#thank you for asking hetty & her sisters are so good

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Tickletober Day 30: Trick-or-Treat

Fandom: The Greatest Showman

Pairing: Philip and Barnum

Summary: After Philip gives Caroline and Helen a treat, PT gives him what he claims is one.

(Had to include one with these two too ❤️😅)

Philip started awake when two figures landed on top of him.

He hadn't even realized he'd dozed off until he was being awoken to two goblins on his chest.

"Boo!" One of them called out.

"Is that Caroline I hear?" The young ringmaster asked as he finished waking up.

"Aww!" The goblin with Helen's voice crossed her arms. "He figured out it was us."

The goblin with Caroline's voice nudged her sister's arm. "Not hard to do. He does know our voices."

Philip pulled himself up. "Where's your father?"

Suddenly, a third goblin jumped up from beside the couch with a snarl and a squeeze to both of Phillip's sides.

The younger man squeaked in surprise then turned to glare at his business partner. "Really?"

"Oh come on Phil." Barnum lifted his mask. "It's Halloween. Enjoy the night."

"Are you even Irish?" Philip asked as he wriggled himself out from under the two younger girls.

"No, but it'd be a shame not to show our support."

"Sure."

"We're going to scare everyone!" Helen exclaimed as she jumped up and down.

"Yeah! Everyone's going to be so scared of us!" Caroline added.

"Good luck with Hettie," Philip told them. "Nothing scares her."

"We'll find a way to get her."

"I'm sure you will." The younger ringmaster fished out a couple pieces of candy and gave them to the girls. "Here you go. For the scariest goblins around."

The two girls' eyes lit up.

Helen wrapped Philip in a hug. "Thank you Phil!"

"You're welcome you two."

Caroline jumped up. "Come on Helen! We need to plan how to scare everyone."

"Wait for me!" Helen called as she ran after her sister.

"Should I warn the rest of the troop?" PT asked Philip.

"Nah." The younger ringmaster stood. "They'll give themselves away before causing too much trouble. W.D. will probably give them candy for it too."

"If he doesn't, you'll give them more."

"Come on PT, they look adorable."

"And you're determined to put them on a sugar high because of it?"

Philip shrugged and snagged up the older ringmaster's forgotten mask before slipping it on over his head. "Just getting into the spirit."

PT rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the smile on his face. A moment later, he tackled the younger ringmaster to the couch in their office.

Philip immediately picked up on what was going on. "Ah! PT, wait!"

"Not until I'm done giving you a 'treat' of my own," PT replied before digging into Philip's sides again.

The younger ringmaster squeaked before breaking into laughter. "Ah! Noho! PT!"

PT chuckled. "Ihi dohon't think the girls are the only adorable ones running around tonight."

"Thihis feheels mohore lihike a trihick!" Philip argued as he struggled to grab the older ringmaster's hands.

PT quickly moved up to his ribs. "Hmm, that's ahan ihinteheresting idehea."

Philip squealed and immediately glued his arms to his sides. His ribs were a stupid sweet spot PT had found out in one of his surprise tickle attacks.

The older ringmaster loved the spot. Philip had mixed emotions about it.

Especially when PT hit the middle of his ribs.

Philip shrieked and tried to twist onto his side but the older ringmaster kept him on his back. "PT!"

"What?" PT purposefully squeezed with each word. "It's a treat."

Philip snorted and tried to curl up into a ball. "FOR YOU!"

The older ringmaster chuckled as he pulled away to ruffle Philip's hair. "And ihit's thehe best."

The younger of the two breathed through his giggles. "Whehehew."

"You alive?" Barnum asked as he lifted up the mask Philip was still under.

"Barelyhy."

"Uh-huh." PT scribbled behind the younger man's ear. "Dramatic."

As Philip squeaked, he turtled. "Barnuhum!"

"What?" He moved to tickling down Philip's neck then under his chin. "You're adorable."

The younger ringmaster shoved his hands away.

All of a sudden, a scream came from outside followed by two streams of laughter.

"Oh no." PT jumped up. "Excuse me, I need to wrangle those two."

Philip set the third goblin mask to the side. "I'll help you corner them."

"Shouldn't be too challenging."

"Don't speak so soon." The younger ringmaster gave him a playful shove before he turned back. "They are related to you Mr. Insufferable."

"Hey!" PT exclaimed before taking off after him. "Get back here Mr. Undignified!"

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The guest PT 23

Masterlist

It had taken a month of bedrest before Sneed would allow you to be released from the hospital. In that time, the Professor had taken his retirement and Sneed taken over the head surgeon position. As yet he had denied Belle's requests to become a full-time doctor. However, Jack was now being paid a gracious wage and a simple house had been set up not too far away that would be yours once you were married.

Oliver Twist had called off his wedding to Fanny at the dockyard, when it was discovered that not only had he initially stolen the gold but then also lost it. The official story being he has been stitched up by Monks. Given that they were half brothers it was easy for others to believe.

Through her disappointment Fanny threw herself into arranging your wedding.

By the end of the first month you were released back to Government house where even Lady Jane tittered about your comfort. You hated that you still needed so much help with almost everything. Fanny would stay and read to you most days. On occasion Fagin or Hetty would come by and take you for a walk around the gardens. Every day you grow a little stronger.

In the evenings when Jack's shift at the hospice finished he would come by and spend time with you. Stealing small kisses when no one was looking. He had refused to move into the house until he could live there with you and so he would return to his room in the hospital each night.

Finally the day had come when you would become Mrs Dawkins. You awoke and stretched out your muscles. There was still an ache in the healing wound on your abdomen but it felt good to stretch. Your bedroom door opened and the sister came giggling into the room.

"Good morning." You smile at them. "The bath is being drawn, nice and warm just like you like it." Fanny jumped onto your bed, folding her legs below her. Belle rested against the bedpost.

"How are you feeling?" She asked you.

"I'm good, excited. A little nervous." You admit.

"Not to worry, we have kept it small, just as you requested and the garden is being set up now." Fanny said, the wide smile on her face seemingly unable to slip.

You thanked her and went to the bathroom, where you slid into the large rolltop bath. A maid helps to wash out your hair that had grown long over the last year. You make sure not to get your stitches too wet as you bathe. Once you returned to your room and you'd begun dressing Lady Jane appeared in your doorway.

"would you like some help?" She asked. You nodded and she crossed the room, helping to tie your corset. She made sure it fitted you well but did not pull it too tight.

"You know, you are not my daughter, but just as you have with my husband you have infiltrated this family in a most delightful way. I am glad to call you part of our family and you will be missed amongst these walls." She admitted, patting your hand, "I brought these with me. Both the girls have been assigned their family heirlooms. Still, I have these, they were my grandmothers and she wore them on her wedding day. I would be honoured if you would wear them today and pass them onto your own daughter." Lady Jane placed a velveteen box into your hands. You open it and see the most beautiful necklace and bracelet set. Two strings of pearls held together at the front with a silver medallion. The bracelet was the same only smaller.

"They are breathtaking, Lady Jane." You say and pull her into a hug that she happily returns.

"I will have the maids come in to get you dressed." She nods once before leaving again. You look at the jewelry and try to hold back your tears of joy. You really didn't understand how any of this could have happened. Not even a year ago you were a lonely doctor, living alone and now you were marrying the man of your dreams who had literally saved your life. You had a group of friends that loved you deeply. Belle came rushing into your room flinging our robe around your shoulders.

"Jack is walking up." She whispered to you and ran to the balcony window. You followed her and looked out. Jack was dressed in his Naval uniform, though it had definitely been altered to fit him a little better. Fagin walked beside him dressed in the nicest clothes you had ever seen on him. It was clearly a new suit. 'using his new money well' you thought to yourself. Jack's eyes found yours and his lips pulled up in a smile. Belle giggled and pulled you away.

"He looks very handsome." She says.

"He does." You sigh happily.

"Are you ready miss?" The maids had entered.

In the gardens Jack walked up to the gathered guests. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. Sneed stepped up to him.

"Well I suppose the best man won." He admitted holding his hand out to Jack.

"Well you got the job I got the girl. I'd say we both won." Jack shook his hand. Over the last few months their working relationship had become easier, a flow between them just worked.

"After your honeymoon there is an invitation to the club." Sneed said. Jack thanked him and he moved on. Slowly he greeted each person as he made his way to the front of the small aisle. Several chairs had been set up on the back lawn and the priest, Crooky, stood at the head of them. Jack shook Crooky's hand, and he waited, Fagin beside him.

To his right, Fanny began to play the harp, the sweet tinkering indicating that you were about to appear. As the music played Belle walked slowly down the aisle as your bridesmaid and took her place to one side of the priest. You stood now waiting for your signal to move. Edmund appeared beside you, holding his arm out.

"Let me give you away?" He whispered.

"I'd be honoured." You reply and slide your hand around his elbow. The music changes just slightly and the two of you begin the slow walk. Jack turns and his eyes meet yours, his breath taken instantly. He marvelled at the way the veil drifted down your hair that had been mostly left down. Your cream dress was fitted perfectly to you. The sleeves dipped off your shoulders and a gold embroidery adorned the bottom of the skirt. Simple matching gloves reached to just above your elbow. He supposed it was as elaborate as you would allow but it suited you perfectly in his opinion.

Inside him there was a little boy who was cold and frightened, who was sure he would die in a damp prison. That little boy could never have imagined that he would have a moment as simply perfect as this one.

Edmund passed your hand to Jack's and he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before taking a seat beside his wife.

You and Jack turn to Crooky.

"ladies and gentlemen we are gathered here today to celebrate the union between this man and this woman in the eyes of our Lord God. Now Doctor, the vows."

Jack nodded and looked to you.

"I, Jack Dawkins, take thee, y/n y/l/n, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith."

"y/n" Crooky looks to you.

" "I, y/n y/l/n, take thee, Jack Dawkins, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith."

jack slid a ring onto your finger, Crooky announced you husband and wife and Jack leaned in to kiss you.

A loud bang rings through your ears and several people scream. Jack grabs your arms and lowers you, using his body to cover you. His eyes scan the crowd when he sees him. Monks, standing at the end of the aisle.

"You betrayed me!" He shouted pointing his revolver pistol at Jack.

"Monks, no..." Jack held up his hands in front of him.

"You and him did this!" Monks said through gritted teeth. "I'll kill you all."

"Arrest that man!" Edmund shouted to the guards who were standing close by. There is a flurry of movement. You can't be sure what is happening. More shots are fired. You hit the floor and look down at your dress. Blood covered the bodice and in your lap Jack lay.

"Jack, Jack? Help me!" You scream.

@afalls14universe @fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @mydeputyghostwagon

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

who's mono?

I'm so glad you asked :) definitely didn't mention him offhandedly in hopes someone would ask :)

Mono is an OC who has only existed for about a year now, thanks to a suggestion from a friend. He's Demonette's half-brother on their father's side, and the two didn't know of each other's existence until, during an investigation (part of a storyline that I may or may not actually expand and connect someday who knows) Hettie and Demonette have to talk to a guy who may know something about demons. Turns out he'd know this since he's actually an incubus who's been living on Earth a good 100 or so years, and as stated, is Demonette's father. She actually takes having a brother extremely well, and immediately jumps into the role of Cool Big Sister Who Shall Protect Her Baby Brother At All Costs. Mono can't really complain about this, and since Hettie is Demonette's bestie, he's basically forced to get along with her too. Luckily they're both goth bitches so it's all good.

Due to circumstances I will bore you with another day, Mono ends up receiving tutelage from his half-sisters on how to harness his incubus side. And he, ahem, is rather skilled in that department. My man is good at what he does, and rather enthusiastic about this role. Or at least, he doesn't hate it. Just don't tell Demistress that he isn't only interested in women.

Lads got a demon form and everything. I love him so much yall you have NO idea, he's my best boy and I adore him.

[ncisladaily]

Renée Felice Smith was only six years old when she knew that she wanted to be an actress and storyteller, but people tried to dissuade her from her chosen career path, telling her it was an impossible goal. Luckily, Smith’s parents weren’t among the naysayers, and today she’s living her dream, starring as Intelligence Analyst Nell Jones on NCIS: Los Angeles (Sundays, 9 p.m., CBS) and co-authoring her first children’s book Hugo and the Impossible Thing with her creative partner Chris Gabriel.

So, when her French Bulldog Hugo was diagnosed with a brain tumor, Smith once again ignored the doubters and found the best vet possible to give Hugo a shot at life rather than listen to those who told her it was “just truly impossible.”

“We just knew we had to try for our little guy, and we’re so glad we did because he was with us for another two beautiful years, just grinning, growling and running around the yard like the wild man that he always was,” Smith tells Parade.com in this exclusive interview. “So, we’re so glad we fought for him and advocated for him.”

When Hugo finally passed, Smith and Gabriel knew they had to tell his story to inspire others to conquer the seemingly impossible things in their life. So they wrote a story about a little dog named Hugo, who succeeded where others didn’t even try as a result of his bravery, curiosity, teamwork and persistence.

“The love is still here, and it needed someplace to go, so now we have the book and Hugo’s message that now we get to share with the world, which I’m just so grateful that it’s become real,” Smith adds.

Related: NCIS: Los Angeles‘ Daniela Ruah Speculates About Whether Kensi and Deeks Will Survive the Obstacles Ahead

This Sunday night, Smith will be back with some teamwork of her own when NCIS: Los Angeles returns with a new episode dealing with technology, which is something that Nell excels at. In the “Imposter Syndrome” episode, NCIS obtains a hard drive containing a realistic deep fake video of a deceased terrorist and must retrieve the dangerous technology behind it. However, when the team’s comms are hijacked during their mission, they find that one of their own has been a victim of its potential.

And, spoiler alert, Smith says that in the May 23 Season 12 finale, Nell will finally be reunited with Hetty (Linda Hunt)! But how that will play out remains to be seen.

“Linda was essentially sidelined by the pandemic, but, very exciting, I do share a scene with her in our season finale and it’s one of the most memorable scenes of my time on NCIS: LA, so I’m very grateful to have her back as my scene partner,” Smith says.

For more of what Smith had to say about her real-life Hugo and Hugo and the Impossible Thing, as well as more NCIS: Los Angeles scoop, read on.

With your background, a movie seems a more natural project than a book about Hugo. How did it turn into a book?

Chris, my other half, and I are lovers of all types of books. We grew up with children’s books and some of the most impactful stories and lessons we feel that we’ve learned in our lives we learned in the pages of those books, so we really wanted to create this modern classic, a book that kids, or quite frankly, anyone nowadays could really benefit from.

