm on my shoulder. “Ew! Don’t do that!”

“What do you mean, ew?! You were just kissing me!” I exclaim in mock offense, pulling her closer by her hips.

Kate huffs and tries to act annoyed, but grins eventually when she counter-argues. “That’s different!”

I wiggle my eyebrows playfully and nose forward so my lips are brushing over hers. “Is that so?”

Kate’s eyes flutter shut and her grip on the back of my neck tightens when she hums an affirmative. Then her lips are back on mine, but this time, the kiss deepens and before long we’re stumbling across the room until we fall onto her bed.

It’s anything but elegant and in the end her teeth clash against mine and we have to break apart to laugh.

“Sorry,” she chuckles, wiggling around on top of me.

I just smile at her and cup her cheek with one hand, the other still resting on her hip. “It’s okay.”

We stay like that for several moments, watching each other as our heart rates return back to normal. It’s peaceful and quiet, and one of the best moments of my life.

That is until a badly suppressed yawn overcomes Kate, reminding me of how late it is.

“You should get some rest.” I whisper, guiding her off me so I can get up and drape the comforter over her. “You must be exhausted.”

She doesn’t protest, so I quickly tuck her in and turn off the lights until the only source of light that is left is the tiny nightlight in the corner of the room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I say, bending down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Kate’s nods and cups my cheeks, keeping me close so she can peck my lips softly. “Before you go…” she says, her thumb tracing over my bottom lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Her eyes search mine in the dim light before she whispers, “Will you go on a date with me?”

I laugh quietly and turn my head to kiss the inside of her wrist. “I’d love to.”

“Good…” She blinks tiredly, obviously on the brink of falling asleep.

I take her hands off my face and squeeze them carefully. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

I stay with her until I’m sure she’s drifted off before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible.

A smile creeps its way onto my face as I tiptoe back to my own room, and it stays there all the way until I fall asleep in my own bed.

________________________________________________

I hope this does the first part justice…

[fictionalgap]

Teammate: Too Naughty (chapter 2)

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Reader

Summary: You didn't expect that from Hazel.

Warnings: +18 themes, swearing, sexual content, nsfw, half smut(even If that exists)

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Song Recommendation: River - Bishop Briggs

Notes: I imagined this Hazel, acting like Kit Thantalos but around other people. So she has Kit's cockiness and charisma without being mean. She is still our sweet Hazel.

You gulped before you looked in her eyes. Her eyes were fixed on you, piercing through your skull. The intensity made you hot, bothered and uncomfortable.

"Just wanted to talk for a minute. It's important."

She sounded serious and confident. It made you shiver inside.

You sighed. "Okay." You said as If you had a choice.

"Good girl."

"Wha-"

"Nothing... So..." She backed away a little.

"I know what you did."

"What? What do you mea-"

"Don't play dumb, Y/N. You tore my clothes off. I saw you. I had to call my roommate to bring me clothes."

You couldn't say anything. You refused to meet her eyes.

"Look at me." she said in a clear voice.

You looked at her grey-blue eyes you found so pretty and dear.

"Why did you do it?"

"I don't know."

She chuckled in a mocking way.

"How could you not? And how the fuck did you know my password?"

You met her gaze immediately.

"I-I...I-" you bit your lip and looked down on your shoes.

"You know some people may think you're a pervert."

You met her eyes quickly. "I am not... I am just good at observation, that's all."

She tilted her her to the side with a smug smile on her face, her arms crossed.

She got closer to you slowly. "Tell me. Why did you do it?" She held the tip of your chin and raised it to prevent you from averting your gaze.

You couldn't help but blush at the closure and her hand on you.

"I am really sorry." you gulped.

"Thank you but that doesn't answer my que-."

"I hate you."

She was dumbfounded by your confession but her hand was still on your chin.

"How can you hate me? You don't even know me." She chuckled.

"You wanted an explanation and I gave you one." you breathed.

Her smile met her eyes. "Oh, that's not how it works, sweetheart. You need to make me understand."

"I am afraid I can't wait that long." your mouth spoke before your brain can.

She laughed and it was music to your ears. "You're funny. I like it."

She looked at your lips then your eyes which made you look at her lips and wonder what they taste like.

Her face got closer to yours. You felt her breath on your face, feeling enchanted.

You licked your lips instinctively.

She took that and you gazing her lips for more than one minute as a sign and went for it.

Her kiss was slow, devouring and sensual. Her hand still didn't leave your chin.

When she broke the kiss you again instinctively, moved to her to get more but she backed away.

There was a cocky smile on her lips. "Y/N, I am confused cause I thought you said you hate me just minutes ago. So, enlighten me."

Your shoulders felt tense when you couldn't feel her touch.

"I don't even understand it myself." you looked down to your shoes.

"Why don't we try to understand together than?"

Your head snapped to look at her to see her pouting.

"Why? I tore your fucking clothes...By the way I can totally pay t-"

She shooked her head. "Don't want money."

"What you want then?" You breathed.

Her eyes twinkled mischieviously.

She held your arms with her hands and started caressing them.

"Something that could benefit both of us."

You tilted your head, confused and waiting for an explanation.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

You froze at what she said.

"That's what I thought." smirk appeared on her face.

"So, you want me and I want you. Let's be friends with benefits, hm?"

Your head was pounding at what she has just said.

"Okay." your mouth spoke before your brain can. Again.

"Great, then we are going."

"B- but"

"Wait, you really had a place to be?" she asked seriously.

You shooked your head and it made her smile so wide.

"Yes. I knew it. I am getting better at this." She threw a punch in the air while her other hand was holding your hand.

"At what?" you furrowed your brows.

"Realizing when people don't mean what they say." she explained excitedly.

You were shocked at how cocky and confident Hazel was just a minute ago and now she was like an innocent child now.

You walked to her car together and she drove you to her dorm.

Her friend wasn't there so you can actually now initiate the 'benefit' thing.

She opened the door and held the door for you. You entered the dorm and started to look around until you felt hands on your waist and wet lips on your shoulder.

She was kissing your shoulder and when she reached the spot behind your ear you moaned without noticing.

You could feel her smirk on your skin.

"Do you still hate me now, Y/N?" she turned you to herself so quick your head spinned.

"I-" she didn't waited for your answer as she kissed you eagerly. Her hand was placede behind your back. You could feel the cold sensation her rings made.

"You know, you are so fucking naughty. You don't speak to me but you tore my stuff off?" she said as she kissed you again harsh and eager.

"Such a bad girl. Need to be tamed." You felt your vagina clenched to what she has just said.

She spun you around, making you face her bed quickly. She sat on the bed quickly and started to grope the back of your thighs.

She leaned to your ear and whispered "Do you want me to continue, baby?"

"Yes, please."

She grinned as she pulled your legs and put you in a position that she can spank you.

She groped your ass and than whispered " Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She hit you hard.

You whined.

She hit you again.

Again and again anad again.

You felt your pussy clenching again and your juices leaking.

"Why did you tore my stuff off?"

You felt tears on your face from both pain, pleasure and the situation you were in.

"W-wanted to get close to you. Didn't know how. I saw everyone around you. I got mad."

Her face softened but you couldn't see it.

You felt pathetic. She only wanted a friends with benefits things and you have just opened your heart to her. You couldn't help the tears from falling.

She turned you around and faced you.

"Oh, baby." she hugged you quickly like her life depended on it and started to caress back of your head in a soothing manner as her other hand rubbed your back in circles.

"It's okay. I'm here now. I told you that friend with benefit thing to get closer to you. I wasn't sure about your intentions or feelings towards me."

she said and you stopped crying.

She held your cheeks with both of her hands.

"Really?"

"Really."

"ı don't deserve it."

"Don't I have a say in that?"

You looked up to her with teary eyes.

"I am really sorry, Hazel. It was a real dick move. I saw everyone was around you and It made me crazy. Especially the girls who wait for you after the swim practice. I just wanted to be your friend. I mean, at least that was what I was telling to myself. I wanted to be close with you." you chuckled.

She smiled genuinely. "Well, we are close now, aren' we?"

You smiled nervously.

"And don't worry about those girls. They're not my type at all. "

"What's your type? "

"Quiet and crazy."

You hit her shoulder lightly with a frown.

She laughed at that.

"So... Don't get me wrong but why do you look at everyone like you want to murder them?" she asked shyly.

You felt relieved as you covered your face with your hands with a smile.

Tags: @elliewilliamsgf69

[the-artist-grimm]

so why can Anthea not resurrect their dad, they collected his bones and ashes. they must have stored his remains in a very safe place as well so why.

-

-

also i kinda want to see Anthea either have a mental break down OR beat the CRAP out of Kallamar after finding out they were the one who issued the command of killing all of the sheep. Also how old is clauneck?

Ignoring the fact that their father’s cremains were 1, incomplete, and 2, scattered at their mother's request (Aries loved his family and village but was a wanderer at heart, scattering his ashes to the winds was the best burial she could give him), it wouldn't be right.

Like Anthea has wondered about it, but even if they had his bones, how could they just…bring him back? It’s been over 20 years since he died, he’s been in the Afterlife ever since and likely reunited with his wife and other children when they died, so for Anthea to just rip him from that? Bring him back into the living realm while the rest of their family cannot be revived, just so Anthea can have him around?

They love and miss him dearly just as they the rest of their family, but it wouldn’t be fair to him. It also goes against Anthea’s arc a little-their main lesson to learn is to acknowledge how neglected they felt as being the big sister and how negatively that experience still affects them. How despite being an adult and no longer a sister, the lamb still gives themselves up to serve everyone else and pushes down any negative feelings to avoid being 'selfish'. They gotta learn to accept that's not healthy and to let go of their family-to stop feeling guilty over surviving, and for not being that perfect 'big sister' they always tried to be.

Bringing Aries back would just be clinging to ghosts once again-even worse since he's not even the ghost they need to talk to for most of their closure, that would be their mother and siblings who's bones are lost.

