#the 100 season 3 rewrite

[justinewt]

Red Sky At Morning - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Twenty-Six

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (07/03/2024)

Summary: The group followed the map drawn in Lincoln's book to the sea but found no one there. Or so they thought. It wazsn't until night that the grounders they were looking for came for them and brought them to the one and only, Luna. But she wouldn't easily be convinced to help them, if she would be at all.

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: The 100 season 3 spoilers (episode 13 "Join or Die"; episode 14 "Red sky at morning"), same title as episode 14/ancient rhyme used by Sailors "Red sky at night, sailor's delight/Red sky at morning, sailor take warning"; fluff/romance, angst, a little blood, some violence

“It’s been an hour since we passed the airplane wreckage.” Jasper noted, following the map drawn on a double page in Lincoln’s notebook. The drawing was especially faithful, and Michelle was impressed by the Grounder’s skills. They wouldn’t have as much trouble driving around through the forest if he were still alive, but they didn’t have time to think in what if. “Seeing as we are using a map without any distances, it could be days before we reach Luna’s village.”

“At least we know we’re going in the right direction.” Bellamy retorted, focused on the road as he drove the Rover, Clarke in the passenger seat next to him. The confrontation with Emerson could have been messier, they were all there sitting at the back of the vehicle, except for Raven, Harper and Miller who stayed back. Michelle was slumped, staring into space while listening to the conversation quietly.

“We’re running out of daylight. We should stop in the sun, recharge the battery.”

“What sun? We keep going until it dies.” Clarke wasn’t wrong. One look through the window was enough to see the dark grey sky. It rained cats and dogs the whole time and stopped not that long ago. The trees were wet, their foliage and branches drooping under the weight of the water that fallen on them and gathered in the creases of the leaves, weighing down the wood.

“We keep going until we get to Luna.” Octavia chimed in. Both Clarke and Michelle gave the girl a look out of the corner of their eyes while thunder sounded in the distance and rain started falling heavily again. Octavia was understandably bitter at the whole situation, and no one really said anything. Jasper then flipped the notebook’s pages and showed another drawing to Octavia; a portrait of a woman with a thick head of hair. Her gaze, even as a drawing, was striking and severe. Octavia confirmed that it was the Luna in question.

“What do you think she’s gonna say when we show up to put an A.I. in her head?” Jasper asked sarcastically.

“Lincoln said she helps those that are in trouble. She’ll help us too.” Octavia declared. The three at the back were shaken when Bellamy suddenly pulled the car to a full stop, tires screeching in the muddy path. As she was slouched, Michelle slid off her seat and leaned on it to stand up, bending forward to peek out of the windshield while Jasper and Octavia kept talking about Luna and whether or not she would help.

“Backtrack.” Bellamy said in a low voice. Trees had fallen because of the thunder and were lying right across the road, blocking the way. “We’ll find somewhere where the trees aren’t so bad. Hey!” Octavia opened the backdoor and jumped out of the Rover. She wasn’t going to wait around and decided without a word that the whole ground would continue on foot. They all got out of the vehicle, following her in the rain. Michelle took off her father’s jacket, still wearing hers underneath, and put it over her head too keep dry. Jasper glanced at her after noticing she had two.

She shrugged, “What? I got mine and my dad’s, gotta make use of it.” He shrugged as well, nodding. While the others started running off, he rose his voice.

“Anyone hear the part where I said it could be days?”

“Stop.” Octavia stopped in her tracks, raising her hand. Water was rushing loudly nearby, and she looked around. She turned to Clarke. “you hear that?”

“Water.” The two girls took off and Bellamy still tried to warn them about whoever they could run into. Whoever might be there, they could indeed be hostile for all they knew. Michelle’s jacket fell down her head and onto her shoulders and she found herself too lazy to put it back up, and it was useless anyway, the rain had stopped already. One minute it was pouring, the other barely a few drops crashing on their scalps.

“They’re not hostile. Put the guns down.” Octavia then claimed, looking at her brothers before continuing to walk away. Michelle was standing next to him as Jasper joined the girls, her dad’s jacket resting on her shoulders as if it were a cloak when Bellamy put a hand on her backa dn they started running after their friends, going down the river cutting through the forest. They reached the sea a minute later, fog hanging over the body of water, but no village. It was silent, no more thunder either. Looking around, they saw a piece of land with piles of rock set up in a circle. Octavia checked the notebook. The stone circle was drawn on it, but there wasn’t any Grounder village. Maybe their village was further into the sea and not visible from shore. She ran to the stones, followed by the rest of the group.

“Isn’t a village. It’s just a bunch of rocks.”

“No shit.” Michelle said under her breath, slipping her arms back into her dad’s jacket’s sleeves now that they stopped running around.

“She’s gone.” Clarke said, desperate. Michelle then voiced her assumption, that the village was out in the sea, but it still didn’t help them figure out what to do now. Clarke turned around, following their gaze as they watched Octavia walk to the edge and kneel, leaning on the rocks as she let out a scream. The rest of them just looked at each other in a heavy silence. Eventually, they decided on making a fire. Bellamy was walking back and forth, bringing wood. Clarke stood up.

“It’ll be dark soon. We need to talk about what we’re gonna do.”

“We waitr until first light, and then we split up and search the shore in both directions.” Octavia declared without taking her eyes off of what she was doing, rubbing two long sticks together trying to start the fire, panting with the effort. When she saw a sparkle, she leaned forward and blew on it. A white smoke grew from it. She careful moved it to the pieces of wood set up at the center of the stone circle and kept blowing on it with Jasper. The fire then spread and grew over the wood. It was at least one good thing done.

“I agree. Lincoln wouldn’t have put this spot on the map unless it was important.”

“Yeah, if their village is out in the sea, maybe they come to check this spot to see if there’s anyone, and with the fire, hopefully they’ll see we’re here trying to make contact.” Michelle added, looking at Bellamy. He bent forward, picking up the notebook as she spoke and Octavia smacked his hand, urgning him to not touch it. He kept quiet for a second before crouching down. Clarke then agreed with her friend and the two moved closer to Jasper, on the other side of the fire while Bellamy attempted to talk to his sister, who was just ignoring him.

“Come on, O. How long?”

“I don’t know. I can’t even look at you…” She indeed avoided looking at him while she cracked some sticks, adding them to fuel the fire znd keep it going. She spoke through gritted teeth, staring at the flames, “because every time I do, I see Pike putting that gun to Lincoln’s head. I hear the gunshot. I see him fall.”

“I didn’t kill Lincoln.”

“No, but he is dead because of you.” She stood up, her tone rising with anger. Michelle, Clarke and Jasper were crouched by the fire, trying not to stare at the two siblings but it was obviously a little akward to be there in silence, in front of such a conversation.

“I came to you. You didn’t take my help. If you had just trusted me, I…” She threw her wood on the ground, and it fell, the pieces clattering against each other as she seemingly gave up talking to him, crouching down again. Clarke and Michelle stood up, looking at Bellamy walking away along the shore, alone. Jasper sighed and threw something in the fire, which turned the flame a weird shade of green.

“What did you just do?” Octavia enquired.

“Nothing. I just threw these in the fire.” He held a branch in his hand. Octavia stared at it as if she had just thought of something and picked up Lincoln’s book at her feet. She found a piece of a branch of the same tree in between some of the pages.

“Ugh. Signal fire. He was trying to tell us. Michelle, you were right.  They must be watching this place, waiting for that signal. This is how we contact Luna.”

“I’ll get more.” He threw one more bit into the flames and ran around to get others. The three girls smiled at the discovery but Clarke and Michelle both looked over their shoulders at Bellamy, still walking away in the distance.

“Should we leave him alone or should I…?” Michelle wondered quietly. Clarke motioned for her to go after him, adding that she would join them later. Michelle didn’t plan on trying to talk to him about his situation with his sister, he wouldn’t like that. She wouldn’t like it if he tried to come up to her to if she was in such a situation with her father, which she used to, back when she was with Murphy and he knew it wasn’t his place to really say anything, and right now it was basically the same. It wasn’t exactly her place to try to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. He gave her a glance when he noticed her approach as he just stood there, facing the open sea, his arms crossed. She just tried to give him a smile as she sat down on a rock and his face relaxed a little. Michelle closed her eyes, the strands of hair falling along her face and stuck under her jacket, blown by the breeze, the sea wind caressing her skin. Her arms wrapped around her knees, she let her mind wander and lose itself in her memories. her mind quickly spiralled out of control, and she couldn't think about anything but how much she was worried about her father in Polis. She had a bad feeling. Her face reflected her trouble and her brows furrowed, her lips tightening. She rested the side of her face on her knees, looking at Bellamy and the forest sideways.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly.

“I’m fine.” He, at first, responded quite harshly, though she obviously didn’t take offense. His eyes wandered back to the fire where his sister still was. She straightened up, looking up at him. It was easy to tell he was saddened by how downhill his relationship with Octavia went, and there was no one but himself to blame. He did choose to side with Pike and let the latter get to his head. He almost lost any chance of Michelle and him ever being a thing as well. He looked at her, his eyes glossy, widened in fear that the damage he did to their relationship was undoable. “Michelle, I think I’ve lost her.”

“Give her time, Bellamy.” She stood up, facing him, her hand softly holding his arm as she gave him a compassionate look. “She’s gonna need lots of it. And there may be blood on your hands, but it’s not Lincoln’s. That was Pike.”

“He did it because of me. I let him.” He slightly shook his head, glancing at the fire, his eyes getting glossier as he struggled to keep the tears at bay.

“Pike wouldn’t do something just because of you. You didn’t want that to happen. You tried to stop it. Octavia will forgive you eventually…” He looked away from her as a tear rolled along his cheek and randomly glanced at the forest behind him to try to hide it. Michelle frowned in concern, taking a heavy breath and turning his face back to her with her hand, wiping away the tear with her hand holding his cheek. “Question is, will you forgive yourself?”