Especially right now, we’re all dealing with our own version of the impossible thing, and we’re trying to find our way to the other side. What better way to inspire you and yours to go out and conquer whatever your impossible thing is than through a storybook following this spirited French Bulldog through the forest, kind of this yellow brick road, Wizard of Oz structure? He meets up with his forest friends and they end up helping him through the impossible thing. It’s really a story about bravery, curiosity, teamwork and persistence. We wanted to encourage that in our readers, both young and young at heart.

Tell us about Hugo and his battle with his brain tumor.

Hugo was diagnosed with a brain tumor and we were truly beside ourselves. It was an out-of-body experience. He was a feisty, curious, wild man who was quite literally sidelined by this potentially terminal disease, and we just knew that we didn’t want to give up on him, and he wasn’t giving up on himself. Every step of the way, we would say out loud, “Hugo, just let us know, buddy, do you want to keep going?” And he met us with this enthusiasm for the process every step of the way. And that is truly why we kept going.

Did Hugo instill in you the belief that the impossible might be possible? Or did you already have that?

That’s interesting. I think the process really showed us that if you ask the questions, oftentimes the people who ask the questions are the people who find the answers, and this process really reiterated that. He inspired us to advocate for him, because animals are helpless on their own, but we could do something about it. We could ask the questions; we could be his voice. I’m just so thankful that he was always this bright light that had this insatiable curiosity for life. He definitely imbued that in me, and I know he imbued that in Chris. He did inspire us to help him conquer his impossible thing. If he didn’t have the fight in him, if he wasn’t such a spirited dog, I don’t know if that would’ve happened, but he was singular in a way. I reference him as my canine son, because he was. He was my baby.

On NCIS: Los Angeles, Nell is torn these days. She feels Hetty tricked her into taking the job when she said she didn’t want it, but she has the support of her team and also Kilbride. So how do you think she’s feeling these days?

She really is at a crossroads in her life. I think a lot of young women find themselves at this point, where they are very good at their job, but is it the job that they always saw themselves in? Is it the job they saw their future selves thriving in? I think for Nell, she’s really questioning whether she wants this to be her story, and in the process, she’s really finding her voice this season. There’s a scene with Sam Hanna, LL Cool J‘s character, that recently aired, where she spells out her frustrations in her position as de facto operations manager and how she’s struggling to keep the plates spinning. And she tells him that he needs to get on her team. It was a really stern moment for Nell.

I don’t think we’ve really ever seen that. Actually, LL Cool J and I were talking about what a different flavor this scene is bringing to the show because Nell usually is quick with a quip, but she doesn’t often drop the hammer in this way. And this season, we really do get to see Nell drop this hammer, stand in her power, and let people know that she needs help and she’s questioning this process.

I think that’s the side of being the operations manager that we didn’t really get to see very much with Hetty because she had everything under control. So, it’s kind of fun and new to see the person, who may be greener in the position, find her way in this new position of leadership.

How much has COVID affected what we’re seeing this season? Is that why we don’t see more of Linda Hunt, to keep her safe? And I noticed there are fewer people in scenes, especially in ops.

You’re absolutely right. Our show did an incredible job managing the crisis that was the pandemic and continues to be the pandemic. We are tested five days a week. Our crew was incredible in keeping everyone safe. The was goal to keep everyone safe, and we were, in turn, able to create 18 episodes of television, which is incredible.

You were just picked up for your 13th season, so it isn’t over yet, but when you look back, what will you take away from it?

Oh, my goodness. We’re a family, you know, but it’s been a mini-film school for me as well. My time at NCIS: LA has been educational. I just pinch myself how lucky I am that I was able to quite frankly lock onto a job like this for so long. In our industry, stability as an actor is not something you often experience. So, to have this group of people who I’ve grown to love and really consider extensions of my family, I’m just so grateful for the time. I feel like I’ve been a student. I feel like I went to school all over again for 10 years.

With Linda being this master in her craft, I can’t even quantify what I learned from her and most of it happens when we’re waiting to do our scene. It’s in those moments that I hear the stories from her childhood and the stories from early in her career, just these nuggets of wisdom that I have now in my little carpet bag.

From your work outside NCIS: LA, it seems as if maybe long-term, you’re more interested in being behind the camera and writing, producing, directing.

It’s interesting, often as actors, we’re part of someone else’s story, we’re carrying out someone else’s vision, but I’ve always been a storyteller. As a kid, I would essentially write my own little plays and perform them in the yard and direct my friends and family, my sister, namely, in those plays. And for as long as I remember, I’ve always wanted to tell stories. So, yeah, that is where I see myself heading in the future.

You’ve said that you knew at age six that this is what you want to do. And you were lucky that your parents supported you.

Oh, 100 percent. I wouldn’t be standing here today if they hadn’t instilled confidence in me and in my creativity. They really created an environment that fostered out-of-the-box thinking, and I’m so grateful for that.

Which takes us full circle back to the impossible just might be possible.

It’s so true. If you’re curious enough and brave enough and you have the support, obviously, of your community, I think that’s the missing piece in a lot of these puzzles. It’s really the support because you can’t get there alone. No one can. The one-woman show does not exist. It’s an ensemble; it’s a production.

[goldeneyedgirl]

jaliceweek20 day 1: human/vampire

Title: Against A Wall (Part 1)

Prompt 1: Human/Vampire

Word Count: 3,851

Note: I’m going into hospital tomorrow, and I’ve run out of time to get this finished (so, so close but I need sleep). So I cut it in half in the most logical place. 

As long as the JaliceWeek Mods don’t have an issue, I’ll finish off Part 2 and upload the whole fic to the AO3 collection around Tuesday when I’m feeling human and have a decent Wifi connection.

Fifteen.

He crouches behind Dewey’s Bar, spitting blood onto the pavement, and trying to pretend that whatever is seeping into his jeans is just water, and not runoff from the reeking dumpster beside him.

It’s Tuesday night, and Tuesdays are always the worst. Tuesdays are his mom’s night shifts at the VA hospital. Tuesdays are pay-day. Tuesdays are the only day his father doesn’t pull his punches.

His left cheek and eye are swollen and split, like overripe fruit. He can’t see real well, and the taste of aluminium foil in the back of his mouth makes him suspect another fracture around his eye.  

But was it really a Tuesday night if cerebral fluid wasn’t leaking into his mouth?

He feels bad that his mother is going to walk in at five the next morning, exhausted, to find… well, to find Hettie and Flo asleep in Ava’s bed, as Ava studies and worries. To find Jasper’s bed empty, and Lydia’s too. To find the study door locked, no matter how long she knocks.

In fact, the only thing that Louise Whitlock won’t find when she gets home from work is the god-damned strength of will to leave her fucking husband.

Last time he said that to her face, she started to cry, and that made things worse.

It’s still early, which sucks. There are hours to go until it is safe to move, to drag himself to school, to shower in the locker rooms and get some food out of the vending machine and savour the fact that another Tuesday is behind him. Sheldon isn’t big enough for the other students and the teachers not to notice the bruises on his face, but it is small enough that everyone knows Jeremiah Whitlock, and no one is going to say anything to get him in trouble.  

He could go find Lydia, hide in the tree-house, tell someone who wasn’t family or a local. But he always ends up behind Dewey’s. When he was a kid, it hadn’t just been a bar; it had been been Dewey’s Bar and Grill, and his grandfather used to take him there for fried chicken and ice cream. Dewey had been his Grandpa Jed’s best friend, but even in those halcyon days it hadn’t exactly been family-friendly.

It had become a dive bar sometime around the time Jasper finished middle-school, but it didn’t matter - by then, Dewey and Grandpa were dead, and he was too busy trying to protect himself and his sisters to eat ice cream.

He spits blood again, and rests back against the brickwork. Nothing for it; Tuesdays were always hell.

—

He tries to sleep, amongst the noise of passersby, and remain unnoticed - Jasper’s learnt the hard way that his uncles still frequent Dewey’s, and they will march him straight back home for round two, no matter what he says. Even when he came up with the strength to tell them, about Lydia and Jerry and Tuesday nights, his uncles just tell him to shut up, man up, and maybe Jerry wouldn’t have to whoop his ass.

He thinks of Lydia and hopes she’s somewhere warm and clean tonight. Lydia’s smart enough to stay away on Tuesday nights. Home is never Lydia’s first port of call any night of the week, but never, ever on Tuesdays.

He remembers the last Tuesday night she was home, two summers ago, when Lydia stormed upstairs, a twelve-year-old hurricane with fire in her eyes, and called their father a coward for beating the shit out of Jasper.

Jeremiah Whitlock hadn’t liked being called a coward. Not at all.

Now she is transient, a ghost sister who vanishes at day break; one who bunks down on couches and in treehouses before coming back to her own bed. Their mom and Ava worry about where Lydia gets her money, cigar-sized rolls of dollar bills that she keeps in a tampon box, but he knows.

He knows that his sharp and pointy little sister never let anything stop her, least of all hard work, and that a lot of people in town know that Jerry Whitlock has a lot of anger and a lot of disappointment that he tries to drown in cheap beer and cheaper whiskey. It just makes him angrier. If the only thing they can do is give Lydia Whitlock some work, well, that kid’ll cut the grass, paint the garage, and walk the dog for a few bucks and a drink from a spigot.

It’s easy to say that Lydia is the best of them, making it clear that she doesn’t need their shitty father or their tired mother, but they are all strong in different ways. Ava, who smiles and simpers at their father, waiting for that day when she can buckle Hettie and Flo into her car and take them with her to college in Houston with a middle finger raised in the air. Flo stays quiet, stays alert, darting and hiding when the moment comes, but whose slight of hand belongs to a survivalist magician. And sweet little Hettie, who never lived on the ranch and knew their parents when they were happy, is sunshine and laughter and innocence. The one that reminds them why they stick together.

He’s the boy, so his role is obvious and unquestioned: he takes the punches and slaps and kicks that were meant for their mom, for Lydia, for Flo. He mutters things under his breath so that Jerry doesn’t hear what his sisters are saying, forgets that Hettie is sniffling or that Lydia hasn’t been home in ten days or that their mother has burnt dinner.

He knows his place.

—-

If you asked anyone with the surname ‘Whitlock’, they’d tell you that the family was cursed.

Had been since the Civil War; the youngest son had run off and joined up. Tried to desert two months in, crying for his momma, and ran afoul of someone - or something. He was dead a month later, but no one was exactly sure if he’d been executed for desertion, or if he’d just got in the way of a Yankee bullet. Either way, his last letter was rambling and terrified of something he never named, and his cowardice was rewarded with his bloodline’s constant suffering.

Within the Whitlock family lore, the curse was held accountable for numerous failings - from great-great grandmother Edith running off with one of the Wilkerson boys, to little Brian dropping dead as a doornail one summer day after seven years of perfect health. It was the Whitlock Curse to blame the day the bank took the ranch away from Jasper’s own father.      

It was the curse that had four and a half strapping brothers (Uncle Wyatt only counted as half since he went to the war in the Middle East and got himself blown up before he was even old enough to drink, and left behind a high school sweetheart with a bouncing baby girl they all called ‘Puddin’) father fifteen girls, and only one lousy boy.

Make no mistake about it, Jasper was a lousy heir to the Whitlock name. All three of his uncles reminded him of this every holiday season. Whitlock men were supposed to live and breathe the ranch, were supposed to be football players and champions. They were meant to knock up the head cheerleader and serve eight years in the army, like their brothers, fathers, uncles, and grandfathers before them.

Not snivelling little momma’s boys, who cried themselves to sleep when Sirius Black died, and could charm the birds from the trees. Not boys who helped their sisters catch rabbits, and keep them as secret pets, or name the house cat Socrates. Not boys who sat up all night when their horse had colic, and sit in the stable with her, begging and praying for her to be okay.

He tried, goddamnit. So hard. He was the best shot in the family (something that Uncle Bo had nearly hit him over, that one Thanksgiving. But everyone knew that Bo had the worst temper in the family.) Before things went to shit, he’d been a good student. He’d been able to convince the animals on the ranch to do anything. He was popular, without having any particular friends or putting much effort into it. He took care of his sisters.

But none of it was ever good enough.

Nothing ever was.

—

It’s Roy Lester that chases him off, before six the next morning. Roy runs the grocer next to Dewey’s, and went to school with his father and uncles - still had beers with them ever so often. The way he threatened Jasper and chased him off home whenever he caught him in the alley made Jasper think that they talked about him, and none of it flattering.

So he has to slink home because he stinks and he’s starving. The security at school won’t let anyone in before seven; he’s tried before; it’s not like he has much choice.

In a town like Sheldon, everyone knew everyone. You started kindergarten with maybe twenty other five year olds - most you probably already knew - and spent the next thirteen years with those same kids. You watched Maude Montgomery transform from the aesthetic-equivalent of Danny Devito to Jennifer Lawrence in a single summer, thanks to a late brush with puberty; you were right there when Casey Atkinson was put in a wheelchair and spent seventh grade learning to walk again. You knew that Ariel Turner was diabetic, Marley Harris was asthmatic, and you’d seen thirteen years of peanut-free lunches and birthday parties because Joey Thompson was highly allergic.

The joy of small towns.

Everyone knew that Jerry Whitlock hit his kids and his wife, but no one talked about it - not to their faces, at least. The adults tended to march Jasper home, to face his father’s wrath. The kids tended to get uncomfortable, and look through him. The few people who tried to reach out were from out of town, and were usually passing through - the odd teacher, a new neighbour, a concerned face on the bus.

Better to go home until school opened up.

Louise is in the kitchen, her face pinched and pale, clutching a cup of coffee. She looks hopeful when he walks in, but seems to crumple in on herself when she sees his bloody, swollen face. She looks old as she puts down her mug, and moves to pull him into a hug. He pretends not to notice her shuddering, as she cries onto his shoulder, before pulling away.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she manages, sniffling. “Okay? You must be hungry.”

He grunts and nods, as he heads upstairs. As if scrambled eggs and burnt toast can fix another Tuesday night.

But Wednesdays are good - the longest possible time until another Tuesday night.

He just has to keep telling himself that.

—

Seventeen.

Another Tuesday behind Dewey’s, but this time he’s puking up the few mouthfuls of food he managed before his father hauled him out the back - only because it was his mom’s week off and they were having a big family dinner. Louise resented those mid-week dinners; after a long day at work, having to make dinner for twenty-three people, and somehow find enough plates and chairs was the last thing she wanted to do. It was the only time Lydia would cross their father’s sight line, skinny and defiant.