---

As for their reaction to Kallamar...they already knew the orders were his. The genocide began a few decades before Anthea was born and everyone knew who's forces were at the forefront of it all. But regardless it was still a force that combined all the bishops-they all joined the slaughter.

Anthea does get their moment of blowing up at the Bishops, but it’s for more than just that. It’s for their over-dependence on their eldest with the assumption that Shamura knew ‘everything’ and always made the ‘right choices’ solely due to being the eldest. It’s for their mistreatment of Narinder and disregard to how their words would affect him. It’s for how this whole situation is pointless as it’s all because no one just talked to one another.  

The Lamb is angry, but also knows that’s not gonna fix this. Killing the Bishops solves nothing-it won’t bring their family back, and just denies Narinder his own answers and closure. Tormenting them solves nothing-it just makes Anthea the next perpetrator of violence. This cycle of not talking to people has gone on long enough, and everyone involved is just tired of it. 

It's a choice of either clinging to anger or letting go and moving on-and while the Bishops may never be fully forgiven, it's time to just...live. Accept that the past can't be changed, and to realize that clinging to what's happened is just making everyone feel worse.

---

As for how old Clauneck and his siblings for that matter are, no one knows. They're as old as time itself perhaps, they saw this land face the wrath of an era of a thousand gods and saw as it dwindled down to five to four, to three, to two, then only one. They saw the birth of the Bishop's reign, and saw it's end. The rise of the Lamb, and the rest...they'll see as well. They cannot die nor be killed-they'll be here till the world falls to its end.

Perhaps it's only a few thousand, perhaps it's a million, no one knows.

[cinamun]

*slams open the doors to the RRR, microwaves some wings, guzzles hennessey*

I know y'all sleep but I don't care... I need closure.

CAN WE PLEASE, PLEASE talk about the differences in posture and what that means? Jackson is not in an authoritative position here. He isn't even looking her in the eyes. Maybe that was an exhausted "this isn't a choice". Whereas Bishop is towering over her and his eyes are burning another hole into the back of her head as he stares down at her.

Mercy's tired but maybe she's tired of struggling to pay the bills just like her husband. Maybe her feet hurt, idk!!! She did say "every man" but like.... idk....

[teenagemutantninjatrauma]

So recently I was rewatching a few random Fast Forward episodes again (as one does when one is writing a massive AU about something) and BOY DO I NEED TO SHARE A THEORY

So like... Torbin Zixx, right.

This guy:

He gets introduced to us in the FF Bishop episode, of all times, as a mysterious vigilante who has avoided not only being captured but also getting caught clearly on any security footage anywhere! How strange! Anyways, Bishop introduces themselves to the turtles, Raph tries to attack his hologram, and the gang agrees to help Bishop catch this guy. Banger!

And then! We get to this shot.

Now, I don't know if this is a noticeable detail to anybody who like, has a life and isn't obsessed with this cartoon, BUT - boy does this face look familiar. The nose specifically is preeetty prominent.

YEAH I bet none of you were thinking THIS when watching that season (probably a good sign that you have better things to do), BUT I THINK.

ZIXX IS A BISHOP CLONE.

Consider the evidence - because there IS evidence, actually!

First of all, they get to stand back to back in the opening even though they both show up like twice? Three times? For mostly unrelated adventures? Why do they get to stand back to back instead of like, Zyxx getting a spot in the villain lineup that is also in the opening? He is ostensibly occasionally doing good but he’s mostly a trickster able to outsmart the turtles and get away - a trait Bishop has exhibited even when he almost fuckin died in Bishop's Gambit, by the way - so it feels meaningful to set him up here, back to back with Bishop of all people.

Second, they get introduced in the same episode, Bishop to Knight. I know we all rag on this season and the following season for not reaching the previous five seasons' standard, but I believe while Back To The Sewer was genuinely badly written, Fast Forward's issue was only that it wasn't given enough time to elaborate on all the things it set up - it is still written well. Things happen with intentions behind them, we are given as much closure as the show could manage, and so it feels like introducing two characters in the same episode has meaning. Combined with the shot from the opening, it really does feel to me like a point is being made here to compare the two.

Third, there is the parallel of both of them tricking Raph with their holograms - unintentionally and intentionally. It makes sense for Bishop, or someone made to think just like Bishop, to use new modern technology like this, because he's a resourceful bastard!

Look at him flinging himself at people he doesn't like. Me too, man.

"He and Bishop don't look alike!" - Well, not anymore they don't. But look at how Bishop used to look during the first five seasons, during his EPF era, and compare that to Zixx, and then compare Zixx to PGA era Bishop:

The nose, the face shape, the dual communicators? PGA era Bishop does look different and this could be attributed to either change of artstyle or the implication that his clone bodies have evolved and changed over the last century, but Zixx is a piece of who he used to be and has had to evolve differently, and thus looks the part.

(Additionally, we have already seen Bishop make clones of himself that didn't look exactly like his then-current body, when he made the Slayer army in Bishop's Gambit.)

This, by the way, would explain why there is no digital track of Zixx's face anywhere. Because hey, let's be real here - the opening of the episode is dedicated to how much information Bishop personally looks through.

If Zixx was indeed running around wearing Bishop's face, he'd want him gone, but Zixx, being a Bishop clone, would be smart enough not to get caught! Thus, the next best thing would be to get rid of any proof of similarity between them, hence these being the only picture Donnie, a de facto civillian, could find.

(Ironically, this could very well have lead to Zixx becoming the infamous enigma he is said to be in this world.)

They also fight alike, relying on acrobatics and on being able to push and pull their opponents around as needed. I am unfortunately too tired to get good screenshots/clips of this.

"But Zixx doesn't look human!"/"But Zixx has a different voice than Bishop!"/"But Zixx has green eyes!" - He's a vigilante in a scifi space show and has the face and voice of the most well known guy in all of space, is it truly a stretch to assume he might've gotten body modifications? We've already got one guy grafting alien DNA onto himself to survive and it's none other than Dr Baxter Stockman, notably another piece of Bishop's past that's come back to haunt him. Why not two?

You know this would also be in line with what I am now calling the Seeing Double Theme - Dark Turtles and a new Turtle Titan are in this story, confrontations of the future and the past self in some way, shape or form are a running theme of Fast Forward, so why wouldn’t there be a Bishop clone running around

No clue how or why Zixx would ditch the whole "protect all of Earth" mentality, but when Bishop reforms himself and swings into the extreme of establishing intergalactic peace to a point where he can't even be partial towards Earth anymore, does it not make sense narratively for his foil to swing the other way, become a typical "only looking out for myself" type of guy?

"It could also be said that maybe Zixx shows off traits that Bishop usually obfiscates, with the self-serving nature being a good example. We know all of Bishop's grand goals are really just covering for the fact that he's scared and wants to protect himself, right? If you look at the core of everything he does, it's to benefit himself. Zixx forgoes making up any justifications and says it like it is: he only cares about himself and what others can do for him." - additional comment, courtesy of THE Bishop Guy™, @violetvulpini, who's the reason I'm going this insane rn in the first place.

In conclusion, I strongly believe that Torbin Zixx is a Bishop clone gone rogue, similar in origin to the Slayer aka Rat King. He is Bishop shaped, he gets to stand next to Bishop in the opening like they're anime foils to each other, and it is SO interesting to explore.

This has been Trauma, and you've been Zixxed ✌️💜

BONUS: Headcanon territory!

Zixx's purpose was to be a "back-up" clone. Bishop has been recording his findings and work since at least the EPF era when we meet him, so maybe these recordings are then uploaded somewhere so that in case he dies and can't make the body transfer, a new clone is awoken and informed of his purpose. For some reason this system has at some point malfunctioned and awoken Zixx despite Bishop surviving - possibly during the collapse of the lab he and Stockman used to work in, or during the space war that gets vaguely mentioned at one point.

"clone six" or "version six" somehow becomes "Torbin Zixx"?

How did Zixx become a vigilante? Well, we know Bishop doesn't have human blood. Presumably the blue goop that we see him bleed at the end of Bishop's Gambit is something synthesized specifically for his body, so I imagine it would be VERY hard to come by. This, I think, would very easily lead to a life of crime he has more than the ideal set of skills for.

Bishop probably wants him obliterated but can't reasonably dedicate resources to catching or killing who he KNOWS is gonna be the ultimate most hard-to-kill guy in the known universe.

He steals Bishop's fancy car specifically just to piss him off <3

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-Two.

pairing: din djarin x plus size / reverse age gap / fem!O/C  

word count: 7.7K  

chapter summary: Marathel is released from the hospital, Din changes his plans, and Marathel is surprised 

warnings:  angst angst angst, mention of illness, mention of past abuse, mention of mental illness, English and Mando’a cursing  

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***  

    

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Marathel, still sleeping, slowly realized that someone was gently straightening out her arm.  She came awake, and opened her left eye to a dim room and Ya-Bito holding her arm, stroking it.  Marathel grunted something unintelligible; her face was mostly pressed against Din’s ribcage. 

“I’m sorry, Marathel,” whispered Ya-Bito.  “I just need to get some blood.”  Marathel blinked her consent and winced against the prick of a needle.  Ya-Bito collected the blood she required and put a pink bandage over the needle mark.  “Go back to sleep,” whispered Ya-Bito with her alarming smile as she quietly left the room.   

Din sighed in his sleep, flexed his legs, and tightened his arms around her and Grogu.  Marathel lay awake, listening to the strong heartbeat below her cheek.  A heart attack? wondered Marathel.  Yes, she remembered heartbreak when a bonded Dahl would die.  When Rodanthe unbound herself from her, her heart hurt, yes, she hurt all over.  

But then she remembered the men of the Hold, the times they would catch the rhyddolur or the nwymunwya.  Oh, did they ever raise such a fuss!  They demanded so much of the already ragged women: more delicate foods, more bathing, more pleasuring, more soiled bedding, more scrubbing around their necessaries!  Any woman in the Hold was expected to continue her work no matter how poorly she felt; the few times Marathel got out of working due to her cycle were an aberration.  And even then, she would drag herself off her pallet to service the Bishop, or whomever he wished to watch degrade her; it wasn’t worth the extra beating.  Those were the times she didn’t actually mind getting anally raped; at least then she just had to lay there.  Hence, the joke only whispered in the kitchen, full of derision: wai wchlas.  Man flu. 