“Forgiveness is hard for us.” His eyes were wet, and his bottom lip quivered as he looked at the fire again. She followed his gaze and saw Octavia stare at them before turning around and walk away, a plank of wood under her arm.

“I’m not Octavia but, I get it.” Her hand slid off his face and rested on his shoulder. He watched her attentively as she spoke. “It took me weeks to forgive my dad – for something he wasn’t even responsible for but anyway… took me some time to forgive you for choosing the wrong side too. But what did it for me was that both my dad and you showed that you were sorry for whatever happened, whatever you did... And I grew to love my dad, I didn’t wanna be mad anymore, and I—” Michelle cut herself off, looking into the distance, towards the sea. She pursed her lips, pressing them against each other. She knew what she wanted to say outloud and maybe it was the right time. With a sigh, briefly closing her eyes before looking back at him, she added; “I love you.” But she quickly went on to say something else, a little embarrassed by her confession which was ironic since they did already kiss and sleep together a few times, “Your sister loves you too, Bellamy. She will forgive you, give it time. She’s angry but one day, she won’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“Michelle.” His brows furrowed sadly as a couple more tears fell from his eyes, and he turned his head to wipe them off with his fist. She gently held his face and drew him into a kiss. He then wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly and buried her face in her hair and she in his neck as he whispered to her ear, “I love you too.”

“Could you have imagined, when we landed on the ground, that we would say stuff like this?” He chuckled, a sob breaking through his laugh as he held her tighter. She didn’t exactly remember how she felt about him in the beginning, but she remembered she didn’t really like him. He was somewhat cocky and acted so sure of himself, but she smiled, remembering it was him who showed her how to use a gun, though she did have beforehand knowledge on those weapons. She had no knowledge of what it was like to love someone like this, but now she did, and she only had him to thank for it. Her lips quivered, thinking of her father out of the blue but she was way more worried than she would ever admit out loud. It wasn’t just a bad feeling. She was terrified to find out whether he took the chip, and whether she would have to kill him which she wouldn’t be able to do so, if no one killed him, he would kill her, because of Alie’s grasp over him and the fact she would never take the chip. She held Bellamy tighter as well, feeling like she had already lost her father. She was getting ahead of herself too much and she knew it, but she couldn’t help but let her mind spiral. She would keep it to herself for now, it didn’t feel the right time to draw attention to her own troubles.

They were staring off into the distance, standing in the dark of night, still on the shore, when Clarke finally joined them. The trio began to talk about Octavia again and Clarke thought the same as Michelle, she would forgive him if he gave her enough time. They talked about when Clarke left them, how angry he felt but that he didn’t want to feel this way anymore and what Michelle said earlier seemed to clock in. As they were comforting each other, saying they were there for each other, Bellamy turned his head towards the sea and alerted them when he saw figures stick out the water. They were taken by surprise, tackled to the ground forcefully, grunting. Michelle felt warmth around her eyebrow and felt the blood drip on her eylid. She had been slammed on the sand so hard, her face hit a rock, but it was better than the concussion she got the last time she hit her head. The strangers put something on their mouth before tying and gagging them and bringing them back to the fire, where a few other of them were holding at gunpoint, but with crossbows. Octavia and Jasper held their hands up while the three others were forced on their knees. The Grounder addressed Octavia in trigedasleng. From what Michelle made out of it, it sounded like questions.

“Why should we give you safe passage?” The man then asked in English.

“Lincoln.” He glanced at his companions upon hearing the Grounder’s name. “He sent us.” He then spoke again in their language and the people standing behind Bellamy, Michelle and Clarke removed their gags and frees them.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy questioned in a whisper. Octavia had no idea either. The Grounder took a few steps towards her and handed her something.

“What is that?” Clarke asked.

“Safe passage.” He said as he gave one to each of them.

“Octavia, wait.” Bellamy rose his voice when his sister drank whatever it was in the little vial. Her only response was that she trusted Lincoln, and the Grounder that gave them those specified that if she was the only one to agree to drink this, she would be the only one to go. Michelle was the first to follow her lead and drink the content in one go. Bellamy repeated himself, grabbing her arm too late, she had already drunk. The two girls looked at each other, Michelle knew she was feeling this same weird way as she did. She felt all her strength gradually leave her body. Her vision got blurry as she fought to stay up but when she took a step to balance her weight on her feet, her knee bent and her leg way under her and she collapsed to the sand, her head turned towards Bellamy as he caught her in her fall. His face was the last thing she saw before it went dark.

She frowned, awakened by a ray of sunlight, and leaned on her hand to sit up. The others had woken up too, and everyone was looking around in complete confusion, having no idea where they had ended up. They were locked in a large, rusted container, and sunrays penetrated through holes in the metal here and there. Their guns were gone, and Octavia realized she didn’t have her sword anymore. She banged on the wall and soon after, whether or not it was related, the doors at the end of the container opened, blinding the group for a moment as a woman entered, her face hidden at first as she stood against the light but it quickly became clear that it was Luna that was in front of them.

“Where’s Lincoln?”

“Lincoln is dead.” Octavia told her.

“Lincoln said that you would help us.” Clarke stepped in.

“Did he?”

“Luna, you’re the last of your kind, the last nightblood.”

“So Lexa’s dead as well.”

“Her spirit has chosen you to become the next commander. Titus entrusted me with the flame to give to you.”

“Then he should have told you that I left my conclave swearing to never kill again.”

“You don’t have to kill. To lead is your birthright. How you lead is your choice. Here.” She stepped towards Luna, holding the small box in which she kept the flame and handed it over to her. She carefully brought her hands to her to observe the small object.

“I recognize the sacred symbol, but what is that?”

“This is the flame that holds the spirits of the commanders, of Lexa. Will you take it and become the next commander?” They all hung on Luna’s lips, waiting for her answer, hoping she would take it. The suspenseful silence was broken by her negative answer as she rolled Clarke’s fingers over the flame and pushed her fist away upon her refusal. They couldn’t believe they had come all this way for it to be over so quickly. Clarke glanced at her friends before running after Luna, calling out to her. She didn’t stop or turn back to them and just walked away. It was the group who stopped in their tracks, looking around in bewilderment. They were on a huge platform, an oil rig like the one Michelle saw on pictures, in the middle of the ocean.

“Everywhere I looked, there were fins. And teeth. And blood. I knew if they saw me, I’d be next, so I just floated there, waiting, praying they’d swim on.” Michelle stared into space listening with one ear the girl reading poetry in the hall of the Oil Rig. None of them was really paying attention. They were waiting, hoping for Luna to agree to help them and take the flame. A door opened and she entered.

“She’s here. Maybe she changed her mind.” Bellamy told the group, Clarke, Michelle and him standing up to go meet with her.

“The boats return at nightfall. Then you leave. Forever.”

“Luna, let us explain—” Clarke was cut off by the Grounder.

“I said no.”

“No, you need to hear this.” Bellamy stepped in front of her. She eventually looked at him. “There’s something out ther that is going to destroy us all.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t reach us here.” She walked pasted the trio and went to Octavia, telling her they needed to talk. Jasper took it as his cue to leave and got up, leaving the two women. Once Luna left, they returned to sit beside Octavia, having to wait it out since she was so against taking the flame and coming with them. In the distance, Jasper was chatting with the girl who recited poetry a moment ago.

“Jasper’s actually smiling.” Bellamy noted. He followed Clarke’s gaze as she looked at Luna, cuddling with her lover against the wall.

“Clarke. Let it go.” The latter glanced over at her best friend and shook her head.

“We can’t just leave.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice.” Octavia added, fidgeting with a tiny piece of wood.

“Maybe we do.”

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy enquired.

“I’m talking about putting this into her head without asking.”

“Clarke, we can’t do this.” Michelle leaned towards her.

“We can fight and go back to Arkadia. We arm up.” He added, agreeing with his girlfriend.

“Fight who?” She questioned. “It’s an army of our own people. I don’t like this any more than you do. But if Raven’s right, and the code on this thing can stop Alie…” Two Grounders came in shouting in their native language; She paused, glancing over her shoulder before turning her head back to her friends, looking a little hopeless. “Give me a better idea.”

“We’ll stay here. It’s the only way they’ll leave you alone with her.” Bellamy concluded. As Clarke was about to stand up, she was briefly stopped by Octavia addressing her.

“Even Alie gives people a choice.”

“We gave Luna a choice. She said no.” He shrugged, exchanging a glance with Michelle and Clarke, nodding at one another before the blonde finally got up and walked away. They met up again once it was dark, and dark it was out in the open sea. Aside from the light of the moon shining on the waves, and a few spotlights on the rig, it was pitch black out there and the whole oil rig was dead silent, as everyone was asleep. They were being led back to the container in which they awakened this morning as they were going to be brought back to shore. Luna was waiting for them by the container. Jasper wasn’t with the group and according to Clarke, he was saying goobye to his new friend, not that Michelle cared much what he was doing right now. They opened the doors and a group of Grounders stepped out.

“Sorry, Cap. You gotta take them back.” She turned to them. “You get your weapons once you land.”

“Inside.” While Clarke tried to ask Luna about the flame since the later took it from her after she tried to forcibly put it in her neck, the others were pushed inside the container. They didn’t try to fight, it was pointless. They failed at convincing Luna and now they could only leave this place. Michelle’s thoughts were already, and as always, on going to Polis to check on her dad. She was anxious to find out whether he took the chip or not and what would be left of him. This was her main concern at the moment. Then suddenly, the Grounders that walked out of the container started attacking everyone outside, stabbing and grunting and slammed the doors shut, trapping the group in the dark. Michelle was quick to understand they had somehow been infected by Alie as she came to realize they attacked shortly after Luna pulled out the flame to show Clarke.