If it had been a normal dinner, Jerry wouldn’t have dragged him out of the house. He would have beat him in the kitchen, yelling over Hettie’s sobs and Flo’s screams, and Louise’s pleading. He’s had a serving platter smashed over his head before, as well as a beer bottle, and a ceramic pitcher - one that had been made by Grandma Lillian, and Louise had sobbed over those broken shards.

His head is spinning, and he can’t remember exactly what he said to incite his father’s rage, though he remembers Uncle Bo’s jeers when he tried to stand up. The previous week’s wounds have reopened, and are bleeding onto his last decent t shirt. There’s vomit and alley-juice all over his jeans, and he wonders if he should drag himself to the hospital because his world is still spinning.

He wonders what will happen if he dies tonight; if Roy Lester finds him here in the morning, cold and dead. Most of the cops in town are from old families, and they’ve taken Lydia and Jasper back home enough times to know what goes on. It’s easier to picture the cover-up, that they’ll blame him and a make-believe schoolyard fight. Just a tragic accident.

Maybe then someone will help Lydia, help all of his sisters. Maybe it’ll be the thing that makes his mom leave.

He falls asleep facedown in the alley, and wants to cry when he wakes up the next morning to the bellow of school kids heading to the bus stop.

He was so goddamned close to it all being over.

So close.

—

“Do you need some help?”

It’s another Tuesday night, one that has come with busted ribs and possibly a dislocated shoulder. He missed lunch because of an English project, and his father had been drinking early, so he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. It’s making him feel sick, and wondering if anyone will notice if he sneaks in the back door of Dewey’s and grab some food.

And then someone is there and talking to him.

Her voice is high and sweet, and he expects a high school girl, maybe a sorority sister.

She is neither.

She’s only as tall as Flo, with uneven black hair curling around her cheeks. She’s one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, with huge amber-coloured eyes that remind him of Hettie’s dolls and Lydia’s manga. She’s wearing a ragged button-up over a ruffled mini-skirt and leggings, with boots that look a size too big, a heavy man’s watch that hangs from her tiny wrist, and an ancient looking cadet’s cap - the entire effect makes him think of Oliver Twist as a female circus performer.

She walks over to him, and crouches in front of him, her head cocked to the side like a bird’s. He can only stare; other than the dark smudges under her eyes that speak of many sleepless nights, she is beautiful.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking worried.

“Yeah,” he croaks, and winches as he jars his ribs. He doubles over, and cries out. She reaches out towards him but backs off just as suddenly.

“You’re hurt,” she says, looking bewildered and frightened. “Where?”

“I-It’s okay,” he manages, trying to reclaim his dignity in front of the prettiest girl. “I’ll be fine.”

The girl huffs. “Ugh, boys,” she mutters. “Hold on a second.” She gets up and slips out of the alley before he can beg her not to get help. In reality, going to the hospital is the last thing he should do - they can’t afford the bill, and  they’ll call home and… no. Just no.

His head is spinning, so he finds it hard to tell how much time has passed, but eventually she returns. She’s clutching two bags, and marches right up to him and crouches back down.

“This will help,” she says, holding out painkillers and a bottle of water. He fumbles with the lids of both, but eventually swallows the pillows down. She watches him carefully. “Don’t drink too fast,” she advises. “Now, I can put your shoulder back in now, or we can wait. It’s up to you.”

He blinks at her slowly. “Now,” he decides.

“Okay,” she looks nervous, but moves forward. It’s all blurry in his mind, but there is something cold, then hot, angry pain, and then he’s blinking up at her again. “Sorry. But trust me, the worst is over now. At least I didn’t break it worse. Hungry?”

He blinks as she reaches for the other bag - a bag of Skittles, a packaged sandwich, two oranges, and a bag of potato chips. He’s not sure if he has a concussion or it’s an odd selection, but he’s also hungry enough that he doesn’t care.

“I nearly had to call Bella, to ask what to get - Edward never let me buy her food after the chicken incident - which was entirely Emmett’s fault - but I think I figured it out okay,” the girl jabbers, taking a seat beside him, and smiles at him. “Better no one knows where I am, anyway.”

“I… thanks,” he croaked, as he reached for the sandwich. She beams at him again, and then frowns.

“Eat, then we’ll finish patching you up. I’ve come too far to watch you die in this disgusting place,” she stretches her legs out in front of her.

The sandwich is dry, but he wolfs it down - an orange too, before he takes a breath - that hurts - and takes another look at the tiny girl beside him.

“Who are you?” he finally asks, and she looks up from her watch.

“Oh! I’m Alice,” she says. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t know. Do you want your ribs taped now, or are you going to open those?” She points to the Skittles.

“Um, I…” he looks at the bag of candy. “Do you want some?” This feels like a fever dream; maybe he’s passed out and this is just what his banged-up brain has provided him with.

“No,” she shakes her head, and the cadet’s cap tilts a little on her head. “I can’t. They just looked nice. Happy.”

“Happy,” he echoes, looking at the red package.

“I hear that sometimes little things can help,” Alice says. “Come on, cowboy, take that shirt off and let me see those ribs.”

His side is mottled black and blue and purple, and moving in basically any direction is a new adventure in pain. Alice gasps at the sight, and then coos at him in a way that is oddly comforting as her fingers trace his ribs - the coldness of her fingers is actually wonderful against the pain. Then comes the painful stage - as she, not entirely gently enough, begins layering tape over the pain, his head is spinning.

“All done,” Alice says, and her voice is soft, and when he slumps against her shoulder, she doesn’t move away. She smells like old fashioned things, like roses and linen. It reminds him of the old family homestead. He finds his eyes closing, and his side aches in time with his heart, and then Alice’s gentle fingers are running through his hair.

“Sleep, Jasper,” she murmurs, “I’ll keep watch.”

He’s asleep before he realises he never told her his name.

—

She’s gone when he wakes up, and the Skittles are in his pocket - along with the painkillers. Happy.

It’s Wednesday morning, and it’s not exactly ‘happy’ he’s feeling, but he’s got candy in his pocket and time to go home for a shower and more food, so Alice was right - the little things do help.

—

She never turns up two Tuesdays in a row, but he does see her again. She’s always more prepared than the first time, with a bag that always seems to contain exactly what they need - in his less lucid states, he is reminded of Mary Poppins’ magic carpet bag as she produces snacks and first aid kits, and even clothing.

Her attempts at first aid are, at best, rough and she accidentally breaks two of his fingers and nearly ends up in tears when he yells in pain, and hugs him so tight, weeping into his neck, that he ends up trying to comfort her.

Sometimes he sleeps. She’s so thin and tiny that her shoulder isn’t a good pillow, and he feels like a shit man, letting such a tiny girl keep watch behind a bar. It wouldn’t take much to break her, and he can’t defend anyone in this state.

But some Tuesdays, he falls asleep anyway, breathing in that scent of fresh roses and linen, and listening to her chatter away about people he doesn’t know, about places he’s never visited, about books he’s never read.

Alice sounds like she’s living a really nice life. One week, she quizzes him on his Spanish before his examine the next day, and her accent is flawless. When her phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes, and she ignores it, she usually swears - he doesn’t know in what language, one of the Eastern Asian ones he thinks - but it’s definitely a swear.

He wishes he could see her, talk to her, out in the real world and prove to her that he’s not just a beat-up kid. But she’s always gone on Wednesday mornings, and he doesn’t even know how to contact her anyway.

All in all, he met Alice in the reeking alley behind Dewey’s with a concussion, broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, and now she’s the best friend he’s ever had in the world.

He’s getting closer to that ‘happy’ concept that she mentioned the first time they met.

—

The last time he sees her, he’s bleeding and he’s pretty sure his eye socket is fractured. He’s pissed with himself because he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, to stop his father from going after Flo. So he’d thrown a punch at his old man  for the first time because Flo is his baby sister and all haunted eyes and he’ll never forget the sounds of her wailing after the belt struck her, but hitting the bastard back just fuelled him and … fuck.

Then Alice is there, in jeans with stars on the knees and a billowy purple top that is just opaque enough to obscure the skin underneath. She looks angry and frustrated, and doesn’t just sit next to him and open her bag like she usually does.

“It’s a stupid fucking decision you’re about to make,” she stamps her foot, “and I am so mad at you right now, but Carlisle and Edward have made me promise not to interfere. Carlisle says that everything I’m doing now is enough. And I’m already in enough trouble, honestly.”

He can taste foil again - definitely a fractured eye socket.

“What?” he manages, snappish and tired. He doesn’t need this. He wants sweet Alice, who helps him patch himself back together, and gets him food, and talks him to sleep. The one who makes him laugh, even when it hurts, and seems to be light-years ahead of him but that’s okay because she’s always so happy about whatever she’s telling him.

“I’m going to say this once,” she enunciates carefully, still glaring. “I will be here every Tuesday. Don’t make a dumb decision. There is always another choice.”

“You’re making less sense than normal,” he retorts. “Either help me, or go away - I’m not in the mood.”

“Happy freakin’ birthday,” she snaps, unbuckling her giant watch, and throws it at him before she storms back the way she came, leaving him behind.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Harry Hook x reader - part 16 - questions

=

You hummed to yourself as you made breakfast for yourself (Harry was back in Auradon helping Uma out with something), bopping along to the music on your phone.

“marchin on to a new~ land, our world a better, a better place~” you sang, spinning around and shaking your hips, smiling as you remembered only three months ago you dance and sang the same song with all the rest of the villain kids.

It was still hard to believe that you had traveled to the descendant's world, met Harry Hook, joined Umas crew, fell in love with Harry, and ended up saving the world.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though.

Pouring some of the pancake batter on the pan, you let it cook while you got out the butter and syrup.

“we’re gonna break, this, down” you went through the moves as you sang, dodging your table as you went “we’re gonna rock, the, town. Everyone all a-round~”

Someone grabbed your hand and spun you into their chest. “Let's be whoever like this!” Harry sang, spinning you back out and grinning at you. You giggled and joined back in, singing in unison.

“stronger together like this, we reunited like this~” you looked behind you, spotting the bubbling pancakes and separating from Harry, grabbing the spatula and flipping them, grinning at the perfect golden brown pancake.

“ooh~ pancakes~ are there enough for meh?” Harry cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist and setting his chin on your shoulder.

“should be” you hummed, shifting the pan around, waiting for the other side to cook.

“awesome…question?” harry muttered, pressing a kiss behind your ear “what do yeh think about….marriage?”

You paused, turning to look at Harry slightly “what brought this on?”

“og nothin’ just….malsy and beasty boy got me thinkin’…what if…we got married one day?” you hummed and tilted back into his chest.

“well…I would love to honestly, I love you and would like to spend the rest of my life with you” you could feel heat build-up against your head, Harry was blushing heavily, glancing down at the ring on his right hand.

“so if I proposed yeh would say yes?”

“yeah,” you chuckled, turning around and pressing a kiss to Harry's lips “thank you for asking, there's a lot of people who just propose without making sure the other is wanting it too” you hummed.

“wha’ do yeh mean” Harry asked, tilting his head.

“proposal shouldn’t be a surprise, the way it's done should be” you chirped, turning back around and grabbing a plate, flipping the pancakes onto it.

“here!” Harry smiled and kissed your cheek, grabbing the plate and walking over to the table, sitting down to eat.

“Thank yeh love,” he said with a mouthful of food, giggling as you pushed at his shoulder.

“Harry! Don’t talk with your mouth full” you chided, grinning as harry swallowed and stuck his tongue out at you. “dork”

=

“uma! It’s a go, she's all for it” Harry chattered to Uma, excited for what was to come.

“good, now maybe CJ will stop buggin’ ya” Uma chuckled, smirking as CJ pouted at her.

“it's not my fault (y/n)s a better sister than Hettie! I just want it to be official” she whined, smirking at Harriet as she glared at CJ.

“Alright, fuck me for feeding you when dad would kick you out huh?” she droned, flipping off CJas she did.

“yep!” CJ chirped, cackling as Harriet pushed her off her seat. “hey!”

“whatever, so yeh were able to get permission from Ben for the island righ’?” Uma nodded at Harry and handed him a paper.

“yep, full permission to sail over, dock, and you to propose to (y/n)”

“awesome” Harry muttered to himself giddily ”I can't wait”

He stopped, looking back down at his right hand, where his mother's ruby ring sat “wait whats her ring size!?”

Uma facepalmed.

=

You bit your lip in concentration, carefully pipping the border onto a round cake.

“Hello?” a VERY familiar voice called out from the front, you groaned and stopped piping, setting down the bag and walking to the front, wiping your hands on your apron.

As you rounded the corner, you saw….Brenna D'amico. You sighed and crossed your arms, leaning on the counter. “harrys not here” you muttered. She seemed surprised before her mouth formed an “oh” in understanding.

“you must be (y/n) then-“ you smiled and held out your hand, she reached over and shook it “um, Sofia blabbed”

“I thought so” you chuckled “well, I assume you DID come here to see if they were lying or not?”

“well, as soon as you said ‘hes not here’ I kinda guessed they weren't heh” Brenna chuckled, shuffling slightly as she looked around. “so I heard from china that the baked goods are….well good” she giggled, walking over to the case filled with food “what do you suggest?”

“um well, the chocolate scones are pretty good, and the brownies are just” you pressed your fingers to your lips and kissed them “mwah, chefs kiss” you laughed, Brenna giggling and nodded.

“ill have those then, and um, you guys serve coffee?” you nodded and gestured to the “café” part of the board.

“oooh okay um, blended caramel mocha please?”

“right on, that’ll be five dollars exactly.” Brenna whistled and slid her card into the reader.

“wow, and I pay more at Starbucks just for a grande coffee!” you chuckled and nodded.

“yeah, my aunt wanted cheap prices and great food, and we actually get more money that way” Brenna nodded and looked around, grinning at the ocean mural on the right wall.

“I can see why!” you handed her the bag of baked goods and started on her coffee.

“so…are you and harry together?” you nodded “cool, I mean I could tell since…you’re wearing his jacket” she pointed out, a smile on her lips.

You looked down, smiling as your eyes met with the red leather, the small silver hook hanging off the collar.

“yeah, his stuff is cool and comfortable” you joked, handing her the coffee and waving her out “thanks for coming!”

