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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 9 months

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The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3707 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

~~~

The water ran hot against your skin as you lathered your body in soap. The bubbles formed quickly from how fast you scrubbed yourself. You didn't like taking showers. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Showers were both simultaneously the best and worst part of your day since returning home from the hospital.

Your fingers barely brushed across your skin, swiping the soap over and back a few times before you washed it off. You didn't like the feel of fingers lingering too long on your skin. Objectively, you were much better than you were before. The first time the nurses tried showering you, you almost screamed the hospital down as flashbacks and phantom touches invaded your brain.

You turned the shower off and stepped out of it. You didn't look in your mirror, immediately reaching for a towel to cover yourself up with. The towel helped you feel less... vulnerable, even if you were all alone.

Only then did you look in the mirror. It had already been one month since you'd left the hospital after being cooped up in there for two weeks. Today actually marked the day you were told you had to leave for the mission - exactly one a year ago. You were now back in your old apartment in DC - Hotch had pulled in a favour from the FBI to keep paying your rent until you came back, and you had almost choked him to death with the strong hug you'd given him when the team had brought you home.

Home.

The word brought a smile to your face. Well, it wasn't so much the word as it was the images that came to mind with it. Your apartment, the BAU, the team, the Italian restaurant downstairs you always used to visit before you left. A certain genius with unruly hair and the brightest smile in the world...

After this weekend, I'll be seeing that smile everyday, you thought as you quickly dried off and rushed to pull some casual shorts and an over-sized gym t-shirt on. Just the thought of being exposed for too long freaked you out.

You walked out to your lounge room where you were greeted with the afternoon light that would no doubt be setting soon. For a moment, you just allowed yourself to take in your street, standing so close to your floor-to-ceiling window that if you leaned forward you would bump your nose against it. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in fragments off the windows of other apartments; people were already home from work and walking the streets with their loved ones or dogs. The hardware store across the road was closing up, but the lights for the Italian restaurant downstairs flickered on, telling the world they were ready for business.

It had been killing you to stay away from work - Hotch and Penelope had made it very clear they didn't want you anywhere near the office until you had taken your month off to recover and readjust back into life. But, in hindsight, you were glad they had. You'd found a new appreciation of where you lived, reacquainted yourself with what you liked to do and liked to eat and liked to go watch at the movies.

This past month had almost wiped Serena Vanderguff from existence... and you couldn't tell if you liked that yet or not.

A sudden knock at your door knitted confusion in your eyebrows as you looked curiously at the entrance to your home. You spared a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. What's someone doing here at quarter-to six on a Friday afternoon?

You softly padded over to the door and peeped through the spyglass that allowed you to see whoever it was that knocked at the door. You couldn't stop your wide smile of delight at who greeted you outside. Without wasting another second, you unlocked the multiple locks on your door and swung the blasted thing open to welcome the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Spence!' you exclaimed. 'What a lovely surprise!'

'Hey!' he replied just as enthusiastically. 'I was on my way home from the office and thought I'd stop by.'

It was only then you noticed he was holding a big and beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. 'Goodness, Spence, you didn't have to bring me flowers again.' He'd been bringing you flowers once a week every week since you'd been found. Even when you were still in the hospital, those two weeks he had brought you the same flowers, the ones you loved.

He just smiled that adorable smile of his before responding. 'I read somewhere that florals can produce a high level of endorphins and serotonin,' he explained as he offered them out to you, lips still upturned in a crooked, adorable smile. 'And ever since that sewerage pipe break in your building, there's always been a lingering smell that I thought you could use help covering up.'

'That was over a year ago, though!' you argued weakly, but took the flowers from his hands anyways. Your fingers briefly brushed, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. It was gone as quickly as it came.

You gestured for him to come inside and he did. From your front door the kitchen was easily accessible, which is where he walked to and leant against the counter. You quickly closed the door and followed after him, heading straight for your flowers from last week sitting wilted in their vase.

'And in all that time, they still haven't managed to fix it,' Spencer added jokingly, but the upward pull of his lips wasn't as high now.

You heard what he really meant as you pulled out the dead flowers, filled the vase with fresh water, and placed the new flowers in. All that time...

A lot has happened in that time. Upon your release from the hospital, Khan had been put in jail alongside many of his goons. Madame Lacroix and the other New York club managers were found guilty of human trafficking and dealing in illicit drugs and contraband, and were all thrown in jail and their clubs were shut down. Turned out it was a national operation that Khan was running, and other units of the FBI in other states were currently hunting them all down.

What made you happy though was that the girls you saved were going home, and for those that didn't have homes, they were being found homes of their own. The older girls that worked at the clubs were a different story. Some packed up and left town, wanting to travel or find new work elsewhere. The rest bought up the clubs and were rebranding themselves, taking ownership of their lives. Now they were the ones in charge.

You looked at Spencer, leaning casually against your counter, the light of sunset haloing him as it reflected off the opposite building into your apartment.

And a lot still hasn't happened.

'So, what's the occasion?' you asked, turning to face Spencer, finally finished with the flowers. You crossed your arms and couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at you lips. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Dr. Spencer Reid in my apartment this evening?'

He chuckled at my posh delivery, and the loose curls dangling across his forehead bounced with the sound. It had grown in the time since he'd found you, but he'd cut it once or twice since then to keep it at that perfect length of long-short - long enough to style gorgeously but short enough to be considered clean-cut and suitable for work.

The urge to rake your fingers through the curls itched at your fingertips, and you were so glad your hands were crossed under your armpits.

'I was meant to come in earlier this week like I usually do,' he started, pushing off the counter to wander past the kitchen and into the lounge, ultimately ending up looking out the window as you had been just before. 'But the amount of paperwork we've had piling up this month has been ridiculous, even I was starting to hate looking at endless towers of paper to read then sign.'

'Oh no,' I drawled out, following him to the window with a teasing smirk on my lips. 'Has the great Dr. Reid finally met his match?'

'Not quite,' he replied, still staring out the window.

It was hard not to look at him as the sunlight lit up his amber eyes,. He was simply... ethereal.

'I finished it all, finally,' he continued, 'and thought I'd pay you a visit. Seeing as it's Friday and there are no new cases, I'm not expected in the office tomorrow.'

I blew out a low whistle. 'Wow. A whole weekend to yourself? That's unheard of.'

'Yeah.' His voice was breathy, and you noticed the emotion in his gaze shift as he turned away from watching the world to look at you. A sad smile appeared on his lips, eyes glazing over with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. 'I've missed you.'

'You saw me last week,' you countered, like a mother placating a child. 'And we text and call like everyday.'

'I know. It's just like old times again, but...'

He paused, as if gathering his next words carefully. Spencer always thought about his words so that people understood him the best possible way. It was one of the things you positively adored about him.

'The office is, I don't know, empty somehow,' he said finally, slowly. 'I know that's a silly thing to say when Morgan and JJ and Penelope and everyone else is there, but... Your desk still sits there, waiting for you to come back. And I kept it clean for over a year, almost willing you to come back any of those days.'

You smiled softly at him. 'Well, you don't have to wait much longer. Monday morning, bright and early, I'll be at my desk ready to go.'

Your eyes met and you could tell he was holding back tears. Your words came out quiet but true. 'I've missed you too, Spence.'

You had always been attuned to each other, the team sometimes joking that you both shared the same brain cells (even though, as Spencer claimed continuously, that was not anatomically possible). The sentiment remained true as you and him reached out to one another and wrapped your arms tight around each other.

Reflexively, your breath caught in your throat, and you were thrown back to that night where Khan defiled you in the most brutal of ways.

Spencer noticed you tense, and he pulled back slightly. 'Is this okay?" he asked gently. He had been there when you had your meltdown at the nurses; he knew what Khan had done to you, and how you would never be same because of it.

His arms were warm and gentle around you, and that horrible memory disappeared. You were with Spencer. You were safe. You were home.

You took a moment to catch your breath, to stabilise yourself in the present once more, and pulled him in tighter. 'Yes. This is okay.'

After your permission, his arms tightened around you, and there you stayed for a while longer. Just hugging while the rest of the world passed you by. With your ear pressed to his chest, you knew both your hearts were beating in time with one another.

Synced. Linked. Two halves of a whole.

Your heart practically screamed for him when he and the team had found you, saved you. It had been screaming for over a month since that day, and you knew it would never stop screaming for him.

I would've said yes.

Neither of you had said anything about what you'd said, what you had confirmed. Everything had just happened so quickly, and then Spencer had been busy with work since the team was a man down until you returned.

You'd stolen what you could in your brief touches, the laughs you shared, the scent of the flowers that hung in your apartment for a week before he brought a new set. And despite all he had done to get you back, despite that night at the Chateau - What would you have said? - you'd just been too much of a coward to see if he still felt that way for you.

Because nothing had changed for you. It never would.

You had two days before your life would go back to semi-normal, and by then it would be too difficult, too complicated. Oh screw it, it's complicated already.

You pulled apart from Spencer, disentangling yourself from him completely. As much as you wished to hold him forever, you needed to have your space if you had any hope of finally getting the words out.

'Hey, you okay?' he asked, noticing your tensed form, your fidgety fingers.

'Yeah, I just...'

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let out that breath. Now or never, Y/N.

Opening your eyes, you spoke. 'I just don't think I've ever thanked you for checking in on me. I know how busy you can be.'

'There's no need,' he replied, a soft smile adorning his face. 'I'll always come to your aid. You're... so dear to me, Y/N.'

Hope sparked in your chest, the only driving force for you to keep speaking. 'I mean it. You literally saved my life in the Warehouse. I had resigned myself to my fate: that I would never see you or Pen or Derek or JJ or the rest of the team again. I knew you'd find me, but I had made peace with dying before that point.'

You sucked in a steadying breath as the dark memories started to claw their way back into your brain, into your heart. Phantom fingers ghosted over your skin, causing you cross your arms again in attempt to protect yourself from them.

'And then Khan... used me,' you managed to get out, words strained and voice croaky as tears formed at the rim of your eyelids.

Spencer's expression turned into one of concern. 'You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Y/N,' he offered, amber eyes scanning me all over for signs that I would breakdown.

I shook my head. 'No. I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.'

'Understand what?'

'That this past month I have had to learn to re-love myself again, to re-love my body and what it did for me that day.' I forced my arms down beside me, opening myself up completely to Spencer. 'It hasn't been easy, and sometimes... I've hated myself, instead. And the scars run deeper than my skin shows and may last for a long time - possibly for the rest of my life.'

You tell yourself to be brave for a moment, and you look directly into Spencer's eyes, which shine with unshed tears and something else you can't quite figure out.

'But you... Dr. Spencer Reid,' you started, tears finally falling from your eyes as the brightest smile spread across your face. 'You have made me believe in hope again. Hope, that I might one day be rid of this hatred for myself and my body. Hope, that I can carry this trauma and still live a full life. Hope, that I can be more than what Walter Khan made of me that night.'

A hysterical chuckle escapes you, and you wipe some of the tears away. There was a silent voice in the back of your head saying how ridiculous you are for crying over this. But that voice was all of hatred, of jealously. It has been the voice you've let dictate your feelings for over a month.

But, today, you were done listening to it.

'Hope, that... you love you me as much as I love you, Spencer.'

There, you said it. Relief bombarded the space where the weight of those words had held a huge place in your heart for the longest time. Since before the mission, before Maeve, before you even knew you were in love with him. It was out there, now. There was no going back.

Spencer remained silent, staring at you like you had three heads. Slight panic coursed coldly through you, and suddenly your mouth was motoring, words just flying out one after the other.

'That's not me asking you to say it back or anything. I just... oh my goodness, screw it. I have been in love with you forever, Spencer, and I just wanted to let you know because you have taken up such a huge part of my heart that will never belong to anyone else, and-'

'You love me?'

You paused at Spencer's question, locking eyes with the boy genius and seeing a mixture of disbelief and that same emotion again, the one you couldn't put a finger on. Perhaps it was terror, and that one thought had your heart sinking like the Titanic.

'Yeah,' you replied quietly.

'...How long?'

'Sorry?'

'How. Long.'

You rubbed at your eyes, suddenly avoiding his gaze by looking simply anywhere else. It was all going so horribly wrong. But he'd asked a question. And you would do anything, answer anything, if he asked.

'I think I've loved you since the day I met you,' you said, and it was only when you'd spoken the words did you realise how cliche you sounded. A humourless laugh escaped you at your misery.

'I didn't realise until a few years later, though,' you continued. 'But by the time I did, I found out you had a secret girlfriend in Maeve and you were just so happy I couldn't possibly ruin what we had because of that. And I never tried after because you were grieving and I didn't want you to think I was rushing you or pushing you too soon. But then you asked me, and I was so happy, but then it all just went downhill from there. Goodness, this is all coming out horribly wrong-'

'Stop talking.'

'Wha- Mph!'

Your question was swallowed by Spencer Reid's lips as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you to him, pressing his lips passionately against yours. He tasted like Halloween sweets and fresh air, and that just made you close your eyes and melt into him more. The kiss wasn't frantic. Rather, it was sweet and loving and you couldn't get enough of him. Even as you weaved your fingers into his luscious hair and tugged on them gently, eliciting a deep growl of approval and want from deep within him.

As he kissed you, your doubts faded away, leaving only your love for another that could not be any clearer now. As he kissed you, another mental, emotional scare healed and vanished.

You both finally pulled apart, heaving for breath as your noses brushed one another's. When you looked up at his eyes, you finally recognised the mystery emotion that had been burning ever since he'd stepped into your apartment.

A relieved, genuinely happy smile split his lips wide as tears of joy ran down his cheeks. His thumb swept over your own tears, causing you both to chuckle at your silliness.

'If you hadn't guessed already,' he said, his words only for you, 'I love you, too. I know that's an odd thing to say before you even date someone, but I do, and I have for a while even if I didn't know it before. I'm just so so sorry for making you wait, for being an ignorant, stupid coward.'

You brought your hands up to wipe away his own tears, heart immensely full for the man in front of you. 'Dr. Spencer Reid stupid? Now you're just making stuff up. I thought you didn't do that.'

That pulled a laugh from him, and he pulled you into another hug, this time more bone-crushing. As if he couldn't express how much he loved you enough. You hugged him back just as desperately though. It seemed as though you shared the same sentiment.

In another moment of bravery, you spoke over his shoulder where your chin rested. 'You know... my answer still stands. That is, if your offer still stands.'

Dr. Spencer Reid. Are you asking me out on a date right now?

Spencer pulled away from the hug, with the biggest smile on his face. 'It will always stand for you, Y/N. Always.'

What do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?

It was you this time that pressed a bruising kiss on Spencer's lips, the kiss being answer enough for what you had been holding onto for exactly a year.

Sweet, sweet music wafted up from downstairs, the faint sound of a beautiful violin sparking an idea in your head. You forced yourself to pull away from Spencer and said, 'I know a great Italian restaurant that is super close, by the way.'

'Sounds perfect,' Spencer replied, kissing you quickly again before crouch and picking you up by your underarms and twirling your around in the air. Laughter echoed through your apartment as you clung to him but also rejoiced at the feeling of flying. For the first time in over a year, you were finally feeling like yourself again.

Spencer eventually put you down, saying, 'As much as I find you the most beautiful girl in the world, I don't think t-shirt and shorts are going to cut it downstairs.'

'Oh. Right.' You quickly dashed into your room and put on something more suitable.

And finally, one year after being asked out, Spencer held your hand in his and took you downstairs to have your date, where you both had the best night you'd had in a long time. It might've taken a few twists and turns to get to where you both belonged: with each other. But as you ate your pasta, drank your wine, danced with and laughed with and kissed Spencer, you realised it had only made your bond stronger, that it had been worth it.

You'd finally found your way back home.

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shinjisdone · 1 year