I suppose some things are the same for men from other planets.  It was a little mean of her, though, teasing Din like that.  She considered apologizing for her smart mouth, then decided against it.  She did enjoy getting to use her snarky words — when she knew it didn’t mean a smack in the face.  And Din once told me he loved me best when I said things like that. 

But no more. Never again.  They were untethered, and he wouldn’t say such sweet things to her anymore.  Oh, he’d comfort her, dry her tears, feel pity for her, like he’d feel for any stranger, as he’d told her.   

Din snuffled, then his breathing became even again.  Marathel craned her neck to look up; the other times she’d slept in his arms her head was nestled between his shoulder and neck.  This time she’d slipped lower to rest against his rib cage, and she felt a metal pocket closure pressing into her cheek.  Looking up, in the dim light of the room, she could see … his chin? 

Din’s helmet had caught on the pillow, and it had lifted the bottom edge just enough that part of his chin and jawline was exposed.  How much of him have I seen?  His hands, his forearms, quite nearly his entire torso, the top of his head, his … manhood, and now, this part of him that she’d only ever felt before. His soft skin, his strong jaw, and some patchy whiskers that had some silver threaded through. 

Marathel tentatively reached out with a fingertip and just brushed a bit of beard on his chin, barely feeling the whiskers on her calloused finger, remembering running her fingers through his hair, and how he moaned against her lips as he kissed her.  That was the only time she was able to touch his hair, and she desperately hoped she would remember how it felt, for this was more than likely be the last time she would be so intimate with Din.   

And I only have this moment because of his pity for me.  But … I’ll accept it, and let it carry me back to Tatooine.  Then, I can focus on my future.  And there, I’ll have friends that will keep me company while I figure out my life without the Bounty Hunter.  I think I can bear that, so long as I have friends and I can see Grogu.  Please, Frith, don’t let the Bounty Hunter take Grogu away from me.  

Thinking of Grogu and the people she had left behind on Tatooine — especially Cobb’s easy smile and sparkling eyes — she fell asleep again. 

It was a few hours later that Din felt someone jostling his shoulder.  He turned his head to see Ya-Bito smiling at him.  “Wake up, Mando.  I’ve brought Marathel’s breakfast, Also, the doctor will be coming through in about thirty minutes, and she’s not big on patients sharing a bed.”  Din grunted in affirmation, and Ya-Bito left, turning the lights up a little brighter on her way out.  

Din was only half-awake, so he took inventory:  his arms were both asleep, his neck had a crick in it, and Grogu was resting right on his bladder, which had hit critical mass.  He looked down at Marathel.  She still slept.  He traced a glove tip along one of the spiral coils wrapped around her fingers.  This is day thirty-two, Marathel.  This is one of the few times you didn’t escape from me while we were sleeping. This is probably the last time I’ll get to hold you like this, and I’m so confused about how I’m supposed to feel about you.  He cared about her, that much was obvious.  He only wanted her to be happy and safe. He hoped she wouldn’t … didn’t hate him for his fluctuating emotions for her.  He didn’t understand romantic love at the best of times, but whatever forces were at work between the two of them were way outside his comfort zone.  If only … 

But her breakfast was getting cold, and he really needed the vac tube.  He squeezed her shoulder.  “Marathel?  Marathel, wake up.” Her head popped up, her eyes still squeezed shut.  “Feeling okay?” 

Marathel worked one eye open.  “I feel horrible.” Din tilted his helmet, noticing her puffy, red-rimmed eyes and the red lines on her pale cheek from the pocket seams and zipper tab where she’d pressed her face to his chest. “My eyes ache.” 

Unsure of what to say, Din said, “Ya-Bito brought your breakfast.  And I need to get up.”  Marathel nodded and sat up — thankfully without needing to push down on his full bladder to boost herself.  She plucked the dozing Grogu off Din and nuzzled the boy’s ear as Din rolled off the bed with a groan and shambled to the vac tube.  After relieving himself, he took off his helmet and took a look in the mirror at his own puffy, red eyes.  Marathel’s story last night had affected him terribly.  Even having something as simple as a doll was fraught with pain.  Maybe she should stay here, stay in the psych ward, he thought.   

But he couldn’t leave her behind again. He even regretted leaving her to go to Nevarro to get his helmet repaired; if he’d only been with her when her first treatment failed, if perhaps he’d gone with her to the Reconstructionists, if he’d been with her when she’d learned that her whole way of life was an abhorrent aberration … 

And if frogs had wings, they wouldn’t bump their ass a-hoppin’, kid.  Regrets and ifs and maybes distract you from what you need to do.  If you make a bad decision, you do your best to bounce off your ass and keep hopping. 

After hearing his buir’s words in his head, Din replaced his helmet with a sigh and left the fresher room to wash his hands at the sink. He soaked a washcloth in cold water for Marathel, turning around just in time to see her struggling with Grogu, who was actively trying to steal all the food from her plate. “Grogu, please, I know you’re hungry …” 

“Listen to your Mama, kid, that is her breakfast, not yours.”  He snagged Grogu from her and replaced the sausage links — floating in the air with the Force — on her plate.  He handed her the washcloth.  She muttered her thanks and held it against her eyes.  Din sat down in the chair and said, “Your doctor will be coming in soon.  They will probably talk to you about what you might want to do.” 

“Do?” 

“Whether you want to be released, or whether you might want to go in for psychiatric care.” 

Marathel sighed and put the washcloth on her tray.  “What do you think I should do?” 

Din shifted in the chair, then said quietly, “I think that’s a decision you need to make.” 

“Din … I don’t know enough to make that kind of decision.  I’m lost out here.  Right now, I only have you to help me.  I know I’m a burden to you, but I need to know what you think I should do.” 

Din shook his head and stammered, “Marathel … I ... my feelings for you ...” 

Marathel put her hands to her forehead.  “Urgh!  Din, we need to talk about the important things!  It doesn’t matter that you don’t love me anymore; that’s not the point right now!  Please, tell me if going into this psych ward is a good idea, because I don’t know any different!” 

“Marathel …” 

“I’m a child, Din, just like Cobb says, I’m a full-grown child who dropped out of the sky!  I need guidance if I’m going to survive out here!  If I can’t rely on you for help, the one person, right here, right now, who understands what I’ve been through, then what am I supposed to do?” 

Din spread his hands, saying, “I’m not the best person to ask, Marathel!  Mandalorians don’t do psychiatry!  I speak to my Confessor, the Armorer, and I follow her advice.  I think about what my buir would say or do, and I follow the teachings of the Manda’lor.  That’s it. Whatever is the most practical thing, that’s what I do.” 

“Then what is the practical thing for me to do, Bounty Hunter?” 

Marathel’s dropping back to calling him Bounty Hunter was not lost on Din.  “Leaving you here would be inadvisable, in my opinion.  I wouldn’t know when I could come back to get you.  There are things I must do for my Creed, and soon, but I cannot leave you here, not knowing if you’re safe and all right.  If you get released while I’m gone, and I can’t come to get you, what will you do?  And, and ... my only perception of a psych ward, any psych ward, is that it’s not a good place.  Ya-Bito has told you the same thing,” said Din.  He paused, then leaned forward to put his hand near hers. “Regardless of whatever … has ended between us, I can’t … I don’t want you to stay here.”  He leaned back in his chair, looking down to his knees.  “But, your doctor is coming soon to talk to you, and you should consult their opinion, as well.” 

Marathel took in his words, nodded, and said, “Thank you.  Thank you.  That was what I needed.”  She took a breath, turned back to her tray, and frowned.  “Grogu!” 

Her tone made Din turn to Grogu, who had her toast in his mouth and part of a sausage in one hand. “Dank ferrik, Grogu, you opportunistic little … fink.  I’m so sorry, Marathel.  I … well, you were right.  I haven’t taught him any manners.  Did he leave you anything?” 

“A runny egg and some fruit. I hate runny eggs.”  Marathel sighed and pushed her tray away. “Perhaps someday you can stay in one place long enough to raise him right.  How in Frith did your buir manage to raise you halfway decently?” 

“I drove him into an early grave because I was a right shit,” said Din as he wiped Grogu’s mouth.  “Perhaps Grogu is his way of getting back at me.”  Marathel laughed at that, a real laugh that crinkled the skin around her eyes and colored her full cheeks. The only things marring her beauty were her facial wound, and her missing teeth.  But she could get those fixed, and … 

There was a knock on the door, and a voice came through the intercom:  “Marathel?  It’s Ya-Bito with Doctors Dine and Zohl.  May we come in?” 

Din quickly deposited a complaining Grogu in his bag with the stern command to be quiet.  Marathel called out, “Come in, please.” 

The nurse and doctors came in, and Din stood, saying, “I’ll step out …” 

Ya-Bito asked, “Marathel?  Did you want Mando here for this discussion?  We’re going to talk about your release from this ward today, and what you may want to do next.” 

Marathel looked up into Din’s visor, and he wondered if she’d say yes, stay or no, leave.  Marathel swallowed, then said, “Please excuse us, Bounty Hunter.”  Din nodded and left, disappointed.  As he walked the halls towards the elevator, he considered her earlier words: it doesn’t matter that you don’t love me anymore.   

It doesn’t matter, Bounty Hunter.   

Bounty Hunter. 

“Haar’chak,” muttered Din.  Blinking rapidly a few times, he decided two things needed to be done: one, find some food for both himself and the kid.  Two, he needed to talk to the harbormaster where the Crest was docked, because, with or without Marathel, he was apparently leaving this planet today. 

