#this is constructed horribly i’m so sorry i was half asleep when i wrote this

[dreaminghelaena]

no thoughts just how the starklings wolf nicknames are not subject to change. the red wolf, the winged wolf, the white wolf… but robb’s is the ‘young wolf’ because he’d never grow out of his youth. he was destined to be a boy forever, in life and in death

[aficwhore]

As I Lay Dying...(Part One)

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader, Team x Reader

Warnings: violence, language, near death experience, reader injury, slight fluff

Word Count: 2,655

Summary: After having a dry spell the team go on a case, the unsub is kidnapping and killing women around the reader’s age and appearance. As she goes undercover the plan falls through, will she survive? (slow burn, sort of?)

A/N: So I wrote the first half of this and it was super long, like way too long, so I decided to split this into parts! Please let me know if you liked it and if I should post the last parts as well! Feedback please!!!! <3

Reader POV:

My neck started to strain as I intensely stared at my computer screen. Deciding to take a break from my paperwork and reports, I shove my chair back with a huff.

“Anyone else need more coffee?” I asked as I made my way from the bullpen to our small kitchenette, earning a few no’s and hums from the team.

I rinsed my mug of my coffee leftovers. I reached to pull the fresh brewed coffee pot, pouring most of it into my cup and adding a small dash of creamer and sugar. as I leaned against the counter, sipping my caffeine, Penelope struts in, “Hey baby cakes!”

“Hey,” I smile sheepishly, taking another swig of my drink.

“What’s with the gloomy energy? Did something happen, love?” The blonde questioned sincerely.

I shrugged, “We haven’t had a case in a while, not that it’s a bad thing, but I’m sick of sitting and staring at a screen all day.” I explained as I pulled myself up onto the counter.

She laughed, “Darlin’ I do that everyday! But u know you’re not used to it, so i hope you get a case soon, wait, no-“

We both burst into giggles, knowing what she meant. “Woah what’s so funny in here?!” Emily inquired, while stepping into the room.

“Pen here just said how she HOPES we get a case soon.” I chuckled.

“Oh god, i hate to say it, but me - fucking - too.” Emily chimed in. She walked over, taking the last of coffee into her cup, leaving it black. “Y/n, you better get back to your desk before Mr. Boss Man sees you goofing around,” she smirked, leaving Penelope and I alone again.

I rolled my eyes as I slid off the countertop. “Well thanks for the horrible wish Garcia,” I snickered, nudging her side as I passed by, heading to my dreaded workspace. I walked by Spencer’s desk, he leaned back in his chair, feet propped up. I took the opportunity to smack the back of his head lightly earning a quiet yelp from the genius.

“What was that for?!” Boy wonder squealed. I shrugged hearing Morgan snicker. With a loud sigh, I threw myself in my rolling chair, causing it to spin me around. Already stricken with boredom I started bouncing my leg, leading to my chair to start squeaking. I ignored the noise, struggling to focus on my report I was supposed to be writing. Just when I began typing someone yanked my chair and I away from my desk.

“Baby girl, we get it, you’re bored, but damn you’re annoying,” Morgan spoke, his voice laced with laughter.

Blushing slightly, I complained, “I’m sorry! i can’t take another day of paperwork! I just can’t! how do you all manage it?!”

“We are just as irritated Y/n, we'll get a case soon, ask Hotch to take a break and go walk around or something. Just please stop the noise.” Derek said, patting my shoulder. When I stood up, Hotch rushed into the room.

“Conference room in 5, we got a case.” Aaron huffed.

I excitedly jump up, “YES! FINALLY!” Earning stifled giggles from Emily, Spencer, and Derek.

We all rushed to the conference room, files and pens in hand, eager to get out of the bullpen for a little while. “Okay, so we have a case in Arlington, Texas. Three women were found dead in several construction sites, gagged and tied with burn marks across their chest. Two other women were reported missing two days ago, possibly taken by our unsub.” Rossi explains with a hardened look making its way to his face. 

“Okay team, wheels up in 30.” Aaron chimes in, breaking up our silence. 

As a whole we head to the desks and grab our to-go bags., tidying up our workspaces, to be ready for our reports when we get back. “Y/n, can you sit with me on the jet, I want to sleep and you’re the only one who really lets me sleep on their shoulder and keeps me warm.” Spencer asks with a quiet voice. 

“Of course pretty boy, anytime for you,” I answer with a smile. The both of us walk to the jet side by side, hand brushing against each other, his skin soft and cold compared to my warm one. We stayed quiet the whole time, until we made it into the jet, situating our bags and settling in. Spencer takes a window seat at one of the tables, I sit next to him as Hotch makes his way across from us. 

Once everyone is settled and ready to go, the jet starts us on our journey. Soon after Spencer begins to snore while his head lay on my shoulder. “What book are you reading now, Y/n?” Hotch questioned, nodding his head towards the novel in my hands. 

Lifting it to reveal the title, “Full Dark, No Stars, by Stephen King.” He raised his brow in examination. “It’s a novel composed of four different stories. They’re about murder, love affairs, such and such.” I slightly giggled.

Aaron chuckled, “Don’t you get enough of that stuff everyday? On the job?”

“The writing fascinates me, I don’t know why, maybe the same way romance novels entice ‘normal’ people.” I claim as I shake my head, shrugging a little.

“You’re something else,” the dark haired man added, going back to the newspaper in front of him. I turn my attention back to my book, getting lost in the pages. Spencer shifted in his sleep, laying down in my lap, tucking one of his arms underneath my legs, pulling me closer. Just like instinct, I used my free hand to play with his beautiful long hair. He began to softly hum from relaxation.  It seemed like hours, with Spencer contently asleep on my thighs and my hand tracing shapes on his chest. 

I felt a light tap on my shoulder, “Pretty boy still asleep?” Morgan examined from the couch next to us on the other side of the aircraft. I nodded. “Good, because we need to discuss the issue at hand.” I slowly closed my book with a confused look, placing it gently on the table. “The unsub is after women like you, about the same age, same height, same hair color. We don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything but-” 

“I’ll do it,” I cut Derek off. I looked at Aaron who was now listening.

He cleared his throat, “Are you sure? We knew Spencer would disagree if we asked while he was awake. If you are comfortable with this, we can brief you on our plan.”

I bowed my head in agreement. “Can we just keep it from this one?” motioning to the doctor snoring in my lap. Both men nodded, leaving the conversation at that. The jet filling with silence again as everyone, but us three, slept.

A bell rang above us, letting us know that we’d be landing in a few. I mildly shook Reid awake. His darting his eyes open and making eye contact with me.“Are we there?” he asked groggily. 

“Yea, sleep good babe?” The nickname causing him to blush, the nickname was platonic, or used to be until recently, now you called him it because you began to fall for the young man, hoping he would pick up what you were putting down. Though you made several attempts to make your flirting noticeable, Spencer seemed to dismiss them, or maybe not pay attention to them. 

“Y-yeah, I slept good, I was warm the whole time, thank you.” He spoke, patting you on your leg where he slept previously. 

Emily stood up and stretched with a yawn. “Damn my back hurts, JJ took up most of the couch.” she grumbled. 

“Okay? You kept twitching in your sleep!” JJ countered with a groan. The two girls gather their things. Rossi remained quiet, putting his papers into his satchel and packing up. 