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Mαѕтєяℓιѕт

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾: 𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗏

𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗: 05/14/𝟸𝟶𝟸4

ᵀᵃᵍ ˡᶤˢᵗ

𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭

'When You Have A Secret Admirer - And It's Not Them' series:

[Form of headcanons + small scenarios in between. Each part follows a loose plot chronologically] Tagged under #Secret Admirer

1; Heartslabyul

2; Savanaclaw

3; Octavinelle

4; Scarabia

5; Pomefiore

6; Ignihyde

7; Diasomnia

Extra: 'When You Have A Secret Admirer - And Doubt Them' (All students)

'When You Have A Secret Admirer - And Everybody Thinks It's Them' series:

[Form of headcanons. A small 'spin off' series of the one above where each characters thoughts and feelings are shown when people are starting to think/believe/gossip that they are the secret admirer - even though they are indeed not. Will follow each dorm.]

1;Heartslabyul

2; Savanaclaw

3; Octavinelle

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝗈𝗈𝗇...𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖶𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽...

𝒯𝒲𝒮𝒯 ℬ𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓇𝑜𝓉:

Female!MC and Friends - Deuce Spade

Female!MC and Friends - Malleus Draconia

How I Imagine TWST Could Be If There Was A Female!MC - Staff Edition

How I Imagine TWST Could Be If There Was A Female!MC

Female!MC and Friends - Riddle Rosehearts

Female!MC and Friends - Ace Trappola

Female!MC and Friends - Rook Hunt

who broke it (secret admirer)

Ace just really likes Yuu (headcanon)

𝑉𝜄𝜋𝑙𝛼𝜋𝜕 𝑆𝛼𝑔𝛼

'To Soften A Warrior's Heart' series (Thorfinn Karlsefni; Prologue, Season 1, Anime Only)

[Scenarios of crawling your way into Thorfinn's heart in the form of headcanons. Slow burn. Each part follows an chronological order and will loosely follow the plot of season 1] Tagged under #TSAWH

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚﹕

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₂ ﹙Sʟᴀᴠᴇ Aʀᴄ﹚﹕

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝗈𝗈𝗇...𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖵𝗂𝗇𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽...

𝛴𝜘𝜏𝑟𝛼

Extra: Sweet Things Thorfinn would do for you on your period (all female reader, headcanons + period tw)

Extra: Yandere!S1!Thorfinn with a Female!Reader who becomes uncomfortable around him (Request)

Extra: Thorkell taking you hostage instead of Askeladd; How Thorfinn saves you (many female examples)

Extra: Askeladd and Canute's opinion on You (Male and Female vers. - TSAWH)

Yandere!Thorfinn and the things he'd do for you

Slave Arc! Thorfinn cannot remember much because his brain is trying to protect him

Cut Content: You slowly appearing in S1!Thorfinn’s Vinland dreams

𝓛𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓟

'Ticking Springs'

[A Yandere Pinocchio x fem!Reader fic; Geppetto's niece finds herself as his apprentice as well as the new caretaker and host of his beloved, lost son. Memories of the past plague one alongside the Puppet Frenzy.] Tagged under #Ticking Springs

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝗈𝗈𝗇...𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀...

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜

Yandere! Glitchy Red AI (based on character.ai)

Yandere Alphabet ♡ Glitchy Red

Fic brainrot idea - Jujutsu Kaisen

Becoming The Golden Guard's/Hunter's human friend - TOH⁽ᴾᵃʳᵗ ¹)

Becoming The Golden Guard's/Hunter's human friend - TOH (Part 2)

Platonic!Lucifer x Angel!Reader (who seems evil but they becomes besties) - Hazbin Hotel

Random Alucard thoughts (Yandere, Part 1)

Alucard thought (Part 2)

Character.ai - Yandere Alucard

Yandere! Levi x reader - Fear and Hunger: Termina

#masterlist #twisted wonderland #vinland saga #twst x reader #vinland saga x reader #Glitchy red #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #TSAWH

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lucysarah-c · 1 month

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Do you have any plans for a LevixReader longfic that you would like to write about plot-wise (going back to seasons 1 and 4) besides Holy Ground or after you finish Holy Ground?

Hi, dear! How are you?

Oh, that's such a good question! Yes, I do! Actually, I have the first chapter written, but I will post it once I finish 'Holy Ground.' My idea is to finish writing it before even posting the first chapter. It's not going to be as long as 'HG,' no no. 'Holy Ground' is my baby; I planned that story for years, and it's long because I created a whole universe about it haha. Chapters are long, and they are already cut out of plenty of scenes before they get posted. I think that once 'HG' is done, it may be 500k, and that's a lot.

The new fic would only be five chapters; the titles and everything are already decided. Because who am I if not an obsessive controller and planner? The story will be a canon time but AU about what would have happened if Levi, Farlan, and Isabel would have succeeded in killing Erwin, and now they live in the capital city. The title will be 'Suburban Legends,' with one prologue and four chapters. Levi X reader.

I can even give you a sneak peak:

Snow crunching underfoot, cobblestones slippery, skies open and flamingo pink, the screams of newspapers and old brooms sweeping streets. Head down, dark locks dusted with snowflakes, hands in pockets, calloused, tired feet in a worn uniform. Elaborate sighs, eyes glued to the floor, shop owners opening their stores, boulevards closing. A shaking figure paces down the streets, curious eyes following its path as some recognize him.

The ferry wasn't scheduled for its first trip for at least two to three hours more. He needed to pass the time; his meeting with the higher-ups and Historia had lasted until dawn. The early mornings downtown hold a melancholy that deeply affects him. As he reaches a small plaza, his sigh rises and he admires the view. Sheena's Wall exhales an air of foreignness he can't comprehend, like visiting an ex's house - familiar yet tinged with unease and foreignness. A place once called his own, now recalled with flashbacks of bad dreams.

The overwhelming desire to be alone consumes him, perhaps hidden in a forest outside the walls where nobody could see or expect him. Unusual for him, but he feels on the verge of tears. What could be the reason? The stress of the Wall Maria retake expedition? Erwin's unwavering determination and wavering intentions? The reasons he joined the scouts now disturbed like a distorted dream? Kenny? The kids from the underground reminding him of his own and, once again, Kenny? His mother?

Desolation and doubts cloud his mind; the streets teem with strangers, and the wash of loneliness shivers his body in a way it hasn't before. He can almost believe that at 31, he wishes Kenny were around again, to guide him, to ask him questions, to show him the way. Joining the scouts seven years ago, knowing more at 24 than at 31. Pacing the streets like an abandoned dog, wondering where to return, never thinking they'd one day be left to fend for themselves in the empty fields, seeking civilization by the scent of food and the hope of love.

Thank you for passing by! I can't help but wonder what made you want to ask that question! Feel free to return haha.

Have a lovely day/night!

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squgs · 11 months

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HOTD and Ambiguity

So given that House of the dragon covers nearly 20 years of history (30 if you count the prologue), and a shit ton of characters in ten hours of television there's a lot of events that we don't see and ambiguities around characters. Characters rarely state their motivations and there are reasons to doubt them when they do. It is very easy to make wildly different claims about characters which, while incompatible with each other, can't really be disproved by the show so far. For example Daemon can be a pedo groomer abuser who just wants the throne, or a feminist malewife who will do anything for his queen. Neither of those are explicitly disproven by what we see on screen, though that is not to say that they're equally reasonable readings (I think that the 2nd is pretty ridiculous to be honest).

These different readings of scenes and characters and lines have contributed to the pretty ugly fandom discourse since there is enough evidence for mutually exclusive claims to argue extensively. Whoever your favorite character is you can twist the shown events in order to make them seem like a hero and for everyone who opposes them to be terrible. However I don't have anything worthwhile to say on that, so I want to talk about the writing on its own instead.

Now having uncertain motives can be interesting writing wise (show don't tell and all that), but I think that as House of the Dragon's first season continued it ran into more and more problems around this, especially with the time jumps and actor changes. When character's motives and wants are unclear after the time jumps first impressions are what will decide how most people view them. So when we first see Rhaenyra giving birth, and we first see Alicent trying to separate a newborn from her mother, and we first see Criston calling Rhaenyra a slur and we first see Harwin being a protective father and we first see Aegon bullying his brother, it adds up. Those first impressions are then applied forward and backwards leading to the idea that Alicent and Criston have been abusing Rhaenyra for ten years, and that in the training yard Criston the incel fucked around with Harwin and then found out (my read is that Criston the step-dad took advantage of Harwin being an entitled ass to get him fired).

(Side note about Criston: While the exact thinking behind his downward spiral in episode 5 is ambiguous, the scene between him and Rhaenyra in episode 4 is unambiguously rape given that he tells her to stop and she doesn't.)

In that way the show encourages very one sided readings of complicated and ambiguous scenes, leading to people either being annoyed that the show ignores all the terrible things that the greens are doing, or that it's unfairly biased against them. That's a problem, but things don't completely fall apart until episodes 9 and 10 when people start going to war. For all of the characters we still have no idea what they are fighting for. If we ask why Alicent crowns Aegon we have a bunch of possible answers:

Because she thinks Viserys told her to. This is stupid and I hate it.

Because she fears for her children's lives. This is a good reason, but it has not been brought up since episode 6 despite episodes 7 and 8 both featuring moments that would certainly validate that fear.

Internalized misogyny. This one makes no sense to me, and I haven't seen any convincing evidence for Alicent specifically having more internalized misogyny than any of the other women on the show. However it could be interesting if it was actually seen beforehand.

Ambition and pride. This isn't really seen in the show, but it certainly seems like an understandable feeling for Alicent to have after suffering through an abusive marriage for 20 years and being denied the two things that women are promised through marriage (her husband's protection of her and her children, and the inheritance of her son)

Now if we ask why Rhaenyra wants the crown enough to go to war for it (she agrees to lay siege to king's landing before Luke dies so I'm ignoring that) we have a similarly confusing list of possibilities:

Her dad told her to. This is the reason that I think fits best, but it isn't really delved into. I think there would be a lot of rich interesting stuff with Rhaenyra evaluating her father's legacy and whether she wants to continue it, but Rhaenyra never seems to acknowledge how much bad shit her father has done.

So she can fulfill the prophecy. This is stupid.

Ambition and pride. Also aren't really seen, but certainly understandable and believable.

She fears for her children. This also isn't really shown at all, but you could argue that she fears her children will be killed either to protect Aegon's claim or to put an actual Valeryon on the throne of Driftmark. However we don't really know Rhaenyra's view of the political situation.

To destroy the patriarchy. This would be interesting, but we don't really see her wanting to do that. We do see her usurp Baela's claim to Driftmark in episode 8 though.

These issues get even worse with the more minor characters, the worst example being Rhaenys for whom all her possible motivations contradict her previous actions and opinions:

To protect/honor her grand daughters: if this is what she wants why doesn't she take Alicent's offer of Driftmark, giving her granddaughters an inheritance and keeping them out of the war?

To protect Luke and Jace: she never shows them any affection except maybe in the background of the eye gouging aftermath.

Feminism: if she is willing to go to war in order to have a queen on the iron throne why didn't she fight for her own claim?

Because she wants peace: then why didn't she accept Alicent's offer which was made in the name of peace? Literally as soon as she and Corlys put their support behind Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra stops considering making peace.

Because she trusts Rhaenyra more than the greens: Why? She thinks that Rhaenyra and Daemon killed at least one of her children, she saw Daemon murder her brother in law and we have no reason to think she knows of any misdeeds done by the greens.

All these unclear motivations make the themes of the stories non-existent. The dance could have all sorts of different thematic meanings, all built around what is being fought for and against. It would be fascinating if Alicent and Rhaenyra were both fighting for ambition, making the show about how women are pitted against each other by patriarchy or if they were both fighting for their children and the show is about the cruelty of the system that doesn't allow power to be shared and forces branches of families to fight until one side is wiped out. However, for any meaning to be clear the writers have to know what it is and they have to write their characters with that meaning in mind. Hopefully the show can be more clear going forward, but I don't exactly expect that, and I think that without a coherent set up it's not going to mean much when bodies start dropping next season.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #criston cole #rhaenys targaryen #hotd critical #pro team green

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newtie-patootie-bootie · 5 months

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Masquerade (Chapter 5)

Summary: This is your third season and your aspirations on finding love are dwindling but news on Lady Whistledown’s society pages say that there is to be a foreign royal in attendance to the season. Could this royal dignitary be the one you’ve been waiting for, or could there be a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows, waiting to pluck your heart for his?

Disclaimer: I do not own Bridgerton nor The Mandalorian- all rights go to the owners and creators of their separate stories.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and minor blood and wounds- nothing too major. (I tell you, we’re getting into it, I promise!)

|| Please do not repost or plagiarise my work ||

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Tags: @technicallykawaiisoul @call-me-soap @the-feckless-wonder @elinedjarin @bluevxnus @literallydontlook @sm0l-0ne @1am9root6 @ems-alexandra @notsosecretspy

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This work is also cross-posted on Ao3 at: pleasehelpmeimstuckinthefandoms

Din rarely lost his composure, mostly maintaining a calm demeanor even when faced with overwhelming trials and tribulations.

This one was one of those times where he had to show the most restraint.

His jaw ticked in irritation as dark eyes stayed pinned on his general and he leant over his desk, hands curled into fists as they rested atop the oak surface. Important documents crinkled under his twisting knuckles as Paz relayed the day’s earlier events. “There was no correspondence ahead of time to warn us of any vessel of ours sailing on international waters. We are lucky that we have not been questioned but I suspect it will not be overlooked so easily the next time.”

“There will not be a next time, Paz. Not if I can help it.” Gravelly and cold, the voice of the true man beneath the royal title and gold-enlaced armour bled through. “What the kriff was she thinking?”

"We were not informed that there was any ship scheduled to sail. As such, I have had no reports from our staff or any correspondence from our Naval officers ahead of time that would suggest we are in need of supplies which means-” 

“-this was planned and executed in secret.” Din growled, teeth grinding together as he untied the cravat constricting his throat and tossed it into the corner of his office without a second thought, resuming his previous position as he desperately tried to calm his breath. “I am growing tired of secrets and hidden plots hatching right under my nose.”

“That’s not all, Manda’lor.” Din tensed at Paz’s apprehensive tone, clicking his tongue as he inhaled sharply through his nose, “apparently the other clans are doubting your actions. They question why you did not choose one of our own to be your riduur.”

He exhaled sharply, slamming a fist against the wood. “You mean that my inferior birth must somehow be cleansed with a true Mandalorian? How many of those are out there, Paz?” Din questioned hotly, dark eyes meeting with his vod’s blue and Paz remained silent as his King let out his frustrations, “truly? If they wish for a true Mandalorian, I sincerely hope they enjoy living through another civil war. After The Great Purge and The Night of a Thousand Tears, I can count how many true Mandalorians remain on one hand.” Anger flamed deep within his chest as he continued, “not many of those of true blood remain amongst our people anymore. I did not see any one of those clan members raise their swords to fight the Imperial rule that they allowed to be wreaked upon them.”

“I admit when you first took the throne, I shared their opinions. I shared their doubts. I even issued a challenge because I believed you could not uphold the traditions of our culture and land.” Din remained silent, allowing Paz to speak his mind, “but you taught me that bloodline means little when one is to rule a kingdom.” Paz moved forward and set a strong hand on Din’s shoulder. “You proved your worth to be Manda'lor when you obtained the Darksaber and used it to liberate us from the Imps. This time, I shall fight for you if the need arises."

"Thank you, vod." Din straightened from his hunched position and sighed deeply through his nose, "it seems I must make appearances at more social gatherings to dissuade the lieutenant. I will not allow her to hurt Lady Dalton."

Paz's hardened expression softened to something akin to pride, "you care for her, don't you?"

Another sigh and the King of Mandalore raised his gaze to his clan-brother, voice barely above a whisper, "more than I am willing to admit."

“I believe we must make a statement.” Paz spoke, “the Manda’lor must make a statement.” 

“What kind of statement, Paz? That my affection for Lady Dalton exceeds two personalities that I have been forced to craft, no thanks to my impertinent General?” Din raised his eyebrows while Paz simply rolled his eyes in response.

“I mean, di’kut,” the familiar insult curled Din’s lips into a familiar smile and he gestured for Paz to finish, taking the seat opposite his desk and he leant back, “that we should hold a ball. Open the estate to the masses and allow them to see our culture and our ways.” 

Din sucked on his bottom lip as he pondered the notion. “This could only go one of two ways.” 

“Well, then we make it go our way.” Paz answered simply, “the Manda’lor is still a shadow to most of the ton. It is time they understand the strength and valour he represents. That they understand the reason you are here.” Paz sighed, looking down at his vod with as much softness as he could muster. “You are here to sample western culture and to take one of their daughters for your bride. They must see you for who you are, they must understand the man beneath the helm and the crown. They must see you.”