“They’re locking us in.” Octavia exclaimed, alarmed. Clarke started banging on the wall and shouting, eager to find out what was going on.

“They took the flame. Soemhow, while they were on land, they took the chip. Luna’s safe haven is compromised now.” Michelle said with a sigh.

“Yeah. Alie’s here.” Bellamy added, agreeing with her. Clarke looked at them, speechless, not knowing what to do, or how to get out of there. They had no weapon, nothing to free themselves while Alie’s minions tried to take over the oil rig. They only had a flashlight. Holding it in front of her, Octavia walked around the container while Bellamy tried to nudge the doors open.

“How did Alie even find this place?” Octavia wondered, kicking in the wall with anger.

“There was a drone at Niylah’s. She must’ve followed us looking for the Flame and now she has it.” Sat on the floor, Michelle looked at him while Clarke was frowning, her gaze staring into space. “She’s gonna put the AI in Luna.”

“She’d have to chip her first. If Luna’s chipped before she gets the AI, Alie’s gonna know everything. We’ll never be able to stop her. We can’t let that happen.” She sprung up on her feet and walked with a determined step towards the door, banging on it and shouting. Everyone ended up just sitting down in silence, trying to wait it out, or wait for someone to come open the door. There was nothing they could do from the inside. They were locked up, end of story.

“This place was safe until we got here.” Octavia spoke, flashing her light at the wall, up and down, aimlessly. They had no idea how long it had been, but they all turned their heads instantly and got on their feet when they heard the lock clancked against the door, meaning someone was messing with it. The door opened and they jogged outside, thinking it was Jasper who freed them, only for them to find the girl he was chatting with, gasping on the ground with an arrow in her shoulder. Clarke kneeled by her side and the girl tried to speak.

“Machine room… B level…” then she gave her final breath and they left her there, unable to do anything else. She was dead. Michelle gave her a horrifief glance out of the corner of her eyes, looking at the blood covering hre mouth and chin. It reminded her of when she had been infected with that weird blood fever back at the dropship, months ago. Or when she had her hands slashed, and her leg pierced through with a drill. She had had her share of her own bloodshed, but it was still not something she liked to see. They ran through the rig and got to their destination. Octavia ignored her brother’s warning, telling her to be careful and ran inside the machine room. They found Luna, on the ground, holding her lover, her other hand around the handle of a knife plunged into the man’s chest. Jasper was hanged by his wrist on the other side of the room. Two other grounders, those that came on the rig chipped were dead. A young girl was curled up near one of the bodies, she’d probably been used to pressure Luna into accepting the chip or something like that. Bellamy went to check on her while Michelle and Octavia cut Jasper down, and Clarke went to Luna, who let out a bloodcurling cry when her partner let out his final breath. Michelle felt her pain and looked at her, her mouth frowned slightly, her lips twitching. She was wailing, holding his body close to her, her face distorted by the heartbreak and grief, caressing his face and apologizing for what she had to do while sobbing.

Once she somewhat calmed down, the whole lot of the Oil Rig’s inhabitant gathered for the funeral ceremony. Michelle, Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia and Jasper were standing there in a corner. They had to wait for Luna to come to them when she was done.

“Any of them could be chipped, and we’d never know.” Bellamy whispered, her eyes glazing over the room.

“If they are, they’ll make their move before we put the Flame in Luna. Stay sharp.” Clarke watched as Luna came towards them, accompanied with another girl.

“The ceremony is about to begin.”

“I’m so sorry. But now you see what we’re facing. An enemy who will do anything to win. She won’t stop until she had everyone.”

“People I love died today. Needlessly, by my hand. I can’t let that happen.” Luna looked down at the Flame, held in between her fingers. She turned her back to them, facing everyong in the room. They all stood up, cups in their hands. The group had been giving cups too. “As we prepare to give our brothers and sisters to the sea, we honor their lives.” They spoke in their native language in unison, and everyone drank from their cups quietly. Luna turned back to them.

“I we’re gonna do this, we have to hurry. Alie will send reinforcements. We have to find some place private to perform the Ascencion.” Luna stared at her with an impassible face.

“You believe that to defeat an enemy who will stop at nothing, you must stop at nothing. How is that different than blood must have blood?” As she spoke, Michelle slightly frowned and squinted her eyes. For some reason, her mind felt clouded, and she began to have trouble on what was being said, looking into space, trying to focus her eyes. She took a step to the side as her sight began to sway, or maybe it was her body. She raised her hand, trying to reach for Bellamy’s shoulder and he grabbed her arm, catching her as she fell, but ended up collapsing in turn, his arm stretched out under her head. Their cups had broken to pieces on the ground. She opened her eyes and sat up with a start, a little disorientated still. Bellamy was already awake, walking around with his weapon in hand, watching over the others, still passed out. She put a hand to her eyebrow, the little cut that she had gotten after hitting her head on a rock before being transported to the Rig, had been stitched. Well, she was at least thankful for that. Her eyes went on the hand held out in front of her and looked up to Bellamy as she grabbed his hand and he pulled her on her feet. Movements caught their eye, and they glanced over at Clarke who woke up, checking the box put in her hand, to see if the Flame was inside. They exchanged a nod and kept on walking to the shore while Octavia and Jasper came back to their senses as well. They failed to convince Luna. And they were now back to square one.

“Now what?” He asked, turning his head to Clarke as all five of them stood in line, in front of the sea, clueless as to what to do. Michelle had her sight set on Polis, and getting news from her father, after being separated from him for three days. She had to chase away her bad feeling and keep hopeful that he was still alive and well.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (07/03/2024)

Published (06/19/2023) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64 @mirellef2001

[dbphantom]

LENNNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

REAL LENNY MOMENT

[theredpharaoah]

While it’s stated Luna would beat Lexa - that was when they were like 12. Luna then stepped away from fighting while Lexa went on to conquer and unite the 12 clans. Furthermore, that’s just what Luna believed. Titus knew her skillset and he didn’t mention anything about that. If she’d been such a good warrior, I’m sure Titus would’ve said more. Furthermore, Lexa’s truth strength was how clever she was. That’s how she beat Roan, and that’s probably how she would’ve beat Luna - that’s how Octavia beat her. Lexa did struggle with Roan, but so did Luna. Roan would’ve had her if not for the acid rain I fear. Then i saw someone say it’s Lexa, Luna, and Roan at first with Blodreina coming in second….lmao no. By the time we get to season 4, Octavia is the best fighter in the show. That’s why the final conclave made no sense - they were making it seem like Octavia hadn’t been killing great warriors, and wasn’t feared all over. She did not need to hide, she could’ve easily faced those people. Octavia is literally a prodigy. She was killing bitches before she was trained in arms. And when she started getting trained by Indra, she mastered that shit in a couple of weeks. Like let’s be serious. I just don’t think it’s realistic that Clarke never thought to just do a bone marrow transplant with Luna. That way she could take the flame - to kill Alie if not become commander. It would’ve been so easy too:

Luna: “Is that what you think? Wanheda - Mountain Slayer. How do you sleep at night knowing you killed all of those people?”

Clarke: “Don’t try this with me Luna. It won’t work. I did what I had to do to save my people. And judging how you just flipped me over, I’m assuming you’d do the same if people came and started drilling into your friends for their bone marrow. You may want us to think you’re some great pacifist, but if you truly believed in non-violence you wouldn’t have kept up your training all these years. You wouldn’t have guards on this ship either. Titus was right. You’re not a pacifist, you’re just a coward who’s using that as an excuse. *Clarke breathing heavily*

Luna: *stares*

Clarke:”…wait.” *Clarke stops to think before turning to look at Luna* “Mount Weather….Luna. You don’t want to take the flame right? You don’t want to be commander? Well what if you could give your blood to someone else? Give someone else the ability to take the flame?”

Luna: “And who would I be giving my blood too? You, Wanheda?”

Clarke: “ Whoever. I don’t care. Just one of us.”

Clarke would prep Octavia for the job and argue with Bellamy about the danger she’d be in becoming commander. Octavia is hesitant but she’s down. However in a shocking twist, Luna chooses Clarke to bear her blood. Why? Because she can see how much she loved Lexa, and how much her people believe in her. End of episode.

Like c’mon. You can’t tell me that couldn’t be a scene right out of the show.😭

[sundrop-writes]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy. 

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride. 

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect. 

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained. 

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.” 

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged. 

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked. 

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.” 

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?” 

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.” 

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials. 

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat. 

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.” 

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer. 

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look. 

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.” 

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.” 

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.” 

You nodded at this. 

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome. 

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath. 

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel. 

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless. 

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day. 

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” 

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.” 

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently. 

… 

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car. 

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently. 

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch. 

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.” 

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track. 

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote. 

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it. 

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you. 

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.” 

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do. 

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet. 

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.” 

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with. 

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.” 

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed. 

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man. 

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch. 

You were just playing the part. 

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.) 

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation. 

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass. 

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.” 

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” 

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return. 

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’. 

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception. 

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.” 

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie. 

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it. 

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him. 

“Has it been a godly union?” 

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage. 

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer. 

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out. 

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse. 

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted. 

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse. 

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.” 

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.” 

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth. 

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again. 

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid. 

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening. 

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay. 

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response. 

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant. 

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun. 

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it. 

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him. 

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again. 

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt. 

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide. 

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly. 

Which ‘one’? 

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information? 

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time. 

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception. 

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed. 

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.” 

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun. 

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream. 

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time. 

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now. 

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-” 

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek. 

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek. 

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly. 

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head. 

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’. 

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.” 

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards. 

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you. 

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly. 

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead. 

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan. 

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened. 

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man. 

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him. 

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued. 

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” 

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides. 

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that. 

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you. 

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you. 

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you. 

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. 

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies. 

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all. 

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury. 

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what. 

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better. 

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it. 