“thank you!” she chirped back, the door ringing as she stepped out on to the sidewalk.

“whew…” you sighed, being silent for a moment before narrowing your eyes “im gonna kill Sofia!”

---end of part 16---

Also, its been one year since d3! Yay!

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

@random-thoughts-003​

@rintheemolion​

[orionares]

Semper Fidelis, Part 20

A/N: Last one! Thank you for reading!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hollywood- Burbank Airport, Los Angeles

“I think we need to have a talk with Nell about the difference between a ‘surprise’ and…..this.”

Kensi slowly nods in agreement at Deeks’ comment at the unexpected sight in front of them in one of Burbank’s private hangars.

Minutes ago, the private jet had pulled into the hangar to reveal a small makeshift wedding chapel in the center. Candles line a red aisle runner to a wooden flowered wedding arch with two white floor vases containing lilies. Roberta and Julia talk excitedly over a small round table draped in a cream and lilac colored tablecloth. Sam, donning a black suit, stands behind the arch, reviewing a small folded sheet of paper while the rest of the team set up a row of chairs in front of the arch. Callen is the first to look up to Kensi and Deeks.

“Welcome back!” Callen calls out. “What do you think?”

“Wha- what is this?” Kensi stammers. She feels a gentle nudge from Deeks to continue down the airstairs. “This is more than a surprise.”

“It’s a wedding, sweetheart!” Julia exclaims. “Your amazing friends here came up with the idea to make up the wedding today and in an airplane hangar, no less. What do you think?”

“This makes no sense,” Kensi quickly turns to Deeks and narrows her eyes at him. “Did you do this? Did you get them to do this?”

Deeks glances between the chairs and back to his fiancée. “Nope…no, no, no, this isn’t me.”

“Because it’s private,” Callen explains, placing the last chair near the aisle. He gestures to the hangar and adds, “And it’s time. We’re going to keep doing our jobs and living our lives but you guys gave up your wedding weeks ago and…it’s time. Everything’s taken care of.”

“Deeks,” Kensi calls out breathlessly and pulls him around the airstairs and out of earshot of the team. Deeks maintains a calmness that eases the panic rising in her chest as he asks quietly, “What do you think? I know it’s not what we planned- actually, everything in the last…forever hasn’t gone to plan-“

Kensi ‘s mind jumps back to their conversation in the parking lot before she had been sent off to Afghanistan. “It seems to be our thing, if you think about it.”

“That is true, Fern, that is true. It’s insane but I’m all in,” Deeks states, “ And I’m ready if you are.”

Kensi takes both of his hands in hers and enlaces her fingers between his. She smiles at the butterflies she can feel dancing in her stomach. “All in….let’s get married.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sweetheart, are you ready?”

Fifteen minutes later, Kensi runs her hands down a white flutter v-dress once more before turning to face her mother. Julia leans around the divider and motions to the group waiting at the other end of the hangar. “You look absolutely perfect. Are you ready?”

“I’m scared.” The words tumble out of Kensi before she realizes- between leaving the hospital, deciding the impromptu wedding and then searching for Hetty, the fear of being married, truly married, had suddenly become dormant. She bites down on her lip and repeats, “I’m scared.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s actually real,” she inhales sharply, “I think with our jobs, planning the wedding and coming back from this case, it’s never sank in.  Now, I’m going to walk down the aisle in minutes and I’m panicking, Mom.”

Julia chuckles and pulls her daughter into a warm hug. She rubs her back, replying, “You save the world daily and face things most people wouldn’t even fathom. You have found a wonderful man who loves you for you and will love and protect you for life. You have nothing to be afraid of. Your fears are normal for every bride about to walk down the aisle. You’ve got this.”

Kensi nods slowly and steps out from the changing divider. With her mother behind her, she approaches the end of the aisle where an ecstatic Nell holds out a small white and purple flower bouquet. Roberta and Julia take an arm and begin to walk Kensi down the aisle towards Sam, Callen and Deeks.

Deeks, fidgeting in a navy blue suit, looks up from his hands and smiles delightedly at Kensi’s arrival. “Hi, Fern.”

“You clean up nice, Max,” Kensi replies as she takes a kiss on the cheek from Callen.

Sam clasps his hands together at the pair and states, “Let’s do this- however, before I begin, I’ve got something to say to the both of you before we begin. Kens, my sister- I’ve watched you grown from a young junior agent to a badass, powerful agent that’s a force to be reckon with. You have dealt with loss and come back from a deliberating injury and somehow manage to put up with a chatter box without an off switch with grace. And to you Deeks. I’ve watched you grow from a young detective who’s carefree attitude made me want to strangle you to a capable, phenomenal agent that I’ve only wanted to slightly strangle during one of your long, enduring rants.

Your strength, bravery and love makes me one hundred percent sure that Kensi will always be loved and taken care of. Marines always say “Semper Fi,” which means always faithful. I don’t think there’s anything else that best describes you both. Between you both being injured severely and this job, you two haven’t wavered in your love. And that is everything.”

Deeks’ blues eyes glisten with tears as Kensi wipes away a tear from her cheek. Amongst the happy chuckles and soft sniffs, both hear a low cough from behind Deeks. Callen, standing with arms crossed, coughs and blinks furiously while looking to the ceiling.

“You alright there, G?” Sam calls out.

“Mmmhmm. I’m good. Keep going.”

Sam shoots a look to Callen that screams I’m going to give you so much shit for this later look before stating, “As we bombarded you both with this, you don’t have vows prepared-“

“I actually have something to say,” Kensi interrupts. She brushes away a bang and continues, “ Deeks, we have gone through life and death and everything in between. Your patience, your love and your understanding is something that I never thought I’d get. You are everything to me and I can’t wait to start this next steps of our lives. I love you.”

Deeks’ eyes sparkle at Kensi’s vows. “Guess, it’s my turn,” he chuckles. “Kensi Marie, I honestly didn’t seem myself finding someone with your love, grace and patience. I don’t ever want to lose you and I love you. So damn much.”

Sam nods in approval. “Do you Kensi Marie Blye take Martin Andrew Deeks to be your husband?”

Everything slows for Kensi- her mind drifts back to ten years earlier, stepping into the MMA gym and eyeing the shaggy blonde haired man in a grey shirt and red shorts. She remembers playing husband and wife, rescuing him from Sidarov to him holding her in Afghanistan. They’ve gone through hell and back, taking the first steps of being all in to him holding her crying and frustrated in the hospital. Her heart skips at the argument before leaving for Mexico to the hours upon hours hoping and praying that his heart wouldn’t stop like it had before. So much heartbreak and love to get to this moment.

Kensi grins widely. “I’m all in. I do.”

“And do you, Martin Andrew Deeks, take Kensi Marie Blye to be your wife?”

Deeks, being Deeks, looks upwards and begins muttering as if calculating numbers in his head. He quickly nods as if happy with his calculation and replies, “I mean…I guess…”

“Deeks!”

His face softens and he replies, “I do. I’m all in too, Fern.”

“Then by the power invested in me and the state of California do pronounce you husband and wife. You may now-“ Sam stops short when Deeks pulls Kensi into a strong, passionate kiss. Kensi takes in the cheers, the warmth and love amongst her now husband, family and team. Nearly a month ago, she had been holding her husband’s hand, praying for another chance and hating the argument they had before leaving for Mexico.

And now, even with a mentor still in the wind, Kensi takes in the beauty and the new life in front of her and finally feels peace.

 “The meaning of Semper Fidelis: Latin for always faithful,” Semper Fidelis has been the Marine Corps motto since 1883. It embodies the promise to always remain faithful, no matter what.”- United States Marines

[misericordae]

hetty for the oc thing!!

thank ya!!!!! 

Full Name: henrietta anita byrde, byrde’s not her legal surnameGender and Sexuality: cis girl. bi with a distaste for men Pronouns: she/her Ethnicity/Species: human, mexican-americanBirthplace and Birthdate: southern nebraska, march 14thGuilty Pleasures: she has a big crush on rudolph valentino and collects memorabilia related to him. she considers it Super Embarrassing Phobias: fire and wide open, flat spaces What They Would Be Famous For: her acting ability & and being such a good saleswoman What They Would Get Arrested For: being an absolute conwomanOC You Ship Them With: i ship hetty with a successful career and several pieces of pearl jewelry OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Whom Would Do Such A Thing (maybe the second o’rourke son)Favorite Movie/Book Genre: realistic fiction Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: A Man Repeatedly Asking A Woman Out Is Romantic And Not Creepy At All Talents and/or Powers: she’s incredibly cute and can convince people to buy things they don’t need in thirty seconds flat Why Someone Might Love Them: she is, again, incredibly cute, generally loyal, and kind to people when meeting them Why Someone Might Hate Them: she will not hesitate to use someone for their $$$$ or what they can get for her, and her current occupation relies on that How They Change: she gradually realizes that true emotional vulnerability will not be the death of herWhy You Love Them: she’s ride or die for her found family & generally a sweet girl 

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

May I please request some fluff between Loza, Chaos Cal, Hettie, and Jemima where Uncle Tugger teaches them how to properly maintain their manes? Perhaps two certain toms (and maybe a French queen) crash the event. Thank you!! ♥️

HAPPY JEMMY DAY

HAVE SOME JEM WITH SOME OF HER FAVORITE PEOPLE

Jemima sat between Ophelloza and Calliope, the trio of queens eagerly watching as Tugger showed them how to properly groom their manes, with Hestia as his example. 

“You don’t want to use your claws to get knots out. That’ll just yank your fur out, and it will be very, very painful.” Tugger said, showing the queens as he gently ran his fingers through Hestia’s mane. “And you absolutely want to make sure you get every knot out, or else it’ll just keep getting bigger, and bigger, and you’ll either have to cut it out or shave it all off.”

Jemima grinned slightly. “Have you ever needed to shave your mane, Uncle Tugs?”

Hestia mimicked her cousin’s grin as she looked at her dad. “Yeah, Dad. Ever had to shave?”

“You two are little traitors.” Tugger scowled. Ophelloza and Calliope eagerly moved forward, and the maine coon sighed. “But yes, when I was a kitten and my mane was just beginning to grow in, I didn’t know how to take care of it, since there was no one else in the tribe with a mane like mine. So, after a good few months, I had to shave it all off because it had so many knots that no brush would be able to save it.”

“Daddy said that you looked a gold sausage until everything started growing back.” Jemima giggled.

Tugger gasped dramatically. “Your father said what? How dare he! I looked stunning!”

Calliope laughed. “I’m pretty sure Uncle Straps knows what he’s talking about, Dad.”

“Betrayed by my own daughter. A tragedy.” Tugger sighed, shaking his head. “You four are absolutely nothing but trouble.”

“Then why do you put up with us?” Ophelloza asked, cocking her head as she leaned against her sister.

Tugger looked at the young queen and winked. “Well, what kind of uncle and father would I be if I didn’t allow my favorite group of girls to have some moments of light teasing?”

“You’d still be the best uncle!” Jemima said in a firm voice, and Tugger grinned at her. 

“Thank you, my darling little Jemmy!” he replied, making Jemima giggle. “Now, do you girls want to continue, or would you like to keep on teasing me?”

The four queens looked at each other with mischief in their eyes. 

“Tease you.” they said in unison, and Tugger groaned playfully as the four fell apart laughing.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode nine - Returning

Jack Dawkins x fem reader.

Post series.

A/n : this is a short part.

It took six days for your father to sign the pardon for Jack and further three days for him to be released. On your sister's command Sneed made sure Jack's job in the royal hospital was waiting for him. The moment he stepped into your room a smile drew long across your face.

"Why are you still here?" He asks you, sitting on the bed beside you.

"I will not return to that house." You reply, "Sneed is securing me my own residence, in town."

"I didn't want to come between you and your family." He says holding your hand.

"Jack, I haven't seen you in nine days, please do not make this about my family." You grin. Jack laughs, bringing himself down to kiss you.

"I've missed you." He sighs.

There is a knock on the door and Hetty pokes her head inside.

"Doctor Dawkins. I'm glad you're back. The governor is here to see you."

Jack closes his eyes in annoyance. He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles.

"I'll be back soon, my love." He whispers. You watch him leave you.

The Governor stands in the Prof's office talking with the prof. Jack knocks on the door. Alistair beckons him in and excuses himself.

"I wanted to meet you as soon as possible. I apologise for the formalities taking so long. Now we are here I have some things to go through with you." He gestures to the other chair and the two men sit.

"I should thank you, sir, for the pardon." Jack says. Edmund waves his hand dismissing the comment.

"Now lad, you should know my youngest daughter Fanny is still in Port Victory. As is your childhood friend Oliver Twist. We have the young man in custody. It would appear it was he who stole the gold. He told me some very unsavoury things about yourself."

"Governor, I was a child-"

"Please, it was the reason it took so long. I have written to the queen and explained my reasons for giving you a full and complete pardon of all your crimes. Your dedication to the royal navy and this colony has been exemplary"

Jack feels a weight lift from his shoulders at the news.

"secondly, my daughter is utterly taken by you. What are your feelings for her?"

"Sir, I have never felt for anyone the way I feel for y/n. She is the light in my life." Jack answers.

"Good, do you intend to ask for her?" The question takes shim back

"I would be honoured to simply be in her life, but if you think she would say yes to me?" Jack's eyes widen with hope.

"Oh, the fuss she put up for you I'd say she would, a thousand times." The governor chuckles.

"I took the pleasure of finding this out for you." He places a small box on the desk, "It belonged to my mother and y/n has long admired it. Should the moment arrive, perhaps this might seal the deal."

Jack picked up the box and looked inside. It was a silver band with a large emerald set in the top. Jack thought about how this was the exact thing he would look out for to steal as a child.

"Thank you." He breaths out sliding the box into his waistcoat pocket.

"Lastly, I am changing the contact of your position here. You will no longer be an unpaid doctor. There will be a wage paid to you directly and a house. Not a grand one but for the time being it will suffice."

"I don't want charity?" Jack began.

"well I should expect so, luckily this is not coming from me. It was Doctor Sneed who convinced us of this change. He implored that a .an as great as you deserved a real salary. The information is all in this envelope. I do hope you live up to our expectations Doctor." Edmund stood up and held his hand out towards Jack. Not completely sure what had just happened jack made his way back to your room. Sneed was sat beside you l, his fingers checking the pulse in your wrist.

"How is she doing, Doctor?" He asked, closing the door behind him. Sneed glanced up at him.

"It's remarkable, in fact, I think it is time you went home." He answered.