Din took in Paz’s words, a harsh sigh expelling from his lips and he stood up, moving toward his small cart topped with various alcohols and picked up a tumbler before allowing a large pour of Mandalorian brewed cognac. 

He passed one to Paz before pouring himself one as well. With one hand in his pants pocket, he turned to face Paz and took a sip of his beverage. “Send a message to Karga to prepare himself to sail. I will require his assistance.” 

“Of course, Manda’lor.” Paz pressed a fist to his chest, over his heart before straightening up. “And what will you do?” 

“I will attend the Vauxhall Gardens.” He raised a finger from his glass to Paz and immediately silenced his General’s next words. Din swallowed softly, taking his pen and he took out a fresh piece of parchment before taking his seat once again and placed his cognac beside the stack of paperwork. “You are right. The Manda’lor can no longer hide.”

You basked in the sunlight, standing just off to the side of the lake, your delicate umbrella resting on the base of your shoulder as you twirled it lazily in thought.

The latest Whisteldown had been released and somehow, the details of the Manda'lor’s special attention toward you had caught her unnerving gaze. It didn’t take long for the hoards of mama’s and daughters to make plans to cast Mando’s gaze from you. Little did they know that you did not care for his gaze. 

However, the dream your mind produced last night disproved those feelings:

Your garments piled atop each other in an undignified heap.

You lay on your back, clinging to him amongst the silk sheets. A gentle stream of light beamed across his back from between the gossamer curtains. 

Your hips bucked into his body as his fingertips traced invisible patterns along the sensitive flesh of the back of your thighs. A chuckle rumbled against the shell of your ear as he lifted your legs and made you curl them around his narrow hips, “cross your ankles together, Sarad.” You immediately took to his instruction and locked them together at the base of his back, your core flush with his. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands slid from your naked thighs, curling around your hips and waist. He pinched and pulled at the ties of your smallclothes before burying his aching touch into the mussed bedding by your head. His lips began to trail a line of hot, needy kisses along your naked shoulder and throat- tongue curling against your thumping pulse point and your eyes rolled back as his teeth gently pulled at the soft skin before he soothed and suckled around the faint marks he left behind.

He didn’t allow you to feel the bashfulness associated with this moment; this life-changing event that you had been raised for. The moment you’d been unconsciously preparing for with all those years of lessons to be a proper young lady and three whole seasons spent with little to no thought of any suitor that vied for your hand.

Your hands slowly traced the contours of his arms, curling into the dip of his shoulders before slowly coming to frame his jaw and pushed him back slightly to take in his features.

His face mingled between the stoic beskar helmet and Din’s carnal grin.

Din and Mando’s voice melded into one as they both whispered, “Sarad.” 

A loud squeal tore you from your sinful musings and you turned to witness the commotion just as you spotted your youngest siblings chasing each other just ahead of where your family had set their picnic for the morning. 

Ryder lounged on his garden chair, nose deep in the morning’s paper as your mother sat beside him, idly perusing through the latest Whistledown for the third time today.

“Is something troubling you, owlet?” Your father’s voice murmured from beside you and you sighed deeply.

Turning back to the shimmering waters of the lake, you pondered your whirlwind thoughts before shaking your head, “simply reflecting on these weeks past, father. Nothing of import.” 

Thomas’ sigh was a copy of yours and he turned to face the lake. “I understand that the unorthodox amount of attention placed upon you must feel so overwhelming,” he began quietly, “when I had attended my first season I couldn’t even speak to any of the ladies also promenading for suitors.” 

That got your attention and you looked up at your father who sported a small, amused smile. “You, the Duke of Wintere were too shy to socialise with the women of the ton?” 

Thomas simply smiled, “I could not even attend their residence to leave them gifts to even be recognised as a proper suitor.” 

You giggled at the thought of your father stuttering in front of the women of the town expecting the Duke of Wintere to be a suave and confident gentleman. “I can’t imagine you being so anxious, Papa.” Then a thought struck you. “Didn’t you marry Mama in your first season?”

“Your mother brought a side out of me I wasn’t aware existed.” Thomas turned his head to face his beloved wife as she conversed with her eldest son and cradled her youngest child in her lap while their second son sat on the blanket, munching on grapes. “She made me the man I am today.” He slowly turned back to you and raised his hand, gently cupping your cheek, “follow your heart, my dear. It will never steer you wrong.”

You watched your father, a soft smile curling your lips as his words seared themselves in the chambers of your heart. “Yes, Papa.”

He smiled, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek before leaning forward and he placed a soft kiss to your forehead, “that’s my beautiful girl. Never settle for less than what you deserve.”

“Thank you, Papa.” He nodded once before taking his leave and walked back to your family and you turned back to face the water. One hand moved from the stem of the umbrella to curl around the silver locket that delicately hung around your throat. 

You were not familiar with the metal, but the intricate design resembled a hellebore. If it had not been accompanied by a letter then you would not have known who would have been so thoughtful.

At this point, you could memorise the letter word for word, recognise the penmanship almost immediately.

“Sarad,

I apologise for not replying to your recent letters, there have been some pressing matters that required my attention. However, I admit that most of my thoughts have been consumed by you.

Consequently, I hope this small token of my appreciation will win me back in your favour.

I am unsure if I have ever mentioned this, however Mandalore is rich in metals. More specifically, it’s called beskar. It is a highly profitable metal, incredibly durable and nigh impossible to destroy. I will no longer bore you with the scientific discoveries of a metal that I am sure you are no more interested in than those scandal papers you lament over.

I appointed my head blacksmith for this task. I trust her implicitly and I pray you do not find my forwardness too distasteful. I hoped you would enjoy something with a little more familiarity than a simple design that would hold no meaning for you.

However, I would be most appreciative to hear your thoughts in person rather than a scribed letter.

I will make an appearance at the Vauxhall Gardens tonight, I hope to see you there. I have heard it shall be an affair to remember.

Yours,

Mando.”

The smile threatening to split your cheeks hurt but there was nothing that could dim your happiness. 

However, the knot beginning to tighten in the base of your belly refused to loosen considering the event at the Vauxhall Gardens tonight. With Mando in attendance, it would be the first time you’d seen him since he’d walked with you in the park.

Perhaps, the soiree at the Gardens would alleviate some of your anxiety.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian x bridgerton #bridgerton au #Bridgerton #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro x reader

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incorrecttowerofgodquotes · 2 years

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Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Episode 6 Review

- I can no longer be happy

- Poor Elan. I knew he wasn’t going to live to the end but he DIED in episode 6! Maybe I’ll get attached to the new one, but I won’t ever forget Elan 4. Also there’s the fact that Elan isn’t a clone, but instead a kidnapped child (probably from Earth) who’s been forcibly experimented on. Those Peil technology guys make Guel’s dad look like a saint.

- Elan was really going through it this episode. His mental break down in the Pharact was really sad. He just wanted to have his own life. He wanted his own birthday! Though at least Suletta gave him a small bit of happiness before his death. The two really had a bond, and when Suletta finds out what happened I don’t think she’ll be able to recover. Really gotta wonder how long she stayed sitting at that bench waiting for someone who would never arrive

- Also real Elan is pretty adorable as well, though I also want to punch him and shove him in a locker. I’m going to guess he’s the real leader of Peil Technologies and the witch Prospera was referring to. I can see him taking up the second arc big bad spot.

- As for Suletta. The Eri clone theory is becoming more and more real, but it got even more horrifying. Bel drops that the events of the prologue happened 21 years ago, which is weird cause Eri was 4 at the time and Suletta is 17 now. That would mean Suletta is really just an Eri clone, in fact, she’s not even the first. There are twelve GUND bits in total, Aerial, and eleven drones. Those eleven drones are probably failed Eri clones that got five nights at freddy’d into a machine. This is corroborated by Elan’s GUND vision of multiple young girls firing at him.

- Prospera now seems to be an old, bitter woman trying to get revenge for her husband’s death and her daughter’s robotification. While normally I would agree, the fact that she’s been cloning her daughter and then turning the failed ones into robots is fucked up. She probably doesn’t even see Suletta as human, just another tool to get her revenge. I also doubt she’ll treat Miorine well even though she also hates Delling.

- Now let’s talk about best boy Guel once again. Dudes reenacting one of the hit slice of life shows in the past five years, Yuru Camp. His homeless arc has started and he’s already thriving. Dude is so fucking stupid I love him. Our Earth House group is probably going to find him one day sitting in the woods like a gay cryptid and Suletta’s gonna want to take him back. At least his dad is nice(?) enough to keep paying for his tuition, though that’s probably just so he could use him again if Guel ever ends up looking promising again.

- Miorine is such a supportive wife, it’s great. She’s caught between wanting Suletta to act in benefit for the both of them, while also wanting Suletta to enjoy her school life. She’s understanding that Suletta was forced into the marriage and wants to experience things at her own pace.

- I’ve seen some people get mad that Suletta has been getting ship tease with the guys, but like, Suletta hadn’t heard of gay marriage until she arrived at the school and was suddenly engaged. Just like how Miorine doesn’t deserve to be forcibly married, neither does Suletta. If she wants to experience love on her own, then she should be allowed. And for anyone scared of being queer baited, Utena did the same exact thing and it ended fine.

- Now for the future, I’m not quite sure what will happen. Shaddiq will probably get a couple episodes to shine and Guel will join the Earth squad but other than that… *shrug*

- The final thing I want to leave off on is the theme of birthdays. Eri’s entire life was destroyed on her birthday and Elan never had one. Birthdays are something that humans created and celebrated, so to not have one makes one feel less human. Since Miorine and Suletta’s engagement will be finalized on her 17th birthday, I’m expecting Prospera to start some Red Wedding shit. It’ll probably happen either at the end of the cour or the end of this season (if we’re getting two)

#happy birthday to you *dies*#nobody celebrate guel’s birthday I beg of you #gundam witch from mercury #gundam #g witch

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threewaysdivided · 2 years

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Young Justice: Deathly Weapons

Crossover: Danny Phantom x Young Justice Season 1 Gen | Slowburn Mystery + Episodic Missions | Ongoing

A business agreement. A small-town hero, on the run and struggling. A danger few people even believe is real. When an unexpected face intervenes on a mission gone wrong, the Boy Wonder begins to realise that there's more to the story. And what started out as a hunt for answers draws the Team into a more complex web than any of them could have seen coming.

This long-fic is fully planned out and structured in “episode” blocks. Arc/Mission summaries under the cut:

Prologue For Humanity as a Whole

On the surface the meeting would seem to be quite above board.

Act I Part 1 Chance Encounters ∙ Shadow of Doubt ∙ Scars ∙ Phenomenon ∙ Ghost Stories ∙ Brave Faces ∙ Expectations ∙ Questions ∙ Interference

When the not-yet Team encounter a mysterious figure in the bowels of Project Cadmus, Robin files it away as a curiosity. When the same figure intervenes months later to save him, Aqualad and Artemis on a mission gone wrong, the Boy Wonder knows he has to investigate. Meanwhile, far from where it all began, a travel-hardened half-ghost is struggling to keep his head above water.

Act I Part 2 Social Commentary ∙ Trade Secrets ∙ Answers ∙ Propositions

So many questions, so few answers. The Dynamic Duo hoped that playing by his terms might coax cooperation from the stubborn fugitive they found. Now, with time ticking on and danger drawing near, the Boy Wonder considers a more direct approach. The question is: can Robin risk putting all his cards on the table?

Act II Part 1 Constants ∙ Roads to Safe Places

Dick adjusts to having a new face around the Manor. Meanwhile, Danny wrestles with the idea of putting down roots so far from home.

Act II Part 2 Second Impressions ∙ Assessment

The Team is getting a new member, and it’s one some of them have already met. Being able to walk through walls, disappear and fly are handy powers for a stealth-squad to have, but not everyone is eager to welcome a ghost to the group.

Act II Mission 1 Black Gold

High seas and high stakes! Learning to work with a new Teammate always comes with challenges, but when eco-terrorists commandeer a deep-water oil rig, the pressure has never been greater. With lives on the line and fingers twitching on triggers, will Phantom’s powers let them swim… or sink?

[Under construction ↓]

Act II Mission 2 Flashpoints ∙ Combustion ∙ Reagents ∙ Equilibrium

Phantom has proved his worth in combat but some of the Team remain unconvinced. A simple investigation into a potential Venom competitor could be a chance to clear the air, but with resentment simmering, Aqualad can’t help feeling like they’re burning more bridges than crossing them. Can Robin and Phantom get through to Kid Flash before things fall apart?

Act II Mission 3 Something Wicked ∙ This Way Comes

Batman and Commissioner Gordon make a breakthrough on Phantom’s case. Meanwhile a security detail on some mystic artefacts brings the Team face to face with a foe from the ghost’s past.

Act II Mission 4 Rituals ∙ Ill-lit Ships ∙ Withered Red Rose

An unusual energy spike on the Watchtower’s sensors sends the Team to investigate the mountains of Rhelasia, where the young heroes must intervene to stop a familiar cult from completing a mysterious ceremony. Afterward, a passing comment from Phantom gives Kaldur a lot to think about.

Act II Mission 5 In the Mists

Superboy worries about an upcoming meeting, while a radio call draws the Team back to the developing Gorilla settlement in Bwunda. Out in the jungle, the young heroes will need to have all their wits about them: something dangerous stalks the forest and night comes swift between the trees.

Act II Interlude China and Emeralds

It’s an important anniversary for Danny, and Dick is determined that he won’t spend it alone. Meanwhile, the Team looks back on the journey so far, and Conner gets a visitor.

Act II Mission 6 Enemy Lines ∙ Humans

Sightings of new weapons in enemy hands have Batman and the Team concerned that another smuggling ring has started under General Eiling’s nose. After a distressingly close shave, M’gann tries to learn more about her newest Teammate.

Act II Mission 7 Bitter Reunions ∙ Half-truths

Clues are falling into place and the Dark Knight does not like it. The young heroes face a tense mission as Robin and Phantom take the lead on investigating a potential link between two powerful enemies. What they find could be the key - not only to Phantom’s troubled past but to everything the Team has seen over the last few months. It’s time for secrets to come into the light.

Act II Mission 8 Into the Breach ∙ Séance

Armed with new information, the Team is eager to act. A recon sweep over the Bermuda Triangle feels like a diversion, but in a region infamous for strange sightings, not everything is as it seems. Danger awaits on a secret island, and grim news from old friends reveals the full scope of the enemy’s plan.

Act III Mission 9 The Other Side ∙ Alliance ∙ Mirrors ∙ Coordinates

Our heroes now understand what the Light aim to do, and they aren’t going to wait for a theme song. There are preparations to make, allies to find and a dire warning that needs to be delivered. Phantom has learned to work in the Team’s world. Now they must enter his.

Act III Mission 10 Rifts

Chaos erupts as the Light make their move. Will the Team and League’s preparations be enough to weather the storm… or will they be overwhelmed by sheer force?

Act III Mission 11/ Conclusion Checkmate ∙ Stalemate ∙ Pawns ∙ Covenants ∙ Family Matters ∙ All Good Things

The threat has been contained, but the heroes know they must take down the snake’s head before it can strike again. Supported by his Team, Phantom returns to Wisconsin with a plan to catch Plasmius for good. But Vlad is keeping even more secrets than he seems, and a last reveal leaves Danny facing one final, terrible choice.

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themagenamedsage · 2 years

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Nothing Else Matters (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Witch!Reader

Warnings: Season 4 Spoilers, Heavy Angsty, Explicit Language, References to Major Character Death, Reader’s Morals are Gray at Best. Reader uses she/her/hers pronouns. Few uses of Y/N, though reader is primarily referred to through the use of a nickname.

Summary: Dabbling in this type of magic would no doubt create an imbalance, messing with the natural order of things. But then again, there was nothing natural about the way he died.

Word Count: 8,262

A/N: At long last, Part 2 is finally here! We apologize for the wait but we thank you for your patience and for all of the support on the previous part. Before we move forward, we want to update you all on a couple of things.

First- As we’ve previously stated, we are working on continuing this story as a full fic. But based on the story we want to tell and the angle we’re going for, the fic will most likely go back in time and start at the beginning of ST4. This two part one shot can be considered a prologue and an epilogue of sorts, since we most likely will not be taking the story any further than the final scene of ST4, at least for the time being.

Second- In terms of how frequently we will be able to release chapters, that is unfortunately TBD for the time being as well. With both of our schedules and separate projects that are still in progress, it’s definitely going to be a challenge to get them out as frequently as we’d like. But we’re still going to try our best and promise to not leave you hanging!

With all of that said, we’re very much looking forward to continuing this story that has grown so near and dear to both of our hearts over the past couple of months and we hope you all continue to follow along!

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please feel free to let us know! 🖤

Listen to the playlist here. 🎶

PART 1 can be found here!

There were a few good things about the fact that Hawkins was in a mild state of chaos.

Compared to everything else going on in town, a girl walking along the side of the road was the least of many people’s worries and hadn’t garnered much attention.