“Alright, we’ll head to the hotel, get a few hours of sleep and get to work first thing in the morning.” Hotch explained as he exited the aircraft, Spencer and I trailing behind. The short ride to the hotel was very quiet, everyone was already half asleep. As we arrived, Hotch spoke sleepily “Okay same as usual, double up, the rooms should have two beds, so Morgan and I, JJ and Emily, Spencer and Y/n.” He handed us our keys and made his way to his room.

JJ stretched and yawned out “Yep, definitely headed straight to bed.” Emily giggled and nodded, the two of them leaving us behind with a ‘goodnight’.

“I’m not tired so I think I’m going to head to the bar for a little bit,” Derek shrugged, picking up his go bag and waving at us as he left the lobby.

“Looks like it’s just you and me Boy Wonder,” I gleamed.

All Spencer responded with was a warm smile and leading the way to our shared room. We didn’t talk the whole walk, it was a comfortable silence. Once we reached the door, Spencer stepped back to let me use my key on the lock. With a content sigh I threw the door open to reveal a single bed and a tiny bathroom. No words were spoken as we settled in, each getting into our pajamas, and doing our nightly routines. He was the first to finish and dive underneath the covers of the squeaky bed without hesitation. We had shared a bed tons of times, but only for me recently, it made me a little nervous.

“Spence, can you maybe scoot over more?” I ask quietly.

“I’m on my half, there's plenty enough room for you still.” The genius spoke into the darkness of the room.

“Oh, okay, I just wanted to make sure we both had space.” I lied, queasy at the fact that I was going to sleep close to my best friend who I was in love with. Walking over and slightly pulling the cover back, I slid into the sheets, careful to avoid Spence.

“If you’re cold, you can come closer, I know how you like to sleep warm.” He suggested, lightly turning to his side for you to cuddle up to him.

Clearing my throat, “N-no, I’m okay. Thanks though, goodnight.”

He stayed hushed for a second, he seemed to be taken back by my response. “Oh...Okay.” He then rolled over, facing his back to me.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't, especially with my current situation. I didn’t want him to know that I love him, well I did, but I was afraid of what he would think. Does he love me back? Is this all just in my head? What should I do- and just like that, my rambling had put me to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to a light breath fanning across my face. Confused, I open my eyes to reveal a sleeping Spencer, pulling me tight against his chest, with my head in the crook of his neck. It was nice and serene. But it came to an end when I finally realized that I was cuddling him. I got up as quickly and as quietly as possible, careful not to wake the doctor. I rushed to the bathroom to get dressed and get the hell out of there.

But as soon as I attempted a run for the door, “Y/n? What time is it? Are we late?” Reid asks groggily.

“Nope! I just promised the girls I’d meet them downstairs for coffee!” I mislead, hurrying out the door and towards JJ and Emily’s room. Banging on the door I pleaded, “Please tell me you’re awake! I need you to open the door!”

The door swung open, “Woah woah! Slow down? What happened?!” Em questioned as you stepped inside to see that both her and JJ were up and ready.

“I don’t want to talk about it, can we just go get coffee or breakfast? Please?” I panicked.

The girls exchanged a look but nodded and followed me down to the small cafe the hotel had.

The walk down was quick, no one spoke. That was until we sat at a small table after ordering our coffees.

“So, you want to tell us what that was about?” JJ raises an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I forced a smile.

“Oh you mean the fact that she’s in love with a pretty boy and has been trying to avoid her feelings?” Emily questions, knowingly, causing me to choke on my coffee.

Trying to dab the spilled coffee off my blouse I ask, “How do you know that?! I mean- what?”

The two girls giggle at me. “Just a hunch,” the brunette quirks. “Relax, it’s obvious he feels the same. He’s absolutely crass about you. Someone can barely say your name and the boy blushes.”

JJ nods in agreement as she sips her mocha. “You can’t avoid it forever Y/n, what's the worst that can happen?”

“Yea, I guess you’re right, I just don’t want things to change between us.” I explain.

“The only reason why they have right now, is because you’ve been making it weird! Stop that!” Emily states while waving her hand in the air to make her point stick.

“Okay okay. I’ll stop.” I lauroll my eyes with amusement. “But today, I have to focus on going undercover. Especially behind Spencer’s back for the most part.” I spoke, furrowing my eyebrows in worry.

“Y/n, it will be okay. All you have to do is dress up, walk a few street corners, and we’ll get the unsub. It’ll be done and over with and Spencer would have nothing to worry about. You’re a strong woman who can fend for herself.” JJ told me, in hopes to alleviate my stress.

I nodded, trying to ignore the growing pit of nervousness in my stomach.

“Hey pretty ladies, nice to know you didn’t give us the option of coffee and gossip this morning.” Derek claims as he makes his way to the table with Hotch and Spencer following shortly behind him.

Spencer caught my eye. He seems pissed off, a mean look splayed across his face. “Y/n, we need to talk.”

In shock I look at the faces which surrounded me at the table, “Um yea, let’s go out into the lobby.”

Spencer quickly left me behind as I timidly arose from my seat and chased him.

“When were you going to tell me?!” He forcefully asked.

“Tell you what?” I attempted to answer.

“That you were going undercover! That you were going to put yourself in harm's way?!” He slightly shouted.

This angered me, “I didn’t realize that I had to run my OWN decisions by YOU! Last time I checked, I was a grown woman. This is for the better, to stop this murderer! You are NOT my father, you are NOT my owner, and last time i checked, you are NOT my boyfriend!” I exclaimed back.

Spencer seemed taken back, his face showed shock and dismay. He was speechless, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“What? NOW you don’t say something? Unbelievable Spencer.” I exaggerate, turning on my heel and leaving him to himself in the hotel lobby.

To Be Continued...

[script-nef]

Busted | Tsukishima Kei

Request: Hello!! Can I please request a scenario/short fic where Tsukishima has to go pick up his girlfriend from “Girl’s Night” at the karaoke bar? When he gets there his gf is drunk, dur, BUT turns out she can sing like really really good. For a moment he’s utterly speechless but he takes really good care of her and asks about her singing the next day? Maybe she can play dumb about it saying she really can’t but too late he knows the power she holds. Sorry if that was a weird req but tysm in advance!!

Okay so first things first, this is a very cute request and not weird at all! Second thing is that I actually have no idea what a karaoke bar is so I searched it up. And it turns out to be a regular bar with like a little stage so people to sing on? Like that scene from The Good Place? I don’t know if you meant that one but I wrote it based on that, hope that’s fine! :) Third, uhhhh you asked for a short fic and I uh well it’s not really all that short so sorry about that.

Category: crack, fluff

1.4k words; Tsukishima never knew you could sing so well

Tsukishima doesn’t really like it when you go out for “Girls’ Night”s all that much. He’s glad you have quality time with your friends and burn off the stress from your work, but he often wonders if bars are the best place. 

It’s probably because of his aversion to alcohol. And drunk people. If you also add in the fact that your favourite venue just so happens to be a karaoke bar, of all things, he would never fathom the idea of stepping a foot into it unless his life was on the line.

And yet, here he is, slipping into the godforsaken place at 11:30 pm on a work night.

His brows immediately crease as a drunk couple makes out right next to the entrance and expertly swerves past them. The place is filled with groups and couples in similar positions, just climbing over each other in their inebriated states without a care for others’ gazes. It’s amazing what alcohol can do and he sincerely hopes you’re being smart about your intake for the night.