"You found me somewhere?" You ask gleefully.

"Yes. I'll give you both a few minutes but you must get some more rest before I send you anywhere." He pats your leg and moves across to Jack, "It really will be an honour to share the head surgeon role with you." He announces. Jack finally understands what happened and shakes his colleagues hand.

"Thank you, likewise."

With a curt nod Sneed left the room, once more you were finally alone with Jack once more. He sat beside you again.

"It will be nice to have my own home, I hope you will stay with me?" You ask. Jack smooths your hair.

"I will sleep beside you forever, but perhaps we should refrain just for a little while, until you're healed." He laughs and kisses you.

"Listen." You pull the stethoscope from your bedside table and hand it to Jack. He gently presses it to your chest and listens. Your heart beat is even and gentle. A perfect display of how the heart works. He didn't hide the emotions that spilled from his eyes.

"I thought you were going to die." He said dropping his head to your chest, his ear replacing the stethoscope. You stroke back his blonde curls.

"You had the chance to run. Fagin gave you that chance." You say.

"I couldn't go anywhere else. I had to see you were alive. Even sat in prison at least I was close to you." He replied, adjusting himself so he was lying beside you. You settle against him and the two of you drift off to sleep.

*_*_*_*

Jack walked out of the hospital with Rainsford by his side.

"we've got a house ready for both of you but I won't release her until it is somewhat official. You may be from the scum of London but we do have decorum here." Sneed laughed.

"Yes, alright. I'll ask her soon." Jack agrees. Laughing he leaves the other doctor where he stood and made his way to the cat and bagpipes. Stepping through the door he was greeted with a round of applause. Rotty walked up to him with a tankard. Everyone was happy he was out of prison and partly responsible for Gaines' demise. Jack spent the evening drinking with Fagin and his other friends. Though he ensured he did not get too drunk. He didn't want to disappoint you by stinking of beer. Fagin sat with him at their usual table.

Nearing midnight Jack gathered his coat and hat and made his way outside. It was a quiet night with a full moon above them. Jack breathed in the fresh air filling his lungs. A white hot pain stopped his breath arms wrapped around him and dragged him away.

*_*_*_*

Fagin ran into the hospital, frantically looking for any help he could. He found Flash and Aputi in your room.

"oh I'm sorry Milady, I need the boys for a moment." He panted at the door.

"You speak to them here." You say with a smile.

Fagin fiddles with his hat before deciding to go on.

"It's Jack, he's been, well I found his hat outside the pup and there was...there was a lot of blood and this." He admitted, handing the small box across to you. Opening the box your heart breaks seeing the ring.

"Someone took him." Fagin finished.

Episode ten

@fandomfan-102 @darasloves @afalls14universe

[fire-bear]

Surprise Treat

Warning, sort of: This is an omegaverse story so...

The sun was setting on the day of Halloween and all was not well in the Kirkland-Beilschmidt household.

Every year, they made the same preparations for the holiday. First, Arthur would make Kris and Henrietta’s costumes by hand. His small business of taking in dresses and suit trousers helped in that endeavour. Usually, his children loved them and were excited when he asked them a month beforehand what they wanted. This year, Kris had decided on being Doctor Strange while Hettie (as Arthur lovingly called her) had settled on a fairy princess.

Next up was the carving of the pumpkins. Gilbert would find the biggest pumpkins he could and bring back one for each of them. Arthur was the one who helped their children carve them. This year, there was a fairy and a cat alongside the traditional scary faces that Arthur and Gilbert preferred.

While they carved them, Gilbert set up the decorations. Flickering fairy lights were draped over the outside of the house. Gravestones were set up in the front garden. A skeleton hung from the tree, swaying with the wind. Gilbert had even found a decoration for the upper window that made it look as though a ghost was appearing and disappearing in their bedroom window. Arthur allowed it but only with the understanding that he was allowed to set up a scary trap for Gilbert. This year, a bucket of spiders was dumped on his head when he entered the garage, the sound effect of scuttling making Gilbert scream - and take the day off to recover and canoodle.

For the trick-or-treaters, they all made creepy cakes, green and orange being predominant. Arthur made cakes with ‘fingers’ and ‘blood’ while the children made fairy cakes. Gilbert helped them all and always marvelled at the fact that Arthur could bake but couldn't cook. When he started to embarrass Arthur, he would whack Gilbert on the arse with a dish towel. They usually ended up burning something as they got distracted with kissing. This year, Arthur had tried to compensate with a timer which would go off before at least one batch of cakes burnt but they ended up underdone and, when they shoved them back in, they ended up burnt.

Then, on the night, Arthur would put the cakes that had survived in boxes at the front door while they took their own children around the houses. He would help Kris and Hettie into their costumes, careful not to damage them before they got out. Once he'd done that, he'd find Gilbert who usually dressed as something simple, such as a Jedi or something similar. As soon as Arthur appeared with his children, he would hand over a set of animal ears which Arthur would grumble about but would always wear, secretly pleased when Gilbert told him how adorable or pretty he looked. This year, none of that happened.

Because, this year, Arthur had been throwing up all day.

He was still feeling queasy as he curled up on the couch, a basin nearby in case he couldn’t get up in time. Gilbert was fussing with the blanket and Arthur was glad that he couldn’t concentrate enough to pick up on his alpha’s scent. For one, it might make him sick again. But he also didn’t want to know how worried Gilbert truly was. As Gilbert finished smoothing down the blanket, he pressed a firm kiss to Arthur’s temple.

“We can stay in,” he said.

“No,” Arthur retorted, though he found himself hoping Gilbert would do so anyway. “I worked hard on those costumes.”

“And they look amazing,” Gilbert told him, sounding proud. “They can wear them tomorrow, at the school's party.”

“It’s not their fault I’m ill. You should go out with them. I can take care of myself.” Inwardly, though, his omega instincts were yelling at him that he needed his mate to keep him safe, keep them all safe. It made Arthur wonder…

“Are you sure?” Gilbert asked, looking worried. “You smell really sick.

“Mama!” came a shout from above. “Huwwy! Make me a pwincess!”

Arthur forced a smile. “Go. Be careful.”

Pressing one more kiss to the top of his head, Gilbert did as he was told, but not without some reluctance. Arthur groaned once he was out of earshot and placed a gentle hand over his stomach. It was churning and he could feel a lump in his throat. He swallowed several times and felt the gorge rise. Willing it down, he listened to the thumping and shouts from upstairs. Slowly, the shouts increased in volume until a half-dressed Kris stomped around the couch to stand in front of him.

“Mummy!” he exclaimed. “I don’t want Daddy to dress me up! I want  you  to do it!”

With a weak smile, Arthur reached out for him and the little boy took his hand. “I’m sorry, darling. Mummy's sick right now so let Daddy do it, okay?”

“It’s gotta be you! You always do it!” Kris protested. The boy's bottom lip trembled and Arthur could see how shiny his hazel eyes were. Arthur had to bite his own lip to keep from crying and drew Kris closer, hugging him from his position on the couch. His fingers were buried in his son’s soft, pale blond hair, running through the strands in a soothing gesture.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Arthur murmured. “But I need you to be good for Daddy, okay? He’s going to take you ’round the houses. You and Hettie. So you need to look out for your sister.”

Kris sniffled a little but nodded. “Okay,” he said in a small voice.

“Good lad,” said Arthur and, with a gentle push in the right direction, Arthur sent Kris off. As soon as he was gone, Arthur grabbed the basin and dry heaved. He wasn’t sure he had anything left to bring up.

By the time he'd finished being hunched over the basin, Arthur’s little family was back downstairs, all of them in costume. When Arthur risked peeking over the back of the couch, he found that Gilbert had decided to use his Jedi costume again, though he was carrying his red lightsaber in one hand. The other was being used to keep Hettie on his hip. She was pretty in a red dress (to match her brother) with gossamer wings on her back, the darker blond of her hair curled around her head. The only sign of her displeasure was the pout she had as she resolutely looked away from Arthur. Kris was frowning, cape tied securely around his neck, his little hand clutching at the bottom of Gilbert’s robes.

It hurt to see the worry and disappointment in his family's faces.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Gilbert asked.

“I’m fine. I’ll watch a horror movie while you're out,” Arthur reassured him. Neither of them mentioned the fact that he probably wouldn't pay attention to much of it in his current state.

“Hmm. Right. Well, we'll take the cakes to the door so you don't need to get up.”

“Thanks, love.” He sent Gilbert a grateful smile that the worried alpha returned. “Have fun.” There was a chorus of sulky byes, shuffling and footsteps, before the front door swung shut.

Groaning, Arthur flopped onto his side, staring at the blank TV. Maybe if he slept, he'd feel better. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so sick. Sure, he’d had the flu a few times since the kids were born but he’d not thrown up this much since-

Eyes widening, Arthur pushed himself upright so fast that he gagged when his stomach protested. Grimacing, he scrambled to his feet and hurried upstairs, heading for the bathroom. He flicked the light on, nudging a bath toy aside as he reached for the cabinet above the sink. Then he made his way to the toilet pan. By the time he was finished, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in relief.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur was feeling a little better, though a lot more emotional. He’d put on the TV which was showing Hocus Pocus. It was mostly background noise as he stared at the thing in his hands. His thoughts darted from good scenarios to bad. Would this be okay?

Suddenly, the front door opened and Arthur froze. Terror flooded him. Who could that be? Who would be opening the door? Had a teenager thought it would be amusing to enter the house when Arthur was alone? Was it something more sinister? He clutched at his stomach as he turned to look at the open living room door.

In the next instant, however, he heard his Hettie’s crying over the pounding of his heart. Gasping, Arthur got to his feet and tried to rush to the door, leaving the object behind. By the time he reached it, worried about what Hettie could possible be crying about, he could hear Kris’s yelling. Gilbert’s voice was a murmur and he relaxed enough that he stopped in the doorway, clutching at the door frame.

“What happened?” he asked, still alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of helping to calm his children, it made Hettie cry all the harder, wailing loud enough to bring the house down. She was still clinging to Gilbert who was struggling to hold her and his lightsaber with one hand while his other hand was firmly gripping the tiny sorcerer who was struggling against him.

“I wan’ sweeties!” he was yelling, sounding tearful, too.

“Maaaaamaaaaa!” Hettie yelled, beating at Gilbert with her fists.

“He’s here, he’s here!” Gilbert exclaimed, moving closer. “See? You want your mama, right?” And he tried to hand Hettie over to Arthur who reached out for her.

“No!” she shouted. “Don’t wan’im!” Sure enough, she clutched at Gilbert tighter.

“Sweeties!” Kris shouted, kicking at Gilbert’s leg.

“Just what is going on?” Arthur asked, his heart clenching at the sight of his children upset. And, apparently, he couldn’t fix it.

Struggling with them, Gilbert checked over his shoulder to make sure he’d closed the front door before letting Kris’s hand go. Kris began to use his fists to beat against his father’s leg as well. Arthur glanced up at him and saw that Gilbert was gritting his teeth, likely holding back his alpha instincts to take complete control of the situation. That always scared the kids and made Arthur unsettled so he didn’t let his temper get the best of him - most of the time.

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert explained, “Hettie didn’t realise till we were two doors down that you weren’t coming with us. She would have been fine if  someone” - he glared down at his son - “hadn’t decided to tell her that you were dying. She pitched a fit and started crying when I said everything was fine. You should’ve seen Mrs. Carrow’s face when she saw I was still trying to take her around the houses. I swear, if looks could kill…”

“So you decided to come home and…” Arthur trailed off, watching his son half-heartedly kicking at Gilbert.

“Yeah.” Gilbert turned to Kris. “If you don’t stop that-” He began, only for Kris to kick him one more time. Gilbert’s eyes narrowed. Before Arthur could interfere, he had grabbed Kris’s hand again. “Right. Time for bed.  Both  of you.”

The crying immediately increased in volume, words mixed in with them. Arthur winced. “Do you want me to help?” he asked, pitching his voice to carry over the noise.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Arthur couldn’t help but rub at his stomach.

Gilbert took notice and sniffed the air. His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Go back to your movie,” he told Arthur. “I’ll take care of this.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur tried to protest. “Let me-” But Gilbert shook his head and strode past him, a child hanging from both arms. “Gil,” Arthur tried one more time but Gilbert didn’t even acknowledge him that time. Sighing, Arthur retreated to the couch, plucking the object from the arm of the couch. He gazed at it as he waited until, finally, he stuck it up his sleeve, clutching at it through the fabric.

Instead, he stared at the floor, listening to his children’s sobs. His heart hurt and he clutched at it, feeling tears threatening. It was his fault that they were upset, that they were in pain. They obviously didn’t understand why things were different this year and… He had been careless and it had hurt them. Even Hettie couldn’t bear to look at him. Arthur pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob: he was a horrible mother.

Half an hour later, Gilbert came down the stairs. Arthur heard him coming and took several deep breaths to calm himself. If Gilbert found him like this, he would only worry more and Arthur was being stupid. Quickly, he wiped away his tears and tried to relax against the couch so it would look as if he was watching the film.

However, his plan failed as Gilbert came bursting in, eyes wide. He rushed around Arthur to sit at his side and draw him into a hug. “Arthur! What’s wrong?!”

“I-I’m fine,” Arthur mumbled into Gilbert’s shoulder. But he breathed deep, inhaling Gilbert’s calming scent of forests and new wooden furniture.

“You were crying,” said Gilbert. “And you smell odd. Not exactly sick but…” Gilbert took a deep breath. “It’s like…”

When Gilbert did not elaborate, Arthur froze. Had he figured it out already? Should he tell him now? But he wasn’t sure what he wanted his reaction to be, not now, not when Kris had been disappointed and Hettie had been crying. He clutched at Gilbert, holding tight to the front of his robes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s my fault they were acting up.”

“Hey, what, no,” said Gilbert in a rush. Carefully, gently, he pried Arthur’s hands from him and pulled him up so they could look at each other. Arthur wished he wasn’t crying. “It’s not your fault.”

“Kris…”

“Will get over it when I buy him sweets tomorrow,” Gilbert told him, firmly. “Or we can go out tomorrow night instead. Before the school’s party.”

“But-”

“Who’s the one who made their costumes? And who carved the pumpkins with them and made the cakes? Who does Kris ask for help with his homework? What about Hettie screaming for her mama when she has a bad dream or falls over?” Gilbert raised an eyebrow, his hands squeezing Arthur’s.