It also helped that she had literally chosen the road less traveled. Hardly anyone used the roads located on the outskirts of town. The main highway - although almost always jammed - pointed right in the direction of the city, which made it far more appealing to those coming to and going from Hawkins. The surrounding back roads were a far safer bet.

At first, there had been one car that passed her as she walked along the nearly abandoned roads, and it had slowed down as they passed by. The older woman in the driver’s seat had been traveling alone. Fortunately, due to the array of borrowed clothing she had chosen to disguise herself with, the woman hadn’t recognized her from the local news.

The woman smiled warmly at her whilst offering her a ride. She turned it down quickly, forcing herself to act as natural as she could muster so as not to raise suspicion. Thankfully, her polite refusal hadn’t been given a second thought and she had been left alone.

Since her encounter with that first car, she made it a point to dash into the woods alongside the road whenever the grumbling of a car was heard coming towards or up behind her.

Unfortunately, though the roads initially seemed nearly empty, the longer she walked, the more cars she encountered. And before long, she took many, many quick side steps into the brush to take cover. And what had been more unfortunate, was that what would have been a near hour walk already quickly turned into a multi-hour affair.

Other than that, the journey had been surprisingly easy.

Almost too easy.

It was ridiculous, to say the least. Why would you risk being spotted loitering around the scene of the crime you allegedly helped commit? But after much consideration and deliberation, she concluded that it might not be as risky as previously thought. If she was correct - which, knowing her parents and the people who were now in charge of Hawkins law enforcement, she most likely was - where she was headed was the absolute last place anyone would imagine her turning up.

When her destination finally came into view, she almost cried. For more reasons than one.

The trailer park was an eerie sight.

There was not a soul to be seen. The nosy neighbors who had once spent most of their free time outside just in an effort to watch everyone else come and go had long since abandoned their humble abodes in favor of the safety some motel rooms a few towns over could provide.

Even the stray cats that seemed to occupy the gravel roads like citizens in their own right were nowhere to be seen. She spared a brief passing thought for them, hoping that, like their human counterparts, they had been able to find shelter elsewhere.

It was quiet, too.

Music, the sound of barking dogs, and the sizzling of fires had not been uncommon pieces of the trailer park’s usual ambience. But none of those noises filled the air that night.

It had been completely deserted.

When the trailer - their trailer - came into view, she froze.

It looked like a shell of its former self. The gate's opening had caused it to split right down the middle, a grotesque scene of the place she had once dwelled in.

But it was home.

It was the only place she’d ever been able to call home, really. She lived with her parents, in the family house. But living with the Munsons, in their trailer, had been home.

The heavy metal and old country music battling for audibility whenever Wayne was around. The clutter that prevented the trailer from ever being clean, but always indicated that it was a space well-lived in.

All of it was gone.

There was no door, not anymore. The only way in was to climb up and over the opposite side of the trailer, which had folded over upon themselves.

The task was a bit of a struggle, but not any more than the countless other challenges she’d faced over the past two days.

Once she was inside the remains of the trailer, she stopped for a moment to observe her surroundings. It had been the first time she’d stepped foot in their bedroom since…

Her breath hitched in her throat.

The bedroom that she had shared with her other half for over a year. The mattress stained with a plethora of things - some of which neither of them would ever specifically divulge - had most likely disintegrated. And though it made no sense, his most prized possession was long gone- the place where he had so lovingly hung it upon the bedroom wall was bare. However, some version of it had to still be out there, she reckoned.

… Better that way. At least it was with its owner.

For now.

Once she’d gotten her bearings, she slowly started down what used to be the hallway. She allowed her memory to guide her more than anything else, considering the visible remnants of it were almost completely unrecognizable.

She rummaged around in her bag briefly before finding the emergency candles Dustin had given to her the first night she’d spent in her aunt’s house, when he’d also dropped off the food.

Oh, sweet Dustin.

She smirked to herself bitterly. What would the boy have thought about her chosen use of the candles now?

As she stood there, they felt heavy in her hand. But the forbidden journal she’d found, which was still in the bag slung off her shoulder, felt even heavier.

She lit one with the lighter - Eddie’s lighter - she had also managed to grab before she left. Watching the flame for just a second, she blew it out. As the smoke slowly disintegrated into the surrounding airspace, a moment of doubt snuck upon her, and for the first time in several hours, she questioned what she had set out to do.

What would Steve think?

What she was thinking of doing was wrong, terribly wrong.

Not only would each of her new friends completely detest and possibly fear her actions, it was also considered taboo among most other practitioners. Death was a natural occurrence of life, and matters related to it were highly advised not to be messed with. Dabbling in this type of magic would no doubt create an imbalance, messing with the natural order of things.

But then again, there was nothing natural about the way he died.

That realization quickly prevented her from feeling too guilty, taking a moment to replay the day’s previous events in her mind. She used the rapidly increasing fury for motivation and pushed all other thoughts to the side, before looking up at the open space above the trailer wistfully.

The gate, still glowing ever so slightly, was directly in front of her. Unlike before, she didn’t have to climb any ropes or go through any more obstacles.

All she had to do this time was just walk straight in.

She placed the candle on the ground, and pulled out one final item.

Her walkman and headphones.

Putting them on, she took a deep breath. As she began to brace herself for what was to come, she exhaled before pressing play.

All Dustin could think about was her.

Steve hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t take the news of their decision well.

He was furious. And extremely concerned.

Dustin considered her a friend now. A valuable member of their party. And now he was just supposed to stay away from her. After she had lost everything?!

The others had assured him that she would be okay, that they were still looking after her, and that she wouldn’t be alone. Steve swore up and down that she had understood the situation and didn’t misinterpret it as an act of abandonment on his part. Deep down, Dustin questioned his friend’s honesty at that moment, but he ultimately chose to trust him. The truth was, there had been some validity in Steve’s argument behind the decision.

And Dustin couldn’t contain his excitement upon seeing his beloved friends return from months of living halfway across the country. He’d limped as fast as he could just to greet them.

Once the salutations had been exchanged, he filled them in briefly before they went their separate ways yet again. The others were eager to visit Max after hearing of her condition. So, while they headed on over to the hospital, Dustin had decided to stick with Steve and Robin, accompanying them to the school instead.

He sat in the backseat of Steve’s car, listening to him drone on after witnessing Jonathan and Nancy’s reunion.

“I know they never broke up or anything, but you saw how Nancy was whenever any of us brought him up. She seemed conflicted!”

“They’ve been going long distance for almost a year now. It can be really hard on any relationship- make you question your feelings,” Robin retorted.

“Yeah, but this is Nancy we’re talking about. She knows exactly who she is and what she feels.”

Robin rolled her eyes at her best friend’s ridiculous argument. “But at the end of the day, he’s still her boyfriend.”

Steve stammered, trying - and failing - to find any evidence to the contrary. He sighed, admitting defeat. “I know…”

“I don’t know what you expected, Steve.” She shook her head, trying to hold back a laugh, knowing that it wasn’t his fault that he was still head over heels in love with his high school sweetheart.

“I just thought that we had connected. After everything that we’d experienced together down there, you know?”

Dustin would have been lying if he said he’d been paying much attention to any of what his two older friends had been saying. But Steve’s last statement got his full attention immediately.

Steve was one to talk, he thought.

They continued their banter while Dustin’s mind wandered back to his new friend, the one that had endured the same tragic loss he had just two days prior. The same one that was now sitting alone in her aunt’s old house, most likely replaying what had happened over and over again in her mind. Except now, she didn’t have him to lean on.

Dustin then opted to focus on the music that was playing in the background. The low hum of Bring On the Dancing Horses echoed through the small speakers in Steve’s beloved BMW.

“Sage loves this song.”

The sound of Dustin’s voice quickly silenced the two sitting in the front seat. Steve looked back at him through the rearview mirror, a flash of concern on his face at the mention of his estranged friend.

“It’s by one of her favorite bands. It was on the tape Eddie told me to play, in case Vecna got her.”

Robin looked at Steve sympathetically, knowing exactly what was going through his mind upon hearing Dustin’s words.

Steve tried his best to keep his eyes on the road, but also watched Dustin intently as he continued to talk.

“She really loved listening to music. Eddie said it always made her feel better. Does she have all her tapes with her? Maybe we should call and check-”

Steve merely shook his head. “She’s got ‘em all.”

Dustin opened his mouth to continue, but Steve quickly cut him off. “And she’s got plenty of food and water and everything else she needs. She’s okay, Buddy. I promise.”

He nodded, knowing that Steve had gotten wise to his motives and most likely wouldn’t allow him to pry any further.

Steve pulled into the parking lot. Though school was not in session, the amount of cars already parked outside of the building and the people who could already be seen coming and going from the gym’s entrance would have suggested otherwise.

“You just gotta leave her be for now.”

The music blared through her headphones. It was a very welcome distraction from the various noises she knew would be waiting for her on the other side.

But she had failed to remember one small detail before venturing into Mordor once again.

The gate was slimy. And it was fucking gross.

Upon entrance, she was covered head to toe in what looked like it had come from straight out of some supernatural horror movie. One which she was now living in, apparently.

She wiped her face off with the inside of her jacket sleeve, not even taking the time to be gentle around her eyes, and spit out into the open.

Once she’d gotten as clean as she imagined she was going to get, she headed to the upside down version of the bedroom, and somewhat carelessly dumped her belongings in the bag out onto the floor. She spotted the remaining safety candle, and grabbed it as gently as possible, before blowing on the unlit wick.

It was one of the most exciting things she could have possibly seen in her current situation. The candle caught aflame right in front of her eyes, without her even having to light it.

“Ha!” she laughed triumphantly before setting the candle down, just for a minute, as she gathered her things.

As soon as she was set, the mood quickly shifted once more as the implications of what she had to do came over her, much like a sudden storm.

The candle in her hand did little to provide any actual light as she made her way out of the remnants of the trailer and into the Upside Down. But, like the music that continued to blare through the headphones situated over her ears, it grounded her, giving her something else to focus on then the dark setting surrounding her. Not to mention the fact that the creatures that were potentially still roaming around were averse to fire.

She wandered for a few minutes. The memories of that night - with a few notable exceptions - were hazy at best, causing the exact location she sought to be unknown. All she knew for sure was that everything had gone down in the general vicinity of the trailer.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of searching, her eyes landed on the bottoms of the white sneakers she knew so well that she swore she’d have been able to pick them out of a line up. She froze, her eyes forcing themselves shut before they dared to venture further up than that of the shoes.

Her eyes had only been on him for a mere second before she turned on her heels, rushing to the closest form of shrubbery in sight. Her body convulsed as she emptied the contents of her stomach, bile coating the dried up flowers littered about the neighboring trailer’s front lawn area.

She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t given much consideration to how she’d react upon seeing him again.

Once it seemed as though there was nothing left to throw up, she quickly wiped her mouth and tried to focus on her breathing, and the lyrics of the song playing.

“Under blue moon I saw you. So soon you’ll take me.”

It was one of their songs. The memories tied to it were ones of happiness and safety. She turned back around and this time, forced her eyes open, trudging her feet forward. Her heart shattered more than she thought was still possible with each heavy step she took.

“Up in your arms too late to beg you. Or cancel it, though I know it must be the killing time.”

There he was. Still laying there in the dirt, unceremoniously splayed out upon the ground. It was a gruesome scene to leave him in. And yet, she’d been given no choice in the matter.

“Unwillingly mine.”

Her knees gave out beneath her as she fell to the ground beside him, not at all unlike she had 48 hours ago.

Tears clouded her vision as her eyes traveled upwards, starting with the white sneakers he made no serious effort to keep clean, all the way up towards his face.

… Fuck.

His soft brown eyes, once so full of life, were now clouded and focused somewhere beyond. She felt herself let out a sob.

“‘And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water.’”

The gentleness of Eddie’s voice as he read Return of the King always did wonders to lull her to sleep. He knew it too. The light hand that ran idle fingers through her hair was further evidence of his harmless intentions.

The two of them were laying on his bed, limbs intertwined this way and that. The rainy Sunday afternoon was the perfect excuse for a midday nap.

“‘And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the gray rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise,’” Eddie finished.

A few moments of silence passed.

“You paused,” she said, her voice muffled as her face was pressed to the front of his shirt.

“... Do you think that’s really what it’s like?” he wondered, his voice even quieter. “You know… after?’

She hummed, the clutches of sleep rendering her almost devoid of clear thoughts. Still, the sudden shift in his tone urged her to reply softly, “I’d like to think so.”

Eddie’s hand came to a stop on the back of her head. “Yeah… I think so too.” Then, he cleared his throat. “Right… Where were we? -”

She hoped to whatever higher powers that be, that his sweet soul had managed to wind up there.

White shores. A far green country. A swift sunrise.

After everything he’d done, it was the least he deserved.

“Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him.”

And if there was any chance, any chance at all, that what he was experiencing was anything less than that, didn’t she owe it to him to move forward with her plan?

She cleared her throat, eyes flashing down to him once more.

What she needed to do would require focus, and she also knew that would be extremely difficult if she proceeded like this.

After placing the candle down carefully, she dug into her bag, quickly finding the blanket she’d thrown in earlier before leaving. She whispered indescribable apologies as she flourished the blanket quickly, before letting it fall to the ground, peacefully draping over him. She was incredibly grateful that the ritual involved a “veil” of some sort, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could look at him in that state.

She rose and took a few steps back, taking the candle with her. A little bit of distance would be safer. When she was comfortable with the amount of space between them, she lowered herself back to the ground. She set down the candle once more, and withdrew the vest and the journal from her bag.

With the vest serving as the grounding object in one hand, and the journal, opened to the exact page she’d discovered earlier in the day, serving as the tool with which she meant to accomplish her means in the other, she willed herself to calmness. Once she was a bit more relaxed, she lowered the headphones off her ears, letting them dangle freely around her neck.

The quietness of the Upside Down was eerie, but it did wonders to focus her attention even more to the task at hand.

When she was ready, she began reading the words on the page. Mental images of the one she longed to see once more filled her mind as she did so, hopefully giving the spell all the intentions it would need.

Once she had read through it once, her eyes lifted off the page, and darted over towards the blanketed figure a few yards away.

It remained still.

She tried again. Perhaps it was meant to be a mantra.

And again, nothing.

A third time.

Nothing.

The all too familiar feeling of anger flooded her once more. She rose from the ground, letting the journal and vest fall as she did so.

She rushed over to the blanketed figure, before grabbing a fistful of fabric and yanking it up unceremoniously.

He was gone.

Her face contorted in the perfect storm of confusion and fear.

“Sage?”

It was so soft, she’d barely heard it.

“Sweetheart, is that you?”

Chills crawled up her spine upon hearing that voice.

The voice that she never thought she’d get to hear again.

She braced herself yet again, as she slowly turned around.

Upon their arrival, Steve, Robin and Dustin headed into the packed gymnasium. Each of them winced as they walked by the hundreds of people who were receiving much needed medical attention, and the rest of them, who were very obviously in distress after the alleged “earthquake”.

Maybe it was guilt, or just straight up compassion. But Robin had volunteered the three of them to help attend to the stations and patrons… Or were they inhabitants? Dustin wasn’t sure what to call them, but he wasn’t even sure he cared enough to figure it out.

He limped around, passing out cups of water to anyone who needed one. He looked at each person with a small smile, and even cracked a few jokes to the more approachable-looking ones. But his mind was still elsewhere.

He was struggling. The conversation in the car had only caused him to miss his new friend even more than he already had been. Everyone had said they were there for him, and that they were more than willing to lend an ear if he needed or wanted to talk about everything that had happened. But when it came down to it, when Dustin was actually looking to discuss it all, he was very quickly brushed off.

Oh, how he wished he could talk to her. They could talk about Eddie - the real Eddie. Even if it was just to acknowledge his former existence. After all, they were probably the two people in the world who loved him the most.

Just as that thought crossed Dustin’s mind, he spotted the forgotten third person who never once left Eddie’s corner, and who never failed to take up his defense throughout everything.