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort. 

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test. 

… 

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes. 

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’. 

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind. 

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking. 

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle. 

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.) 

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned. 

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,” 

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart. 

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.” 

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay. 

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly. 

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind. 

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way. 

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.” 

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you. 

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s). 

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real. 

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked. 

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title. 

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it. 

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too. 

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued. 

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.” 

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself. 

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right? 

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked. 

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.” 

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely. 

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked. 

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like? 

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.” 

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared. 

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said. 

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin. 

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.” 

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement. 

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.” 

Of course. 

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.” 

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day. 

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you. 

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children. 

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life. 

… 

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids. 

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then. 

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better. 

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?” 

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim. 

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak. 

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well. 

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced. 

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.” 

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die. 

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.” 

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room. 

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek. 

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about. 

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you. 

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels. 

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear. 

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-” 

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along. 

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around. 

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you. 

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you. 

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her. 

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay. 

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back. 

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame. 

It was the church. 

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!” 

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm. 

“L/N!” 

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down. 

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face. 

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.” 

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you. 

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear. 

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then: 

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him. 

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go. 

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” 

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you. 

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever. 

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.” 

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’. 

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.” 

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced. 

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm. 

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss. 

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed. 

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self. 

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder. 

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea. 

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it. 

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best. 

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

[elmushterri]

I filled an entire page of my sketchbook with Nori!

I love them sm!!! This has to be one of my favorite of your rewrites, I seriously did not think I could actually care abt PJ Masks past the age of 6 but now I'm obsessed 😭

On another note, just a random thing I'm curious about, before breaking off from GunnTech, did the main three basically live at the facility since they were initiated? I guess they do from what I’ve seen, but I was just wondering if they ever had to go to like. School or something, when they're not training. And if they ever got to see their family again (though I doubt both the kids and their family would want to lol)

And one more thing, totally important and necessary to ask, how does Nori acquire the kids? (..that doesnt sound right)

Like does he break in to the facility from time to time or did they just bring them with him when they left GunnTech or does he take them in when he finds them just out and about??

NORI… OUR FAVOURITE PROBLEM! The way you draw eyes scratches my brain /positive.

I think the idea is that everyone does live at GunnTech, they have rooms and go to school. GunnTech also has a prison somewhere (like, sci fi, clean, sterile white prison, a glass front-wall for cells instead of bars, and that’s where everyone gets put in Season 4. But, before that, when the main three villains (or at least, just Luna and Nori) escaped, it wasn’t totally locked down so they had to walk out suspiciously/tell the security guards reasons (you need to give reasons when leaving GunnTech so, “I’m hanging out with a friend” comes with ‘who is the friend + give us contact details’) and then probably remove a tracker (unsure as to whether the wristbands are the trackers or the trackers are put into their chest implants), and try to avoid getting caught for the rest of the time (until season 3-4 ofc). The main story probably begins with the three MCs trying to find them and bring them back. Romeo’s wanted cause he stole tech, though, he’s not a mutant.

Nori risks his life basically (not literally but he risks huge punishment) by constantly breaking into the facility to get out new kids. Kids who haven’t yet been mutated all have one room (several large rooms for many kids’ bunk beds basically, not literally one big room 😭) and he goes in and saves one or two each time. Some kids don’t *want* to come with him, thinking this is a cool superhero opportunity. He has an easier time helping kids who are scared and having second thoughts. He’s very gentle.

Also reminder that Nori had their finger prints burned off yipeeee. He’s not letting that happen to the others. (It doesn’t happen to every kid, but GunnTech probably has categories (like, heroes: animals, space, spies, drivers, healers?) and if you’re in the (name is a work in progress) Spies Category (stealth category?) like Nori, you get your finger prints burned off.

Daisy is canonically one of the only two Ninjalino names we know! I might make her into a small side character so that art isn’t 100% solid but eh!

Also he can’t really just “take them back to their parents”. If you’re a child at GunnTech, your parents either gave you away for money or you’re an orphan.

Nori’s usually a sassy ‘problem’ but they have their really serious and gentle moments.

[gaybae1021]

Day 30: Another dimension

Oh boy, another chance to ramble!

So I don’t really have plans for a mystreet rewrite, any time I draw the characters in modern scenarios it’s still based on their mcd version. But I do have one exception as a season 3 episode plot:

During a fight Aph’s power trigger and she accidentally transports herself to another dimension, which just so happens to be set in modern day. She quickly runs into this worlds Zoey and learns that they still live together and are close, so she trusts this Zoey enough to tell her the truth. Zoey doesn’t 100% believe her but is willing to help. Aph is dead set on finding a way back, which is hard in this world seemingly without magic. But her plans are complicated when she finds out Levin and Malachi are still little kids in this dimension.

She finds other differences in this world: most notably, this Garroth never left Garte, and is head of their corporation and a far nastier person. She also never met many of her friends including Laurance and Katelyn.

I imagine the plot is Aph finding out that Garroth’s company has some top secret dimensional technology and it’s a wacky heist to get her to the lab and send her home. All the while she grapples with the pros and cons of this universe, and her selfish desire to stay with this version of her kids. If you couldn’t tell from the quote in the drawing, this is very “Happy Death Day 2U” coded. Ilike the message of not clinging to the past and instead embracing the uncertainty of the future. Aph could stay here, but ultimately this version of her family isn’t one she knows, and isn’t worth losing her best friends.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can't live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven't watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there's no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it's not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to 'appeal' to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife' to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name'); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader's true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader's body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer's fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don't really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it's good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn't 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy. 

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride. 

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect. 

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained. 

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.” 

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged. 

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked. 

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.” 

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?” 

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.” 

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials. 

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat. 

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.” 

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer. 

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look. 

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.” 

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.” 

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.” 

You nodded at this. 

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome. 

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath. 

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel. 

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless. 

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day. 

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” 

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.” 

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently. 

… 

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car. 

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently. 

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch. 

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.” 

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track. 

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote. 

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it. 

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you. 

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.” 

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do. 

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet. 

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.” 

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with. 

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.” 

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed. 

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man. 

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch. 

You were just playing the part. 

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.) 

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation. 

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass. 

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.” 

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” 

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return. 

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’. 

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception. 

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.” 

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie. 

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it. 

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him. 

“Has it been a godly union?” 

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage. 

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer. 

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out. 

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse. 

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted. 

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse. 

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.” 

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.” 

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth. 

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again. 

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid. 

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening. 

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay. 

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response. 

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant. 

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun. 

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it. 

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him. 

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again. 

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt. 

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide. 

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly. 

Which ‘one’? 

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information? 

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time. 

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception. 

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed. 

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.” 

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun. 

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream. 

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time. 

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now. 

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-” 

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek. 

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek. 

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly. 

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head. 

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’. 

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.” 

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards. 

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you. 

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly. 

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead. 

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan. 

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened. 

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man. 

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him. 

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued. 

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” 

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides. 

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that. 

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you. 

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you. 

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you. 

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. 

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies. 

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all. 

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury. 

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what. 

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better. 

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it. 

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort. 

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test. 

… 

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes. 

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’. 

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind. 

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking. 

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle. 

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.) 

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned. 

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,” 

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart. 

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.” 

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay. 

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly. 

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind. 

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way. 

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.” 

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you. 

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s). 

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real. 

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked. 

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title. 

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it. 

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too. 

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued. 

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.” 

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself. 

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right? 

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked. 

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.” 

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely. 

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked. 

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like? 

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.” 

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared. 

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said. 

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin. 

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.” 

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement. 

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.” 

Of course. 

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.” 

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day. 

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you. 

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children. 

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life. 

… 

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids. 

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then. 

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better. 

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?” 

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim. 

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak. 

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well. 

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced. 

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.” 

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die. 

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.” 

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room. 

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek. 

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about. 

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you. 

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels. 

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear. 

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-” 

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along. 

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around. 

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you. 

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you. 

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her. 

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay. 

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back. 

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame. 

It was the church. 

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!” 

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm. 

“L/N!” 

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down. 

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face. 

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.” 

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you. 

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear. 

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then: 

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him. 

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go. 

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” 

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you. 

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever. 

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.” 

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’. 

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.” 

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced. 

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm. 

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss. 

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed. 

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self. 

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder. 

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea. 

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it. 

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best. 

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: okay, I do have to admit, the ending kind of sucks imo (like the last few paragraphs) because I highly resisted the urge to end this with 'baby making' smut where y/n is like if 'you want kids for real, then we can have kids', and then Spencer just goes nuts. because I did like the more cheesy/romantic love confession ending, and I was getting way too tired to write smut for this. idk if I should do that 'x amount of reblogs for part 2' thing or if I'm just happy with this being a standalone oneshot?? idk. if people ask for a part 2, then I will set a reblog goal for it. and I will work on a part 2 for it after Lesson Two is posted.

[13leaguestories]

Superstition: All that Comes Between

I may change that name, so far all of my ideas are revolving around "in-between" ... Anyway!

After doing a poll with those over on Patreon, the winner was fleshed out stories for Superstition. This grew into the info you'll read below.

This isn't all 100% set in stone it's like 99% set in stone lmfao) and if things do change then of course I'll mention it.

:: What Is This ::

These stories will be a collection of mini stories that will further flesh out Roe's personality and experiences, their companions, and the relationships that grow or deteriorate between their companions while also providing variables that can be carried and remembered by the story to shape dialogue and relationship paths further.

Similar to the DLC themes, supporters will be able to vote on story ideas and the top 4 through 6 ideas will be chosen. These are all going to be canon. For example, one of the stories will be Roe attending their mother's funeral. So there won't be any romance when there's no romance in story. But when romance has come up then yes, I will add a few more NSFW scenes so the story may remember that your Roe likes it rough or they have a certain interest in a certain kink and they try that out.