“Me,” said Arthur, eventually.

“And when you do that, what happens?”

“I don’t…”

“They smile. They laugh. They have fun. Arthur, they love you and you love them. You’re the perfect mother.” Gilbert grinned at Arthur. “I love you.” Before Arthur could respond, Gilbert leaned down and kissed him, slow and gentle and loving. Arthur whimpered as he kissed back, his heart feeling as if it was overflowing in the face of Gilbert’s love.

When they pulled back, Arthur ducked down, looking at his arm. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“What?” asked Gilbert, tilting his head.

Arthur let go of him and shook out his arm. The object he had been holding onto for an hour slipped out to land between them. He didn’t say anything and only watched as Gilbert picked it up and stared down at it, uncomprehending. There was a silence, broken only by an advert on the telly. Finally, Gilbert looked up at him, jaw dropping.

“I had some left over,” said Arthur, by way of explanation. “It’s why I’ve been ill.”

“You’re… You’re pregnant?” Gilbert whispered, awestruck.

Smiling, Arthur nodded. “I think so. I mean, I’ll need to go to the doctor to confirm it but… it looks like it.”

“This… This is amazing!” Gilbert cried, likely loud enough to wait the children. “Arthur!” The omega didn’t have the chance to protest before Gilbert was throwing his arms around him. “I didn’t think- This is great!”

“Really?” said Arthur, trying and failing to suppress a laugh. “You really want more kids after tonight?”

“Well,” said Gilbert, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s ear. “I’m mostly just relieved that you’re not seriously ill.” He paused and sniffed at Arthur. “Though… You smell different from the last two times. I wonder why that is.” Gilbert pulled away to frown at him.

“I have no idea,” Arthur answered. “But Kris and Hettie haven’t presented yet, so maybe this one’s a different type from them.”

“Ooh! That’ll be interesting-” Gilbert suddenly cut himself off. “Hey, wait. Were you worrying about it? Because you couldn’t come trick-or-treating?”

Arthur grimaced. “I ruined the night-”

“No, you did not,” said Gilbert, almost growling. Arthur’s eyes widened and he couldn’t stop himself from whining: it was both needy and sorrowful. “You didn’t, Art,” Gilbert said again. “This is the best thing that’s happened today, okay, and it doesn’t matter if the kids were upset with you. They’ll get over it. Just wait till they find out they’ll be getting a brother or sister!”

Before Arthur could stop him, Gilbert began to ramble on about where they would put the kids and needing to make a new nursery. They had certainly not been planning any more children but, seeing Gilbert so excited, smelling the freshly baked bread and nuts on his scent, Arthur realised that he'd been being stupid and overly emotional. They had done this same thing before Kris and Hettie had been born, spoken like this while they both gave off nervous scents. Neither of them had had any confidence in their own parental abilities and both had read numerous books about it, scared they would get something wrong. But, despite their tantrums, Kris and Hettie were good kids and Arthur had no doubt they would come apologise in the morning. If they could raise their first two children right, they could do it with this next one.

In an attempt to hide his giddy smile, Arthur wrapped his arms around Gilbert’s middle and curled around him, snuggling into him, pressing his nose into Gilbert’s neck. Gilbert’s arms immediately enveloped Arthur in a hug and Gilbert laughed in pure joy. The laughter was infectious and Arthur chuckled into Gilbert’s shoulder, content with the way his life had turned out, even if it had its ups and downs.

The next child might be a challenge as it's twins! That's why he was much more ill than with the first two.

Speaking of which, I've decided that Kris has a personality which is like Gilbert's and is an omega, while Hettie is shy and an alpha. The twins will be identical in every way, except type, where one will be alpha and the other omega - but they'll have very similar personalities which'll confuse people when they start giving off a scent, heh.

[my-emotional-self]

The Viking and The Star Part 11 (Ivar x OC Hettie)

Pairings: Ivar x OFC Hettie

Warnings: Some Fluff, mentions of Blood Eagle

Word Count: 1.8k+

Summary: Ivar goes off to battle as you wait for him to come home.

The fur around your naked body felt delicious.  With a yawn, you stretched your body, wincing at the slight pain you felt in certain areas. With your eyes closed you reached your hand over to the spot Ivar slept in, yet you found it cold and empty.   You frowned as you opened your eyes. Searching the tent, you saw Ivar putting on his battle gear.  

You smiled at him as you realized last night was the first night in which you did not awake from nightmares.  For months you had been plagued with night terrors; yet last night was the first night you could imagine in a long time that you slept peacefully.  You smiled when you realized it was all because of Ivar; because he slept in bed with you as he draped his arm protectively over your body the entire night.  

“You are awake” Ivar spoke timidly as your eyes met his gaze.  “How are you feeling?”  Your heart swelled as he asked you the question.  Ivar was very up and down and you never quite knew which side of him you were going to get.  

“I slept well Ivar. No night terrors.  It was the best night’s sleep I have gotten in quite some time” you admitted with a sheepish smile.  As you pulled yourself up in a seated position, you could feel every ache in your body.  But unlike the past, this was a pleasant ache.  Ivar pleased you in more ways than you could count last night and you hoped it would continue.  

“Good.  I am glad.  Because today we go to battle.  Today is the day that I avenge my father and kill King Aelle” Ivar growled as he continued to lace his straps.  You were happy he was finally getting his revenge, but you worried for him.  You let out a sigh as your head hung low; your fingers threading through the furs on the makeshift bed.  Ivar got off the chair as he crawled to your side; lifting himself up on the bed.  “What is bothering you my star?”

Raising your head, you looked into his ocean blue eyes.  They were so beautiful, you felt like you were lost at sea each time you gazed at him. “I do not want you to get hurt my prince” you confessed, your heart aching for his touch as you spoke.  Ivar’s hand came up to rest on your shoulder as you relished in his warmth.  Turning your head, you got lost yet again in his eyes.  

“Why do you think I would get hurt?” he questioned as his eyes narrowed on you.  

You shrugged as you tore your eyes from his.  “It is just a fear I have.  I know you are strong Ivar, but I just worry.”

He quickly took your hands in his and you felt serene, at peace as his touch warmed your body. “You have nothing to fret about Hettie.  Our forces are much stronger than King Aelle’s.  We will destroy them without a doubt.”  His voice was strong, determined and it made you relax.  Ivar’s hand moved from your hand and to your wrist and you winced feeling the pain from the straps that held your wrists tight last night. “Did I hurt you?”

Your head whipped to face him, giving him a soft look.  “Ivar, my prince.  Last night was not about pain, but about pleasure.  You have shown me just how much pleasure a woman can receive.  While my body is sore, all I have is pleasurable and joyous thoughts of the night we shared together.”  Your hand came up to cup his cheek; trying to show him the love and desire you felt.  “I only hope that last night continues to many nights in the future together.”

Ivar smiled a genuine smile as he hid his face from your view.  Taking your hands, you pulled him to face you yet again.  Your eyes scanned down his face and to his lips before inching your head forward.  Your lips delicately brushed his; feeling his warmth all the way to your womanhood as you let out a soft moan.  Ivar instinctually reacted as his hand came up to tangle in your long locks.  His tongue traced along your lower lip, begging for entrance and you gladly obliged.  As your tongues dance you felt your body ignite on fire as Ivar let out a deep growl from the back of his throat.  

You wanted more; you wanted to feel every inch of Ivar so you placed your hand on his thigh and slowly moved your hand up.  As your hand felt his hardened cock, Ivar gripped your hair and pulled your head back. “I cannot do this right now.  I have to get ready for battle.”

A whimper escaped your throat as you nodded your head in understanding.  “Be safe my prince.  Come back to me” you whispered as your breath fanned his face.  

He yanked your hair back so your throat was exposed before he trailed feather light kisses along your exposed collarbone.  It took everything in you not to touch him back; knowing full and well he had no time to continue this torture.  “I will return to you this evening my star.  That is a promise I can keep.”

~~~

After seeing Ivar off you decided to see what Helga was up to.  Floki himself would be along with the battle and you knew Helga had her hands full with Tanaruz.  You ambled along the tents in the camp until you found Helga’s.  Upon opening the flap you saw her trying to spoon feed Tanaruz. “Please eat something” Helga begged but Tanaruz was not having any of it; her head jerking back and forth away from Helga’s pleading hands.  

“Having trouble?” you asked as you made your way into the tent, sitting beside your dear sister.  

Helga huffed out a sigh of frustration as she placed the spoon back in the bowl.  “She will not eat.  No matter how hard I try.”

Placing a hand on Helga’s back you gave her a smile.  “This is new to her.  She lost her parents and she is trying to figure out her way in this new world” you beckoned.  You wanted this for Helga, seeing as she lost her first child many years ago, but something deep in your gut told you something was wrong; yet you ignored it, not wanting to worry Helga.  

Tanaruz stared at you, wide eyed almost as if she was pleading for help, but you turned your gaze. There was something off about that girl and it made your skin crawl.  

~~~

The rest of the day and well into the night you spent helping around camp; washing dishes and clothes, preparing food for when the great heathen army returned.  Many of the women around you, especially the thralls, watched your every move as they gave you curious glances.  At first, you thought it a bit odd, but the more you thought of it, the more you realized it was probably because of Ivar.  You had heard the stories, the rumors of how cruel he could be.  You had even seen it first hand, yet he was not that way with you.  Who knows, maybe they all took pity on you, thinking he harmed you behind closed doors.  

As the sky darkened, the moon and stars illuminated the Earth as you found yourself wandering around camp.  The feast was set up as everyone awaited the army to return.  You however, were starting to become uneasy, wondering what was taking everyone so long.  

Before long, the army showed up as your heart started to thrum happily in your chest.  The men and shield-maidens rose their weapons in the air, cheering in victory.  As the crowd congratulated them, you noticed a few key members of the army were missing: the sons of Ragnar, and Floki.  

“Excuse me, but where are the sons of Ragnar?” you asked one of the shield-maidens as she passed you by, gently placing a hand on her arm.  

She stopped and smiled at you, giving you a sneer.  “They are avenging their father right now.  My guess is they are taking him somewhere in the woods and performing a Blood Eagle on King Aelle.”

You quickly nodded as a smile formed on your lips.  “Thank you” you replied before shuffling through the crowd.  You had never witnessed a Blood Eagle being done before and something deep inside you wanted to see this ritual of execution be performed. Gripping your dress so you would not trip, your legs took you as fast as possible as you raced down the muddy road. You silently prayed to Odin, hoping for him to guide you in the right directions.  Your lungs burned as your legs ached, but you would not give up.  

What felt like an eternity later, you faintly saw torches lit up ahead in the distance.  With the last remaining breath you had, you pushed yourself onward.  Coming around the corner, the torches lit the forest brightly as you saw the sons of Ragnar, along with Floki standing around who you assumed was King Aelle.  Slowly you inched your way closer as you noticed Ivar sitting on a ledge only a few feet away.  Your feet crunched on a branch making everyone turn their way to face you.  Ivar’s determined face became assertive as he took in your presence.  “What are you doing here Hettie?” he barked across the way.

On shaky feet, you gradually shuffled forward as you felt all eyes on you.  “I’m….I am sorry to interrupt your ritual, but I just had to witness for myself.  I have always wanted to see how the Blood Eagle is performed.”  

Ivar narrowed his eyes at you before patting the rock next to him; offering you a seat.  As you sat down, his hand gripped your thigh; your breath hitching in your throat.  “Now, is that really why you came here my star?” Ivar whispered into your ear as it sent chills down your spine.  

Lowering your gaze to your lap, you took a breath before turning to face him.  “I also wanted to see my prince���s face light up when he got his revenge on the murderer of his father” you confessed as his gaze bore into your eyes.  

A wicked grin lit his face as his free hand gripped your neck, pulling you in for a searing kiss; kindling a flame in your body.  Your hand rested on Ivar’s thigh as you felt his tongue roughly invade your mouth. Your body was on fire as his tongue easily won dominance over your own.  

“Ahem” you heard a dark voice cough as you pulled away from Ivar.  Glancing to you right you saw Bjorn standing behind King Aelle. “Can we continue?”   Sheepishly, you nodded towards him as you fought to keep your giggle at bay; Ivar snaking his hand with your own as your eyes became wide; watching for the first time, the Blood Eagle being performed.  

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[nylenol]

ALL OF THEM. 1-50. GO.

1: Do you ever wish you were someone else?

yes and no! i value the idea of fate a Lot a lot and idk i believe things happen to certain ppl for a certain reason whether in this life or others so. yeah. i also think that everything i’ve been thru makes me a certain way, and throwing that away to go like,,, possess another body or some shit makes everything not worth. i wish i had better financial status and had more resources at my disposal tho! so if i could change my social/financial standing thatd be hot as fuck

2: What is your full name?sandra whot (thats what i write on my physics tests)

3: How old are you and how old do you get mistaken for?im 17 but god knows i still look 12

4: Have you ever dyed your hair?no but ppl ask me if i’ve dyed it bc the natural colors kinda wack! also i spray painted it blue once does that count

5: What’s your eye color?healthy soil mmm wormy

6: Your opinion about your body and how comfortable you are with iti like my body! i used to not bc shes a little chonky but its okay now^^

7: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?i really wanna get an industrial/helix piercing in my ear but im scared of piercings djhgggg i used to have those little asian baby hoops that all asian babies have but it got caught in my necklace and started bleeding like fuck when i was little so i was kinda traumatized, dont wear earrings anymore and the hole closed up on one side ; as for tattoos i want one eventually! maybe something small and meaningful on my ankle/wrist or smth

8: What would you say is your best quality?i’m really tolerant of a lotta bs tbh; a lot of times when my friends cant handle a person/situation i still find myself p okay with it and they tell me that so ya!

9: What are you really bad at?oh my god so many : cant dance; cant sing; drawing mediocre; meeting deadlines? whos she! etc etc my work ethic just sux

10: What talent do you wish you had?i wish i could sing well/play an instrument!! love live renewed my love for music a lot and not being able to express that love for music IN music makes me rlly emo

11: Are you nice to everyone?yeah i’d like to think so,, sometimes i shittalk if they like do something Genuinely Morally Wrong like hello but for the most part i think everyones deserving of kindness even if i dont know them that well!