That hope is swiftly crushed as you teeter onto the small karaoke stage with the melody of your favourite song blaring in the background. Your face is what could only be described as crimson to the point he can’t tell where your dress ends and your skin starts. You sway a bit on stage like you’re trying to balance yourself on a ship while there’s a tidal wave happening and Tsukishima can practically predict what’s going to happen next.

So he makes his way to you as fast as he can so that you won’t have an embarrassing memory to wake up to tomorrow morning. He doesn’t even understand why you insist on this karaoke bar when there’s a very high chance of you getting drunk and singing in front of literal strangers—and some friends—when you don’t even like singing in front of him. You occasionally hum while lazing around the house but never sang, claiming that your voice was horrible and also unfortunately tone-deaf. There was a stare-down when you said that because if you were actually tone-deaf, then you wouldn’t be nailing every note in your hums. But he let it go because you turned red and pattered off. 

He’s just about there when you finally open your mouth to start singing, and he can’t help to freeze completely on the spot.

Your voice is beyond amazing. 

It rings out loud and clear throughout the room, forcing everyone to direct their attention to you. It’s like they’re entranced at the performance, and they have a very good reason to. It sounds like you’re pouring your heart and soul into this one song, determined to broadcast it to the best of your abilities. And the quality of it means you’ve practised this before. A lot. 

He stands there, speechless and dumbstruck, eyes trained on you until the song slowly fades away. The room explodes with cheers and applauds, and someone chants for an encore. You give a shaky bow with a bright smile and stumble off the stage right into Tsukishima’s awaiting arms. You mutter an apology and try to free yourself from his grasp, but stop struggling as soon as you see his face.

“Tsukki! Wha… watchu you doin’ here? You have the—the thing with the weird bones tomorrow!”

“Yes, I have my work with my museum tomorrow and yet I’m here for you. Come on, let’s go home.”

“Home! Yes, yes, fwoof. Pushy bed. It’s going to eat me!”

“I have literally no idea what you’re saying but I hope you remember this tomorrow so I can have something to embarrass you with. Say goodbye to your friends.” Your arms sway pathetically in the air as you mumble out something which sounds like but is dubiously related to “Bye now! The beddie are waiting me!” You never make sense when you’re drunk.

He holds you steady while you walk back home, careful of your stumbling steps. Just as he’s about to question you about the singing and why you’ve never sung in front of him, you slump onto his side, eyes closed and off to dreamland. Tsukishima sighs in soft exasperation and carries you home, glad that the venue is relatively close to your shared house.

Regaining some semblance of consciousness when he’s unlocking the house, you flail out of his grip and stomp into the house. It seems like you’re going straight to bed but he stops you to remind you of your shoes, makeup, clothes, brushing your teeth and drinking at least five cups of water to avoid a hangover. Thankfully you finish the first four, not without pouting and whispering nonsense the entire time, but tap out after 2 glasses.

Once in bed, you poke your head out from the blanket burrito you constructed yourself and give him a peck on the lips. “Thank you… pointy-nose. I have the bestest giraffe in the world. Nighty night Mr Moon.”

“Yes well, I wish I can say the same if my girlfriend wasn’t drunk half out of her mind, calling me weird nicknames and keeping things from me. Why didn’t you tell me you could sing so well?” You would normally have blushed and squeaked out an explanation, but you’re knocked out again. Tsukishima sighs once more and cages you in his arm, filing the interrogation away in his head for tomorrow morning. He assumes the headache of combined with the embarrassing memories of this night will make it easy for you to tell the truth.

“My head hurts…” This is the first thing that greets Tsukishima when he wakes up. A small whining voice from his chest squiggling around and complaining. “Tsukki… ‘m dying…”

“Humans don’t die that easily. You’re annoyingly tenacious.” That earns a weak slap on the arm. “Fine, let’s wake up. You need to drink some more water and eat something.” You don’t budge at all, so he has to carry you again to the kitchen while you whine about being stolen from warmth and comfort.

After forcing two cups of water and a banana down your throat, Tsukishima focuses on making himself a breakfast at the ungodly time of 5 am. Another annoying habit you have is waking up early after a drink-fest even though literally every other drunk sleeps in.

“Mmm… Thanks. You’re the best…” You mumble out while chewing on another banana, eyes drooping down like you’re about to fall asleep again. “I won’t ever drink that much again, I promise…”

“Oh no, but then how will you gain the confidence to sing in front of strangers when you haven’t ever sung in front of me, your boyfriend? Under the pretence of a ‘bad voice’?” You’re the one that freezes now, like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes are wide and quaking slightly, to his intense amusement, no doubt trying to remember the events of last night. 

He stares right back, an eyebrow raised as if to say “what kind of an excuse are you going to give?” but in the most unimpressed way possible. Your eyes bounce around to corners of the house while expertly avoiding him, until you finally settle on a decision.

Silence takes over the house. The chair you were sitting on makes a horrible screeching noise as you bolt out of it, hightailing to the bedroom in order to find a hole to crawl into and die in. Just as you’re about to enter, an arm slams right in front of you and effectively cuts you off from escaping this situation. 

Tsukishima traps you in his arms, head leaning down to lightly bump his forehead against yours. “Why didn’t you tell me you could sing so well?” This position is the best when trying to pry information out of you because apparently, being surrounded by his form makes you weak and susceptible. Sure enough, red takes over your face again and stutters spill out.

“I just— I’m just really embarrassed singing in front of you because you told me you don’t like it when people sing along to songs and I— I thought it would bother you! It’s not like I was hiding the fact, it’s more li—” Your further ramblings are cut off as Tsukishima presses his lips to yours for a quick peck.

“It’s fine if it’s you. At least you don’t sound like a monkey howling in the dead of the night, unlike some people.” That earns a laugh out of you and he pulls you back into the kitchen. “Now, let’s see what else you’ve been keeping a secret from me.”

[machihunnicutt]

What the Downton Movie Owes Me (but will probably not give me): Some Thoughts on Thomas Barrow

yes...I wrote 1k+ words on this. I’m so sorry.

I’m watching Downton Abbey for the 3rd (4th?) time with my sister who hasn’t seen it. I love this glorified soap opera to death, y’all, with the full acknowledgment that this show does a horrible job with a lot of its plot lines designed to tackle complicated issues: disability (the ableism against Bates via the house that he never gets apologies for, Matthew and his spinal injury/wheelchair that is always framed as life-ending and making him nothing but a “burden”), class (the Branson/Sybil marriage is alright, but there are countless missed opportunities to interrogate the relationship between upstairs and downstairs, particularly Carson’s attachment to a family that monopolizes his life and the lives of all its employees), (I’m going to leave race and gender alone because I think it does a pretty decent job when these issues come into play but feel free to lmk if there’s something I missed!), and sexuality, which is what I want to get into.

So granted, I understand that I’m not the target audience for this show. I understand that Downton’s gay characters were not written primarily to be relatable, multifaceted representations of gay people in a period drama. I get that Downton’s target audience is older, straight people for which representation isn’t super important. But, I have watched this show at least 3 times now and I’m still angry about its treatment of Thomas Barrow, so I’m going to break down why:

1) Things We Know About Thomas Barrow

I really like early seasons of Downton because, for all its drawn out drama and plot twists, it cares a lot about character development and consistency. Many characters (dare I say the majority) do mean and bad things and yet, we are still empathetic because we’ve spent time with them, understand why they make the choices they do, and see them learn from their mistakes (early seasons Mary is an excellent example.)