Wayne Munson stood by the bulletin board, replacing defaced missing posters for both his nephew and his nephew’s girlfriend. Dustin could tell that this wasn’t a new experience for him. The way he quickly tore down the posters - each covered in cruel remarks and doodles - was an action marked by clear exhaustion and defeat.

“Mr. Munson?” Dustin didn’t hesitate to call out to him, even though he didn’t seem to want anything to do with him. “I’m Dustin Henderson. Can we talk?”

He looked at the older man with hopeful eyes, but was immediately shot down.

“I can’t imagine we’ve got anything to talk about.”

He must not have recognized him. Although they’d never officially met before, Dustin had heard plenty about Mr. Munson. Especially over the past week.

“My nephew is innocent. And so is the girl.” His loyalty was ever present in his tone and demeanor. Dustin merely nodded in response as the older man continued. “They’re still missing. I’ll put up as many posters as I need until they’re found. So, unless you’ve got anything to say that can help me with that, good day to you.” He quickly grabbed his things and began to walk away, but Dustin’s words stopped him dead in his tracks.

“I was with him,” he blurted out, voice already shaking. “I was with him when the earthquake hit.”

Wayne nodded gently, fearing the answer to the question he was about to ask.

“And… where is Eddie now?”

Dustin shook slightly in place, and it was not due to his injured ankle. His lips started to quiver as he silently reached into his back pocket to reveal the guitar pick necklace that had always adorned his older friend’s neck.

The look on Wayne’s face upon seeing it was one of immediate recognition.

“I’m so sorry.” Dustin hobbled over to him, hand extended outward.

Wayne took the pick into his own hand immediately. A devastated smile spread across his face as he ran his fingers over the smooth plastic, before going over to sit on a nearby cot. Dustin quickly joined him.

“… And the girl?” Wayne’s voice perked up ever so slightly, and the smallest bit of hope was still audible in his words.

Dustin merely shook his head.

He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he was informing the man beside him that he had lost everything, or that to some degree, he was lying.

Steve and the others had come to yet another mutual agreement without Dustin’s input, that if anyone had asked, they were all to say that she had died alongside Eddie that night.

“This way, the heat will die down and we’ll be able to get her out of town without anyone looking for her. It’s the best thing for everyone.”

“I wish everyone had gotten to know him. Really know him. Because they would’ve loved him, Mr. Munson. Just like you, me, and Sage did.”

Wayne cried, silent tears running slowly down his tired face. The tears fell for both his honorary son and the girl who had come to be his honorary daughter.

“They would’ve loved him. Even in the end… he never stopped being Eddie. Despite everything, I never even saw him get mad. That was always more her thing, though…”

That caused Wayne to laugh, and Dustin laughed with him as he recalled all of the times she’d gotten so upset with Eddie for being his ridiculous, unserious, and wonderful self when they desperately needed to focus.

“He could’ve run. He could’ve saved himself. But he fought. He fought and died to protect this town. This town that… hated them.”

Wayne sobbed, clutching the necklace tight.

“He isn’t just innocent. Mr. Munson, he’s… he’s a hero. He was her hero.”

After that, the two sat in silence for a while, remembering the person that they loved and cared so deeply for.

As he sat there with the last remaining Munson, Dustin was hit with an epiphany. He knew then that no matter what Steve, Robin, and Nancy said, he needed to be there for his friend. And as soon as he got a chance, he would contact her.

She whimpered upon meeting his gaze.

He stood there, covered in his own blood, eyes still clouded.

But he was alive.

Without any hesitation, she rushed over and threw her arms around him. In that moment, she swore she’d never let him go again.

He held her as she sobbed. “Baby, what’s going on?”

Her voice shook immensely as she attempted to speak. “You… you were… gone.” She gasped for air but ultimately just kept crying out.

He shushed her, rubbing her back gently as he always did when she was upset. “I’m still here,” he whispered. He cupped her face in his hands and began to wipe her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “But I shouldn’t be.”

She looked at him, eyes once again full of confusion.

“I was dead, Sage. And somehow, you brought me back. How did you do it? What did you do?”

His eyes glanced over to the journal on the ground next to them. He put the pieces together in his head.

“You used dark magic, didn’t you?”

His hold on her tightened, causing the flesh of her cheeks to sting even worse than they already had.

“Eddie… you’re hurting me…”

In the five years they’d been romantically involved, he’d never been rough with her. But she’d never seen him like this before. He wasn’t even angry. He was scared.

“You swore to me that you’d never get into this kind of shit. Why would you do this?!”

He began to shake her on each word, seemingly in some kind of effort further emphasizing his point. She just let out a string of broken cries. “I couldn’t live without you.”

He scoffed slightly, narrowing his eyes at her. “Couldn’t? Or didn’t want to?”

She looked at him with pleading eyes, but he refused to meet her gaze. Despite his blunt disapproval of her actions, she just couldn’t understand why he was behaving this way. “Of course I don’t want to live without you. You’re everything to me, Eddie.”

“Then why would you bring me back into a world that doesn’t want me?! I’m just gonna end up dead one way or another. Why couldn’t you just let me be at peace? Why did you have to be so selfish?!”

His eyes snapped back up to meet hers, the look of disgust plastered upon his face. “It’s because you needed someone to take the blame for your crimes.”

“What-”

“You killed Chrissy, didn’t you?”

His accusation stunned her to silence.

His once clouded irises were now completely white, while the rest of his eyes were bloodshot.

“It wasn’t Vecna. It was you. You were jealous of her. You thought I’d leave you, so you killed her. Just like you killed Fred for telling Nancy about your past, and Patrick for calling you a witch.”

His accusations shot out, one right after the other. Each of them stung as they pierced into her like bullets.

He took the final shot, straight for the heart.

“You killed them all- just like you killed your brother.”

She stood there, paralyzed. Mouth hung open, she wracked her brain for any response that might get through to him. To prove him wrong. But she couldn’t find her voice.

“They all said you were just as crazy as your aunt… Maybe I should’ve believed them.”

Tears were streaming down her face as she shook violently, backing away from him as he got closer.

“You’re a monster, just like they said.”

His voice began to fade out, a much deeper and darker one taking its place.

“It should’ve been you that died!”

She stumbled back, losing her footing after backing into something that had been on the ground behind her. She yelped, looking down at the cushion-like item that had caused her fall.

It was Eddie’s corpse.

It was still there, lying lifeless under the blanket. Her fall caused his left arm to peak out, showing off his pale hand adorned with all of his rings. She continued sobbing upon the sight.

None of it is real.

“Y/n…”

At first she had thought it was part of the hallucination, or maybe just the miscellaneous noises blurring together to create something that faintly resembled it. After all, she’d barely been called that name anymore.

But then she heard it again, this time slightly louder than before. It continued to increase in volume as the source of the call approached her.

She shivered upon hearing her given name called out to her by the same evil voice that had mere moments before used Eddie - her Eddie - as vessel to break her.

“Y/n… It’s about time we’ve met…”

A dark, lanky, and disfigured creature could be spotted about a yard away from where she’d sat, curled into a fetal position in anguish, and now terror.

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a very long time.”

She could only assume that the figure was Vecna himself. Even though she had no prior knowledge of his appearance, whatever was standing before her was more terrifying than anything she could’ve ever imagined. It had to be him.

“You’ve made it extremely difficult for us to communicate- always shutting me out the second I manage to get in. How is your mind so strong for someone so weak?”

“Fuck you.”

Her words surprised her more than they did him. She was shocked that, given the current situation, she was able to talk back to someone who was easily considered the most dangerous monster of them all.

Damn it, Eddie. She’d spent so much time discussing everything with him in D&D terms, that she still found herself looking at everything through the lens of the game.

But this wasn’t a game. And the odds of her making it out of this encounter alive - especially with her smart mouth - were slim to none.

Since when do you care about the odds?

“What do you even want with me?! If I’m so weak, what use could I possibly be to you? You’ve already taken everything. Why don’t you just cut the shit and finish me off.”

He narrowed his ice cold, animalistic eyes at her more out of intrigue than anger.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He spoke as he slowly closed in on her. “You want your suffering to finally end.”

She wanted so badly to look away from him, to deny his accusation. But she couldn’t. Everything he was saying was completely true.

“You want to take the coward's way out, to join your little boyfriend in the afterlife. What makes you think you deserve to be at peace after everything you’ve done?”

You demented fuck.

He chuckled.

… Did he hear that?

Shit.

“I’m not letting you go that easily. You’re different from the others. I have bigger plans for you.”

As confused as she was, she had a feeling he wouldn’t leave her in the lurch for long. Max and Nancy had both mentioned his tendency to throw himself into an evil monologue. And she couldn’t deny that she had been at least a bit curious.

“You are my perfect vessel. Your guilt is stronger than all of them combined. If I had been able to kill you before, I probably wouldn’t have needed the others. But you just wouldn’t let me in.”

Suddenly, everything all made sense.

It all came back to her past. Everything always did. It was always her fault. There was always something she could’ve done. To save Eddie. To save her brother. But she’d always been the selfish one. The one who made it out alive while countless others didn’t. And she’d always been living with the constant reminders of those failures.

The months since the previous summer had been different though. She had always assumed it was something to do with witchcraft, possibly something new blowing through. At one point, she simply brushed it off due to the fact that she had started using new birth control. But those theories seemed downright laughable now. How could she have been so blind? When Max and Nancy were recounting their experiences of being in Vecna’s trance, she never made the connection between what they’d felt and seen to what she had experienced herself.

The days spent reliving slightly distorted versions of each of her memories as if they were happening all over again. The nights waking in a cold sweat from the horrific nightmares she had endured on the regular. The nosebleeds and piercing headaches that she would get following each of them.

It was him the entire time.

It had always been him.

“You wouldn’t let me in… until now.”

It had to have been the spell. It was the only logical explanation she could think of. I always knew it was too dangerous. I should’ve fucking listened.

“Your plan may not have succeeded in the way you had hoped, but I’m so glad you were naive enough to try.”

Her eyes clenched shut tightly, and her body seized up as an overwhelming sense of pain washed over her. It was suffocating. It was impossible to tell if it was mental, emotional, or physical- it was all just pain. And nothing but pain. It flooded her senses, rendering her unable to make sense of or focus on anything but his voice.

“So ashamed. You hide from everyone, but you can’t hide from me. I see you for everything you are.”

The wind was abruptly knocked out of her as she fell into the deep, dark oblivion of her mind. She reached, grasping at anything. But there was nothing. Nothing but cold, empty darkness. She kept falling, until suddenly everything stopped, and her body was completely still.

“Usually, I like to take my time. But we don’t have that. So, I’ll make an exception, just this once.”

His voice echoed throughout the deepest depths of her mind.

… Is that where I am?

“I’m going to show you everything now. You’ll know more than anyone ever has. You’ll finally be able to see what we’ve been working towards.”

Before she had a chance to process what was being said to her, she was jolted awake. Every single memory of her past, mixed with memories that weren’t even her own, flashed before her eyes. She had no idea how she was able to see each and every one of them - to feel them. It was almost as if she was actually living them, right in the present.

All she could feel was pain. The pain of losing her brother, her aunt. Her family turning against her. Steve turning against her. The blood, the screaming. Eddie’s screams. Electric shocks? The all consuming, paralyzing fear of his victims. Max’s fear and the feeling of the life leaving her body. The exhilarating power and satisfaction he’d felt after slaughtering each and every one of them. The taste of flesh and blood filling her mouth. Eddie’s blood.

She couldn’t help it- a last-ditch desperate idea of getting help crossed her mind. If she’d been able to find her voice, she may have actually called out the words, though she knew her efforts would have been entirely futile.

Help.

Anyone?

Please.

“Your friends are not able to help you now,” Vecna said. It was more of a fact, a cold, hard-truth of a statement than any kind of argument .”Though, why you even refer to them as such is rather interesting.”

Her eyes were still shut tightly. She was unsure of whether she was even still standing. There was nothing indicative of her surroundings, except for his voice, which only grew louder with each passing second.

“What kind of friends could be so ignorant, so callous about the devastating loss you’ve experienced?”

In a cruel sense of irony, at the tiniest mention of the person in question, she could’ve sworn her mind cleared enough for the faintest trace of his smiling face to flash across it. The vision was fleeting though, and just as quickly as it had dissipated, the pain returned, and with a vengeance.

“What kind of friends won’t let you properly say goodbye to your dead?” he questioned. In a softer tone, he added, “They’ve claimed to have tucked you away under the guise of your safety. But you should ask yourself- was that the real purpose? … After all, if you’re out of sight, you’re out of mind.”

Pain. Nothing but awful, unbearable pain.

“Your friends don’t want you to grieve, and yet they don’t want to console you, either. They would have you live out the rest of your days on the run… Is that really the kind of life you want? To waste away in constant regret in shame, to live in the shadows of a world that considers you to be a monster? They’re scared of you, Y/N. You’ve always been too powerful for them. They tried to suppress your abilities, to guilt you into submission. And you’ve always let them. That’s why you’re the way you are now- that is what makes you weak.”

With every sentence, his voice grew louder. Each statement was punctuated with a sense of resolve, and a sense of righteousness.

“You are weak.”

She was physically unable to respond to his declaration. But even if she had been able to do so, she wasn’t sure she would have.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way anymore… What you’ve done has bound us. I could force you to bend to my will. You’d crumble so very easily... But, aside from the weakness, I sense something else in you… you’re tired. Stop fighting. Choose to no longer be weak. Stop fighting, Y/N. Join me.”

At once, her eyes shot open. She physically felt as though she’d finally awoken from the nightmare that was his trance, like Max had. But when she looked around, she noticed that she was no longer in the trailer park.

Everything was red and covered in what she could only assume was blood. Each of her surroundings had looked like they had been chewed up and spit out. Destroyed remnants of what appeared as the Creel house were directly in front of her. Her legs began moving, as if she were a puppet on a string. She turned the handle of the door and entered, paying no mind to the corpses of his victims that lined the walls.

There he stood, in the center of the house. In front of him was a closed casket. It looked like it was made of some of the rubble, with vines wrapped around it, keeping it in place. But her focus was deterred upon the sight of the bat wings that adorned the top.

“I’ve always had plans for you… For both of you. Now, all you need to do is choose.”

Dustin slipped out of the cafeteria easily.

He made his way down the various hallways with just as much ease, despite his ankle protesting with every single step. Thankfully, there was enough activity going on throughout Hawkins’ High that those who pass him in the bright-white lit hallways barely spare him a second glance.

He reached his destination sooner than he expected, and when he tried the handle, he was overcome with a sense of relief that it had been unlocked. Dustin slipped inside the room quickly, and closed the door behind him.

His eyes scanned the room, assessing the damage.

It was more of a closet, really. The Hawkins’ High School AV Club was given just about as much respect as the middle school’s club.

The room looked like it had been ransacked; apparently, someone had thought to secure all potential modes of communication in advance, should something more traumatic happen to Hawkins in the meantime and render phone lines useless.

The Heathkit Ham Shack radio, which was identical to the one Mr. Clarke had dedicatedly worked to obtain for Hawkins’ Middle School AV Club just a few years prior, was nowhere to be found. Other miscellaneous devices were missing as well - the tall shelves bordering the walls of the small room looked particularly empty.

Dustin could only hope no one had thought to snag the particular device he was searching for.

He hobbled over to the shelf along the back wall, searching his mind for reference on where he had last seen the devices in question. There were only a few boxes to search.

On the final box he opened, a victorious smile broke out across his face.

He lifted up the device, and inspected it briefly before switching it on. The static that resounded was music to his ears. He quickly changed the frequency to the number he knew by heart.

“Sage, this is Dustin. Do you copy? Over.”

The seconds felt like minutes as they ticked away. Maybe she hadn’t heard?

“Sage, I repeat, this is Dustin. Do you copy? Over.”

Dustin waited for a response with bated breath, but was given no reprieve.

“Y/N?” he tried then, the name sounding a bit foreign on his tongue, due to his preference of using the girl’s nickname. “Do you copy?”

All Dustin was met with was more silence.

If she had been anywhere near the walkie talkie, which he had instructed her very specifically to keep by her side at all times, for safety of course, she should have heard him by then. Which made him wonder- where was she?

If she wasn’t in her great aunt’s house anymore, what happened? Had she’d been discovered?

Had she left voluntarily?

She wouldn’t… would she?

Regardless of what the answer was, something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Steve watched Robin and Vicki with a smile as he continued to fold and sort the ever-growing piles of donated clothes.

He continued to glance over at them curiously until Dustin emerged in his line of sight, taking him aback. “Oh, hey.” Upon seeing his young friend’s stressed out look all over his face, Steve felt his smile fall. “What’s going on?”