:: How Will It Work ::

Volume (I decided to go with volumes, sounds cooler lol) will be before season one starts, volume two will be after season one, and so on. So in all there will be five volumes. The fifth one will more so be all of your variables brought over into the final addition with a bunch of "what comes next." Variables that can later be loaded into the story (similar to how one can load a save file) will be available so that the story can take these changes into effect as soon as the story starts.

I'll release Volume 1 before finishing up S1's rewrite.

:: Can I Play Without It ::

The story can still be played and enjoyed without these add-ons. Literally, it'll just be like before this was even put out, the story can still stand. This story is just for more fun. Explanations to what's going on or has been going on, and to provide a more fleshed out Roe that will pop up in story for those who love that.

In short, just because you didn't buy this doesn't mean you're going to miss out on some plot or not have variables in game that may lead you down a losing path. None of that will happen.

:: Price ::

Obviously since I'm making this announcement here, this will be available to the public, but will have a $3 dollar price tag for every volume that becomes available (besides the last one. Cos Season 4 will have two tacked on and I'm not going to make that $6. I'll figure it out when S4 actually comes into existence).

If you're already the $3 tier or up on Patreon when it releases then of course you don't have to do anything extra. A link will be made available through Patreon. Otherwise, to get it, it'll be the same way that you can get the DLC.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Lingering questions, 3 months after the Bad Batch series finale

1. Who are these people in the blue pods? Because they look distinctly like Fett clones to me. What happened to them?

2. What's this room, and what are the specimens being kept in the main storage container Hemlock opens up for Palpatine? If it's a bunch of clones (one of whom may eventually turn into Snoke), why didn't they show the audience, why the secrecy about this?

3. What were Hemlock's plans for Crosshair?? I just have a really hard time accepting that his plans involved "Uhhh... new and maybe improved brainwashing! We may have just gone through at least 5 months of failed attempts, but if at first you don't succeed, try the same plan again!"

4. What's going on in this second Tantiss facility? Were there more prisoners here? Did Echo happen to check here before leaving Tantiss? (Is Tech still here in stasis, waiting to be found? Does Tarkin relocate him when the facility is shut down?)

5. Why make this character Scorch? People (like me) who don't/didn't know who Scorch was didn't care about his inclusion and didn't become fans, and people who were already Scorch fans seemed to be almost universally disappointed by his characterization here.

6. Who's this? As in, what's this clone's backstory? What did he do to be imprisoned on Tantiss and turned into an assassin? Why did he hold such a grudge against Crosshair? If he was just supposed to be some reg that we don't care about, why include him in a show that emphasizes caring about the fate of all the clones? And if we weren't supposed to care enough about him to want more backstory/know more about him, why the emphasis on him in the first place? Why use Tech as one of the red herrings for his identity? Why keep him masked after his death? (I am 100% convinced there were massive season 3 rewrites and CX2 was one of the plot lines that got significantly changed.)

7. So, when is Tech going to come back: pre-epilogue during a clone rebellion show, or post-epilogue during an Omega/Rebellion show?

[yukisloser]

how to fix arcane season 2:

tl;dr focus on Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn as A plot and Mel, Jayce, Viktor as B plot.

that's it ✅✅✅

(okay,, further elaboration & spoilers ahead:)

1: Mel, hextech, Jayvik, magic

draw Mel into the conflict with Jayce and Viktor. GET RID OF THE BLACK ROSE. ENTIRELY. why put Mel in with Jayvik? Mel was the CATALYST for hextech being created!! Jayce and Viktor were the ones who came up with it, but Mel is the one who allowed them to and supported it and made it a KEY part of Piltover!! as much as i loved jayvik moments somewhat, she DESERVED to be part of the hextech/hexcore/arcane plot 100%

2. Jinx, Isha, Sevika, Zaun

show Jinx finding peace away from the conflict through both Isha and her community. with Isha i feel that Jinx's symptoms could have flared up again (cuz where did they all go?? Silco's death made her ACCEPT she's Jinx, that's pretty extreme - ) and maybe she would ask Sevika to take Isha away or something and get someone else to adopt her. of course Isha being loyal would perhaps try to come back and she could eventually be the bridge forming between Jinx and the rest of Zaun (a sense of community which was HINTED in the Stillwater breakout, where Jinx finally felt the comfort of being accepted by a community which was THANKFUL to her - a feeling that was clearly new and slightly scary for her)

3. Caitlyn, Ambessa, Piltover

actually redeem Caitlyn: like seriously? wtf? no more notes.

4. Vi, enforcers, Powder

Vi. oh my sweet baby Vi. perhaps we should just rewrite everything for her this season. okay but seriously, they 100% needed to focus more on her unwillingness to accept that her sister has changed. "Powder" is not a person she can bring back by yelling old names as she tried to do in the season one finale - which only ended up traumatizing Jinx more. Vi needs to accept that Powder is someone she left, and CANNOT return to. she NEEDS to truly reckon with the fact that the years kept passing for everyone she knew even while she was stagnating in prison, and try to understand what Jinx has gone through. I think her arc of calling her sister "dead" and branding Jinx as her killer is GOOD, but it should have developed more from there.

[sweet--candy]

The Charlie/Vaggie break-up was done really poorly.

Specifically the reconciliation and how it was executed.

Imagine dating someone for 3 years, and knowing that person for even longer. And then it comes out that they’re not who they said they are. Maybe they also have a worldview that goes entirely against yours.

Instead, Charlie just says “Nice wings”, as if the reveal of her girlfriend being an angel didn’t just rock her whole world, and then gifts Vaggie the severed head key-chain. They sing a song together and then kiss, and that’s supposed to be it???

This is NOT something that can be resolved in a day, or a little over a day, and certainly NOT like this, as the show wants you to believe.

Communication is key in relationships, heck, ANY relationship. Charlie and Vaggie never communicate afterwards. Vaggie never apologizes to Charlie for lying to her all those years. Charlie never apologizes or, at the very least, explains why she made a deal with Alastor, since in that moment she absolutely did it to stick it to Vaggie in that moment because she was mad at her. She was dubious at first, but when she heard Vaggie coming, she agreed.

If the show had to have them be a couple again, do it later down the line. Maybe mid-season 2. It still wouldn’t be 100% believable, but given how the passage of time went in Season 1, as wonky and weird as it was, it would still be better.

I want to bring up The Owl House real quick and say that The Owl House did repairing relationships right. Not perfectly, but better than here.

Like Hazbin, The Owl House was cut short; Alador’s redemption was rushed. However, I think that having Amity shake Alador’s hand instead of going in for a hug, and saying “It’s a start”, was much more believable and realistic in comparison to Charlie and Vaggie’s resolution to their conflict. It shows that Amity was willing to forgive her dad and have a (better) relationship with him, but that she, and her siblings, would need time to come around fully.

Instead of the duet and kiss, have Charlie and Vaggie communicate and apologize. Have Charlie smile gently at Vaggie afterwards, place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and say “It’s a start.” It shows that she’s willing to forgive Vaggie, but that she needs time to come away from it all, and not enter a relationship as if nothing happened prior.

This could serve as vital character development for the both of them, and their relationship.

Also, I love Rosie as a character, and her interactions with Charlie were sweet, but Charlie has known this woman for a few hours tops, and should NOT be taking advice from her. At least, not on something as big as romance. It’s just too early on in their relationship.

I might delve into another critical post on how I would rewrite the Charlie/Rosie therapy scene, but I just wanted to tack that on in the end.

[justinewt]

The Two-Horned Beast - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Twenty-Five

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Raven was saved but the group wasn't out of the woods just yet. They still had to find a way to really put an end to Alie. Thanks to a book written by the hand of the woman that made the AI, they found a new lead, a Grounder named Luna, who might be the key to all this.

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: The 100 season 3 spoilers (episode 12 "Demons"), fluff, some romance, guns, knives, blood, stabbing, attempted & actual murder

The sun had risen in the sky as they drove full speed across a field. They drove all night really, with Bellamy at the wheels. Clarke was at the front with him, and Michelle was sitting at the back with the others as they all began to plan out their next moves to stop Alie and her army of zombies. They had saved Raven from her grip, but the latter was far from being the only one that was being mind controlled. Michelle looked through the windshield, listening to the conversation with one ear, leaning forward on her lap. She was wondering about the situation in Polis. Her father was there, and she hoped he was safe. For the time being, they were headed for Arkadia. It was probably fine to return since Alie and her minions were trying to find them and they were far from the trading post already. 

“Becca’s journal is amazing.” Raven exclaimed, carefully flipping the pages of the old notebook. “At 26, she found a pathway to access a human mind. That same year, she had to lock up Alie, because her answer for what was wrong with the world was “too many people”. She was 27 when it launched the bombs.”

“What did she write about the Flame?” Clarke twisted on her seat, turning towards them.

“Alie 2.0. She saw it as a way to atone for her sins. She designed it to not just access a human mind, but to merge with one. It could never wipe us out, because it would be one of us. She put it in herself first. Altered her genes so her body wouldn’t reject the implant.”

“Bekka Pramheda, the first Commander.” Michelle glanced at Clarke. She nodded to herself before looking at the others, crossing the gaze of her best friend before she focused back on Raven. “The gene therapy made her blood black, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She said quietly, surprised that she knew this detail without having read the diary. She wasn’t the only one that was surprised.

“How did you know that?” Octavia enquired.

“Nightblood. That’s where it came from. Somehow it became hereditary. Luna has it. That’s why we have to find her. If she can access Alie-2…”

“She can tell us how to stop Alie-1.” Octavia said, concluding Clarke’s statement.

“Get back to the mind pathway.” Monty spoke, taking a closer look at the Flame. “If Alie uses it to upload our minds to the City of Light, then there’s a chance my mo’s still alive.”