Marathel, meanwhile, listened to Doctor Dine talk about her physical condition.  Her D&C had been successful.  Samples of tissue had been tested and none had been malignant — a new word for her that required quite a bit of explanation.  Dine explained endometriosis more in depth as well, showing Marathel scans of her reproductive organs, commenting on their abnormalities.  She recommended that Marathel see a specialist for potential hormone therapy or further surgery.  Her wounds seemed to be healing well and she had no signs of infection.  “There’s no reason why you can’t be released from this ward, Marathel.  You seem well, and you’re strong and healthy overall.  But there is the matter of your emotional and mental state.” 

It was at this point that Doctor Zohl introduced herself as a psychiatrist that specialized in trauma.  “Marathel, you are possibly the most traumatized person I have ever met, as well as the strongest.  I have nothing but admiration for you.  I only want you to have the most fulfilling life; that is the goal of everyone here.” 

“I believe you,” said Marathel quietly. 

“The thing is, Marathel, we are struggling with what would be the best course of action for you.  In listening to you tell your story yesterday, I got the distinct feeling that four walls and a closed door cause you a great deal of anxiety.  Therefore, we believe inpatient treatment — where you would stay here or go to another facility — would not be beneficial at this time.  I would be concerned that you’d feel trapped, which would add to your anxiety, and do you more harm than good. 

“And then, knowing that you come from a people who have been isolated for two millennia — coupled with the fact that you do not respond to bacta — we also can’t recommend that you go on medications that may help your mental state.  We just don’t know how you may respond to antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds, because we don’t fully understand your full physiological being.  Along with the fact that you have chronic brain damage, both due to physical trauma and hypoxia, drugs are just not a good idea at this time.” 

Marathel began to feel despair.  Can I not get better?  Is there nothing that can help me? 

Doctor Zohl sensed Marathel’s distress, and leaned forward to put her hand on Marathel’s knee.  “Talk to me, Marathel.”  Marathel closed her eyes and shook her head.  “Marathel?  This is what we think will work for you.  You need to talk. The way you handled yourself yesterday was nothing short of amazing. However, we think you’re compartmentalizing and disassociating …” — Marathel opened her eyes, confused — “… but that’s a bunch of big words you don’t need to worry about at this point.” 

“Then what am I supposed to do?” asked Marathel in a small voice. 

“We — and when I say ‘we’, I’m talking about myself and two other doctors — we just want to talk to you each day for a while. As we go along, as you become more comfortable, that may change.” 

“How would that happen, if I’m going to leave here?” 

Doctor Zohl held up a holopad.  “Do you know what this is?” 

Marathel nodded.  “A holopad.  I have one.  Not here ... I think it’s on the Bounty Hunter’s ship.  A friend gave it to me.  I don’t know how to use it, because I ... can’t read.”  These last two words were spoken in a shameful whisper, but when she stole a glance at the doctors, they seem unconcerned about her failing.   

“Perhaps the Bounty Hunter can teach you how to use the holopad?  We can give you a printout of the instructions of how to set up our visits together, and he can help you, yes?” 

“Perhaps,” said Marathel with a shrug. 

“You don’t believe he would help you?  He seems to be very fond of you.  He’s been here practically non-stop since he first brought you here.”  Marathel was holding Grogu’s new Fawg on her lap, and she kept stroking the toy’s head.  “And his little boy, of course, is obviously very precious to you.” 

“Not right now; the brat stole most of my breakfast.” 

The medics all laughed, then Doctor Zohl said, “We were surprised that you kept the child out of your chat with the New Republic officers.  Both of you did.  Is there a reason for that?” 

“Yes.” 

"But you’re not going to explain it?” 

“No.” 

Doctor Dine smiled and said, “I like your fierce loyalty.  The Mandalorian is just as loyal to you.  Yet you two both insist that you’re not in a relationship.” 

“We’re not,” said Marathel with great sadness. 

Doctor Zohl said, “Let’s leave that for now.  Do you know what the Mandalorian intends to do once you leave here?  Does he plan to take you somewhere?” 

“I believe he will be taking me back to the planet where he first got me medical care.  After I was made a Belwhyn.  The people there, they were good to me.  They are friends.  I feel safe there.” 

“Then what will happen, do you think?” 

“I don’t know.  I can’t think that far ahead.” 

Doctor Zohl nodded.  “Are you willing to chat with us over holo?  We really think it would be beneficial to you.  Friends are good, having supportive people is good.  But you must understand that having a medical professional support system for your mental health is advantageous, and frankly, we’re good at it.  I mean, you wouldn’t eat food that was made by someone who wasn’t good at cooking, right?” 

Marathel smiled a tiny smile.  “Well, no.  I wouldn’t.  For example, I’m not going to eat that runny egg,” she said, pointing to her plate. 

Ya-Bito stood up and took a look. “Eewww.  You’re right.  I’d be happy to bring you something else.” 

Marathel nodded, and Ya-Bito left to find another tray.  The doctors discussed things with her for a little longer, and Marathel began at feel more at ease.  She now had a plan, and plans were good; she couldn’t knit a sweater for Grogu without a plan, could she?  So many things for her were new and unknown and frightening, but she had hope that these doctors could help her sick mind. 

The doctors left to work on her release, and Ya-Bito brought a new breakfast for Marathel.  The nurse wanted to see what Din had picked out for her at Mise-Tusil, so Marathel allowed Ya-Bito to bring out all the purchases and hold them up.  “He didn’t do a half-bad job, your Mandalorian,” mused Ya-Bito as she carefully cut off all the tags.  Not my Mandalorian, thought Marathel.  The nurse continued, “Normally, I would advise you to wash everything – especially the underwear – before wearing, but you don’t seem to have much of a choice.”  Ya-Bito folded everything again, and told Marathel she would find a packet of adhesive pads to wear instead of the disposable underwear. 

After she left, Marathel finished her breakfast – with a properly cooked egg this time – and carefully stroked the neckline of one of the tops Din had bought.  Such an odd thing, a man buying her clothing.  And undergarments, for Frith’s sake.  The Mandalorian, choosing undergarments for her!  Surely these things were worth a lot of that money that Marathel was still so unsure about.  She reminded herself that he had exchanged the coins for useable money; that’s what Fennec had told her.  She then wondered what in Frith she was going to do for money!  She was going to need the stuff in order to survive, wasn’t she?  She couldn’t live off the generosity of the Bounty Hunter, or even Fennec and Boba, for that matter!  She began to panic, fearing that the voices of the Dahls would fill her mind with horrible thoughts — she could just hear their quiet chattering — but instead, the practical-sensible voice came back to her, calming her. 

One thing at a time, old girl.  Tatooine is a big planet, and you have skills!  You can cook, you can clean. You can care for children.  You can grow a garden. You know how to sew, how to spin, how to weave. You can work somewhere like the palace!  You can make things to sell!  Silnima came from a bad place, and look at her now!   

The possibilities suddenly filled her with excitement, a completely new feeling to her.  Marathel felt overwhelmed again, but for the first time, with how good her life could be that she began to cry.  Just then, Ya-Bito returned with Siewan in tow.  Seeing her in tears, Siewan said, “Oh, kriffing hell, what is it, honey?  Who made you cry?  Whose ass do we have to kick?” 

“I’m happy, I’m happy,” insisted Marathel. 

“If you say so!  The docs are still working on your release, but you can get dressed and ready to leave.  If that is your plan.  Is it?” 

Marathel nodded.  “I am … leaving, yes.” 

“With Mando?” 

“With Mando.” 

“Good,” said Ya-Bito.  “Whatever you think is or isn’t going on between you two, it’s obvious he cares about your welfare.  And I also think that you are as important to him as he is to you.   You two just haven’t … found each other at the same place yet.” 

Marathel frowned.  “I don’t understand.” 

“Of course not.  But it is both our fervent hope that you will,” said Siewan.  “Now, let’s get you dressed.  Not sure where your Mandalorian is ...” 

“Not my Mandalorian ...” said Marathel, rolling her eyes. 

“Sure, honey, and maybe Kowakian monkey-lizards are flying out of my ass,” scoffed Siewan, making Ya-Bito laugh.  “Let’s get you ready to blow this joint so you and Mando and the little greenie can fly off into the great black yonder.” 

Din, meanwhile, was pissed off.  He’d gone back to the Crest to find out that Teva’s goons had damaged his ship when removing the tracker, shorting out a section of his electrical system.  Not only that, he was now blocked in by a fleet of cordovas for some high-rolling sonofabitch and his entourage, and he couldn’t leave until fucking tomorrow.   The harbormaster merely shrugged and handed Din a credit for a room at the connecting hotel.  Teva was at least apologetic, but couldn’t do anything beyond assuring Din that the damage would be repaired before tomorrow morning.  

Grumbling, Din went to the hotel and presented his credit chit to the front desk, who said that a room wouldn’t be ready until mid-afternoon. Also, the chit was only good for a mid-sized room with one double bed.  Din offered to put up the difference for a second room, a suite, anything, but the hotel was completely booked.  Of fucking course, thought Din.  One bed.  My life has become a ridiculous rom-com holo!  Dammit, Frith, get better writers!   

He started the trek back to the medical center, almost getting there before he remembered that he had also meant to grab some food for himself and Grogu.  He could get by without food, but the kid was a different story.  He ducked into a dumpling house, and the proprietor — apparently familiar with Mandalorians — generously set up a quick private curtained booth for Din to eat in.  In thanks, Din bought a few sweet dough dumplings for Marathel to try.  He figured he owed her an apology for allowing Grogu to abscond with her breakfast, and possibly another apology for waffling when she had asked him directly for advice.  While he was sitting there, watching Grogu work his way through a dumpling almost as large as he, his comm.link beeped.  “What?” 

“It’s Karga.  I need an answer, Mando.” 

Din sighed.  “Go ahead.” 

“Well, congratulations!” 

“In her name only.” 

“Her name?” 

“It’s her money, it’ll be in her name.” 

“When did it become her money?” 

“Never you mind.  Just shoot me the papers; I’ll get her to sign them.” 