“I think something’s wrong with Sage,” Dustin answered urgently.

Steve sighed tiredly. “Listen, Dustin, we’ve already been over this. She’s fine-”

“No,” Dustin interrupted, with a bit more force than Steve was used to seeing from him. “You don’t understand-”

“Hey, something’s going on outside!”

A loud shout ringing throughout the gymnasium broke through theirs and countless other ongoing conversations. Steve and Dustin turned their head towards the source of the sound, but by that point, a decent number of people had already made their way over towards the exit, evidently wanting to see whatever was going on for themselves.

Dustin didn’t spare him another glance as he moved to follow them.

“Dustin, wait!” Steve called, reaching towards him, but he was immediately cut off from further pursuing him by the long table he was standing behind. By the time he made his way around said table, Dustin was gone, lost in the growing crowd of people corralling themselves out of the building.

Steve was about to abandon his volunteer post to follow the crowd anyways, knowing Dustin couldn’t have been too hard to catch up with, given the rate of speed he was limited to at the moment. But something outside the window caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. With a sense of shock and dread, he approached the large panes of glass slowly.

Dustin stopped just outside of the gymnasium doors. Like the others surrounding him, his attention was immediately pulled upwards.

Snow-like particles fell from above, coating everything below in a light layer. However, once a few of the particles landed softly upon Dustin’s face, he realized with slight disdain that the small specs were not cold to the touch.

It wasn’t snow, he realized with horror. It was ash.

Worried chatter of those around him filled his ears, though their words were undetectable to him.

His head swiveled around, taking in the entire periphery of the visible skyline.

5, 6, 7- perhaps more- large black plumes of smoke billowed from the ground up to the sky. There wasn’t a direction around them that was clear. It was as though the entire town was surrounded- or rather, right in the thick of it.

Flashes of red flickered across the sky in the form of lightning. The lightning looked eerily similar, but it couldn’t be.

Could it?

Thunder never came. Instead, what followed the red streaks of harsh light was a low, rumbling sound.

It was the soundtrack of something ominous. And it wasn’t something coming. Whatever it was, it was already here.

Will hissed as a sharp pain pricked at the back of his neck.

Look up.

Much to his dismay, he did as he was compelled to, turning around and tilting his chin upwards. It looked like a storm rolling in. The happy chatter behind him ceased as the others evidently noticed the sudden weather change as well.

But the clouds were moving quickly, and after what felt like a mere minute, the sky had gone dark. And what fell from the clouds was not rain- but ash.

Hopper and El led the trek through the woods to the clearing that overlooked Hawkins. What was already a short walk felt even shorter with each step. But the closer they got, the heavier, more suffocated Will began to feel.

When the trees gave way to the open skies, and wildflowers and weeds replaced the dead leaves that littered the ground beneath their feet, an awful sight was revealed to them.

Before Will could even begin to process the terrible sight before him, the sharp pain at the back of his neck returned, as did a dull ringing throughout his ears.

We’ve only just begun.

He swallowed hard due to the paralyzing feeling of dread overcoming his senses.

“No... No!” He whispered to himself more than anyone else.

Mike, observant as ever, seemed to hear him though. “What’s happening? Is he talking to you?”

Will shook his head gently. “No, not to me. To someone else.”

Mike looked at him with more concern than he had in the entire week they’d just spent together. “What did he say?”

After checking to make sure the others weren’t paying any attention to them, he met his gaze. Eyes wide and tears beginning to flow, he worked up the courage to speak.

“You’ve chosen wisely.”

The other boy stared at him in confusion.

“Mike… He’s not alone anymore.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!🖤

TAGLIST: @insertsupercoolusernamehere

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literaryspinster · 1 month

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I’m super impatient for the Boys Season 4 just to see where the ‘verse is going next…like rewatching Gen V I get the impression that the creators were worried the show wouldn’t get renewed so they wanted to make it work with the option of it being a standalone miniseries to be wrapped up in the Boys if the show was cancelled. (Also explains why the finale was kinda choppy; they did allude to a lot of scenes being edited out that I feel would have been included to wrap up the show as a miniseries if need be). But like I’m just so excited and hyped cause Season 1 just works so much as a prologue of things of to come. We got the ground work and core ensemble’s beginning arcs established and now we’re out of the Prologue and onto Chapter 1 ready to take them forward. Like there’s so many directions and stories these characters can go in and I’m just eager to see the team dynamics and watch their powers and arcs grow!!!

I'm always excited for more episodes of The Boys. It's a fun time despite some of the gross and/or problematic aspects of it. I think Gen V fans are in a bit of a state of limbo right now but if somehow season one is all that we get (I doubt this will be the case) I don't see a subplot for those characters happening on The Boys to be out of the question since the stories tie into each other. It would provide closure if nothing else. Also yeah, while I really enjoyed the Gen V finale and enjoy it even more upon rewatch, I can tell they didn't get to film or edit everything they planned to for multiple reasons. I'm hoping for a bigger budget and more concrete planning in s2.

#the boys #gen v

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dontforgetoctober3rd · 6 months

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Spillways (Chapter 4) A Gilded Age fanfic

Faceclaims for George and Randolph Stewart

Contents: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Word count: approx. 1600

Story Summary: All of New York society is in a tizzy over the news: The Earl of Galloway is in town with his son, the 30 year old (bachelor) Randolph. Marriage-minded mamas are on the prowl but the Earl and his son eschew most of the lavish parties and teas they’re invited to...except to a certain tea with Agnes Van Rhijn and her niece, Marian.

Rating: Everyone (Ratings will be *by chapter*, so subsequent installments might differ in their rating).

Author's Notes: This is a canon-divergence story that takes place a few months from episode 5 of Season 2.

DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with The Gilded Age in any way beyond being a fan, I do not own the Gilded Age characters nor am I using them for any commercial purposes or making money from this, this is just basically word fanart of the show

Beautiful divider by @muchomago

Bertha Russell was beside herself with a mixture of fear…and excitement. Fear for Miss Brook, as her reputation was currently being fileted to pieces in the papers. Excitement because Bertha knew she had a solution.

Agnes Van Rhijn had just sent word that she would finally call upon her. This very day. The day of the famous tea all of New york was talking about.

The note had reached Bertha by messenger at Bloomingdale’s. Mrs. Van Rhijn wouldn’t say why, just that it was urgent. The note had not been sealed and no doubt the messenger had read it and would sell his bit of gossip to the highest bidder after this was done. Bertha wagered the note had something to do with Mrs. Blane’s horrid antics. However, this provided an amazing opportunity.

A few days ago, Miss Brook and the young Randolph Stewart (he insisted upon dropping the formality of “lord”, as they were in America after all) had happened upon her and her daughter in the park. The carriage Bertha and Gladys had been using had broken a wheel. Miss Brook had recognized them and Randolph had kindly offered them use of his rented carriage.

What an interesting ride that had been. Apparently Mrs. Van Rhijn had known Lord George Stewart previously, having come close to an engagement with him. Randolph was apprehensive about speaking of the matter so openly to a stranger at first, but Miss Brook had encouraged him that Bertha was a trusted friend. And so she and her daughter Gladys became privy to the saga of their neighbor having a strained history with a Scottish Lord.

This was the chance of a lifetime, and Bertha knew it. She knew what she must do: get Agnes Van Rhijn to mend fences with Lord Stewart. Before the Earl called off his acceptance to their tea later that day, as he surely would, due to Mrs. Blane’s defamatory statements in the papers. If that happened, it would be the death knell for Marian Brook’s place in society but Bertha had every intention of preventing that from occurring.

Many called Bertha a power-hungry social climber, but she didn’t care. If she managed to pull off her plan, Marian Brook would come out on top and one day be a countess! Was it so wrong to want the best for people around her?

Miss Brook had shown Bertha goodwill from the start, despite Mrs. Van Rhijn's edict that Miss Brook shun her, as everyone else had in the beginning. It was time to repay that kindness.

Bertha would get those wretched gossip rags off her back if it was the last thing she did. Miss Brook would no longer be labeled an adventuress and Susan Blane would rue the day she decided to blacken the name of anyone who was her friend.

Gladys was quite apprehensive about her mother inserting herself into the affairs of Mrs. Van Rhijn.

“Mother, I don’t think it wise to meddle with this. The papers are already tearing Marian Brook apart as it is.” Gladys worried, as they hustled into their carriage to hurry home. “They only mentioned us in passing from that day in the park and painted us as desperate hangers on, even now that we have Mrs. Astor’s favor! Don’t you think you will be doing Miss Brook more harm trying to play conciliator between her Aunt and that Lord? We should just offer Miss Brook whatever support-”

“Gladys, my darling. If a friend of yours was drowning, would you merely swim by her and hope she is able to latch on on her own?”

“Well, no, I’d grab her at once but-”

“Exactly. You grab her yourself and drag her to safety.”

“But mother, how-”

“Don’t you worry, I have a plan.” Bertha, smiling as she hastily scribbled a note, handing it back to the messenger before their carriage took off. Agnes Van Rhijn’s own note had asked Bertha to return to her own home at once and wait for her there while she made a few emergency calls.

Bertha had to act quickly but knew now how to get Lord George Stewart’s attention. He was sure to accept her new invitation to her house right away. All she had to do was drop Agnes Van Rhijn’s name.

George Stewart had been looking forward to finally seeing Agnes Van Rhijn once more, but he knew good etiquette demanded he reject the invitation to Miss Brook’s tea now. He also knew that if he did reject it, Randolph would not only never forgive him but would go by himself anyway and he would be left with trying to find a way to meet with Agnes on his own. It was for the best, as George had not looked forward to that blasted tea at all. Having to air out his business in front of an unknown girl and god knows whoever else she had probably invited? No thank you. He should have never let Randolph persuade him to accept the invitation in the first place.

The boy was smitten with Miss Brook and had vehemently defended her when they both read the papers after breakfast early that morning. He was still defending her now, after they had drained both cups of coffee and were on their second.

“You’re really going to listen to the prattlings of a scorned widow? To my knowledge, this Mrs. Blane never even socialized with Marian except for attending a few of same tennis matches. There must not be much going on in New York right now if ballroom gossip is what is making headlines. This is not who Marian is, I assure you.”

“Oh, it’s just ‘Marian’ now? No, ‘Marian Brook’, no ‘Miss Brook’? You have only known her a few days.” George said in exasperation.

“Father, I’m serious. You’re not actually considering it? Rescinding your acceptance?” Randolph asked, coffee cup in one hand and folded newspaper in the other. “Why inconvenience yourself so? You have to meet with her Aunt anyway. Save yourself the headache of coming up with another excuse to see Mrs. Van Rhijn. Do not add fuel to the fire that this Susan Blane ignited against Marian.”

“Randolph, you know I must. It is nothing against Miss Brook. I’ll send a note after my coffee, I need to think of what to say.”

“The rumors will worsen when you reject her invitation!”

“Oh? It’s my responsibility to guard the reputation of this girl? I don’t even know her!” George said with a scoff.

Randolph tossed the newspaper to the side and put his cup down, standing up. George put his own newspaper down and sat straight in his chair.

“Father, I’m disappointed in you. You don’t know her, but I do and she doesn’t deserve what would happen if you decide not to go.”

“Rather harsh to take up against your own father for a girl you barely know.”

“I know enough of her. I know she is kind, empathetic, cares about her family and has unshakeable integrity.”

George raised an eyebrow. “That is enough to defend her from me, is it? Your own father?”

“Enough for more than that, I would say. She is different. Marian talks to me like a person. Not like the future Earl of Galloway. I love her and I intend to ask for her hand.”

“Good god, please tell me you didn’t say that to her! She is American!” George exclaimed. A knock came at their door, his valet answered it while father and son stared each other down.

“I am not an idiot. She is a practical woman and it would have pushed her away telling her too soon. Also, why balk at her being an American? Really? If memory serves, you were almost engaged to one yourself!” Randolph said. He crossed his arms and smiled. “Do you know what I find very funny about this? The fact that you are still bent on meeting up with Agnes Van Rhijn. Father, what do you think is going to happen when it gets out you rejected Marian’s invitation? Mrs. Van Rhijn will no doubt do something about these ridiculous gossip articles herself and when she finds out that you-”

“Excuse me, my lord, but a note has arrived for you.” The valet interrupted. George held out his hand and the note was put in. Randolph rolled his eyes and sat back down, waiting for his father to read it.

“Oh..!” George looked at his son, shock on his face. “Inform her messenger I will leave straight away,” he ordered.

Randolph looked worried. “Father?”

George Stewart rapidly walked to the door while his valet put on his coat and his top hat. “Mrs. George Russell has sent an invitation again. Accepting this one is to my benefit, I think.”

“Why is that?”

“Mrs. Russell says that Agnes is anxious to meet with me at her house, Mrs. Russell’s that is, before the tea. I will see what she has to say before I make a decision.”

“Mrs. Van Rhijn is at her house? Marian never gave me the impression that the two were friends.”

George adjusted his hat. “The Russell house is right across from Agnes’s. If I change my mind, then we can just walk, it will take no time at all. Satisfied with that?” he asked, still attempting to placate his son.

“If you change your mind?” Randolph asked incredulously. “Do you really believe Mrs. Van Rhijn will give you a choice? This is her niece, after all. From what you’ve told me, she will defend her family from anyone. Even the nobility. I think you will change your mind, but I shall wish you luck all the same.”

“We shall see about that. I have my own matter to take up with her, as you well know.” George said grimly, putting on gloves as the footman finished brushing a bit of lint off the Earl’s back.

“Like I said, I wish you luck, father.”

Randolph watched on as his father briefly nodded then hurried away.

#spillways fanfic #the gilded age fanfic #the gilded age fanfiction #the gilded age #hbo the gilded age #agnes van rhijn #marian brook #here we fucking go #its about to go down y'all #next chapter is when Agnes and George will finally reunite I promise

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sturmovik · 11 months

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Rambling about Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury’s ending

I've been absolutely loving every episode of the season up until Episode 23. After watching that episode, I felt a bit... disappointed? frustrated? It was like ep.23 was trying to cram Gundam Unicorn's 1-hour final battle into a 20-minute episode and it didn't feel as satisfying as the previous episodes.

I didn’t have any problems with the plot beats, just the pacing really, it felt pretty rushed - that’s where my worries started. The pacing was like they're trying to wrap up as many plot threads in case they don't get another season, while still wasting time introducing new elements to the story (like SAL apparently being massive despite being a non-entity for 90% of the story, oh and they have a giant laser! surprise!), as a result we lost some precious time that would’ve been better spent on the main conflict between. I was bummed Quiet Zero was disabled so quickly, and was totally unconvinced Prospera would suddenly back down after never being able to confront Delling AND possibly losing Eri. Not to mention the time wasted on Lauda’s pointless tantrum.

Then we go to my post-episode 24 thoughts:

Man did the last 4 episodes felt incredibly rushed. I didn’t notice it much in 21-22 cuz I was still giving the series the benefit of the doubt but after watching 23-24 it becomes apparent these last episodes were really sprinting to the finish.

It feels like they wanted to have an ending that could be considered conclusive - wrapping up as many ends they could - in case they dont get to do more G-Witch, but also they made it so that everyone who's still alive gets to survive to the end so that they can expand into more stories later.

The combination of those two factors are what ultimately leave me a bit disappointed, but I'm still surprised at how well they managed to stick the landing despite all that; it wasn't ideal or amazing but i'm thankful it didnt end terribly. I actually love the forgiveness ending for Prospera and Eri, it's consistent with Shakespeare's "The Tempest" BUT because the end was rushed it doesn't feel completely earned, like there shouldve been a longer period of rage/vengeance and at least an intense emotional confrontation with both Kenanji and Delling. G-Witch needed at least 12 more episodes, preferably more.

Given how great the first 20 episodes were, you can bet they would've had more character developments, conflicts, twists, and major deaths IF ONLY Sunrise gave them 48-50 episodes instead of 24. But I guess they didnt want to take that risk. I kinda hope the success of Vinland Saga S2 gives them some more confidence if they ever decide to do a sequel series.

I mean, they have to do a sequel series and/or spin-offs, right? I'd be seriously disappointed if they don't; the Ad Stella timeline is one of the most interesting and well-written Gundam AUs they've ever created, and my personal favorite AU. So much potential for many different stories in this timeline.

Also, the ending scene w/ SuleMio was cute af, but no kiss? not even on the cheek? booo

Final verdict:

Prologue + Episode 1-21: 9/10, my favorite Gundam AU series

Episode 22-24: 6.5/10, barely sticks the landing to get a good enough ending. Needs a sequel series to become truly satisfying and get some new writers to help Okouchi because he seriously fumbled these last episodes.

#gundam #mobile suit gundam #anime #the witch from mercury #spoilers #g-witch #g-witch spoilers #rambling #kinda disappointed #sigh #the witch from mercury spoilers

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 10 months

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The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6407 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