“That depends on your definition of “alive”.” Raven’s words must have shattered his hopes, but he shot his mother. The woman’s body wasn’t alive anymore and whatever was left of her in the City of Light, wasn’t her. Seeing him like this made Michelle quite sad and it made her think how if her father happened to take the chip, she wasn’t sure she would have the guts to shoot if he put someone in danger. She hoped she would never have to kill him to save someone else because if her father, her only remaining parent, died by her own hand, she would never survivre it. Losing her mother broke her and she didn’t even see her pass away, so it would be the last straw. She would never recover from it.

“Eyes sharp. Weapons hot. We’re almost home.” Bellamy spoke up as they approached Arkadia’s grounds. He called for Harper and Miller over the radio, telling them they were a couple minutes away from camp, but no one replied. It wasn’t a good sign. Michelle straightened up, stretching her, craning forward to look through the windshield. She couldn’t see Arkadia just yet. They were still too far but once they saw it in the distance, and noticed the gates were wide open and there was no one in sight, they stopped the vehicle. Some of them got out with their weapons, walking alongside the car, Jasper standing up at the back, sticking out through the roof opening and Bellamy had left the wheel to Michelle. She wouldn't have minded coming outside with him, Clarke, Octavia, and Sinclair; she was a pretty good shot, but he had insisted that she stay inside the Rover. Her assumption turned out to be correct though, Alie and her minions had deserted the place, probably since last night. From inside the car, she couldn’t really hear what the others were saying but she heard Jasper note that no one was there to fix the gate. It was like a ghost town as they slowly progressed inside the camp.

“Maybe they saw the open gate and went in for Lincoln’s book.” Jasper added, talking about Miller and Harper. Bellamy was still trying to get a hold of them, but no one was responding. When she looked in the mirrors and saw her peers stopping in their tracks, she slowed the car and turned her head to Raven, sitting in the front seat next to her. She met her gaze and she understood they had stopped by the pool of blood that must have soaked the grounds ever since Lincoln was shot by Pike. She gulped and they continued on their way to get the grounder’s book. It was supposed to guide them to other Grounders that could help them to stop Alie, with all that nightblood stuff. As they approached the hangar, the doors opened and she drove in, opening the window and popping her head through, to hear what Bellamy was saying. He looked at her after telling Jasper to close the roof.

“Turn the Rover around. We may need to get outta here quickly.” She nodded and sat back into the driver’s seat, waiting for the others to get out from around the vehicle to turn the car around. The doors of the hangar closed shut behind them with a thud. As the group looked around the large room, she did as Bellamy asked and then jumped out of the car. Climbing up the small flight of stairs, she, Raven, and Monty joined the others around the table where a bunch of stuff was scattered, decks of cards, half-empty plates and drinks, as if people just got up and walked away, leaving everything behind to rot, without a second thought. “We’re in and out. Pack as much gear as you can into the Rover.”

“I’ll get the map.” Octavia left almost as quickly as she spoke. Jasper went along with her. As she watched them walk away, Michelle was reminded of the fact that her precious jacket was still lying somewhere in Bellamy’s room, and she wanted to get it back before they left camp again. She was about to mention it to Bellamy, parting her lips, turned towards him, when Raven came from behind her and spoke up.

“What’s the rush? They won’t be coming back.”

“How do you know?” Clarke asked.

“Alie’s mission is to chip everyone. It wouldn’t make sense to return to a place she already took.”

“It might make sense if there was someone in that place, you, who could tell us stuff like that.” Raven agreed with Sinclair’s point, and they all went in different directions. Only Michelle went after Bellamy and he looked over his shoulder, hearing her footsteps. She still wanted her jacket, even if she was wearing her father’s ever since the group parted ways with him, Pike, and the Grounders. He nodded at her request, and they walked through the door towards the inside of the Ring, heading for Bellamy’s room. The two of them walked inside the room and Michelle kind of looked around while Bellamy opened a wardrobe next to his bed. He let his gun hang to his side as he took the jacket from a hanger. She took off the large, black guards’ jacket that her father gave her so she wouldn’t be cold and put it down on the desk while he handed her vest to her.

“Thank you.” She said as she took and put it on, one sleeve after the other. Then, she picked up her father’s and put it back on. She noticed Bellamy watching her as she got dressed and she looked at him with a chuckle, the corner of her lip stretching into a smirk. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, looking away, and she took a step towards him, taking his hand, intertwining their fingers as they locked eyes. His eyes went down to her mouth for half a second and he cupped her face in his free hand, pressing his lips against hers. Their kiss grew more passionate as time went on and he let go of her hand to slip his fingers in her hair, at the back of her head. Her whole body felt like it was lit on fire when they broke their embrace, resting his forehead against her cheekbone. She was catching her breath, as if she had forgotten how to breathe properly and she heard Bellamy chuckle. She smiled, telling him not to laugh, playfully pushing him away, shaking her head and he caught her arms, pulling her back towards him into a hug and she wrapped her arms around him, warm under his jacket. She could feel him breathing in her hair while she rested her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes. It was the first, real intimate moment that they had shared in many months and damn, how she had missed it. The words I love you, would take a little longer to be spoken out loud though.

“All right let’s go look around. We don’t know know how much time we have right now.” She broke the embrace and he nodded. They left together, exiting the Ring through the front door. She didn’t have a gun, so she remained behind Bellamy as he kicked open the door to the armory, holding his gun up in case he came face-to-face with someone. It was empty. She stepped in after him as he opened a mesh cupboard inside which they could see a bunch of automatic shotguns lined up. He checked the content of the boxes stored underneath. They were filled to the brim with bullets. He grabbed the radio at his belt and contacted the rest of the group still inside the hangar. 

“Everyone finish what you’re doing and meet us at the armory.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Clarke was the one to respond.

“You’ll see when you get there. We just got lucky.” While she told them they were on their way, Bellamy picked up a gun, filled a charger with bullets and gave it to Michelle. The latter started walking back and forth outside the door, looking around the camp, alert, and turned to Bellamy while they waited for the others to join them. Her mind was really making her do comparisons between what she now had with Bellamy and what she once had with Murphy. She didn’t want to keep thinking about both the relationships she had ever had but her conclusion was that the two were diametrically opposed. Maybe it was because she had grown since they first landed on the ground, and because Bellamy was a few years older, but their relationship had a much more mature feeling to it. The nature of their feelings for each other was very different from when she was with Murphy. When he left, she realized, even if he did love and care for her, she most likely loved him more than he did. She mentally shrugged, thinking it would have ended at some point but the fact that he just got up and left, with Jaha, it still bothered her. She shook the thought away when Clarke’s voice reached their ears. She was calling out their names weakly, panting and Bellamy caught her before she fell, giving her support so she could stand. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Emerson.” It was just one word, well a name really, but the three of them were very much aware of what it meant. The guy from Mount Weather, who they thought they had gotten rid of already, was back, harder to kill than a cockroach. The trio then walked into the ring, with Bellamy and Michelle walking in front of Clarke, their heads tilted, eyes glued to the viewfinder lens, guns up, flashlights on.

“Where’s Monty?” Bellamy enquired.

“Emerson took him. Why?” She frowned, trying to understand what Emerson’s motivation was. He grabbed his radio and tried to make contact with his sister, stopping in their tracks.

“Octavia, can you hear me? Come in.”

“Jasper was with her.”

“Jasper, are you there? Say something.” The only answer they got was a static sound crackling on the other end.

“Maybe Emerson got them too.” Michelle said quietly. Clarke looked down, frowning, shaking her head.

“Miller, Harper, Bryan… This is all my fault. I let Emerson live.”

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy looked at Clarke, blinking in confusion before exchanging a glance with Michelle. She had no idea what she was talking about either, but their friend seemed preoccupied. Her eyes went from one to the other.

“In Polis. I had a chance to kill him, but I let him go.”

“Bellamy, what’s wrong?” Raven’s voice came over the radio, interrupting their conversation.

“Raven, are you okay? Where are you?” He immidietaly asked.

“Still in engineering. We’re fine.”

“Raven, listen to me. Emerson is here. Are the others with you?” Clarke spoke up, taking the radio after Bellamy handed it to her. Raven replied in the negative. She was alone with Sinclair. Clarke then gave them instructions to lock down the hangar bay and to not let anybody in but the three of them. They had yet to find their other friends, who were probably held somewhere by Emerson. They ran there but when they came at the door, shouting out the mechanic’s name, banging on the door, no one answered, and the hangar was plunged in the dark. They left, running around the ring to get to the other door. When they reached the large door from the outside, it was just opened slightly, leaving a thin thread of light penetrate inside. Slipping through the opening one after the other, the two childhoos best friends kneeled next to the lifeless body of Sinclair, lying on the ground, a large stain of blood on his t-shirt, and blood running down his mouth. His dead eyes stared right back at them, frozen, and empty. Clarke still went to check his pulse, but it was obviously too late. He was already gone. She closed his eyes. Michelle sighed and got up, her hands on the gun hanging across her shoulders, glancing around the hangar. Raven was nowhere to be seen.

“He took Raven.”

“We’re too late.” Bellamy added, but Clarke somehow disagreed. She turned her head to them.

“He didn’t kill Monty or Raven. He would’ve left their bodies. Michelle is right, he took them somewhere.”

“If you’re right, Octavia and the others are there, too. Where would he be taking them? They could be anywhere. How does he even know his way around?”

“He was here. You were in Mount Weather.” As she talked, Clarke was already thinking, and she came to the conclusion that the man that had them running around the compound looking for their friends, had taken them to the very airlock in which he had been detained before. It only made sense that he would lock them up in there. She snatched the radio from Bellamy’s belt. “Emerson. I know you’re listening. We need to talk.”