There was a long pause at the other end before Karga said, “I set aside that property for you.” 

“Well, now it’s going to be hers.” 

Another long pause.  “I’ll hang on to the papers until you get here.  See you soon.”   

After Karga clicked off, Din sighed deeply and stared at the wall, mourning the death of The Plan. The Plan was no more.  The Plan was to get a house for all three of them.  Two bedrooms at least, one for himself and Grogu, one for her, her own room but in a house together, where she could adapt to a different and new life, hoping that in time, maybe, the arrangement could change.  Perhaps it could have even changed to him moving into Marathel’s room, living as a couple, as a family of a father and mother and child, somehow adding more children, despite reality dictating that no natural children would ever come to them … but that was all only wishful thinking.   Even after Marathel had announced she wanted to return to Unmanarall, he’d hoped somehow that he could change her mind, that she’d have some sort of epiphany that she was not a monster that needed to be exiled.  And now she was separating herself from him even more, going back to calling him Bounty Hunter and making decisions for herself that didn’t involve him. 

Perhaps he didn't feel love anymore, but he could feel regret. 

Din put his helmet back on, thanked the proprietor, and left, with Grogu in his bag, still munching on the giant dumpling.  He made his way back to Marathel’s ward, walked up to her door, and found it wide open.   

She was gone. 

The bed had been stripped. 

His heart fell into his stomach.  She left?  She left? And didn’t even tell him what she had planned to do?  Even just to say a kriffing goodbye?  Feeling panicky, he went to the nurse’s desk, looking for Siewan, Ya-Bito, someone who could give him some answers.  The young woman at the desk looked in the chart tracker and all she was able to tell him was that Marathel had been released, but nothing beyond that.  He thanked her, wondering how he should go about finding Marathel.  He took a few steps back, looking up and down the corridor, when Ya-Bito stepped out of another patient’s room.  He hurried over to her, pleading, “Please, Ya-Bito, is Marathel ...” 

Ya-Bito pointed behind her.  “Goodness, Mando, she’s just down the hall, in the family room.  We needed to prep her bed for a new patient.”   

Din nodded his thanks, and then amused the hell out of Ya-Bito by jogging down the corridor to find Marathel, skidding to a halt in an open doorway.  He peered into a large waiting room, where Marathel stood, looking confusedly at a holoprojector screen.  She was wearing the russet top and dark pants he’d bought her the day before.  Her hair was still braided, and she wore the pink fuzzy socks on her feet.  She noticed him in the doorway, and turned towards him, asking, “Do they ... the people on the screen.  Do they know we can see them?” 

Din hadn’t heard her, for he was too distracted by the sight of her.  The red top did put color in her cheeks, and stood out against her pale skin.  The scooped neck showed off her upper chest while still being modest, with a decorative tie just under her breasts.  The fabric was cut in such a way that it draped delicately over her curves, convex here, concave there, showing off her waist in a way he hadn’t quite ever seen before.  The dark charcoal-colored pants also draped softly over her generous hips and her backside, and the sight made him want to drop to his knees before her and hug her tightly, just to feel her strong leg muscles rippling under the fabric of her pants.  She was somehow ... more sexy, more tantalizing, clothed and standing before him, than she had been naked and astride him.  He belatedly realized she had asked him a question. To cover up his distraction, he lifted Grogu out of his bag, allowing him to run to the toy table in the room.  “I’m sorry, what?” 

“The people.  On the holo screen.  Why are they there?  They were just talking to each other, and now ...” Marathel blushed, and Din turned to the screen.  It was a rom-com holo of some sort – he wasn’t familiar with this story, but he recognized the actress.  She and some Twi’lek actor were kissing the shab out of each other in a bed, draped as they were in what Din called the magic L-shaped sheet – it covered her up to her armpits while only covering him from the waist down, a typical bedlinen in stories like these, he’d noticed over the years. 

“It’s a holo, Marathel.” 

Marathel turned even more red.  “But don’t they know that we can see ... I mean, they’re just ...” 

“I’m not getting why this is bothering you.” 

“They’re just ... showing everyone their private, intimate moments!  What in Frith is wrong with them?” 

Finally, it clicked for Din.  There had been a holo screen in her room, but they’d never turned it on.  Her only experience with a holopad was either talking to him or seeing the holo of his recording of the burlesque dancers.  Marathel had no idea of what she was seeing, because she’d never seen a rom-com holo story before.  She thinks that these characters are real people, really making love on a screen before whomever may be watching them! This tickled him even more than the time she’d been stuck in a tree, and he began to chuckle. 

Marathel’s eyes flashed with fury.  “What is so funny?” she hissed. 

“Nothing,” said Din, quickly getting under control; poking fun at her shortcomings only annoyed her.  “None of what you’re seeing is real life.  These people on the screen —  they are pretending to be other people.  They are acting out a story.” 

“Why?” 

“‘Why?’” parroted Din.  Well, that’s a good question. “To entertain people.” 

“So they are playing … guesedd?” 

“What does that mean?” 

“As children, I would play dwycwingen and Tymfy would play gochgoch and dwycwingen and gochgoch would talk about what they did outside the Hold walls.  Running in the woods, getting chased by Dahls, sitting in the flowers.  Doing what we — Marathel and Tymfy — couldn’t.” 

Din felt a new pang of sadness for her, but also a happy feeling, knowing that she had a friend, and also happy knowing that she had at least some moments of a normal childhood, with games and friends and the love of a parent-figure.  He had buir and she had Olba.  He wished that she could have had buir as well, to teach her what a father should be.  Finally, he said, “That is why people watch these holos.  To see, hear, experience someone else’s life.  Some holos are funny, some are dramatic, or sad.  Some are scary. Some are romantic.” 

“Romantic?” 

“About people falling in love.” 

“These people are not … loving each other right now?” 

“No.  I can tell you that the woman on the screen is married to a Rebel Admiral.  I’ve seen her in other stories.  The guy, I have no idea who he is.” 

Marathel frowned. “So, she’s the dwycwingen, and he’s the gochgoch … but you have seen her be a dwycwingen with a different gochgoch in a different holo?”  Din sketched a complicated flowchart in his head, parsing her sentence, but finally nodded.  Marathel then said, “Now I feel … sad.  They can kiss and … but it means nothing.” 

“It’s meaningful to the people like to watch these things,” said Din, shrugging. 

Marathel sighed and sat down in a padded chair.  “So much confuses me.” 

Din chuckled and said, “It amuses me sometimes, just how little you know about the galaxy.  How much is new to you, when it’s so commonplace to me.” 

“Cobb said that, too.  He said … that my childlike ways warmed his cold, curmudgeon heart.” 

“Did he?” 

“Oh yes.  Still not sure what curmudgeon means …” mused Marathel with a smile. 

Din bristled. “Just how much did Cobb say to you?” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“He paid too much attention to you, Marathel.” Too handsy, too touchy-feely. 

“You are …” Marathel struggled to think of the Newtalk word. “Bifennddus’sai?” 

“Huh?” 

“You are angry at the attention he gave me,” snapped Marathel. 

Din dropped his head and muttered, “Jealous.  The word is jealous.” 

And just like that, Marathel had had enough of his snippiness whenever she mentioned Cobb.  “Are you?  Are you jell-uhs? Angry at me because Cobb was being a friend to me when I needed one?”  Din looked back up.  “I fell out of bed and hurt my knee; he helped me get up from the floor.  He held my hand while I was undergoing those first injections, and I was frightened.  He carried me, me, fat as I am, speeding back to the palace, when my treatment failed and I was losing all my blood again.  He pulled me down off that windowsill and held me while I cried, after you left me there.  You left me sitting on that windowsill.  Yes, I said cruel things to you, I wanted the truth to drive you away, but I still had that childish hope that it wouldn’t matter to you.  Because you had told me that you loved me and nothing else mattered.  But of course it mattered.   You didn’t love me.  You never did.” 

“Marathel …” began Din. 

“It was all the Dahls’ doing.” 

“I know.  I know, Marathel.” 

Marathel shook her head. “No, you don’t!  Rodanthe tethered us … tied us together in a bond … because she wanted to someone to love me.” 

“She … she what?” 

“The Bishop told me that the Dahls kept all the men of the Hold away from me, killing anyone male who came near. But you … you weren’t from the Hold, and the Dahls knew that.  They knew you’d be different.  They let you come near me, to see if I would accept you, and when I told them to leave you alone … when you pulled a boomer on them …” 

“… Blaster …” mumbled Din. 

“The Dahls took advantage of my bond with them and my curiosity of you and Grogu.  I could hear their noises and emotions but when they were all together in the throes of mating, they could make me do things.  They made me grab at you.  Pull you to me.  Make you take me.  And then I bit you …” 

“Marathel, it’s …” 

“But you didn’t consent to that. None of it!” 

“Neither did you!” 

Marathel ignored him.  “Rodanthe … she loved me, but she wanted me to have a mate.  She had her mate.  Dahls keep their mates, the ones they like best.  She had her kits, including me.  And her other kits got their mates, she had her mate, so why not me, I suppose?  So, when you and Grogu arrived, she thought you would be a good mate for me.  I bit you, I marked you as mine, she tethered us together.  Easy.” 

“Easy?” 

“Easy because I already loved you.  Or I thought I did.  Or she thought I did.”  Marathel angrily wiped away a tear. 

“She told me to love you.” 

Marathel looked up in surprise.  “She did what?” 

“She came to me, the same night, after we … the second night of mating. She … looked at me. Stared at me, hypnotized me, smelt my breath, and then told me to love you and disappeared.” 

Marathel closed her eyes, and more tears spilled over.  “I wanted so much to be loved by you.  I wanted more kindness.  I wanted more affection.  I’d never known kindness, or affection, so, of course, I wanted more.”  She opened her eyes and Din was holding out a cloth for her to dry her tears, and she laughed.  After blowing her nose, she said, “I also knew that it was such a struggle for you, to remain within your creed while … but it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? 