~~~

Spencer stared at the blank screen, mortification petrifying him in place. He was unable to tear his eyes away from where'd he'd last seen your face just before Walter Khan's boot crushed their feed.

Him, Hotch and Kate had arrived back at the station by the time you'd been placed in the car. The further you were driven, the more glitchy the feed became. Some words didn't come through, images flickered every now and again. The camera wasn't able to catch all of what went down during the meeting, but you'd made sure to get a good look at the big seller, knowing your team would use his image to find out who he was and find out where he would be hiding out.

Spencer had to hold back vomit whenever Khan went close to you, no doubt putting his disgusting, murderous hands all over you. Even more so when you'd been taken to the Warehouse and saw the girls, saw the torture display in the middle of the room. How many girls had dangled in the middle of that room and suffered his torture? How young had they been?

When you began walking to the meeting room, Spencer had thought you'd made it out of there. That you were finally coming home.

But you had turned around, ran back for those innocent girls. You had been caught, your pained cries whenever Walter punched you still ringing in Spencer's ears.

The worst part, though, was Khan had known the whole time.

'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

That's when the line went dead, squashed under Khan's boot. But not before he caught a glimpse of your face. Blood gushing from your nose down your chin, hand clutching at your ribs where you'd been punched. However, a fire of defiance burned bright in your E/C eyes, visible even from the low angle.

But that did nothing to quell the rising wave of anger and fear in Spencer, raging like a tsunami higher and higher with each passing second the screen remained dead.

Where you had disappeared from in the blink of an eye; and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.

'Get it back up,' Spencer found himself demanding. To who, he really didn't know. When no one answered, the wave rose higher. 'Get it back up!'

'I-I'm trying!" Penelope cried over the speaker phone. 'Wherever they took her, they did well to make sure no cell towers were near it. Or they have really good cell blocks that pretty much render them invisible. That's what made the feed so glitchy, they're like in the middle of nowhere.'

'What about the camera? Can you track it?'

'Yes, but again, the cell blocks blocked that signal too. I can't tell you where they went outside of lower Manhattan.'

The urge to scream was almost unbearable. Instead, Spencer drove his fingers through his unruly hair, pulling at longer strands harshly to get his mind to focus on something else momentarily. This couldn't be happening. You were safe, you were home free. Damnit, why did you have to go back?

'Alert train stations south bound that drivers and passengers should keep their eyes out for those girls along any tracks,' Hotch commanded to Holt. 'Send as many officers out along those tracks from the nearest stations. Those girls are the key to finding L/N, but they're being hunted so we need to find them first.'

'Of course,' Holt managed to get out, his face pale with terror. Good, Spencer thought. Holt at least had half a mind to look guilty, considering he was the one that put you there.

'I'll go with you, we'll need as many people on the ground as we can,' Derek offered, to which Hotch nodded his approval and Derek jogged after Holt as he ran back into the office.

Spencer's feet moved before his mouth did, halfway to the door before he said, 'I'm going, too.'

'No,' Hotch said. 'I need you to stay here and work with Garcia on a geographical profile on Walter Khan. Find out everything about him, more importantly whether he has any major properties south of Manhattan he could be operating out of.'

Spencer opened his mouth to argue. How could Hotch expect him to sit idly by a map while you were with the unsub being beaten or worse...

A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him to look down at a concerned-looking JJ. 'Don't worry, Spence,' she said softly. 'Kate and I will go help as well. You and Pen are the only ones who can figure this out, so the sooner you do that, the quicker we can bring Y/N home, okay?'

Usually, the logical answer presented itself in Spencer's mind first. What JJ said was the most logical explanation, he knew. Even so, his heart yearned to find Walter Khan and wring his neck for all he was worth. It was an overwhelming urge, similar to the one he had when on his dilaudid addiction many years ago.

The memories of what that addiction did to him - how it almost destroyed his life - was what brought him back to his logical conclusion.

He nodded at JJ and stepped aside so her and Kate could follow Derek. Kate gave him a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of his upper arm, then her and JJ were gone. That left himself, Rossi, Penelope on the phone, and Hotch.

'Dave,' Hotch said, 'You and I are going down to the Chateau and questioning Madame Lacroix. She's got to be back there by now. And she's going to tell us everything she knows about the operation this time.'

'Whether she likes it or not,' Rossi added, nodding at Hotch in agreement as he made to pick up his coat from the chair he'd previously been sitting on.

'Waitwaitwaitwait!' The high pitch urgency of Penelope's voice halted Hotch and Rossi's movements as her face appeared on the huge screen, scrunched with worry.

'What is it, Garcia?' Hotch asked.

'I've been trying to track Y/N's camera location since she got to wherever they're holding her,' she explained, her voice a little high-pitched in desperation. She continued typing furiously on her keyboard as she did.

'You found her?' Spencer asked, his voice desperate, hopeful.

'I wish I could say yes, boy wonder,' she apologised. 'However, while tracking, an unknown window popped up. Check this out...'

Another few clicks on her end and a window - the one she found - popped up beside Penelope's face. The image in that window, however, had Spencer's stomach plummeting through the ground.

You hung with your hands above your head by a chain in the middle of a room, your now bare feet just scraping along the hay that lay all around the floor. You were back in the Warehouse, in the place where you'd shown Spencer and the team where the girls were held and-

'Oh my God,' Penelope breathed out, voice trembling with horror at your beaten state. The camera appeared to be setup on a tripod, keeping your entire body in frame. They'd all seen you fight, but only now could they see the damage you'd taken.

Blood dripped from your nose, down your chin and had already stained the front of your dress a deeper scarlet. Your breaths were laboured, as if you were concentrating on keeping yourself from passing out. You were too far away to make out any other injuries, but Spencer had no doubt the bruises hadn't come out just yet.

'Garcia,' Hotch began, but even in her shocked state, Penelope answered.

'Already on it, sir,' she said, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks to type into her keyboard. 'Triangulating where the feed is coming from.'

It was like the world was slowing down for Spencer the longer he looked at you hanging there. The team had always joked that his IQ always slashed in half whenever he was around you. But that was usually because he couldn't find the words to talk to you properly, how to articulate in the right words just exactly how you made him feel.

In a way, the same thing was happening to him right now, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think because of terror. Because of Walter Khan, who finally strolled into frame, suit jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His rings glinted under the fluorescent lights as he waved at the camera, a smug grin on his face.

'Hi there, FBI,' he said in a sing-song voice. He looked over his shoulder, shuffled so the camera could see you again. 'Say hi to your friends, Y/N. I'm sure they're just... so happy to see you.'

You didn't respond, keeping your gaze just south of the camera, barely blinking. 'She's disassociating,' Rossi stated, recognising like Spencer, that far away look in your eyes. 'She's preparing for torture.'

Spencer gulped as Khan walked over to you slowly, prowling around you like a predator admiring his catch for the night. He remained silent as he did, and Spencer wondered for a moment if that was all he was going to do.

With the speed of a striking snake, however, he gripped your chin with one hand, the chain holding you rattling as you tried and failed to pull away. Grunts of effort escaped you as he forced you to look at the camera.

'Now, now, Y/N,' he cooed, brushing your loose hair away from your face with his free hand. 'There's no need to be shy. Say something.'

Before you could even react, he slammed his fist into your stomach, ripping a pained groan from you. But not a scream. You bit your lip hard. You probably didn't want to give Khan the satisfaction of hearing your pain. A small, hopeful part inside Spencer warmed with pride at your resilience.

Khan let go of your face and took a step back, eyes raking you up and down with a sick, sadistic admiration. 'So you think you're tough, huh?' he challenged, walking to stand behind you and place both hands on your right shoulder. 'Come on, don't hold back those beautiful sounds, baby.'

In one sharp motion, he pressed either side of your shoulder in opposite directions, causing a loud pop to echo through the room. A sharp squeak escaped your lips, but you bit down on your lip again, allowing nothing else out. The light glinted off the tears that brimmed your E/C eyes, but they did not fall. You would not let them, Spencer realised.

Khan's lips split into a sadistic grin, one that clearly revelled in the pain he brought to you. Fire stirred in the pit of Spencer's stomach, which then spread through his limbs, to the tips of his fingers, toes and head.

Never in his life had he had the greater urge to physically harm someone than Walter Khan in that moment.

'So beautiful,' Khan continued, his gentle strokes across your bloodied chin a stark contrast to his previous harsh movement. 'I knew you'd be my favourite the moment you walked through the door. You're not like other girls...'

Bile rose in Spencer's throat when Khan leaned in close to you and tried to kiss you on the lips. You still had enough strength in you to turn away so he brushed your cheek instead. When Khan tried to tilt your head to kiss you properly, you lashed out with your teeth, catching his upper lip and yanking on it. Hard.

Khan pulled back at the sudden attack with an agonised cry, clasping both hands on his lip. Blood seeped through his hands, and when he pulled away, Spencer saw that Khan's teeth and chin were covered in blood.

'Bitch,' he swore, slamming a fist a little higher than your stomach this time, no doubt breaking some ribs. You sucked in air loudly, your gasp masking the cry that Spencer could tell wanted to come out. God, she must be in so much pain. It sickened Spencer knowing what was happening to you and not being able to do anything about it.

'Garcia, anything?' Hotch asked, his usually steady voice cracking with worry as he continued to look at the screen.

'I'm trying, sir. I'm trying!' she cried.

As if sensing their urgency, Khan looked back to the camera and walked back over until only he was in the frame. Drops of blood stained his white shirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he grinned maniacally into the camera. Although Spencer knew he couldn't see them, he felt like Khan was looking directly at him, taunting him, challenging him.

'By the time you find her,' he began, 'she'll be dead. And I'll be long gone. Until next time, FBI.'

Walter Khan's smile was the last thing Spencer saw before the screen went black and the window closed and now it was only him, Penelope, Hotch and Rossi again.

'I-I'm sorry, sir,' Penelope managed out, her voice barely higher than a whisper. 'I-I-I couldn't f-find her. The signal was being rerouted all across the world.'

'We've got to move fast,' Hotch said, and him and Rossi were gone.

Spencer didn't say a word to begin with, unable to get the image of you hanging in that torture chamber out of his head.

By the time you find her, she'll be dead.

He never thought anyone of his team mates would go out being killed in action. Plenty have come and gone from the team, but not been killed. In some naive way, he figured you all were invincible - that nothing would tear you apart.

But after discovering Gideon dead only a few weeks ago, that fantasy of the team staying together forever was cracked. With your life now on the line, too, the cracks were starting to get bigger, with some pieces falling away entirely.

'Spencer,' Penelope's gentle voice brought him out of his own bubble of despair. 'I'm so sorry.'

The overwhelming urge to scream welled up in him - he didn't quite know for who or for what he wanted to scream at, just that it sounded like a better action to take than punching someone. But he didn't scream.