“I don’t need to do anything.” They heard grunts in the background, confirming that he did have their friends with him. Clarke had their back to them, facing the hangar’s door and Michelle and Bellamy looked at each other. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“And now you’re here to kill me, is that it?”

“Something like that.”

“Then let my friends go.” She tried to bargain with him, offering to give herself over if he did what she asked. Of course, neither Michelle nor Bellamy wanted this to happen. She turned to them. “I know what I’m doing.” Michelle gave her a firm nod, trusting her, though this whole ordeal worried her.

“Come to the airlock. No weapons. Right now.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Bellamy stopped her as she walked away with a determined step. She was set on saving their friends and they didn’t disagree with this but neither of them wanted her to sacrifice herself.

“Look, when it’s over, take this to Luna. Promise me.” She took the Flame out of her pocket and handed it over to him. Her eyes went to Michelle who didn’t like the way she was talking about all this, as if she was going to die going to the airlock and there was nothing to do about it. She didn’t the decisiveness of this moment. Bellamy slightly squinted his eyes, shaking his head.

“No. You’re outta your mind your mind if you think we’re letting you do this alone.” Though she stayed quiet, used to go along with the flow of whatever Clarke wanted to do, Bellamy didn’t even think about it and included her in his statement, knowing that she was as much against this as he was. And in other circumstances, she would have sketched a smile, because he was right. Clarke glanced at Michelle before putting her gaze back on him.

“This is my fault. I’m not letting anyone else die for my mistake, okay? So take it!” She didn’t raise her voice, but her tone and gesture were strong and direct, urging him to take the flame from her hand.

“Are you through? I don’t know what happened between you and Emerson in Polis. But I do know that letting him kill you here today is a stupid plan.”

“You got a better one?” He pinched his lips and shrugged; his smirk tinged with sadness.

“You distract him, we shoot him.” Clarke let go of her original plan to just surrender herself to the mountain man and nodded to Bellamy’s proposition. She looked down at the flame while Bellamy stepped away. Now, they had to put the plan into motion, and hope it would go smoothly but what Emerson would do, and his reactions were out of their control. Clarke walked a few feet ahead of them, with Bellamy and Michelle with their guns right behind. They stood behind the corner, hidden in the shadows while she held up her hands and approached the airlock.

“I held up my part of the deal. Your turn. Let my friends go.”

“Tell Bellamy to show themselves first.” He must have seen Bellamy’s shadow, or he simply knew the girl would never actually come alone but they were both reminded that even though Michelle knew the man’s name and who he was, he probably didn’t even remember her, other than being that one Asian girl who was Clarke’s friend. She wasn’t even sure he remembered that she was one of those who basically got her thigh drilled into and almost died, if it weren’t for Clarke opened all exits of Mount Weather. The two gunsmen glanced at each other.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She tried to lie, and he knew it. He grunted and Octavia let out a scream, prompting Bellamy to come out of hiding, telling Michelle to stay back with his eyes. She gave him a nod, standing her back to the wall to conceal herself better. He kept his gun ready to fire as he stepped into the hallway.

“Good. Now, take out the clip, throw it down the hall, put the gun down and get inside.”

“Please, you wanted me.” She tried to talk with him, but he wasn’t here to listen to her pleading. Surrending herself in exchange for her friends’ lives being spared, but something was off. He really wanted Bellamy to come into the airlock. The latter gave in, telling him to stop. Michelle didn’t know what Emerson was doing but she guessed that he must have been holding Octavia at gunpoint or something like that, for the young man to be this nervous. He did as order, took out the clip and kneeled, putting down his gun, along with the rest of his weapons, which included the two knives he had. He threw them away, making them slide down the hall and their course stopped right in front of Michelle. If it came down to it and using her gun was too dangerous, she would pick up one of the blades and use it against Emerson. It was clear that Bellamy took advantage of the fact the man was clueless about a third person being there. He then put his hands up in the air and walked towards the airlock, disappearing from Michelle's sight. She heard Emerson’s voice addressing Bellamy followed by Octavia grunting. Michelle was practically glued to the wall, taking deep, quiet breath, ready to step in. She clenched her jaw, hating the fact that she was blind to what was now happening, right around the corner. She listened to Emerson giving orders to Clarke, telling her to get down on her knees and put her hand behind her head. There were footsteps, certainly Emerson, followed by a beeping sound and the airlock door closing.

“No- You can do anything you want with me. Okay? Just let them go.” Hearing him grunt, Michelle peeked. Emerson was his back to her, holding Clarke the collar of her coat and pushing her towards the closed space. He put his arm around her neck, his handgun against her head, pressing her against the glass. Michelle then thought, using her gun would put Clarke’s life at risk, while using a much sneakier weapon such as Bellamy’s knives, would give her a bigger chance of neutralizing Emerson. She let go of her shotgun, letting it hang to her side and picked up both blades to her feet, holding the handles tightly. And she waited for the right opportunity to come out. Not knowing if he had his finger on the trigger didn’t help her determine when to act either and she couldn’t risk Emerson seeing her, it would fuck the whole plan up as well.

“You murdered 381 people. You took the lives of my children, my brother, my friends. Did you really think that I would be happy with just one life in return?” When she heard him step back, dragging Clarke with him, she took another look. The gun was now aimed towards the ceiling. He put his arm back around Clarke, right across her chest and used his free hand to uncover a glowing red button. She came out of hiding as he pressed it. A voice over PA announced that the airlock was being emptied of its oxygen. He looked to asphyxiate their friends. She took advantage of the loud, dull noise covering her steps and she rushed towards him, driving the blades of the daggers right into his skull with a grunt. A gunshot went off as he collapsed, dragging Clarke with him. She broke free from his grip and rushed to the airlock control panel to open the door. Michelle just then processed what she did and though she didn’t feel bad about it, she couldn’t help but stare at Emerson’s face, his empty eyes staring back at her. She realized her fingers were trembling, so she closed her hands into fists. The two knives looking like horns that had grown on the sides of his head. Clarke got up, stretching out her arms to reopen the airlock. Their friends inside weren’t exactly passed out but a little lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, breathing heavily, while the two were getting rid of Emerson. Michelle stepped over the man’s body, helped Clarke up. As she freed one of them, they helped free each other. Michelle went to untie Bellamy from the wall and frowned in frustration since her hands were still a bit shaky. She felt his gaze upon her.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly.

“You’re the one that’s restrained. I’m fine.” He grabbed her hand and glanced over his shoulder at Emerson. She huffed, following his eyes, and stared at the dead body. The knives sticking out of his heads, a pool of blood all over the floor and trickles having flowed across his face. His eyeballs were hidden, covered with a red layer. It wasn’t the first she had had a deadly weapon in her hands, but it was the very first time that she stabbed someone this violently, in the head, and not just with one knife, but two at that. She didn’t have such a hard time shooting at people with a gun but using bladed weapons did shake her up a little. She didn’t even think, she just did it to save Clarke. Seeing that she was staring at Emerson, he stepped aside, blocking her view, making her look at him.

“You did it to save Clarke.”

“Yes, I know why I did it.” She pinched her lips, not reacting the way she would have wanted to. She answered abruptly when he was only trying to help her. But he understood and only looked at her with concern for her on his face. She locked eyes with Clarke and Octavia, who noticed them holding hands and the latter were surprised to say the least. They obviously didn’t expect to see their siblings together. The group then eventually walked outside, dragging Emerson’s body away. At nightfall, while they were putting things away, they saw Bellamy walk through the gate, carrying a large body wrapped in a body bag, in his arms.  Because of the weight of the body, his gait was a bit slowed down, and his steps were heavy, sinking into the mud. He put it on the ground and took a step back while Octavia fell to her knees. She raised her hand to uncover the head and hesitated for a moment before finally doing so. It was Lincoln.

Octavia's sobbing turned into hearbreaking wailing. The rest of them were all silently standing there. Michelle felt her pain, though it was not over the death of the same type of love, she had cried just as hard over her mother. It made her want to cry and she felt a tear had run down her cheek. She swiftly wiped it away. They built a pyre and put both Sinclair and Lincoln’s bodies on it. Raven went forth, saying her goodbyes to her former mentor and stepped back while Octavia lit the pyre, pronouncing words in trigedasleng. Your fight is over. They all repeated those words in unison. While Michelle said it for their two peers, her eyes rose to the starry night sky and her thoughts went to her mother and she stared at the fire, losing her gaze in the dance of flames until Octavia's voice rises above the loud crackling.

“It’s time to go. I’ll get the map.” Bellamy watched her walk away, swallowing harshly. As he turned back towards the fire, he felt a hand hold his and his eyes went down to his hand and then up to Michelle’s face before they both observed the fire for a moment. After a while, they all went to the hangar to put their things into the rover and get ready to leave. Clarke was putting the flame back in its box and Bellamy was carrying boxes of weapons into the back of the car. Michelle was next to her childhood friend. The three exchanged a nod as he walked past them.

“Hey, we’re leaving. Why aren’t you ready?” Bellamy asked Raven and Monty as the two approached.

“We’re not going with you.” She then said, being helped down by Monty. “I can barely walk, and my shoulder is killing me. But my brain’s all kinds of awesome.”

“She remembered that Alie downloaded herself into the Ark mainframe. If the code is still there, we might be able to find a back door.” Monty added.

“I’m guessing once you connect Alie-2 to Luna, we’ll need to access Alie-1 to take her down.”

“Miller.” Bellamy called to the young man in the background, with his boyfriend and Harper. He motioned towards the other two.

“I’ll keep ‘em safe.”

“I’ll keep them safe.” Harper said, repeating his words with a smile.

“How about you? It’s gonna be dangerous.” Bellamy turned his head to Jasper.