Thomas Barrow is my favorite Downton character because of the great narrative work they do in this regard. In the first episode we learn several character traits of his that continue to be important throughout his arcs:

- He doesn’t trust easily and has few friends in the house. (AKA, boy’s got a bad attitude. It’s better to act like you hate everyone than give them the chance to reject you.) I found this immediately endearing (because of who I am I guess lol), and though I understand why people don’t like his character because of this, I think it’s a good move for a character you intend to have grow over a long period of time. Opening up, accepting help from others, and showing kindness are all parts of Thomas’ future storylines, actions that show his slow growth from this facet of his character. I also think it’s important to note that when Thomas does make friends he is loyal to them (I’m excepting O’Brien from this category given there’s so much backstabbing between them that it’s a stretch to call them friends) and will take risks to protect them (Examples: befriending Lt. Courtenay and later fighting Dr. Clarkson to keep him at the hospital; befriending Lady Sybil and speaking kindly about her when he doesn’t have nice things to say about anyone else upstairs, later earnestly mourning her death in a show of vulnerability he generally masks; befriending Jimmy and looking out for him when he gets drunk at the fair, going as far to get beaten up to save Jimmy; befriending Andy and helping him learn to read; befriending the kids of the house and saving them from that one nasty nanny who was mistreating them.)

- He’s a romantic. The man wants to be loved and jfc I wish the show gave him a good love interest.

- He’s easily manipulated. (More on this later, but for now...) The Duke plays him, and it’s cruel, but it shows how easily Thomas can be tricked when he’s offered affection and the chance to leave Downton for something better. (Also note: from day one, he’s wanted to leave Downton!)

- He’s the evil gay trope. The gay villain trope has a long and complicated history and sure, you can say Thomas’s sexuality and role as an antagonist aren’t connected, but the show doesn’t exist in a vacuum and it feeds into a long history of villainizing LGBT and LGBT coded characters. The thing I hate most is that they get really close to subverting it in Thomas’ best moments (his work in the hospital during the war, his relationship with the kids, his gradual opening up to people in the house) but alas...

2) Why I Hate The Jimmy Kent Arc More Than Anything

Okay, so it makes sense for Thomas to be manipulated by O’Brien. That’s consistent with his character and I don’t fault the show for melodrama because that’s what it does. What I hate, is that the show depicts Thomas’ attraction to Jimmy as predatory and when he is punished for trying to kiss Jimmy while he’s asleep (which is assault) the house (and I’d argue, the show) frames this as bad only because Thomas is gay and Jimmy is not. In the show’s narrative Jimmy is mad because he’s homophobic, not because he’s been violated. And his and Jimmy’s ensuing friendship would be genuinely sweet if it really was just an issue of homophobia and not one of ASSAULT!

I’d argue, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t portray Thomas as predatory and then brush it aside to make a statement about tolerance, because assaulting people is bad regardless of the sexuality of the perpetrator. You either need to punish his actions for what they are or get better at story telling and not rely on the predatory gay stereotype.

But, secondarily, I’m bothered by this arc because it doesn’t seem in character, to me. I know Thomas does a lot of bad, stupid things, but I don’t think it makes sense for him to be predatory. In his best moments he is protective, romantic, and loyal. Yes, we see him as rash and naive, but his actions never felt right for the character, to me. I just think it’s lazy writing to handle his attraction to Jimmy this way, especially given the development of their friendship afterward. It would’ve been so much more satisfying and narratively interesting for Thomas to express his feelings for Jimmy in a respectful way. Jimmy is the only character we see Thomas have genuine feelings for (not motivated by upward mobility as in the case of the Duke or I guess(?) racial stereotyping in the case of Kemal Pamuk...but lbr his pass at him was mostly a plot device) and I think the arc would’ve been so much more fulfilling if we saw it as Thomas’ attempt to love someone fully and honestly, even if it ultimately doesn’t work out the way he wants it to. And I don’t get why they didn’t do this! Because the Jimmy/Thomas friendship ends up being sweet, and useful for each character’s development. They just had to make it gross by beginning with an assault. Just a huge, lazy, waste of a potentially good idea.

3) The Last Season Was Bad For A Lot Of Characters But They Did Thomas Extremely Dirty

I don’t know where to start with the last season because I think they ran into so many problems because they forgot how to use great characters effectively (Mary is a prime example!!) and started just throwing them into dramatic situations for the sake of plot and not keeping actions consistent with established character.

For example, life at Downton is the roughest it has ever been for Thomas in season 6, to the point where he is alienated by most in the house (I’m not going to talk about how badly Carson treats him and how much of a tyrant Carson is in the last season because again, I think it comes down to the writers forgetting how to use their characters effectively) and attempts suicide. All in all, I just don’t like this because it’s predictable and overdone. Gay people in period pieces almost always have overwhelmingly tragic stories and it’s not fun for me to watch anymore. What most disappoints me though, is that when everyone else is getting paired off in the fan-servicey ending, Thomas’ consolation prize is being the butler??? To a house full of people who’ve hated him??? He’s wanted from the beginning to leave Downton and in the end he doesn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, if the show had shown me his change in attitude and relationship to the house, given me this character development in meaningful ways, and not used a suicide attempt as a half-assed catalyst for change, I would be all for Thomas as Downton’s butler. I think that if they’d done the work of making it a believable and constructive next step for his character, that I’d really like it. I think Thomas’ relationship with the kids (particularly George! I’d watch a whole movie about that!) is well done and I think it echos Carson’s relationship with Mary, but better. But you! have! to! do! the! work! to! get! the! audience! there! You can’t give me a whole season of Downton nastiness and Thomas suffering and then expect me to buy that this is his happy ending.

4) What I Want From This Movie

I don’t think I’ll get it (though a love interest for Thomas via the trailer is encouraging), but here’s what I want:

- Show me why Thomas Barrow as Downton butler makes sense. And if you can’t, let him leave and be happy somewhere else because he deserves it.

- Show me how he’s grown. Show me his relationship with the kids and how he’s better than Carson because I need it!!

- Let Thomas be in a relationship that is healthy and not manipulative or coercive or a plot device for drama.

- Let him be in love and don’t make it a sad story. Please.

I find Thomas Barrow such a compelling character because he isn’t perfect. He makes mistakes. He does bad things. He grows. He changes over the course of six seasons. He’s a gay character in a period drama whose story isn’t about being ashamed of who he is. It isn’t about denial or apologies or pretending he’s someone he isn’t. And I think that’s significant. I just wish they’d done a slightly better job. :)

(Thanks for reading. I’m gonna keep being a Thomas Barrow stan even when no one watching with me thinks I’m valid lol.)

[blue-hippogriff]

Exhausted

Hey guys, this is a fanfic I wrote a while ago and I would love for you guys to check it out!!

Percebeth, rated T (only some cute cuddles ;) )

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12581830/1/Exhausted (pls ignore my account name, long story) OR just read it here :)

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03:24 AM

She was exhausted. Again.

She lost track of time. Again.

Percy was most definitely going to lecture her about working overtime. Again.

She will be physically unable to leave a more than a meter from her bed tomorrow morning and blame herself for it. Again.

It was a horrible cycle.