12: What do you think about the most?i spend a lot of time thinking abt the past and what i could have changed and the future and what i could have been and its ugly dont like it but it nags at me!! thanks obama

13: Things you like/dislike about yourselfi like the fact that i have a lot of passion for certain things and dedicate myself to them!! but i dont like the fact that i get demotivated rlly easy and let things pile up after signing up for too many things that i care about; ; ;  then i dont drop these things and end up in a shithole of responsibility like hello o o o o 

14: What is your least favorite word?i dunno! but any word i cant pronounce correctly is my mortal enemy (colosseum)

15: What is your favorite word?idk but i say hello so much ,, about time i start punctuating my sentences with goodbye.

16: Are you more like your mom or your dad?i look exactly like my dad but i like my mom more! i wanna be like her, that woman works so hard to keep me and my sister alive hello

17: Would you ever smile at a stranger?yeah! but honest to god if the strangers a crusty man then no i aint risking shit

18: A reason you’ve lied to someoneuhh the other day i went out for dim sum w benji and told my mom that only BENJI was buying dim sum but actually he paid for both of us bc im a broke bih (my mom hates owing ppl money) and yeah i feel terrible i dont lie often

19: Are you lying about anything right now?i dont think so ? only person im lying to is myself kek - John 1:14

20: Have you kissed someone older than you?never kissed anyone ! but wheres my milf @ god

21: Do you believe in love at first sight?yes in a way ??? but i think thats a superficial, physical kind of love and the love that matters can only form after like. years of both platonic and romantic bonding

22: Do you believe in soulmates?yes! the definition of a soulmate to me is someone who would fit best for you both romantically and platonically - but while there will always be someone who fits the best, there will always be someone who fits about the same, and someone who fits about the same right under that, etc etc. while we dont end up w/ the OG Soulmate tm in most situations, we do find a variation of them somewhere in the world.

23: Are looks important?a little bit?? but it doesnt matter in the long run, if you love someone then you’ll also grow to love the way they look its a package deal brent

24: Opinion on relationship age differencesi like ppl around my age or maybe a year younger/older but if ur 25 n dating a 35 yo then thats ur business! idc as long as neither party is in their teens and its healthy

25: Would you date someone off the Internet?unless i met them irl? no

26: Have you ever cried over a boy/girl?lol yeah in part, i normally dont cry until i have 6000 different reasons to cry and sufficient hydration (like 3 times a year hello)

27: Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?lol

28: Anyone you’re giving up on right now?lol

29: Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?yeah! my friends disliked one of my best friends for like a Long time, me n her aren’t close friends anymore bc shes kinda snakey but w/e

30: Have you ever liked your best friend?lol

31: How does someone win your heart?be a good friend! same humor helps a lot, if someone’s aura is comfy for me to be in then hhhello ;; also genuine concern and compassion is my biggest turn on yeet

32: What turns you on?having enough food on me to eat every single period of the day, fruit, vidya games, sleeping,,, when teachers extend deadlines mr. geil i love you ? i lo

33: What turns you off?ketchup poured over fries like hello what is wrong with people.

34: Do you get jealous easily?yes cerritos auto square

35: What is your definition of cheating?cheating (noun) - the conscious pursuit of non-platonic relations with a person other than your significant other

36: Do you forgive betrayal?not really but depends on the situation

37: Have you ever been cheated on?nop i gave someone my hw to copy a few times tho

38: Have you ever cheated on someone?nop but i copy other ppls hw on a daily basis :)

39: How often do you listen to music?24/7 all the time always every waking hour right now immediately at the moment, this bitch DEAD without her earbuds

40: First concert you attendedactual actual concert in a venue was the AX one where Aqours performed!!

41: Last movie you watchedCarol it made me sososoos emo i was watching it on a bus next to a bunch of hetties i was Crying. crying

42: Favorite type of movieromance! and for some reason disaster movies,,, also psychological movies r Really up there

43: Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about?hoohooheehee

44: Are you good at hiding your feelings?yeah when i need to, its obvious to other ppl tho i think

45: Do you fall in love easily?not really

46: Do you think people say I love you too much?yes and no, it depends on context and frequency

47: What’s your favorite holiday?tet bih

48: Are you a forgiving person? Do you like being that way?im pretty forgiving i think, i wish i wasnt

49: Where’s the most magical place on earth?right here in my bed! wish i could sleep forever

50: What’s your “type”?idk if i have a type but ppl are hot and this lesbian is too weak to go on! i like ppl who are kinda similar to me tho: little crazy little wack but ultimately well meaning

[oooocleo]

undone.

Hecate/Sura

“I trusted you!” Hetty hisses, neck deep in taffeta and lace.

Thistle just looks at her, a jumping muscle in his jaw giving away his amusement. It’s a good thing too, that someone’s amused. It’s certainly not her, and won’t be for however long she’s supposed to keep up this shiny new charade.

With a wave of his hand, the two servants doing their best to hoist her into an elaborate dress scuttle away. Hetty starts trying to untie the petticoat right away.

“I didn’t agree to this, Charon,” she says, gesturing sharply to the mounds of fabric pooling around her waist.

“My sister picked it out for you,” he says, as if that makes it any better. It means his sister must like her a lot less than she assumed, which, if she’s honest with herself, smarts a bit. The pedestal they’ve put her on for the purpose of dress-up makes it possible for her to look down her nose at Thistle – and so she does.

“Did she pick out yours too?”

Peeking down at his perfectly dark, intricately embroidered jacket, he shrugs. “If only. It’d be a bit less, ah, traditional,” he says, punctuating the end of the sentence with a pull at his close-cut collar.

True, she supposes. But he looks great, and she looks like a muffin with a twig sticking out of the top.

She huffs in frustration – the knots aren’t coming undone! Thistle sees her struggle, and takes a few long strides across the room. She peers down at him suspiciously.

“What is it?”

“How about,” he bends down to reach under the hem of her skirt, fingers tracing the outside of her leg, “we do away with the petticoat – and the shift?”

How forward. And what an illuminated idea. The shift is a screaming pink, visible through the flowery lace appliques placed strategically over her breasts and down her body – it can go without easily enough.

Excitement lights up her brown eyes when she catches the mischievous spark in his. A plan. She helps him hike up the rest of the fabric without a second thought, exposing her thighs to the world. Thistle chuckles, and sets himself to cutting through the petticoat strings. She’d balk at the needless destruction, if she didn’t really want to get rid of the… the volume.

So she lets him fiddle down there, making sure not to react to any fingertips or knuckles hitting her bare skin.

“Are you alright with this?” he asks, and for a second she thinks he means his hands up her skirt. Then, her mind reels for an appropriate answer. The truth is not an option, obviously, it wouldn’t help either of them to acknowledge her anxiety over acting a demon’s blushing bride. She doesn’t want to complicate this whole mess even further.

“I’m fine,” she lies, and his fingers still over the last knot.

“I see,” is all he says, letting the petticoat fall to the floor at her bare feet. She steps out of it, steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder. Now for the shift. She turns on her heel, pulling her hair away from where a line of buttons traces her spine. Thistle catches the gist, and Hetty is glad that she doesn’t have to look at him for a while.

Especially when he resumes: “Because if you weren’t, we could do something else. You could be my second cousin twice-removed.” She can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, maybe if I’m adopted,” Hetty murmurs back. It’d be easier to sell lover than relation. She surprises herself with the thought, but it’s true. Thistle makes it easy.

Her shoulders relax somewhat.

“I’m fine, really,” she assures him, and it’s a little less of a lie.

“Besides, if I make a terrible impression, they might kick you out too,” she teases, “and then you can finally open that hat shop you’ve been dreaming about. Noam will be delighted.”

“Ah, see, always the optimist,” Thistle hums, “though I do not see how you’d make a poor impression.”

Hetty laughs out loud at that. “Really? Didn’t I tip a glass of wine down your front when we first met?”

He quiets.

“We met once before.”

She frowns. Did they? Oh. When she was hissing demands at the Everills, trying to save her and Noam’s skin from arrest and fairly certain death. Not her most shining moment, either – she’d still been picking gunk out of her hair from a jailbreak-related explosion.

“Well, never mind that,” he says, undoing the final button at her lower back.

“Thank you,” Hetty says, motioning for Thistle to turn around so she can pull the atrocious shift over her head. She hears the servants come back in, probably at Thistle’s behest, to re-do their precious work.

She apologizes to them, but they barely acknowledge her. Used to capricious requests, she supposes, and is about to mention it to Thistle only to find him missing from the room. Discomfort wells up like a scratch behind her ribs. Did she say something to make him leave? Not remembering their first meeting didn’t seem like such an offense and, well, usually he shrugged things like that off with an easy smile and a quip about her social skills.

“Mistress?” one of the servants prompts, snapping her out of her thoughts. She turns to them, eyebrows raised.

“Are we dismissed?”

“Oh- Yes, yes, of course,” Hetty mutters, already stepping off the pedestal and heading for the door she assumes Thistle left out of. She wasn’t going to sit around and torture herself. Well, not right now.

For now, she’d find the dining room. It’s a long way from the guest quarters where she’d been holed up for the time being – she assumed that would end tonight, too. Thistle and his family all seemed… romantically inclined. Surely they would be expected to sleep together in his room once news of their happy engagement broke. She wouldn’t mind that much, as it wouldn’t be the first time, if she hadn’t just been given the cold shoulder by her floral ally.

“Hetty?” Thistle’s voice rings through the hall behind her, shades of confusion filtering through. He doesn’t wait for her to respond by the sound of footsteps approaching and she has half a mind to say he’s mistaken her for someone else.

“I’m glad I caught you – aren’t you forgetting something?”

She turns around slowly, frowning. His jacket is open and he’s holding… oh.

She looks down at her bare toes, wiggles them against the cold marble.

“I didn’t notice…”

Thistle laughs then, bright and clear and warm. It reignites the tingle of nervousness from before, though Hetty doesn’t quite understand why. Why he should do anything to her chest, honestly. When he bends down in front of her with the kitten heels, it gets worse. Her heart stutters, and she glares at his curly mop of hair, littered with golden beads that catch the light in the most distracting way.

She toes into the shoes with a little help from Thistle and a lot of soft touches that seem superfluous from her perspective. He was always like that, though… excessive. It does nothing to help still the butterflies in her stomach.

“Charon…” Hetty begins once he stands up and she comes face to face with the big purple blotch on his undershirt, “Is that…?”

“In case we wanted to illustrate the second impression you made on me,” he explains with a crooked grin.

Unbelievable. He’s really going to wear a wine-stained shirt to a family dinner. It doesn’t matter that it’ll be under his jacket – she’ll know. The incredulous smile creeps onto her cheeks before she can do anything to school her expression.

“And for the first, I can just rant at your parents before demanding something no one in their right mind should agree to – like me being your betrothed, actually!”

He looks startled for a second, before the smile returns warmer than before.

“That’s right – I remember,” she sniffs, “It was when Noam gave you the nickname, you know, Thistle.”

[zrtranscripts]

The Way of All Flesh, Episode 4

In this episode: It's time to learn the truth about the murder victim. Or at least part of the truth. Someone's covering up evidence. Someone's tried to conceal what's going on. And that puts everyone trapped in Gadsen Manor in danger. Before night falls, another victim will die.

MANISHA: You killed Callum, and now we're going to kill you. That's what we agreed to do.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Aren't you going to say anything, Rose?

ROSE: Don't see that there's much to say. I've known this day was coming.

JODY MARSH: So you did kill him.

ROSE: If you say so.

CHRIS MCSHELL: You were in prison. Those tattoos Jody saw are prison tattoos.

GERI: And you're Callum's sister?

ROSE: Aye.

CHRIS MCSHELL: So why did you kill him?

ROSE: You tell me.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Oh, this is going nowhere.

SHEILA: Maybe we should talk to her privately, Chris. You, me, and Jody, the detective gang!

CHRIS MCSHELL: You're not part -

JODY MARSH: That's a great idea, Sheila! Rose, come have a quiet chat with us in the billiard room.

GERI: I'll find Keith and the Prof and tell them what's happened.

[recorder fast forwards]

JODY MARSH: Chris, can I talk to you for a sec, before we go in there?

CHRIS MCSHELL: What is it?

JODY MARSH: We're not really going to kill her, are we? We can't just kill another human being.

CHRIS MCSHELL: No! No, we can't.

JODY MARSH: You'll help me convince the others?

CHRIS MCSHELL: Yes, of course I will.

JODY MARSH: Oh, I knew it, Chris. You're just... just what I thought you were. [kisses CHRIS MCSHELL on the cheek]

CHRIS MCSHELL: Oh, I... thank you.

JODY MARSH: Not for a peck on the cheek! You can thank me when I do something better for you than that. No, not that I would... I mean, not that I would want to, I mean... oh, now I don't know how to end this sentence.

CHRIS MCSHELL: We won't broadcast this bit.

[recorder fast forwards]

SHEILA: Ooh, pool table! This is fun, isn't it?

ROSE: Is it?

SHEILA: I always wanted to be a dectective like on TV, asking questions, finding clues. Did you watch those mystery programs, Jody?

JODY MARSH: Yeah, I did. I used to really that cartoon Doctor Detector, with her sidekick Mister Mystery. She'd ask questions, and Mister Mystery would bang his robo-gavel on the desk and shout, "We can handle the truth!"

ROSE: I remember that. They had it on sometimes in the rec area.

SHEILA: I never liked that Mister Mystery. He had that squint. No, not for me.

CHRIS MCSHELL: [sighs] Rose, tell us from the beginning. How did you end up in prison?

[glass shatters, KEITH screams in the distance]

JODY MARSH: Oh, what now?

CHRIS MCSHELL: Lock Rose in here. Let's go see what's made Keith hysterical this time.

JODY MARSH: A tenner on a spider.

[recorder fast forwards]

[glass shatters, KEITH screams, zombies growl]

GERI: Keith, stop making that noise! You'll just madden them!

KEITH: Oh God, we were just having a quiet cocoa in the kitchen. I dropped a mug, and they started growling, and now this!

JODY MARSH: Throw me that ax! Keith, Prof, go for the guns. We'll hold them off!

JODY MARSH: Most of the zombie horde will leave in the morning, they said. If we just stay quiet, they said. If they can't see us, they said. Zombies, known for just wandering off, not for like, breaking windows and throwing their eyeballs at you. Sheila, get it with that chair!

SHEILA: Take that! There! There, you nasty, disgusting, eyeless, horrible thing!

GERI: Come and get me, you zombie covered in pus! I got a present for you!

JODY MARSH: [shouts] Ew! Ew, ew! Oh, it's got [?]. I think it had a cold when it died. Ew ew ew! Oh, get it off, get it off, get it off!