“You know me well. I’m in.” On his words, Bellamy walked off while Clarke and Michelle said goodbye to their friends. Octavia went directly inside the car. Clarke went to the front with Bellamy and Michelle joined Octavia, followed by Jasper. The humming noise of the engine starting sounded in the hangar as Raven shut the backdoor and they drove away. Next step was finding this Luna and find a way to get rid of Alie once and for all.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Published (02/24/2023) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64 @mirellef2001

[gallus-rising]

mp100 horror fic recs 👻🎃

For a while now I've been thinking about mp100's amazing horror potential and how it really doesn't get enough attention. SO! For the spooky season why don't you settle down with a nice scary story ;D

All of these fics are complete and have no shipping. I've only linked 1 fic per author so this list doesn't get bloated, but all of these wonderful authors have other fics just waiting for you to read them ❤ Some definitely freaked me out more than others, but I'm not gonna give any particular ratings since "scary" is so subjective. All fics are properly tagged and you know your own limits better than I do.

Also feel free to add on your own recs!! My general reading preferences and parameters when making this list is only a small sampling, so please share any and all of your favs ❤ Hope you enjoy!

If you see an "N/A" instead of a Tumblr UN that means there wasn't one linked in either the fics' notes or author's bio. If you know the author or are the author yourself feel free to let me know so I can edit the post :] And now in no particular order I present:

The Immeasurable Dark: @tinkertoysdamn Immediately breaking my own "no ships" rule just this once because I can't resist a good House of Leaves inspired story! If you've read HoL is you know what's up. If not expect a fucked-up house and impossibly large spaces, funky text formatting and footnotes, maybe a minotaur. Ship featured is background established serirei.

a pilgrimage: @tooomuchtofu Divine Tree arc bad ending. Told from the PoV of an unnamed worshiper on their first visit to "the capital" aka an overgrown Seasoning City. Uses second person pov wonderfully to build the dread.

And Who Is Killing Me?: @sammisafetypin Koyama beats the shit outta Mob a little harder than in canon, hospitalizing him and delaying the 7th Division rescue arc by [TIME NOT FOUND]. The Awakening Lab kids are so minor I tend to forget they even exist, but oh my god does this author make you care about them! This fic is written with great suddenly swapping PoVs that keep you feeling off kilter without making you lose track of the story. It's the longest fic on this list by far but 100% worth every second of it. A real gut punch.

Adoration: (N/A) The Divine Tree takes a particular interest in Reigen. I don't think I've ever seen anyone properly touch on how creepy the Psycho Helm constructs themselves are like this fic has. God, those things freak me out so much. Features "shipping" in the sense of a sentient broccoli becoming fixated on a guy. Keep in mind that the Psycho Helms look like Mob if you think that'll squick you out, but for me personally it added to the horror.

Similarities: (N/A) Reigen receives a fucked up email. Ends on the sillier side, but BOY is that email fucked up!

The Water Ran Clean: @bandtrees A Mogami-mentors-Mob AU and a damn fine one at that. Love the sort of fragmented style it's written in, and the exploration of Mogami's fucked up moral code is great. There's some Choice viscerally described imagery here 👌👌 Features a drawing of Mob covered in blood just in case that freaks you out; but worry, it's not his :]

An Outlier Among a Sea of Common Denominators: @hebezunet A rewrite of the early Divine Tree arc that asks the question we've all been too scared to consider: What if the brainwashing was like cordyceps? In particular I want to highlight the opening scene where after eating the broccoli powder cookies Teru has to physically rip florets out of his body to resist being brainwashed. Very gnarly stuff.

Prison Surveillance: (N/A) Touichirou was a very bad boss so Hatori pulls a The Ring to torment him in Psychic Supermax Prison. Was written pre-season 3 so Hatori doesn't work for the government.

Stairs: (N/A) Reigen and Mob have a job in the woods. There are some stairs. Inspired by an r/nosleep story which the author links to if you'd like to check that out as well.

Fight, Flight, or Fraud: @cowardlybean So everyone's got a really specific supernatural fear, right? Something that could absolutely never happen in real life but when you see it in media it freaks you the fuck out? Mine is someone I know being killed and replaced by an evil doppelganger and I'm the only one who knows. I've not seen anything since The Magnus Archives that's properly captured that fear like this fic, which is some of the highest praise I can bestow.

In Quicksand: @ghoststrawberries Reigen catches a nasty cold and by that I mean he gets possessed. Very fun the way Reigen's train of thought and feeling shifts around as the evil spirit tries to influence him while he's unconsciously resisting it. The scene where the gang realizes Reigen's been possessed is a real "OOOOOH, SHIT!!!" moment, but I won't spoil ;D

Playing Human: (N/A) Espers and psychic powers might not be real but spirits are. Poor baby Mob is a ghost possessing his own dead body. Features Dimple as the bad guy.

Mithridatism: If I may be so self-indulgent to list one of my own fics here :3 Absorbing evil spirits while still alive was actively killing Mogami and I wanted to dig into that! Features my Signature™ (lol) "HEY, DON'T EAT THAT!!" style of body horror.

[theredpharaoah]

Personally, I think it would’ve made much more sense for Clarke and Octavia to lean on one another after Lexa and Lincoln’s deaths. That could’ve even been an opportunity for Octavia to train Clarke too. And it could’ve made them more like sisters as opposed to whatever their relationship was. I think that could’ve been really cool, if Clarke came to shoulder that burden of “My sister, my responsibility” with Bellamy, and if Bellamy and O came to shoulder the burdens of “I bear it so they don’t have to”. I feel like the emotional side was left out a lot. Everything that happened should’ve brought these characters CLOSER together - to an unhealthy degree even.

[lesbianrobin]

i get if you don't wanna drag this convo out so feel free to ignore but the thing (from my pov) abt shannon is that she's one of the more complex characters. that's what makes her interesting! the nuance is why there's so much to talk about there! but being a good character is not the same as being a good person/mom. and the urge to flatten her into solely a victim of circumstance is 100% a fanon brain thing that imho stems from 1) eddie's unreliable narration of their relationship 2) her underutilization as a character before her death and 3) run of the mill misogyny which assumes every woman has some inherent maternal instinct that precludes them from being a shitty parent of their fault. i may find shannon an interesting character but as a "person" i don't! she was a bad and ableist mom and didn't want to take full accountability for her actions (comparing her abandonment to eddie's service. again unreliable narration is interesting but still unreliable!)

anyway all this to say you're 100000% right in your shannon posts and trying to ignore the shitty parts of her character is Weird and Gross lol

ur fine!! like yeah i Don't wanna keep litigating the morality of a minor character who's been dead since season two for like Forever but literally everything you said is so true!! also i like started this so it's fine lmao

like you said i think so many people r kinda buying into eddie's romanticization of shannon after her death and ignoring the fact that like. not only is he an unreliable narrator because of his own subconscious rewriting of history but he's Also intentionally trying to make sure that christopher isn't hearing anything bad about his dead mother and trying to memorialize her respectfully and kindly even if his real feelings are more complicated.

and yeah i think it's very interesting how people talk about shannon as a Woman and Mother because like. i think oftentimes people want to make her good as like an attempt at feminism yknow but they ultimately just flatten her into Good Mom when actually pretty much the only thing we know for sure about shannon is that she abandoned her kid for two years and said really gross weird shit about his disability. like almost everything else we know about her is shown to us through eddie's rose-tinted glasses.

and i do think that's genuinely So interesting like the fact that eddie gives her the Blurry Dead Wife treatment but we actually know as audience members that she was a bad mom/didn't want to be a mom and wanted a divorce is SO INTERESTING!! but alas... fandom brain.

[7thchevronlocked]

Fic Author Self Rec

Thank you so much @alexagirlie for the tag!!

When you get this, reply with your favourite 5 fics you've written, then pass it on to at least 5 other writers.

I'm not sure if I even have five fandom fics posted 😂 So we'll see how this goes! In no particular order..

1 All of our Book's Pages Dog Eared (Equestrian!Jace x Farrier!Cregan, House of the Dragon)

Inspired by a friend's incredible fic that got me into Jacegan as a ship, a british take on hotd horsefic. My longest multi-chapter for a fandom, I'm so proud of it. Farrier!Cregan takes a temp job at the Red Keep working for world famous dressage rider Rhaenyra Targaryen. Gets more than he bargained for in the form of her eldest son...

2 Shield that Guards the Realms of Men (Gen - for now. Harwin Lives, House of the Dragon)

This was wholly inspired by the hotd season 2 trailer seeing jace and cregan at the wall, and ended up making me expand a little personal drabble about Harwin being sent to the wall rather than dying at Harrenhal. When Jace visits the wall with Lord Cregan Stark to gain favour for his mother's war, there's a familiar face waiting for him in the Lord Commander. (Planning a Chapter 2 with some Jacegan but i've not managed to get around to it yet)

3 The Princess, The Queen and the Prince Consort (Canon Divergent!Harwin x Rhaenyra, House of the Dragon, Episode rewrite)

A rewrite of that scene in 1x06, where Harwin gets to punch Crispy. Rewritten based off of a roleplay over on @scripturient-roleplay. What if Harwin and Rhaenyra had been able to marry, and he survived into the dance?

4 To The Sea We Shall Return (Canon Divergent!Harwin x Rhaenyra, House of the Dragon, Episode rewrite)

Another episode rewrite, this time 1x07, the funeral on driftmark and Aemond losing an eye. We see things go down from Harwin's POV. I had a lot of fun with this one! Again, based off of a roleplay over on @scripturient-roleplay. Rhaewin living their best lives.

I don't have anything else published, but honourable mention to the Rhaewin F1!AU that I posted here just for fun that's since become over 100 pages of google docs rambling.

As for people to tag... Idk if I know 5 writers here 😂

@cordeliacordate @archaiccotton @heliophytes @rentekren

Apologies if I've double tagged anyone! I could only think of four but I only tagged four fics 😂 ofc participation is totally optional, and if you see this and wanna do it but I've not tagged you, go for it! Just tag me, I wanna see everyone's stuff!