But Annabeth couldn't help it. Architecture was her life and soul, her dream since she was a little kid. When teachers in school asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, the most common answers were 'princess' 'nurse' 'doctor' and 'ice-cream tester'. This is why Annabeth did not get offended when the kids threw her confused (and some dirty) looks in her direction when she stated that her dream job was to become an architect.

The idea just appealed to her in so many ways. She knew from a young age that she was in fact smarter than most kids, although sometimes she wouldn't even know where all the knowledge was coming from. It was like someone had inputted this extra piece of brain in her, just to store enough information so people could classify her as smart. Smart, but not stuck up. She hated the stereotypical idea of that intelligent people also possessed the quality of being cocky and arrogant. Sure, she tends to get a little…aggravated when people answer in the wrong tense or misspells a word, but surely that small habit can't place her in the 'stuck-up' category of their society?

Annabeth sighed out loud as she kicked of her heels and her sore feet were freed from their captive. Her toes were sore and her heels were rubbed red from wearing those blasted heels for a whole day. She limped slightly as she made her way through the narrow but long corridor, motivating herself that a big, comfy bed was within a few footsteps. She squinted at her watch, the only light source was the moonlight coming through the two small windows in the living room of the apartment.

03:28 AM. Shit. Percy's probably already drooled half a gallon of drool onto her pillow already.

Percy.

He's been swimming around in her head the whole day. Since she is working in her office in New York nearly all the time now – leaving at 6 in the morning and not returning till late- their time together was getting cut down more and more. Percy worked as a trainee lifeguard at their local pool and the staff and customers loved him to bits. Who wouldn't like a funny, caring, talkative 18 year old goof? Although Annabeth suspected, no, knew for a fact that those giggling high school girls were drooling over his looks, and not his not-so-funny jokes. (On second thought, if Annabeth was a giggly high school girl, she would most definitely drool over Percy, just maybe not so noticeably.) Although she was happy for both of them to have found a steady job for themselves, she missed him terribly when he wasn't around her.

There were no words to describe her feelings for Percy, and you would rarely catch Annabeth speechless. He was truly the best boyfriend she could possible ask for, sometimes if she looked at him for too long, she would start questioning him whether he was real or not. (And he would laugh at her and then would kiss her.) He stuck with her through thick and thin, and Annabeth constantly reminds herself that this was the scrawny, annoying 12 year old kid that showed up at Camp Half Blood and drooled in his sleep (Old habits stick around forever, they say).

Just the mere thought of Percy plastered a wide grin on Annabeth's face, and she speed-walked the rest of the way to their bedroom. She gingerly creaked open the door, just enough to admire the scene of Percy laying on their bed, hands sprawled on their pillows, and sheets tangled in his long legs. He always sleep shirtless and only left his boxers on, complaining that it got too warm at night. Not that Annabeth was complaining of course. This way, she could look at his abs and V-line without any hassle.

She chuckled and shook her head slightly at how childish he looked in bed, his mouth half open and drool on the edge of his lips. She tiptoed inside the bedroom, grabbed her towel, her pyjamas and undergarments and headed straight for the shower. The quicker the shower, the quicker I get to cuddle with Percy, Annabeth thought.

After her short, warm shower, Annabeth was finally ready for bed. She felt clean and refreshed, she had thrown on a loose tank top and some cotton shorts as pyjamas and felt extremely comfortable. But the hot steam from the shower had made her drowsy, and the drowsiness very quickly turned into exhaustion. She left her towel to dry in the drying rack in the bathroom, hastily brushed her teeth and stumbled back into the bedroom. She tried her best to wake Percy up as she crawled into the bed beside him, resting her head on his bare chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. She untangled the sheets with her legs and pulled them up so only her lower half of her body was covered. She planted a soft peck on Percy's chest which caused him to stir in his sleep.

'Sorry, did I wake you?' Annabeth asked after kissing his chest again.

'I was supposed to wait for you anyway, so great timing.' Percy replied while pulling her in closer to him. She didn't need to look, she could hear the smile in his voice. He was always smiling nowadays. It was a great change after the events of Tartarus. For the first few months, they would have the same continuous nightmares night after night. She would wake abruptly from her slumber, sweat dripping down her forehead and her palms sweaty. On the worse nights, she would bite her knuckles until they drew blood in order to withhold her loud sobs. The fact that she needed Percy by her side each night to chase away the nightmares, Annabeth hated herself for being so dependent on him. She would constantly scold herself for showing a sign of weakness. She knew Percy had it as bad as her, maybe even worse. Yet each night he would still remember to call her to tell her goodnight and sometimes they even Iris Messaged till morning. But those days were over. Now, since they lived together, the nightmares were slowly fading away. She was extremely grateful for Percy, to be able to fall asleep peacefully each night in his warm embrace.

She was broken away from her trail of thought when Percy moved his arms to pull the covers over them, tucking them in.

'I can feel you shiver in the middle of night,' Percy explained while tucking a golden curl behind her ear. He was fully alert now. 'Do you want me to get the extra blanket from the closet?' He asked, searching Annabeth's eyes for an answer. The concern and sincerity in his eyes made Annabeth's heart melt inside her body.

'I'm fine Seaweed Brain,' Annabeth said as she shrugged off the covers off her and Percy. 'I'd much rather freeze to death than to drown in your sweat.' She joked playfully.

'Oh come on, I'm practically naked and sweat can't even drown you.' He said while pulling the covers up again, this time snug under Annabeth's chin. 'And I don't want to have to look after 'Sick Annabeth' for week.' Annabeth rolled her eyes affectionately at his statement.

'Percy, I'm not cold.'

'But you will be,'

'Not in this exact moment in time,'

'Better safe than sorry.'

Annabeth made an annoyed huff and threw the covers off the bed. They landed on the wooden floor with a soft thump. After a heartbeat, Percy then let out a soft, quiet but hearty laugh he had tried to hold in. Annabeth soon joined in with her quiet giggles and soon the soft covers on the floor were forgotten. Once they calmed down from their laughing fit, they settled into a comfortable silence for a while, both with happy smiles on their faces and staring up at the ceiling.

You know in the movies, whenever a character comes up with a mind-blowing idea, a little lightbulb appears just above their head? Well, Annabeth would like to consider her sudden idea as a 'lightbulb idea'. A mischievous ghosted her lips and disappeared just as quickly as a loud sigh escaped from her lips, breaking the silence around them.

'You know what Percy? You're right.' She said dejectedly.

Percy raised an eyebrow and his face contorted into a confused expression. '…I am?' He was not used to Annabeth saying 'you're right' to him often, this time he didn't even know what he did.

'Yeah, you're right. I get extremely cold during the night-'

'Then why'd you throw our sheets-'

He was stopped mid-sentence when Annabeth shifted from her spot from the bed until she was straddling him.

'Pity I don't have anything to warm myself up with…' She replied slyly while running her index finger along Percy's chiselled jawline. Realisation hit Percy like truck and he would've smacked himself in the face if his hands weren't already travelling up to Annabeth's hips. He swiftly flipped them over so he was hovering about two inches above her.

'I know a guy who does the job nicely,' He growled, already dropping kisses down her neck and collarbone, yanking her tank top out of his way. Annabeth hands travelled to his soft, raven-black locks, messing his hair up even more and let out a content sigh as Percy sucked on a sensitive spot just below her ear.

03:55 AM

At that particular moment in time, Annabeth was no longer exhausted.