“I told Rodanthe to release you.  I told her that I could not keep a hold on you that you were not aware of.  I had been a slave my whole life, first to the Bishop, then to the Dahls.  I was not, not ever, going to keep you bound to me when it wasn’t v from your own heart. So, she released you. And then, it was as if my blood had turned to cold hard water; my heart stopped beating.  I was utterly, truly, alone.  And you felt the same way, just for a moment?” 

Din nodded. “Yes.  And I was so frightened I’d forget you again. But …” 

“You remembered me, but you didn’t ‘forget’ you loved me.  You cannot forget a feeling you never had to begin with.” 

Din felt his heart hurt again and he dropped to one knee in front of her.  “Ma’mwsh ha’laa…” 

“It was all Rodanthe’s doing.  You are concerned about me, you do not wish me ill, you feel you have a responsibility to me, but you do not love me.” Marathel’s face flushed with embarrassment, having to explain all this to him. 

Din carefully took her hand, and said quietly, “Marathel, I don’t understand at all what those Dahls did to me, to us … I know I should love you.  But I can’t remember why, or even how.  And I’m so, so, sorry.” 

He deserves so much better than me.  “If you can’t remember why or how, then … you shouldn’t, I don’t think.” She pulled her hand away from his, and tightly interlaced her fingers together. 

“Marathel …” 

More tears fell. “Can we go?” 

“Go?  Does that mean you’re leaving the hospital… coming with me?” 

Marathel shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes. Did you think I wouldn’t?” 

“I … it was a concern of mine, yes,” said Din, mentally kicking himself for waffling again. 

“Did you bring my shoes, at least?” 

“Yes, I have your shoes.” 

Ya-Bito and Siewan poked their heads around the doorframe.  “We told her she couldn’t leave without her shoes,” said Siewan.  “And not until you said goodbye to us, Mando.”  Marathel and Din both turned to the nurses, who realized they’d interrupted something terribly important:  Mando was on one knee before her, and Marathel was in tears.  “Ooooh … shit.  Um … okay, quick goodbye, then, and we’ll leave you alone,” said Siewan, grimacing.   

Din stood, allowing the women to hug Marathel.  They wished her well, and gave her release papers as well as contact information for the both of them.  “Mando’s going to help you get your holopad set up, yes?” 

Marathel colored.  “I haven’t asked him yet ...” 

“I’ll take care of it,” said Din. 

“Good,” said Ya-Bito, and both of the nurses came up close to Din, making him take a half-step back.  “And you’re going to take care of her, fella? Treat her right?” 

Before Din could respond, Siewan said quietly, “Because we know what drugs to use.” 

Ya-Bito nodded.  “Drugs that won’t be found on an autopsy.” 

“And we know where to stick the needle.” 

“With no needle-tracks left behind.” 

“No-one would ever know.” 

Din took another half-step back, mumbling, “Yes, ma’am ...” 

The nurse both laughed.  “Oh, lighten up, Mando, we’re just kidding with you!” guffawed Siewan.  Then she dropped her chin and said, “Or are we?” the nurses said their last goodbyes, and left. 

Din felt properly chastised, and he went back to one knee to help Marathel put on her shoes, despite her protesting she was more than capable of doing it herself.  He had trouble with the left one, and she bent down to help as he lifted his head, smacking her nose into Din’s helmet with a bonk.  “I’m sorry, mesh’la,” said Din, not even realizing he had said mesh’la, and Marathel’s face colored as she realized that he was actually quite close to her and had automatically put his hand to her cheek.  “Did I hurt you?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine ... let me just get up,” said Marathel, pushing herself to her feet.  Grogu ran over to hug her ankle with a squeal.  “I appear to have grown a Grogu again,” she said, then she bent over to pick up Grogu.  It hurt her injured shoulder, and she groaned. 

Din’s hand went to her shoulder.  “Does your shoulder still hurt?  Did you need a sling?” 

“No, it’s mostly okay, so long as I don’t wave my arms about much.  It’s okay.  I’m all right.” 

“Well, let me carry Grogu.  He’s heavy.”  Marathel reluctantly handed over Grogu once she’d peppered his fuzzy head with kisses.  “Ready to go? Are you able to walk?” 

“Yes, if I can just …” Marathel put her arm through his again, and Din felt a spark of pride, just having her on his arm.  It was if he had just met her again, as if somehow … she was a completely different woman.  He walked her through the door, to the elevators, down to the lockers, where she sat on a bench and chatted with Grogu while Din re-armed himself.  They slowly walked over the footbridge, allowing Marathel to look up and around at all the flashing lights, buildings, and decorations of the casinos all around them.  Once they’d gotten to the other side, Din noticed the women’s clothing shop where he’d met Meejil and The Great YellowHair TwatWaffle and noticed a sign saying, “CLOSED” on the door.  He wondered briefly what the story was with that while he handed Marathel into one of the droid carts. Din crowded in next to her, programmed in their destination to Mise-Tusil, and the cart zipped off to its track. 

“Aw,” pouted Marathel.  “This one isn’t as fast.” 

“You’ve ridden one?” 

Marathel nodded. “With Fennec.  We had …” the cart suddenly stopped; a pedestrian had stepped in the cart’s way.  Marathel yelped and slid in the seat, and grabbed at Din. 

 Din threw his arm around her, pulling her close against him.  “Haar’chak!  Are you all right?” 

“I’m okay!  I’m all right.” 

Din felt her body against his arm as he looked into her startled eyes, as he caught the warmth of her breath in his helmet, as he felt time stop for a moment.  I don’t love her, right?  No, I don’t.  Do I? I don’t know.  But she’s right.  If I’m not sure … then I guess … Din sighed.  “I’m sorry.” 

Marathel nodded. She smiled sadly at him and squeezed his hand.  “I’m okay.  I’m all right.”  Fake it ‘til you make it, old girl. 

The cart began moving again.  “We have… a lot… we need to talk about,” said Din. 

“Yes, we do.”  Marathel stared off in front of them.  “How many days until we get back to Tatooine?” 

“I’m not … you’re not going back to Tatooine.” 

Marathel was aghast.  “What?  Not going back … but … why?” 

Din felt like a heel, because he was not going to tell her the full truth.  “You said you hate it there.” 

“Tatooine is the only other place I know.  I’m not … I can’t … where, then?” 

“Nevarro. I bought a house …”  

Marathel quickly held her breath, thinking a house?  For us?    

Din continued, “You bought it, truthfully.  Your… bounty.  I only handled the paperwork.  It’s a small place, but it’s a good-sized patch of land.  A place where you can feel safe.  Where … you can be a recluse if you want to be.” 

No, just me, alone. 

“It’s the one place that I come back to on a regular basis.  You would be able to see Grogu.  I don’t go to Tatooine often, and … I couldn’t take you away from him.”  

Just everyone else I know.  My friends.  And Cobb.  Especially Cobb. 

“Marathel?” She turned to Din.  “Are you ... upset about the house?  Nevarro?” 

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.  Of course, I’ll follow your judgement.  Whatever you think is best.” 

Din, unconvinced, wanted to hold her hand, but was afraid to.  “So, you’re okay with my decision?” 

Marathel nodded as she stared off in front of her, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.  “I’m okay.  I’m all right.” 

Din didn’t believe her, but they remained silent until the cart stopped. 

Future Days: Coming Soon

[dolphin1812]

Although this chapter ends on a hopeful note, Hugo really makes us suffer to get there. This line in particular really got to me:

“And her mother [saw her], no doubt, alas! For there are things that make the dead open their eyes in their graves.”

Cosette’s trauma is ever-present here, not just in what she’s doing (being sent to carry such a large bucket of water on a cold night is certainly traumatizing in itself), but in how she approaches it. Hugo notes that “it was her custom to imagine the Thénardier always present,” and we see that her fear of her is what drives her to continue. It’s heartbreaking to know that she can’t escape her even outside of the inn, underscoring the extent of her trauma. Additionally, Cosette is able to get the water without seeing where she is or what she’s doing. It’s become instinctual, highlighting how often she’s had to do something similar. 

Cosette’s specific working conditions also remind me of Champmathieu’s daughter (who died young of abuse and overwork). In his testimony, he noted that her work meant she was either constantly working in cold water or in extreme heat, only to return home to her husband’s abuse. The cold water aspect is certainly shared (even if through different forms of labor), and knowing that an adult woman died of those conditions stresses how dangerous this is to Cosette. We also specifically know that, like Champmathieu’s daughter, she doesn’t have a safe and restful home environment to return to; the Thénardiers make “home” worse than the forest in many ways. And just as Champmathieu’s daughter was worn down by all of this until it killed her, so has Cosette - an eight-year-old - become like an “old woman,” her constant labor and stress prematurely aging her (Hugo says this here to describe the way she walks while carrying the bucket, but he said this about her general demeanor in a previous chapter; the repetition suggests it’s relevant). 

The nature descriptions in this chapter are interesting on their own, but this line in particular drew my attention:

“The nettles seemed to twist long arms furnished with claws in search of prey.”

Nettles are associated with convicts in general and Valjean in particular because of his nettle speech as Père Madeleine. Moreover, another time when plants were described as having arms was the aftermath of Valjean robbing Petit Gervais, creating some parallels between that scene and this one.

Spoilers below:

Knowing that Valjean is the one who rescues Cosette from this suffering, we get a mini-redemption of sorts; the arm-like branches of Petit Gervais being wronged are now met with the good he does for Cosette. I don’t like the idea of Valjean needing to “redeem” himself in general (of his two real crimes - stealing from the bishop and stealing from Petit Gervais - one was automatically forgiven, and he does so much to compensate for the other that it feels cruel to demand redemption), but given that he feels so much guilt over this, it’s nice that this link provides a sense of closure. 

[neonpaperlanterns]

Do you think the crown can shape shift into any form it desires or just a snake and a crown?

Imagine it transformed into Lamberts sibling or one of their parents, maybe on request from Lambert. Giving them what small closure they can get with what happened.