MANISHA: Oh yeah, interesting. Undead guitar. Jody, I think your turn's up. Here, headcold zombie, meet a heavy metal object!

SHEILA: Help! My coat's caught on that – what is it? - big metal sculpture! It won't come loose!

GERI: You've got to get out of your coat, Sheila, now!

MANISHA: Get away from the window!

[gunshots]

KEITH: There. That's them away from the window now. Quick, get this table up against the broken board.

[table scrapes across floor]

KEITH: Oh God, I thought I was going to die. Like, really die. Are you okay, Manisha?

MANISHA: What?

KEITH: Are you okay?

MANISHA: No, sorry. Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Sorry! I've never heard you express concern for anyone else before.

GERI: Look, we have to abandon this room. The table won't hold. Nail the door shut so we can all sleep easy.

CHRIS MCSHELL: I won't sleep easy until I finish interrogating our suspect.

[recorder fast forwards]

ROSE: How long do you think we've got? Days? Hours?

JODY MARSH: Us? We're going to get rescued. That's why we're broadcasting all this. Someone will hear it and rescue us.

ROSE: People get rescued if they're worth something. Army. Hospital for the doctors. I heard Netrophil rescue their own. We'll all die here.

SHEILA: Netrophil are terrorists. Of course they come for their own. They only care about themselves.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Not everyone's like that.

JODY MARSH: Abel Township will come for us. Bet you they're working out how to get us right now.

ROSE: If you say so.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Rose, will you tell us if -

SHEILA: Just tell us in your own words how it was you ended up in prison. You can tell us that, can't you?

JODY MARSH: Just doing one bad thing doesn't mean you're a murderer. I've done bad things, but -

ROSE: I killed my dad.

JODY MARSH: Oh. Right.

ROSE: He wasn't a nice man, my dad. Ma died when Callum was just a baby. Dad was a drinker, and he hit us. When I was 18, and he was passed out drunk, I hit him 12 times with a hammer until his brain all ran down across his face. [laughs] Who'd have thought it'd be good practice for the future, eh?

JODY MARSH: Oh my God. I remember that case from when I was a little girl. It was all over the telly.

CHRIS MCSHELL: It was notorious. Brutality.

JODY MARSH: The way they twist these stories. I mean, the way you just said it, it's totally understandable.

SHEILA: You were just a girl.

ROSE: Just old enough to go to grownup prison. I got in a bit of trouble when I was inside. "Bullying," they called it. I'm not proud of it. Got another 15 years added to my sentence for that. I've done bad things, and when the doom falls on me, I'll go to it smiling.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Callum was younger than you. Was he fostered?

ROSE: His English teacher adopted him, moved south a year later. Fresh start, new name, new school. He was always the one with the brains, Callum. I knew he'd do something with his life.

CHRIS MCSHELL: But when he did, he didn't want anything to do with you.

ROSE: Never a visit. Used to write to me, but that turned into just a card at Christmas and birthdays, and then the past few years, not even that.

SHEILA: That must have made you angry.

JODY MARSH: So you uh, what? Listened to his voice mails, and followed him here?

ROSE: Yeah. After the prison fell, I tracked him here, and when he didn't even want to show we knew each other, it made me so mad! "Poor impulse control." That's what they said about me in prison. Just grabbed one of the Prof's poisons and dumped it in his food.

CHRIS MCSHELL: And where's the vial now?

ROSE: I don't know. Threw it out the window into some bushes.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Which window?

ROSE: Ground floor hall window.

CHRIS MCSHELL: There are no bushes outside that window.

SHEILA: She's a bit confused, Chris, love. It's a big thing, killing someone.

ROSE: Tell you what. You go and look through my rucksack. It's in the lounge. Got a scrapbook in there, kept all of Callum's articles, and the letters he sent me. You'll see what I'm saying is true. Hasn't sent me a letter for years. He was embarrassed of me. Didn't want to know. That's why I killed him.

[recorder fast forwards]

JODY MARSH: It's definitely Rose's bag, Chris, but there's no scrapbook here. A few bits of paper with little notes on them, loads of bars of chocolate, some first aid kits. No scrapbook. Definitely not. Maybe she lost it and didn't realize.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Something strange is going on here. Jody, take me back to the cold storeroom. I want you to look at Callum's body for me again.

JODY MARSH: I really wish that sometime in the future I'll have a day where I don't have to stare at a corpse.

[recorder fast forwards]

JODY MARSH: Callum's still here, lying on the floor just where we left him. Still not dissolved, or whatever the Prof said would happen to him.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Where are the others?

JODY MARSH: Barricading up the front door. The Prof's organized everyone into teams to rip up the downstairs floor. Way he's going at it, you'd think he was digging for treasure or something.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Yeah, interesting.

JODY MARSH: I think Sheila's told them all what we've heard from Rose. Nothing's changed in here, Chris. Callum's body's still lying here.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Just describe to me exactly what happened when you moved the body.

JODY MARSH: Okay, if you think it'll help. I had his right arm, Rose had his right leg, the Prof had his left arm, and Geri had his left leg. Rose and Geri backed into the room. Me and the Prof walked in forwards. We turned the body and propped him up.

My grip on his shoulder kept slipping off, and I'd grab hold of that – whatsit, armlet? - he had on. Hey, just a sec. He definitely had a silver arm cuff, and it's not there now. Someone's nicked it!

CHRIS MCSHELL: And when did you find the note that had fallen from his pocket? The one that had the name of this house and the date we arrived?

JODY MARSH: Chris, someone's nicked something from Callum's body! Don't you think that's significant?

CHRIS MCSHELL: Yes! Where were you when you found the note that had fallen from Callum's pocket?

JODY MARSH: Standing just here, by the packet of soups.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Who was next to you?

JODY MARSH: Um, Rose.

CHRIS MCSHELL: [gasps] I've been an idiot! Look, we have to talk to Rose again, right now! Don't tell any of the others. Now!

[recorder fast forwards]

ROSE: You again! Haven't brought Hetty Wainthropp with you this time.

CHRIS MCSHELL: I doubt her investigative skill, to be frank. Close the door, Jody. [door shuts] We don't think you've been entirely honest with us, Rose.

ROSE: Did you find my scrapbook?

JODY MARSH: It's gone.

ROSE: [laughs] Of course it has, [?].

CHRIS MCSHELL: You didn't track Callum here by listening to his voice mail, did you, Rose? He told you to meet him here, and on what day. You wrote it on one of the bits of note paper you carry around with you, the note that slipped out of your pocket when you were moving Callum's body.

JODY MARSH: Oh! It fell out of Rose's pocket, not Callum's.

CHRIS MCSHELL: You and Callum were looking out for each other, weren't you? And you knew you'd be coming to Gadsen Manor today.

JODY MARSH: Callum told you to come here... but no one knew they were coming. It was just an accident we all got trapped here.

CHRIS MCSHELL: I don't think it was an accident for all of us. Did Callum tell you why he wanted to come here?

ROSE: Yeah, he did tell me to come here. He said he was heading here to find out more about an old story he'd worked on.

CHRIS MCSHELL: Pandora Haze scandal in Somalia.

ROSE: Oh, he didn't say. He called me two days in, when they were still saying on the news it was the flu. Said if I got out, I should come here on this day, that he'd be here, that would be that.

JODY MARSH: Oh. You said, "All debts are paid." You were looking after each other! You always had been!

CHRIS MCSHELL: What do you mean, Jody?

JODY MARSH: I've got three younger brothers. I fight with them, and sometimes I hate them, but I always love them. I remember once my little brother took 40 quid off the kitchen table and put it all down the waste disposal. All that was left were these little pieces of colored paper. My mom was so angry, and Danny was so little. I told her I did it, even though she'd punish me more because I was older. How old was Callum when your dad was killed?

ROSE: 12. He was 12.

JODY MARSH: Old enough to be tried as an adult, and maybe spend the rest of his life in prison, but young enough to start a new life somewhere else.

CHRIS MCSHELL: What... what do you mean, Jody?

JODY MARSH: You kept a scrapbook of his cuttings because you loved him, and you were proud of him. He found a way to help you. He wanted to know if his debts were paid. He knew he was in your debt. Oh, he owed you so much. He was your little brother. You'd protect him, whatever he did.

ROSE: I would have done.

JODY MARSH: You didn't kill your dad, did you?

ROSE: No. It was Callum.

[recorder fast forwards]

JODY MARSH: There. Have your tea. We found some fruitcake, too, if you want some.

ROSE: I will, thanks.

JODY MARSH: So who decided you should take the blame for killing your father?

ROSE: Me. It was always me. They wouldn't have gone for self-defense. He knew how to keep [?], you see, our dad. Knew how to hit us so it wouldn't leave a bruise. Imagine the headlines if Callum had said it was him. "12 Year Old Murderer."

At least I scared the other girls in prison. Never really thought about what a life in prison would mean. Just wanted to keep him safe.

JODY MARSH: Oh God, that's so sad! You were both just children!

ROSE: Life's not always fair. But I was proud of him. That's why I kept the scrapbook. He was living that life for both of us. Maybe I knew his life better than he did.

CHRIS MCSHELL: And do you know who killed Callum?

ROSE: Got my ideas.

CHRIS MCSHELL: [slams fist on table] Just tell us! We can solve this if you just tell us what you know!

ROSE: Let people remember Callum for a good boy. Let the rest fall away!

JODY MARSH: You mean if you told us who you think killed Callum, you'd have to tell us something bad about him?

ROSE: He was a good lad! I remember when he was born, such a good wee lad. This is the end of the human race, you know. Lights out for us, and maybe that's a good thing. We've caused more trouble than we cured, that's for sure. 

But if it's not the end, one day people will read old books and papers and make new history. If something's forgotten now, it's forgotten forever. That's all I ever wanted for wee Callum, may he rest in peace. Don't go troubling the dead.

CHRIS MCSHELL: If everything's gone, the only thing we have left is the truth.

JODY MARSH: Chris, come downstairs with me. It's time for everyone to go to bed anyway. I'll leave the recorder running, Rose. Try to get some sleep, and whatever you know, it might be easier to tell it to the tape.

[door shuts, recorder fast forwards]

[door opens]

ROSE: Ah, got any more fruitcake - ? Ah, no, it's you. I see, yeah. What have you got there? [paper rustles] Ah. Yeah, that's what I thought. You've got the same way of moving she had, same face. I'm sorry about what happened. It just got out of hand! I know what it's like to take the blame for something you didn't do.

You're not going to say anything? I suppose there's not much to say. This is a mercy. The rest of you'll be gone in a few hours, but I see why you wanted it to be you. Come on. I won't fight you. Do it for Billie. [chokes, collapses]

[door closes, recording reaches end, ominous music plays]

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Totally random 1am thought but here it is anyway! Once Sekhmet gets more settled into the tribe (and Bomba has adopted her) she starts learning from watching Hestia and the others how to properly show affection. One of the first cats (apart from Bomba and Hestia) she openly shows affection to is surprisingly Tugger! She’s wanted to really show him that she’s thankful for making sure Hestia got to grow up different so she gives him the honor of being the first cat to get a hug/cuddle/nuzzle!

(it’s totally fine I’m not crying)

(okay yes I am crying)

“Good job, Hestia!” Sekhmet said quietly as Hestia reappeared in front of her. Her sister beamed at her, and the two queens sat together in the clearing. 

Hestia looked at Sekhmet, her smile softening. “How are you?” 

“I’m... doing better.” Sekhmet replied quietly, leaning into the grey queen, comfortable and open. “Having Mom around really has been helping a lot. And having you, of course.”

Hestia couldn’t help but laugh happily. “I’m happy for you. Auntie Bomba really does love having you with her, and I’m just happy to have a sister.” She looked at Sekhmet warmly, snuggling against her. “I’m proud of you. You’ve really settled in, and I’ve seen you change. You’re happier.”

Sekhmet blushed slightly, and a small smile appeared on her face. She was quiet, though, looking up at the sky thoughtfully. “It’s still hard, though. I can’t be comfortable around everyone, and I really try, but I can’t help but flinch whenever someone comes near me that isn’t you or Mom.”

“And that’s okay.” Hestia said firmly, grabbing the chocolate queen’s paws tightly. “We’ve talked about this. You’re not going to be magically okay in a week, or a month. It’s going to take time.” She leaned in, resting on Sekhmet’s shoulder comfortingly. “It took Dad and Uncle Straps a while before they were even able to reconcile with each other about what happened with Macavity. And I’m sure you know that Auntie Bomba still has nightmares about her time with him, and so does Auntie Dem.” Sekhmet sighed and nodded, resting against the top of Hestia’s head. 

“I know, Hettie.” she said softly, and she couldn’t see Hestia’s bright smile, but she knew it was there, and that made her smile as well. 

A while later, Hestia and Sekhmet left their clearing (and it was their clearing now. It was a safe place for Sekhmet, and it was a place where they could practice their magic safely), and they walked into the main stage area. 

Hestia nuzzled against her sister briefly. “I have to go ask Tumble something. I’ll be right back!” Sekhmet watched her run towards the patched tom, and she secretly reminded herself to ask (and possibly tease) her sister about him later on. While waiting for Hestia, Sekhmet went to the old cat and jumped onto the hood, feeling the sun on her fur. 

She finally felt safe. 

A voice startled her. “Afternoon, kiddo!” Sekhmet snapped her head around to see Tugger holding up his paws, an apologetic look on his face. “Everlasting, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

Sekhmet took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. “It’s okay. I’m just waiting for Hestia.” Tugger sat down beside her, chuckling as he spotted his daughter talking with Tumblebrutus. 

“Those kittens have it bad.” he remarked, and Sekhmet nodded, smiling slightly. She glanced at Tugger, noting the fond look in his eyes and the loving smile, and she made a decision. Slowly, Sekhmet moved closer to Tugger, leaning against his shoulder and nuzzling into his mane, cuddling close. Tugger stilled for a brief moment before he wrapped an arm around the young queen. 

“Hestia, look.” Tumblebrutus suddenly said, making Hestia cock her head. 

“What?” 

The patched tom pointed across the Junkyard, and Hestia turned, gasping happily when she saw what Tumblebrutus saw; Sekhmet, snuggled close to Tugger, and Tugger with the biggest smile on his face as he looked down at the queen happily.

Bombalurina also saw the sweet sight, and she smiled softly, exchanging a proud look with Hestia, and Tugger just held Sekhmet closer, making her smile grow. 

She finally felt safe, and she finally felt at home.