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any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome, I really want to improve my writing and other people's opinions matter alot to me :) feel free to ask me anything and message me!! muchos gracias~

F <3

[fluffyllamas-23]

Maybe one day I’ll write something other than with Lucy, Sean and Mason, but today is not that day, I’m sorry. This is part two to this fic I wrote

Fic is below the cut!

Sean hates this. He hates waiting for her to wake up, because he just wants to be with her and reassure her that everything will be okay.

She had been so anxious this morning when he took her to the surgical center, and he can’t get how terrified she looked out of his head.

He bounces his leg nervously, waiting for the okay that he can go back to the recovery area and see her. The doctor who performed her surgery had assured him that everything went perfectly, but the nurse warned him that she needed a few minutes, because she was in pain and the anesthesia was making her sick.

So...he has to wait.

Finally, he gets the all-clear to go see her, and he follows close behind the nurse.

“Luce?” He asks softly, walking over to where she’s laying, half awake and looking entirely too out of it for his liking. “Hi, honey.”

She reaches out for him with grabby hands, and he strokes her cheek with a chuckle.

“You’re here...thought you left.”

“Of course I’m here. How are you doing? I heard you weren’t feeling very well.”

She shakes her head, “mnh-mnh...hurts.”

“Knee?”

Stupid question, Sean, he thinks to himself, of course it’s her knee. She just had surgery, you idiot.

“Everything...skin hurts, too,” she slurs, blinking heavily.  

“Skin?”

“Nerves...they feel like…prickle prickle,” she blinks heavily, “I, um…I wanna go home.”

“You’re in luck,” her nurse says, walking over to her with a wheelchair.  “The doctor says you can leave.  Remember you’re not allowed to put any weight on it for two weeks.

“Lucy, go lie down,” Sean says, annoyance lacing his tone.  “You had surgery three hours ago, why won’t you just rest?”

“I can’t DO anything.  I’m so bored, I hate this,” she whines, wobbling on her crutches. “I was supposed to work tonight, but I can’t...unless-”

“Lucy. No. Absolutely not.”

“I knew that wouldn’t fly,” she grumbles.

She’s still a little out of it from all of the pain meds, which is making her unsteady on her one good foot.  Luckily, Sean is right next to her, because one minute she’s standing straight up, and the next she’s pitching forward.  

“Shit!” Sean hisses, catching her before she can completely fall on her face. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” she mumbles as he steadies her.

“Go. Lie. Down,” he snaps angrily. 

“Why are you getting mad?!”

“Damn it, Lucy,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes, “because you’re going to hurt yourself even more! Go lie down before you fall and break something.”  

She sighs in frustration, “fine.”

He groans and buries his face in his hands, “sorry...sorry, I shouldn’t get mad at you...just...you’re going to make me have an aneurysm, or stroke, or something...can you please just lie down? You need to rest and let yourself heal.”

“Okay.”

Sean sighs in relief, rubbing his forehead, “Mason is coming over, let’s watch a movie or something.”

“Uh...o-okay,” she nods, face paling as she lowers herself onto the couch.  

He frowns, helping her to prop her leg back up, “Luce? You okay?”

“I think I overdid it,” she mumbles.

“Does it hurt? Did hurt yourself when you almost fell?”

“No...I just...I don’t feel very well.”

“What do you mean? Are you going to be sick?”

She shakes her head, “no...I just...I’m kinda dizzy.”

He frowns, pressing a hand to her forehead, “well you don’t have a fever, thank God.”

“I didn’t think so...I think I just-“

“-overdid it.  Yeah, I think so too,” he frowns, “now will you rest?”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles.

“Good.”

*

It’s been a rough couple of days, and when Sean wakes up three days after her surgery, he’s hoping that she’ll be in less pain.  He walks out of the bedroom and into the living room cautiously.

She’s still fast asleep at ten in the morning, with no indication that she’s going to be up anytime soon. Concern gnaws at the pit of his stomach, and he crouches in front of her.

“Hey, Lucy?” He asks, putting a hand on her cheek.

She wakes after a few moments and groans weakly, rubbing her forehead.

“My head, holy shit,” she moans, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Are you alright?”

“Everything hurts.”

“You have a fever,” he says, moving his hand so he can feel her temple, and then forehead.

“Oh.”

“Is there anything else bothering you? Throat? Stomach?”

“Throat hurts a little.”

He eyes her skeptically, “just a little?”

“Okay a lot.”

“Thought so…want some tea?”

She makes a face, “I hate tea.”

“Hot chocolate?”

She sniffles, rubbing at her eyes sleepily, “yeah, okay.”

Sean nods and walks into the kitchen to rummage through her cabinets.

“Hey, hey!” Mason cries happily, walking into her apartment.

She groans and presses a pillow to her face.

“Mason, shut up or you’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“Lucy has a headache. Don’t be loud.”

Mason grimaces, “sorry. You okay?”

She sniffles, pulling the pillow down to shoot him a dirty look, “no.”

“Shit, are you sick?”

She nods with an annoyed grunt. It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t injured, but now she feels an overwhelming sense of frustration because she can’t do anything.

“Awww, what’s wrong?” He pouts, sitting next to her.

“Nope. No, no, no, no. Get away from her,” Sean says, walking back over to the couch. He hands her four pills and a bottle of water and then looks at Mason.

“What? Why?!” Mason whines.

“She’s sick.”

“Yeah, I know. And she just had surgery and needs all the cuddles.”

“I know, but then you’ll get sick, and you’re the most obnoxious person when you don’t feel well.”

“I take offense to that.”

“It doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I-okay that’s valid but duuuude. I want to cuddle why are you being mean?”

“I believe he just said his reasoning,” she rasps, a scowl crossing her face.

Sean frowns and presses a hand to her cheek, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, batting his hand away. “Can I have the hot chocolate?”

“Shit, yeah, sorry.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” Mason grins.

“Shut up.”

“Aww, come on, Lucy-”

“I swear to God I will end you.”

“Sheesh.”

“Mason, just leave me alone,” she moans, squeezing her eyes shut.  “Please.”

“Sorry, sorry.  Are you alright?” He asks softly, with so much concern that she finds herself getting choked up.

Her eyes fill with tears, “I just...I don’t feel well.”

Mason nods and stands up, “I know...uh, just hold on.”

He walks over to Sean, who’s still rummaging through her cabinets, looking for the hot chocolate when Mason pokes his back.

“What’s up?”

“Sean, she’s crying.  I don’t know what to do.”

“Perfect.”

“What? You’re a terrible boyfriend.”

He chuckles, “I don’t mean that she’s crying.  I’m shit at cooking, could you make the hot chocolate-”

“Hey, dumbass, you don’t cook hot chocolate.  You literally heat up milk or water and pour it in, it’s not hard.”

“Fuck you, asshole. You know what I mean.  Can you make her the hot chocolate so I can go see what’s up?”

“Yeah, sure…go…tend to your lady or whatever."

Sean walks over to her, frown on his face, “Luce? You alright?”

She sniffles, wiping her eyes with a teary chuckle, “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“Because you have a fever, probably,” he says, sitting next to her.  She adjusts her position so that she’s slumped against him.  “Your leg.  Hold on, let me up.”

“No,” she moans weakly, swallowing a coughing fit.  

“You had surgery three days ago, it needs to be elevated.

*

“Sean,” she croaks weakly against his chest, rubbing at her throat with a grimace.

When he doesn’t answer, she smacks his stomach and he inhales sharply. He looks around blearily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Oh, hey. You okay? What time is it?”