I think given enough time and potential will it could. I imagine transforming expends its energy so like I don't think any of the other Bishops crowns could do it because they are using their crowns to maybe not overcome their disabilities but most certainly help with them.

Our dear lamb though does not have any preexisting issues that the crown needs to help with. (unless you count the beheading but catboy took care of that.) So yeah I could totally see the crown turning into more things.

I like to imagine that the crown took on the appearance of one of Lamberts family members not because it was asked to but because they are so connected that the crown could feel how much this would mean to its master.

It would do it out of love.

[chenfordsbby]

"Redwood"

Season 1 Episode 11: “Redwood”

“An unscheduled visit by the vice president of the United States puts the station on high alert; the Secret Service tasks Nolan and Bishop with checking out a possible threat while the rest of the team tries to keep the streets safe for his visit”

Original Air Date: January 22, 2019

Written By: Ally Seibert, Liz Apler

Directed By: Sylvain White

Happy Sunday! Do we like that I post these on Sundays? I am just trying to gauge when people are hyper active on Tumblr and the first blog drop seemed to be a success on Sunday early night- but I don’t seem to be getting the same response on the rest of the drops as much as I did the first one.  Either way, it is not going to stop me from doing these!!!

I am excited to get into another one, let’s Get in the Shop, shall we!

______________________________________________

The cold open, a classic riot, I have gathered that whatever the opening scene is, really has nothing to do with the storyline of the rest of the episode, but I think that is the point of them.  It brings a bit of banter, comedy, tragedy, all at the same time or individually.  Nothing like an elderly woman bringing in pistols and land mines into a police station!

The episode begins with John talking to Ben about the tragedy of his past life- his old house that he shared with his ex-wife is being listed on the market, and he’s being nostalgic about it; but like Ben says, Sarah (John’s ex-wife) is moving in and living in the present and so should he.

The station is packed full with every officer- the Vice President is coming into town and everyone is now on high demand.  Everyones gear bags are stacked to the brim with extra weapons and precautions. 

John and Talia get assigned to a special task force- a “Level 2” on the presidents watch list- a person who has made and posted numerous times online threatening the vice president.  Talia is a bit more positive this episode and John notices and points it out to her; she is trying to approach every day a bit differently than the last.Stanley, the man they were tasked to watch- ends up running with a bag full of flares; enough evidence to lock his ass up.  Back at the station, John is still hung up over his old house, he can’t quite seem to let it go, but everyone else around him is telling him he should.  When Grey assigns them a new task, Talia is more than cheerful to accept it and even Grey notices that Talia is acting strange, why is she so chipper and happy.  They get tasked to be the “Gofers” of every other cops that are on VP cleaning duty: whatever the other cops need, Talia and John are there to help and support them.  While walking through the streets, a road rage incident turns deadly when a tractor trailer driver takes out his shotgun to scare the other driver but in doing so, shoots a women who was in her car behind him in the chest, and she dies within seconds.

In trying to decompress from the events that just happened, Talia tells John that the reason she has been more positive is because her therapist told her to.  John admires how brave Talia is by sharing that she is going to therapy, especially because it  is looked down upon by the “men in blue”.  I feel like therapy should be the first thing police officers would want to do every day after being on the job.  The stuff that they witness and experience can be traumatizing, and therapy would only help them work through it.  John gives his kudos to Talia.  Who John and Talia have to clean out a whole new street for the VP to get a sandwich, they are sweep the streets and get a peak at a some dirty happenings going down in a shady street…a robbery is about to happen at a dispensary.  With no back up on the way because of all the road closures, its just them and I have to say, Talia is super impressive in this moment.  She knows what to do and exactly how to do handle this situation.  The guys come out of the dispensary and shots are immediately fired.  Angela and Jackson come to help John and Talia, and take the driver of the getaway car to the hospital as he was shot in the neck by one of the stray bullets.  At the end of the day, John thanks Talia for talking to him about his worrying over the selling of his old house and she jokes around that, “she’ll send him the bill”.

How long has it been since we have seen Tim and Lucy in the same scene together for more than 5 seconds? Oh yeah too long! We start right off the bat, with Lucy looking forward to being called in on her day off, as that means overtime and more money.  All Lucy is thinking about is fixing the air conditioning in her car, but her eagerness quickly fades away as Tim shuts her down real quick, “Air conditioning makes you soft.  You gotta get comfortable with being uncomfortable”.  I think we have officially been introduced to the Grumpy/Sunshine trope of Tim and Lucy and I am appreciating it.

With having too clear out majority of the streets of LA for the VP, Tim and Lucy end up going to a street occupied by all homeless people to inform them of just that.   When Lucy breaks up a fight between two of the homeless women, she gets thrown in between them and knocked down.  When Tim comes over to help her, he’s immediately serious.  They both look down and Lucy is stabbed by a very used and very old hypodermic needle.  When Tim pulls the needle out, there is blood on the tip.  I think this is the first time that Lucy’s life is at risk while on the job, Who knows how many people syringe went through and with whatever drugs was pushed through it as well and now it ended up in Lucy’s body.  Her panic is setting in quick and fast.  Tim and Lucy get to the hospital for Lucy to get examined- the on call nurse tries to have Lucy to sit down and fill out paperwork, and because Lucy doesn’t know any better, she starts to do just that, but that doesn’t work for Tim.  Lucy is an on-duty officer with a utility belt loaded with armed weapons who just got STABBED by a dirty needle- the paperwork be damed, she is getting put into a room with a doctor immediately.  My words aren’t doing justice to how Tim stood up for Lucy.  This needle got Lucy, but this also affects Tim as well.  You saw it in his face when he was the one who spotted the needle in her.  He became soft again, worried.  If something tragic happens to Lucy, in hindsight it’s going to happen to him too.  

When Tim goes into Lucy’s room after her blood test is done, she is anything but calm.  Tim grabs her phone, and Lucy is down the WebMD rabbit hole of HP-V and Hep-C, among anything else that she could potentially get from a dirty needle.  Lucy is spiraling and Tim picks up on it.  Lucy is thinking of every single worse case scenario is this results come back positive and what that means for her future as a cop as well as Tim’s.  The Lucy we saw excited to be working OT is long gone in this exam room.  You can see her quivering, trying to hold back her tears;  In no surprise though, Tim is being exactly who Lucy needs to be around right now and saying everything that she needs to hear.  No matter what she things or googles, none of that is going to change whatever the results say.  Tim is being his full sincere self in trying to get Lucy through this and she sees it.

While Lucy is putting herself back together in the bathroom, she talks to a distraught women who is more than upset over her brother, who was just in a car accident.  When she leaves, Lucy looks behind her and sees a bottle of bleach on the floor of the stall that she just came out of.  Lucy follows her into her brothers room and she has a syringe filled with bleach aimed at her brothers neck.  I mean to kick one when they’re down is putting it lightly.  Lucy just went through her own hell with a needle, now she has to come face to face with another needle in an entirely different situation all while not even being over her own ordeal.  Its too much for her to handle on her own, and she radios for TIm.  Lucy tries to be empathetic towards this woman, and talk her out of doing it, but it’s no use, as the woman has made her decision.  SHe inserts the needle directly into his neck, but doesn’t have enough time to push the plunger as Lucy tases her.  Tim has to go back to the station, but lets Lucy know that she should stay at the hospital and wait for her results.  As he’s leaving, she stops him and thanks him, with Tim immediately responding, “For what? Doing my Job”.  Lucy would still be in a completely different head space if it weren’t for Tim.  He knew what to do the second Lucy was stabbed and didn’t even bat an eye.  They have been riding together for 4 months t this point, and some type of friendship has been established between them, its very evident.

Lucy’s results are in and with Jackson by her side, the doctor informs her that she is negative for any diseases such as HIV and Hepatitis, but she does have a staph infection, and needs to start IV antibiotics.  You can literally see the weight being lifted off of Lucy’s shoulders when she gets her results.  Pure relief.  Without even asking Jackson tells Lucy that he will call Tim for her so he can be there when she gets out.  Its a nice gesture on Jackson’s part and one that he doesn’t even have to do.  

Jackson starts the episode being distracted with his cell and continues to be distracted with it.  Commander Grey doesn’t like it and neither does Angela.  Distractions call for trouble.  Angela and Jackson respond to protesters outside of a hotel and inform them that they need to move or get cuffed.  Yeah, nobody budged.  Jackson and Angela are going through an apartment complex to have the residents remove obscene flags in everybody’s windows.  They have gotten though to everyone and when they get to the last apartment, something is not right.  Jackson kicks down the door so he and Angela can get in and come face to face with an elderly women tied up to her wheelchair.  She tells Angela that her son, Luke, did it to her and when he comes back in Jackson is on edge and ready to throw some nasty words.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact he has been pre-occupied by his phone all day with his mom.  Angela and Jackson arrest Luke, the son, for elder abuse. 

Jackson finally lets Angela in on why he’s been so distracted, his mom.  They haven’t been talking since before he entered the academy and on his first day off in a while, aka today, he was going to meet her for lunch to talk. So with being called into work, plans got thwarted and he’s been trying to smooth them over all day.  Angela thanks him for letting her in, but like she said, “being distracted on the job will get you killed”. Jackson and Angela hear the call from John and Talia and are told that they can’t leave the complex, but were talking about Angela here.  They come to John and Talias rescue.  The road closures make it harder to get the GSW victim to the hospital, but Angela and Jackson get him there and in time for surgery.  While cleaning himself up, Jackson spots Lucy sitting in the waiting room, and Lucy tells him what is going on with her.  Nobody knows what happened with her except for Tim and with Tim gone, Jackson waits and sits with her.  I think the friendship between Jackson and Lucy is starting to form and grow into something special.  Jackson starts to open up to Lucy about his family and what he went through right before entering the academy, and in doing so, we find out why Jackson and his mom haven’t talked, because of his decisions of choosing the academy over his own family.  Angela finds Jackson at the hospital and tells him how far he’s come in his training. 