Instead, he gathered himself and turned to look at Penelope, face steeled by sheer will because he had to keep it together if he wanted to bring you home. 'It's Khan who should be sorry,' he replied, voice steady with threat. 'Let's get to work.'

~~~

Pain. It's all you felt. Even three hours later after Khan's beating, you still felt the ghost of his fist pounding into your stomach, into your ribcage. A sharp, piercing pain ricocheted through them whenever you inhaled too quickly. Definitely two or three broken, you concluded.

You laid on the hay on the floor. Khan had lowered your chain which alleviated some pain and pressure from your dislocated shoulder and bruising wrists. But he hadn't done it to help you. 'Don't want you breaking too soon, Y/N,' he had whispered to you when he'd laid you gently to rest. And from his accompanying smile, you knew it was just all a game to him.

He'd been gone for three hours - counting the time helped you forget the pain and terror wracking your body. Despite that, you hadn't allowed yourself to sleep. Daylight seeped through the top windows, bathing you in a warm glow that made you shiver with momentary bliss. You didn't realise how cold you were until the rays hit you.

The metallic taste of blood still haunted your lips even now that your nose had stopped running with it. It still throbbed though, but it was a dull ache in comparison to your shoulder. You could only imagine how rough you looked, and not in a good way.

The thought made you smile, if only for a moment.

The soft patter of footsteps made you sit upright despite your pain, made you pull your hands close to your chest and look at the door as it opened. You kept your face neutral as you watched Walter Khan walk in alone. He wore a new suit today: navy blue with a lilac undershirt and a navy tie with lighter blue and purple flowers embroidered onto it randomly. God, he was pretentious in every manner of the word.

He didn't walk to you straight away as you expected. Instead, he walked over to the table of torture devices to a remote hanging from the ceiling just above it. He pressed the upper button and suddenly you were jerked upwards as the chain retracted higher. You couldn't contain the yelp of pain that escaped you as your arms were pulled harshly over your head once more, placing intense pressure on your throbbing shoulder once more. He let go of the button just before your feet left the ground entirely.

Satisfied, he grabbed a clean towel and a bucket that sat underneath the table. He picked them both up and walked over to you, placed them both on the ground as he continued to look you over. He did that for a minute in silence before you couldn't take it anymore.

'What?' you asked in mock confusion. 'Have I got something on my face?'

You hated how that brought a smile to his ugly face. 'You really should lay off on the moxie, sweetheart,' he said, crouching to wet the towel in the bucket before standing back up to continue talking. 'I really do like that in a girl.'

'Girl, huh? That your preferred age?'

He shrugged, bringing the towel up to your face. Before you could lean away, he used his free hand to grip your chin, keeping you with a firm hold in place as he dabbed the wet towel across your chin, around your nose, and across your lips.

He was cleaning you up.

You were more confused than disgusted. Perhaps a little relieved to be rid of the taste of blood finally, but you would never admit that. If his goal was to kill you, why bother cleaning you up?

His dabs at your face were uncharacteristically soft. 'You've done this before,' you said, only now realising how hoarse your throat was from dehydration and the cold air.

He nodded, his eyes never straying from his task. 'I prefer my girls to be... cleaner than other ones.' He meant other prostitutes, other establishments, you realised. It was a compulsion, even knowing you weren't one of his "girls".

'Would you have to clean Roxy and the others up, too?' you asked despite knowing the answer. 'You get off on seeing others bleed, don't you Khan. It wasn't enough that you would use them, strip them of their dignity, as if they were just toys.'

One second you were breathing air, the next you were choking underneath the crushing pressure that was Khan's grip. His hold was so strong it had you seeing stars in seconds.

'I would stop talking if I were you, bitch,' he hissed, venom dripping from every word. His calm demeanour remained intact, but even with your blurred vision you saw an animalistic rage burning in his eyes.

A caged animal just waiting to be unleashed.

'You don't know anything about me,' he continued. 'And you don't know the half of what I am capable of.'

His grip on you eased a little but not completely. However, it was enough for you to find your voice again. 'I know,' you started, voice slightly wheezy from the lack of air, 'you must have suffered under the hands of someone, probably a woman in the prostitution business, when you were younger. Otherwise... why would you hate women so much?'

He gave you a strange look, one that was sceptical, angry, and intrigued at the same time. Good, if he was off guard, he might slip up and give you something of value.

'Was it your mother?' you asked. 'A sister, aunt?' When he didn't answer you continued. 'Whoever it was must be the reason why you feel as if you've been let down your entire life. That's why you built this empire, isn't it? But even now, successful and thriving off others' pain... that person made you feel you are not enough, and so nothing ever will be. But that person is gone, and you can't show them how successful you've been. That's why you hurt others, right? Because, not only can't you hurt her, you refuse to hurt the one person you hate the most... yourself.'

He stepped back from you completely, and, for the first time, his calm facade breaks to show slivers of horror and shock at your observation. Looks like I hit the nail on the head.

He looked at you for a moment longer, that haunted expression on his face making him look more sick as he shadows of birds flew over his face. You became concerned when he suddenly ran out of the room, leaving you hanging with a clean face and more questions than answers.

You had gotten under his skin; he'd shown you a weak point in his life that you could use against him. He'd looked rattled, which made you more scared than when he was calm. Walter Khan didn't strike you as the kind of man that didn't always make sure he had the upper hand in every situation he walked into. But when he didn't, when he was backed into a corner...

Caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

'What have I done?' you asked into the empty room, but you were still surprised when no one answered back.

~~~

When his vision began splitting in two, Spencer rubbed at his tired eyes. He'd been staring at the map the police station had provided for over five hours now. Him and Penelope had found nothing - no properties in his name, no previous history in the areas, nothing.

But Spencer had kept looking though, refusing to believe that Walter Khan's trail went cold here. Not when he was doing who knew what to you. It was the only thought that kept him motivated, kept his tired eyes from closing entirely on him despite their great protest.

The rising sun wasn't helping with his vision either. After being awake all night, the introduction to natural light and blue skies was a shock to the system he was still adjusting to.

'Any updates from Morgan, JJ or Kate?' he asked, his voice rumbling with exhaustion.

Penelope had remained on the video feed since the others had left, refusing to leave Spencer alone. Maybe she thought he would do something reckless without supervision. If he was being honest, he couldn't blame her for thinking that, not when the murderous urge to strangle Khan with all Spencer's might tingled the tips of his fingers.

Or maybe that was the twelve cups of coffee he'd had in the past five hours finally kicking in.

'Not yet, sorry.' Penelope said wistfully, blinking several times as she continued looking at a screen off to the side of the camera. Even in her tired state, she refused to rub at her face like Spencer in order to preserve her glorious makeup. Spencer had to admit it was impressive. She had a lot more self control than she gave herself credit for.

Just the thought alone had him rubbing his eyes again. 'Are you sure there isn't anything we've missed? What about Q25, Garcia? What's there?'

'Nothing but trees once more, boy wonder.' She heaved a sad, frustrated sigh. 'We've been looking at the same area for hours now and still nothing! What am I doing wrong?'

'It's not you, Garcia,' Spencer offered politely. Truthfully, he simultaneously felt no one was doing enough to find you, and yet they were exhausting everything they could to do so. But he was the one who promised to bring you home, who said it would all be over soon.

It was his fault you were still not found. There was something he wasn't seeing, and every second his supposedly big brain spent trying to figure it out was another second you could be being tortured.

He didn't let the thought that maybe you were already dead linger too long. Not when Hotch and Rossi stormed into the room, exhaustion and anger lining their weary faces. Spencer glanced behind them to see Madame Lacroix and two other men - one older with grey hair, the other much younger - being escorted into holding cells down the corridor.

'Madame Lacroix was a dead end,' Hotch explained before anyone could ask. 'But we managed to expose them for their involvement in Khan's business, and also the other illegal trades they've all been dealing with on the side. L/N's reports and photographs should be enough evidence to charge them on at least that.'

'But we can't bust them just yet on Khan,' Rossi added, his tone defeated. 'Any luck on the geo-profile?'

Spencer shook his head regrettably. 'There are no properties or anything that may indicate he has ties in the direction we think he's operating out of.'

'It's either just woodland or innocent estate living,' Penelope added. 'All names check out, they're not aliases.'

'Morgan, JJ, and Kate better find those girls soon then,' Rossi said. 'They seem to be our only guide to where Khan is hiding out.'

'The thing that is odd to me though,' Hotch started, 'is why he is hanging around. Why not kill L/N knowing she's an agent? Why not skip town or relocate as soon as possible?'

'Because it's a compulsion now,' Spencer found himself saying. He wasn't sure if it was from lack of sleep that he sounded delusional, but he kept talking. He needed to talk, anything to keep his mind off the alternatives. 'Y/N engrained herself so much into his operation that he may have deluded himself into thinking he can make her one of his girls for real.'

'So he'll keep her and use her just like the others,' Rossi said grimly. 'And when she eventually lets him down - as they all have - he'll kill her.'

'We'll find her before it gets to that point,' Hotch said so assuredly that Spencer almost believed it. But the odds were against them, and time was running out.

As if the universe was listening in, Penelope's gasp sent tremors of terror through Spencer as they all turned to her on the screen. 'Guys! The feed is back online!'

'Pull it up and start tracking it,' Hotch ordered, and Penelope didn't need telling twice as she did just that.

You were hanging again, but the blood that covered the lower half of your face was now gone. Your dress was ruffled and dirty in some places, and straws of hay were tangled in your messy hair. He must've lowered you for the remainder of the night, but from the dark circles under your weary eyes, Spencer guessed you hadn't slept.

'He cleaned her up,' Rossi noticed too.

'That's a good thing right?' Penelope said, pausing her tracking for a second.

'No,' Spencer replied. 'It means he's got more in store for her.'

'You were right, Reid. It's a compulsion,' Rossi added.

'Keep tracking, Garcia,' Hotch said.

And there he was.

Walter Khan entered the frame, but instead of taunting them through the camera like last time, he walked straight over to you as if the camera wasn't even on. He grasped your chin, causing you to jerk backwards with a gasp.

'How did you know that?' he asked, voice tight and restrained. When you didn't answer, he pulled you closer with a harsh tug that caused the chains to rattle. 'How did you know?!'

'Lucky... Lucky guess, I suppose,' you replied, eyes flicking from Khan to the camera and back. Something had happened between the last feed and now, Spencer concluded. Some interaction that has brought out the frantic Khan.

'No!' He slapped you, sending you spinning around on the chain. When you swung back towards the camera, the sun highlighted the blood on your lip, how it trembled as you did. 'You knew about my life! No one does! So how would an undercover agent of all people know?'

'Maybe you're just... not as slick as you think you are,' you said in between haggard breaths. Spencer could only imagine how much pain you were in. He was both extremely proud of and extremely terrified for you.

Khan let out a growl that rattled the conference room it was that loud. He lashed out with a hard punch to your gut, then a slanted punch on your knee, receiving a loud crunch and crack in return.

For the first time since being caught, you screamed. It was the most horrible sound Spencer had ever heard in his life - even worse than the gunshot that killed Maeve. It echoed through the Warehouse, a guttural, pained sound that would haunt not only Spencer's dreams but Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope's too.

You gathered yourself quickly and bit down on your lip, silencing your cries. Sunlight showed the tears that gathered at your eyes, still refusing to fall. But Spencer could tell it was taking all you had to keep it together. You knew they were watching. You probably were holding it together for them.

The pride and terror he felt for you was overwhelming to a point his knees almost buckled. But if you could keep it together while being tortured, he could do it too.

Once you'd calmed your breathing, you looked back at Khan, hate in your beautiful E/C eyes. 'Beating me... will get you nowhere... I refuse... to break to you.'

Everyone held their breaths as you held your stare with Khan, and Spencer realised it then.

It hit him in consistent waves that made it hard to catch his breath or even fully realise what was happening. It was how you stared down the crook man, unrelenting, unwavering, unbreakable. It was how, even at you most vulnerable, you made sure to put on a brave face for the team, for him. He hadn't dared think it before - not after Maeve. But the heavy thuds of his heart couldn't be mistaken.

Khan contemplated you for a moment, and then pulled out a pocket knife from his pants. He was calm again which Spencer didn't like one bit. 'Very well, then. You want to act tough?' He didn't wait for a reply as he sliced the top button of your dress off expertly. Then another and another, until almost the entirety of your bra showed. 'Let's see how tough you really are.'

Your eyes blew wide in terror finally realising what his intentions were. Spencer realised a second after, and his blood boiled painfully.

'Garcia,' Spencer managed out, unable to take his eyes off you as Khan sliced off another button and another. By the time he got to the last one, exposing your underwear too, Spencer was on the verge of a panic attack. 'Garcia!'

'I'm honing in on it now!' she called back, but it wasn't enough to quell his fear.

Khan slipped off the dress with a few more slices of the knife, then proceeded to pocket it and press himself against your back. You tried pulling away, but Khan's arms were around you already, feeling you everywhere, violating you.

That's when the tears finally fell. A broken sob escaped your bloodied, trembling lips as Khan's hands dragged all over you, brushing away the hair on your neck to press a sickeningly gentle kiss there.

But instead of completely crumbling, you looked directly into the camera and said, 'I would've said yes.'

For a moment it was just him and you. You words were so soft he almost didn't believe you said them. Spencer saw out of the corner of his eyes Hotch and Rossi didn't understand, but this wasn't about them. You were speaking directly to Spencer, probably with full faith that he was watching and that he was on his way to save you already.

Khan paused his ministrations at the odd statement, giving you a confused look. 'What?'

'I would've said yes,' you repeated, but this time there was a resignation to your words. As if you accepted that those would be the last words anyone would hear you speak. Spencer quickly realised that, as much as you believed he was coming, you didn't believe you would be alive when he finally did.

Khan followed your gaze to the camera, his expression changing as he realised you weren't talking to him.

'I would've said yes,' you said again, not once looking away from the camera.

Khan's hands retracted from you.

'I would've said yes.'

He walked over to the camera.

'I would've said yes.'

'You disappeared behind his huge frame.

'I would've said yes.'

He reached out to switch it off.

'I would've said-'

The feed went dark. The room fell silent, but only for a second. As Spencer stormed out of the room, slamming the door open as he did. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of that room.

I would've said yes.

The way you'd said it was like you were trying to make sure he heard you - that, as your last words to him, you wanted to let him know of what could've been.

He stormed into the break room where thankfully nobody resided in. He slammed his fist on one of the tables, and kicked at the chair residing at it. Anger coursed through every fibre in him, at Khan, at Holt, at himself.

I would've said yes.

'Reid.'

Spencer turned to find Rossi standing in the doorway, concern wrinkling his weathered features more. 'You okay?' he asked, slowly walking into the room fully then closing the door behind him. 'What was that about?'

'She would've said yes,' was all Spencer could manage out in his wild state of mind, finding it hard to breathe he was so wound up. 'She would've...'

'I heard that,' Rossi said gently. 'I don't know what that means. But you clearly do. So spill, boy genius. What did she mean by that?'

Spencer tugged at his hair in frustration. 'Before she left I asked her out,' he explained, voice rising as his worry did. 'She was never able to give me an answer because she was sworn to secrecy, and I thought that all this time she never liked me liked that because we've been friends for so long, but she would've said yes. You heard her! She would've said yes! And now she-'

'Okay, okay, okay,' Rossi interrupted, gently grabbing Spencer by his arms and guiding him to the chair he'd kicked just before. Spencer didn't have the strength to fight the older man, allowing himself to be guided into a seat.

Rossi crouched in front of Spencer, holding Spencer's shaking hands in his steady ones. 'Just breathe, Reid. Just breathe.'

Spencer followed Rossi' instructions as best as he could, but panic and despair had already crept in. 'Do you know,' he started, lips trembling, voice quaking with emotions he couldn't quite understand, 'that friendships that last longer than seven years... that they are meant to last for life? Y/N and I... we've been friends for a decade.'

'I know,' Rossi answered gently. 'You, JJ, Penelope and Y/N are quite close.'

'Yes, but,' Spencer continued through the sniffles, 'Y/N's always been there. Not just for me, but with me. I never realised how integral to my life she was until she left. I never realised that my love for her was something more until it was too late.'

'You love her?'

Only when Rossi pointed it out did Spencer realise what he'd admitted. But it wasn't a casual slip of the tongue - it was intentional, it was true, it was the only thing he wanted to say because he hated how long it took him to realise it for himself.

He nodded slowly, tears running down his cheeks. 'I didn't know it at first, but it didn't just happen overnight. Truth is... I think I've loved her from the day I met her. Platonically at first, but it's grown as we have, and she is so precious to me Rossi. I can't lose her. I can't.'

Sobs wracked his boney body as he broke down. Rossi pulled him into an awkward but comforting hug, and Spencer couldn't express how grateful he was for such comfort. Rossi had grown into the father figure he'd made Gideon out to be; and while Spencer had learnt to stand on his own two feet, it was reassuring knowing he had someone older and wiser to rely upon.

'It's like Maeve all over again,' Spencer found himself saying, still clinging onto Rossi like his life depended on it. 'Just when I glimpse happiness, it's snatched away. And there is nothing I can do about it.'

'No, no,' Rossi said, pulling back to look Spencer directly in his amber eyes. 'You listen to me, boy wonder. We are going to find her, and we're going to bring her home. And you are going to tell her how you feel and finally take her on a date. Is that understood?' When Spencer didn't answer, Rossi continued.

'Remember how when Maeve died, you holed yourself up in your apartment for weeks, and didn't talk to anyone?' Spencer nodded, but only because he didn't quite understand why Rossi was bringing it up. 'And remember how we all came by to visit, but mostly Y/N? That was because she believed you were strong enough to get through it. She never doubted you, never gave up on you, Spence. Are you really going to return the favour by giving up on her?'

Spencer stared at Rossi for a moment, perplexed that he even would suggest such a thing. He quickly wiped his tears away, though. 'No,' he answered, voice stern and hopeful.

'Good,' Rossi replied, standing back up. 'Now use that big brain of yours. There's got to be something that we missed.'

Before Spencer could answer, the door to the break room swung open to reveal a flustered Derek Morgan. 'We found them,' he said between heavy breaths. 'We found the girls.'

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