“Dunno…can’t sleep...throat hurts.”

“You sound horrible.”

“I feel worse than I sound,” she sniffles, coughing lightly.

He grimaces, “shit.  I’m going to grab you some medicine, are you good?”

She shrugs sleepily, aiming a cough into her shoulder.  

“You’re shivering,” he frowns, pressing a hand to her forehead.  His frown deepens, “and you’re hot.”

“Can I have a blanket?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

“No blanket,” Mason mumbles sleepily from next to her.  He sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“If you’re not going to offer anything constructive, you can leave,” Lucy gripes, pressing herself closer to him in an attempt to steal his body heat.

“She likes me more than you,” Mason smirks at Sean.

“No,” Lucy croaks, sniffling miserably, “you’re warm.”

“Why can’t she have a blanket?” Sean asks, walking into the kitchen.

“My mom never let me bundle up when I would get fevers...she said it makes body temperature rise...or something.  I don’t know, I just know it’s bad.”

“Get out,” Lucy spits angrily, but all malice is lost behind her hoarse and congested voice.  She sounds so weak and sick, Sean’s stomach clenches.  

Mason frowns and looks over at Sean, “she sounds like shit.”

“‘She’ is right here,” Lucy grumbles.

Mason looks down at her, “you sound like shit.”

“Wow thanks for your astute observation,” she slurs, blinking heavily.

“I’m giving you NyQuil.  You need to get some sleep,” Sean says, walking back over to her.  

“Come lie back down,” Lucy mumbles.

“No,” Mason whines, poking out his bottom lip when Sean resumes his place and Lucy cuddles up to him instead.  “Come back, I wanna snuggle.”

“Shit, man.  You need a girlfriend…or a boyfriend or something,” Sean mumbles, eyelids already drooping.

“Well yeah, that’s obvious,” Mason says, rolling his eyes as he slumps back into the cushions. “Ugh, your couch sucks for more than one person to sleep on. Can I crash in your bed?”

Lucy nods, feeling herself drift to sleep, “knock yourself out.”

“Night, guys,” Mason mutters, standing up and rubbing the back of his neck.

Lucy is vaguely aware of Sean saying something to Mason, and then, she’s asleep.

[someone-im-close-to-fanfic-blog]

Chapter 2: His Recovery

Wilson begins recovering from his injuries and begins to notice how much he’s been missing out on from the others.

Chapter Rating: G

Wilson awoke to the sound of several people talking in rushed, worried voices. His hands and legs throbbed and the smells of medicine and meat stew filled his nose. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand pressed against his chest, moving him back down.

"Easy, Wilson." Wigfrid's rough, accented voice crooned softly in a gentle and almost motherly way. "You've been out for almost half the night. Take it easy."

"What happened?" Wilson mumbled and instantly regretted it, as his threat felt raw and dry. Apparently the water he had consumed either wasn't the cleanest or wasn't enough to quench him.

"You passed out at the front of the base. Wes put healing salve on your wounds and Wickerbottom and I made soup for you. No, no, don't sit up. I'll help you."

Wilson opened his mouth to protest but decided it was useless as Wigfrid raised the spoon to his lips, tilting her wrist slightly to allow the liquid to pour down the scientist's throat.

He had to admit, it was much better than anything he could ever make himself, at least not without a crockpot. The broth was just the right temperature–not too hot, not too cold–and it contained the perfect ratio of carrots to chunks of meat. Wilson could tell this wasn't just morsels of meat, either. This was real, actual meat, likely from a catcoon or possibly even Beefalo. Wilson would be more than impressed if he found out Wigfrid had managed to take down even one on her own, but not necessarily surprised.

"Feeling better?" Wigfrid asked after the scientist had downed the last spoonful.

Wilson nodded weakly. "Definitely." He croaked out with a smile. "That was amazing."

"I'm sure Miss Wickerbottom will be more than happy to hear it." There was an unusual cheeriness in her voice as she said this. Maybe it was relief. Wilson was too tired to tell.

The man simply nodded in response, still a bit too weary to do much else. Wigfrid got up to dispose of the bowl and spoon and Wilson's eyes met those of Wes', who was sitting by the fire pit not too far away. Wes smiled, obviously relieved to see the other was okay, and made his way over. He sat down next to Wilson and produced a piece of papyrus and a pen constructed from a twig, some berries for ink, and a red bird feather.

How are you feeling? He wrote and showed the paper to Wilson.

Wilson smiled at the mime's concern. "Better than I was earlier."

That's good. Wes wrote. Why have you been so busy? Did we do something wrong?

Wilson shook his head as frantically as he could muster. "A-absolutely not! What makes you think that?"

Wes' smile faded. You never so much as talk to anyone here anymore. You're always off doing...god knows what. I can tell even Wendy's become upset because of it. She sees you as a father, you know.

"...does she?" Wilson's eyes widened. "Oh...I'm sorry..." He hadn't been paying attention to how anyone else was feeling. Not that he really had time, anyway.

What is it, then, if not us? Wes looked at him curiously.

Wilson shook his head. "I can't tell you, Wes. I'm sorry. It's not...anyone's concern but my own. Please understand."

Well, you might as well tell us. The further you slip into your problems, the further everyone else slips into worry. Wilson was surprised at how fast and yet how neatly Wes could write in English. Then again, that was usually what he wrote in since no one else here could understand the language except for Woodie and Wickerbottom. The only time Wilson had ever seen Wes write in French was when he spied the mime and Woodie passing a piece of paper back and forth and writing. They appeared to be flirting. Wickerbottom looked over their shoulders to see what they were doing, went three shades paler in the face, and kept walking like nothing happened.

"Good point. Just...please give me some time to recover, okay?" Wilson said, feeling exhaustion catch up to him. "Thanks for healing me, by the way."

Wes nodded. You're welcome. Get well soon. He wrote a little heart at the end of the sentence and handed Wilson the paper as he left the other man to fall asleep. Wilson smiled at the little heart the mute had written in and folded the paper, setting it in the dirt next to him. He curled up close to the stone wall of the base and attempted to fall asleep.

Sleep he did, but he dreamed something rather strange. As his body relaxed against the vine-covered walls, his mind painted a wonderfully elaborate but mildly disturbing picture for him. He stood in the cave where he'd originally freed Maxwell a long, long time ago. Well, it didn't feel that long to Wilson, but time was a mysterious and fickle little thing. It felt so real, as if he was really standing there, the ominous black shadows threatening to swallow him whole with his only defense being his torch. He stepped forward and immediately he was faced with the shadow throne, but there was something horribly off about it. There was no music, only an eerie, bone-chilling silence. The throne had been raised some distance off the ground with only a sort of terrace supporting it and a railed black staircase leading up to it. Various potted plants surrounded it. They appeared to be filled with roses and spiky plants.

For a moment, Wilson thought he saw a woman dressed in black on the throne, but in a split second, she had disappeared. In her place sat a red feather the same color as the roses in the potted plants.

Wilson dared to step forward. The bottoms of his shoes clicked loudly against the tile (he assumed it was tile, anyway) of the staircase. He reached the top and dared to reach out to grab the feather, but then he felt a hand abruptly grab him on the shoulder. Wilson flinched hard and turned around, immediately locking eyes with the one standing behind him.

Maxwell.