The episode ends with John, Lucy and Jackson all hanging out together at Ben/John’s house and we finally see John signing the papers and relinquishing his old house and you can tell that it is bittersweet for John, but in ones Ben with a package and its a doorjamb from Henrys room at the house, and its a nice closure gift for John.

_______________________________________________________

Honorable Mention: Ben. He isn't a major character, but when he is on-screen, he gives us everything.

Episode Peak: Soft Tim

Episode Pit: Injured Lucy

Quote of the Episode: “I thought air-conditioning made me soft”~ Lucy Chen

Episode Rating: 8/10.  I liked this episode.  It gave us some of the more iconic Chenford scenes and it showed us the early stages of the forming friendships of Jackson and Lucy and even Tim and Lucy.  Before this episode, al we have seen is T.O Tim and Rookie Lucy, but this episode we saw some real foundations of their friendship/relationship starting.  We got a little bit more of everyones personal life as well! I can’t wait for more!

Thanks for reading along for another one guys, whether you just look at the pics, skimming through or giving e a like for the hell of it, I really do appreciate it all!

Until next time on, “Get in the Shop”…

[ncisfranchise-source]

Though TVLine has made a case for why any number of cast members/characters from NCIS‘ past could/should return for any possible on-screen tribute to the late David McCallum, there are also very valid reasons why that RSVP list might turn out to be quite limited.

Heading into its 21st season come February 2024, CBS’ NCIS cast now boasts zero original cast members, seeing as — if you get technical (and people do) — Sean Murray (who plays McGee) and Brian Dietzen (Dr. Palmer) did not become series regulars until Seasons 2 and 10, respectively. (Rocky Carroll made his debut as Vance in Season 5, and joined the cast in Season 6.)

As such, from go, any episode that might aim to give McCallum/Dr. Donald Mallard a proper sendoff will be light on colleagues who actually worked alongside McCallum/Ducky for more than a third of the well-watched series’ run.

That is why, when speculating about any “Ducky tribute” episode (no official plans have been announced, yet), there have been cries of, “Well, Mark Harmon/Gibbs has to be there!”

“Yes! And Michael Weatherly/DiNozzo!”

“Ooh, a perfect time for a #Tiva reunion, if Cote de Pablo comes back…”

“But don’t forget Emily Wickersham! We need closure on Bishop’s exit!”

“Can we also get visits from some ghosts of dead characters, too??”

Yeah, you can see how this can get very out of hand.

The fact is that — any scheduling/availability issues aside — you can’t simply “bring back” Gibbs. Or DiNozzo. Or any of the above. No matter how much their presence might be warranted for this occasion.

I mean, you can absolutely bring back Gibbs — especially if Mark Harmon knows about it. But then you’ll have to commit some dialogue/screen time to coaxing updates out of the team’s taciturn former leader.

Ditto Weatherly/Tony and de Pablo/Ziva, who have not shared a scene together in more than a decade (but presumably reunited off-screen after de Pablo’s most recent solo visit). An appearance by Tali’s father or both her parents will consume much storytelling oxygen, since fans of that primetime supercouple will want/need to know how their unconventional family unit is faring.

And if Emily Bishop resurfaces after abruptly peace-ing out on NCIS — including Nick, her apparent boyfriend…? There will be those demanding some i’s be dotted and t’s get crossed on that front.

What that all adds up to is, if you accommodate even two of the aforementioned returns, suddenly this Very Special Episode is a lot less about David McCallum and Ducky, and more about “Boss, what kind of fish are you catching in Alaska?” and “Sooo, might Tali get a big brother or sister anytime soon?”

Is that a trade-off you’re willing to make, all in the name of a well-attended trip down memory lane?

Or do you see some other option that brings back many of the above but successfully “cheats” us on proper catch-ups?

Me, I could be content with a Case of the Week that thoroughly vexes Dr. Palmer as he mourns a recently passed Dr. Mallard. But it’s flashbacks of wisdom imparted over the years, by Ducky, that helps Jimmy near single-handedly crack the case, ahead of a proper memorial for his mentor.

[bluewren]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for tagging me @melisusthewee and @nirikeehan

This snippet is from a Dream scene of Taliesen and Solas playing chess. It's basically their closure.

“You’ve bought the set!” Solas exclaims, smiling as his finger lightly brushed over the glossy stone pieces.

“I never quite forgot those puppy eyes you had when you looked at the set.” The fondness of the eyes looking upon them brings a smile onto Taliesen’s lips. “I kept saying we could afford it but you insisted you’re content without it."

“Such luxuries would have been unwise in times of fighting.”

A blue gem of lyrium had a speckling shine over fluttering flakes of snow, held in place by the ring of gold that trimmed the piece’s edges. The memory of the chess set was as finely crafted as the set they saw displayed inside the Val Royeaux storefront. Yet as all memories in the Fade, there were imperfections, sensory[[ impressions]] that her mind couldn’t fill in.

The bishop grated like granite sand on his fingers and without the true mirror gloss of marble. It was a sensation that Taliesen would not have understood, given her meager upbringing. That is how Solas knew this is a memory formed out of regret for a decision never taken, yet it was regret enough to create an impression in this world.

With a puff of his breath and a fine fiber cloth wipe, the piece is polished into a smooth porcelain shine.

“We should play a game.” Solas grabs both her hands, not remembering to set the bishop down.

They were alone in their tower, snow piled onto the balcony but now cold was felt as the two former lovers played one last game of chess together with the candle light keeping her company in a place of just them.

“You have improved since the last time we've played.” Solas smiles when moving his bishop.

“I've had time to practice many things now that the fighting is over with.” Tali shows a toothy grin when her knight to take his pawn.

He chuckles at that notion, the Inquisition had taken much from Taliesen. It was never meant to be where she belonged, just a stepping stone for her journey, he was at peace now to see her ready to take the next step forward so soon.

“And I see that you’ve been enjoying your time with Sera.” Solas moves his rook.

Tali lifts her bishop and points at her opponent. She raises a brow, “I’ve never thought you’d actually comment on that.”

“Far from it.” Solas shook his head once. “Whoever you choose to be with is your own business. I’m merely elated that you’re doing well.”

“Thank you. She has been an amazing partner and has been quite dependable,” Tali swaps Solas’s bishop with her own bishop. She had a satisfied smile, waiting for Solas’s reaction. “I remembered when you pulled that maneuver on Bull. That trick won’t keep working forever.”

The time gone from Skyhold has made Solas nostalgic for his Inquisition brethren. It was a brief time, but no matter how brief there was much that he learned from all the exceptional individuals that their war had gathered. For even if that time is over, he is relieved to see that continue having fruitful lives.

“We have all changed, haven’t we?” He moves his queen to take the bishop.

“Correct. There’s still much work that still needs to be done.” She moves her rook to challenge the queen. “But I don’t find the work all consuming anymore.”

When her burdens ended, Solas’s burden’s had gotten heavier. It was a lonely path that he had to walk, he was grateful that it didn’t have to be hers too.

There was hesitation before taking his next move, his piece was not one he could afford to lose this far into his game, nevertheless Solas had to press forward too. He moves his queen to accept Taliesen’s challenge.

“Knight takes queen. Right where I wanted everything to be.” Taliesen declares as her knight takes the place of Solas’s queen. She folds her hand together with satisfaction. There were no pieces that he had in place to hold her knight’s advances. Seeing this causes a proud smirk to form on his lips. He simply moves a pawn.

tagging @milesmentis | @cleverblackcat | @maebird-melody | @wailing-willow

[countlessrealities]

@technodromes sent: Ship Bingo for Shredder to Rick? Ship bingo || Accepting !

[[ I wanna start this saying that, knowing Rick? The only ones he wouldn't be interested to fuck from the Technodrome crew + Bishop are Bebop and Rocksteady because they are man-children, but everyone else is game xD ]]

[[ Well, colour me intrigued -eyes emoji- Especially considering the additions and changes you added to your portrayal of Shedder (including the comic canon), he and Rick end up having quite a bit of common ground, at least for what concerns the darker parts of their history. Loss, mourning that still hasn't had found a proper closure, desire for revenge. It could definitely be interesting to see how they get along! That said, idk about your Shredder, but Rick keeps his "origin story" a secret, but I think it could still be very interesting! ]]

[[ The parts marked in lighter green mean "needs to see how it develops", since I can't be sure considering that they haven't met yet. But I'll have an extra reason to look forward to it because I'm curious!! ]]

[thejournaluser]

the second last panel broke me (the one with Shamura and the empty text bubbles)

And I think it's because of the fact that the Lamb themself did not even appear in the panel. Sure, Shamura would feel the endless guilt of the people they slaughtered due to the fear of Narinder's return and that each individual name would at least give them some sense of remorse.

But what about the Lamb?

They speak of each lamb they knew back before they themself was 'sacrificed'. Each name bearing a weight that needs no words to tell you it hurts. Can you just imagine? The people who would tell you that it'd be worth it to just get revenge on your murderers but... you just don't. Rather, you forgive them instead and try to reconcile them with one another as you are filled with guilt, regret, trauma, and disappointment. God, don't even let me start when they mentioned having siblings after they took the other Bishops away.

The bodies they leave behind in the dirt could've been rolling in anger by now (should they were even given a proper burial in the first place). They are angry. Disappointed. Irritated, even. And you hold that kind of baggage for multiple decades, maybe even centuries depending on how long it took you to take down each one of your murderers in each try until you succeed... and then you do it again to get them away from Death.

Shamura may weep in the pillory, bearing the guilt of their faults. But the Lamb weeps for the failed closure they should have given to their brethren, their people, their kind who deserved it, even after death.

And yet they don't show it, or we just don't see it. Were they crying as they say each name? Or are they putting up a strong front? Does Shamura know they grieve? Or does the Lamb know they're both in pain because of it? It doesn't matter. Because at that moment, they both are paying the price for spilling blood.

god, this just HURTS. SORRY FOR RAMBLING

I just don’t think the bishops would’ve stood by while lamb puts shamura in the pillory