"You can't keep this away from us forever, you know." His voice sounded so clear, so real, that for an instant Wilson wanted to scream and ask what happened and why he had come back here, but the words caught in his throat. The next thing he knew, he shot up in his tent, sweating and on the verge of crying out for help.

He panted heavily as he tried to recover from the ridiculously realistic dream he'd just had. As he came to his senses, he found that his wounds didn't nearly hurt as bad as before and couldn't help but wonder if Wes had slipped extra spider glands into his healing salves. The scientist also noticed that this was not where he'd fallen asleep the night before and wondered who could have moved him here. He stumbled out of his tent and noticed his clothes were extremely dirty and a little torn at the edges.

"When the hell did I let this happen to myself?!" He thought, appalled with himself for being so careless. Even in the darkest emotional times, you were still supposed to take care of yourself, right? Wilson suddenly became embarrassed, first because everyone had seen him like this and second because he was being so self-absorbed it would be laughable to anyone who knew how he felt.

For a moment, Wilson thought of sneaking out again, but he felt someone grab the exact same shoulder that was grabbed in his dream and he flinched even harder than he had then.

"Don't even think about leaving." Wickerbottom warned him. "You're taking it easy for now, mister."

"Yes, ma'am." Wilson sighed at his plan being foiled. Wickerbottom withdrew her hand.

"Sorry, was that spot in pain? You flinched rather hard when I touched you."

Wilson shook his head. "No, just...bad dream. I'm still a bit jumpy."

"I see." Wickerbottom nodded. "Then, I suppose, go get your bandages changed and, if you can, help start breakfast."

Wilson nodded and noticed he could walk with less effort now that the medication had done its job. He wandered over to where Wolfgang and Wes stood by the crockpot menagerie, preparing the morning meal for everyone.

"Good morning, Wilson." Wolfgang's thick Russian accent pierced Wilson's ears. Wes simply nodded with a smile.

"Hey..." Wilson also noticed his throat felt much better. "What are we making?"

"Jam. It's what we got." Wolfgang shrugged and handed Wilson a pouch full of freshly harvested berries. Wilson began to wonder what everyone had been doing while he was away, and that put him into perspective of just how distant he was from everyone else.

"Right. Okay." Wilson got to work helping the other two add berries to the pots and he decided he'd find a way to manufacture some bread since eating straight jam was still a bit strange to him even after all this time.

"Wigfrid already gone." Wolfgang said in his broken English. "Went to hunt. Hope she don't get hurt."

"Neither do I." Wilson nodded in agreement, thinking back to how she treated him last night. He wondered why she'd suddenly grown soft on him. She wasn't usually like that at all.

Wes tapped Wolfgang's shoulder and pointed to the tents. Wendy and Webber had woken up and stumbled over to the fire pits.

"Morning..." Wendy mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Webber seemed to be wide awake.

"Good morning!" He called, a bit loudly. Wendy tapped his shoulder and whispered for him to keep it down and he nodded.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Wendy rubbed the side of her head.

"Do you have a headache?" Wilson asked her. Wendy shook her head.

"Just need to wake up is all."

"I see."

The adults dished out the jam as the rest of the residents woke up, save for Wigfrid, who was well on her way to complete her daily hunting rounds by now.

"I'm a bit surprised you're still here, Wilson." Wendy commented over breakfast.

"Wendy," Wickerbottom chastised. "Be polite."

"No, it's okay. I'm still too injured to go anywhere, so even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't." Wilson laughed nervously, putting extra emphasis on 'wanted'. He noticed Maxwell was eyeing him strangely but decided to ignore it. After everyone was done, they parted ways to complete their daily tasks; harvesting the garden, crafting needed materials, fighting off spiders (much to the dislike of Webber), and other such chores. When Wilson went to stand, he was stopped by none other than Wickerbottom.

"Ah, ah. Don't you think about leaving." She warned. "I'm having Wes and Wolfgang watch over you for the day to make sure you don't try anything funny. Your wounds are still healing, after all."

Wilson nodded. "I didn't plan on it anyway." He shrugged.

Wickerbottom stared him down for a bit before sitting down for breakfast as well. Everyone ate in silence, with Webber finishing first and Wendy being the last. The two went off to play hide and seek in the garden and Wilson warned them to watch out for bees. There he sat, by the fire, as per Wickerbottom's instructions for most of the morning. Occasionally Wes applied more medicine to his wounds, but by now they were looking much better. Wilson figured he wouldn't need medication the next few days, even though it still hurt to move around.

The day passed slowly for the scientist, as there wasn't much to do. Wendy wasn't much of a conversationalist and Webber WOULD have been there with her if not for the fact that today he was in charge of handling the spider farm. Despite the fact that he was part spider himself, he seemed to have no issue with killing his own kind. This, Wilson supposed, was in part why Wendy got along so well with him; they both seemed relatively unfazed by death. As the day droned on, Wilson began to notice things that even before he began moping about he didn't see in the others. For example, he overheard a conversation between Wickerbottom and Wolfgang, in which Wolfgang stated that he preferred his meatballs made with a touch of monster meat, followed by Wickerbottom warning him about its effects on his sanity. He also saw Wes surprise Webber with a spider-shaped balloon animal later in the day. Webber adored it and it even got a smile out of Wendy, who remarked that it was lovely. Wes seemed content with their reaction, even though Wilson knew it had taken a toll on the mime's sanity. Sitting there, Wilson couldn't help but wonder just how much he had missed by being absent from the base.

The question bothered him for most of the day as he watched his campmates come and go, not moving due to Wickerbottom's warning that it may screw up the healing process. Wilson thought that was utter BS, but there was no use in disobeying her. It gave him some time for thought, anyway, a privilege that he did not receive often.

It was a relatively nice day, for autumn. Winter would be coming soon, and everyone knew it. Everyone except for Wilson, apparently. The incoming change of season had not come to his attention recently, and it made him wonder if he was really so thickheaded as to have let that pass him by so easily. The sun felt nice on his bare skin and a gentle breeze blew against  his face and through his hair, and god, did it feel wonderful. His injuries and the low throbbing sensation given off by his blistered hands were forgotten as he closed his eyes and quickly snapped them back open.

'Just a moment...' He quickly looked around the camp. 'One, two, three... where's Maxwell?'

The scientist pursed his lips. 'So they'll excuse his absence, but not mine.' He thought disdainfully. Then again, Maxwell could actually take care of himself, Wilson thought with a bitter smile. He shrugged to himself.

Just then, he remembered something. He'd left a pack at the makeshift lab he'd set up a bit of a ways away from the camp. It contained various gems and some other materials including a strange staff-like object he found in a chest. These were items he planned to inspect closer, and he figured that if he was going to be stuck here with these injuries he might as well do SOMETHING with his time.

It would just take a moment for Wilson to get there if he stuck to the roads. No one would even notice he was gone. He saw Wigfrid come back a moment ago, inventory full of meat, and knew that there'd be next to no risk of him being caught with everyone preparing dinner. As soon as he heard the sound of the crockpots being opened, he shot out through the gap in the stone walls, not bothering to look behind him. He made it about halfway there before he heard the sounds of twigs cracking and froze dead in his tracks.

'Crap.' What a genius he was for completely skipping out on bringing a decent weapon. In fact, he had virtually nothing on him, and injured hands would be a huge bitch to fight with. He slowly began to tread backwards the way he came before he bumped into a tall, thin figure behind him. Wilson flinched hard before two hands rested themselves on the smaller man's trembling shoulders.