#thanks for the idea while i'm convalescing
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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)
Two Minutes To Midnight
Masterlist pt 1
Masterlist pt 2
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked Sam while I run my hand over my eyes, upset. "Dean..." Sam tried to say, but Dean talks over him. "...No, don't 'Dean' me. I mean, you... you have had some stupid ideas in the past, But this." He growls then I turn to Bobby. "Did you know about this?" I asked Bobby as he wheels himself up in the kitchen doorway. "What?" Bobby asked. "About Sam's genius plan to say 'yes' to the devil?" Dean elaborated, angrily.
Bobby stares at him for a moment, then nods. "Well, thanks for the heads up!" Dean exclaimed, angrily. "Hey, this ain't about me." Bobby said and I turn to Sam. "You can't do this." I told Sam. "That's the consensus." Sam said, shrugging. "All right. Awesome. Then, end of discussion." Dean said.
At that moment his phone starts ringing. He takes it out while pointing at Sam. "This isn't over." He told his brother, then he answers his phone. "Hello?" he said then he stops. "Ariel?" Dean said, glancing to me and Sam. "Wait, you found Cas?" He said and I raise my head up at him. "Is he okay?" I asked him. Dean holds up his hand to me, telling me to wait. "Wait, let me put you on speaker." He said then he pulls the phone away from his ear, presses a button and holds it up.
"Okay...Where the hell are you guys?" Dean asked them. "A hospital." Ariel's voice said. "Is he okay?" Dean asked, worried. "No." She replied, simply. Dean waits for her to say more but she doesn't. "You want to elaborate?" Dean asked.
"He just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought he was brain-dead." Ariel explained. "S-so, a hospital?" Dean asked then we hear Cas' voice in the background. "Apparently, after Van Nuys, I suddenly appeared, bloody and unconscious, on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I'm told it upset the sailors." Castiel explained.
"Uh, well, I got to tell you guys...You're just in time. We figured out a way to pop Satan's box." Dean said. "How?" Castiel and Ariel asked, while Cas grunts in pain. "It's a long story, but, look...we're going after Pestilence now. So if you guys want to zap over here..." Dean said.
"I can't zap anywhere." Castiel said. "What do you mean?" Dean asked. "You could say my batteries are...are drained." Castiel said. "What do you mean? You're out of angel mojo?" Dean asked. "I'm saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I'm saying that I'm just incredibly..." Castiel explained.
"Human. Wow. Sorry." Dean said. "I have enough power for both of us to get out of here but...I need to make sure Cas is well enough to travel." Ariel said. "You sure? Bobby can wire you guys the cash..." Dean said but Ariel talks over him. "No, we'll be fine. Like I said, if Cas is truly human, I need to make sure he gets properly checked over. Once we get cleared here, we'll come back." Ariel said. "Well, at least let Bobby send you some money to pay for the hospital stay." Dean said and Bobby narrows his eyes at him. "I will?" He asked as Dean was about to hang up his phone.
"Dean, wait." Castiel said and Dean stopped. "Ariel told me you said no to Michael. I owe you an apology." Castiel said. "Cas...I-it's okay." Dean said, smiling a little. "You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be." Castiel said and Dean pauses for a moment. "Thank you....I appreciate that." He said. "You're welcome." Castiel said and Ariel hangs up before Dean could say anything else.
Later, Sam, Dean, and I went outside and got into the Impala. "Be careful." Bobby tells us. We nodded and drive off to find Pestilence.
That night, the boys and I watch Serenity Valley Convalescent Home from the Impala. "So this is Dr. Evil's lair, huh?" Dean asked, lowering his binoculars. "It's kind of more depressing than evil." Sam said as we watch one of the nurses wheel an old man back into the building.
"It's like a four-color brochure for dying young. Of course, to Pestilence, it's probably Dollywood in there." I said. "Great. A whole building full of people. We don't know who's human, who's demon, and who's Pestilence. So what do we do?" Sam asked. "Hang on." Dean said and he looks through his binoculars again.
Minutes later, we enter the building and found the security room door, which Dean opens the door and poke his head in. "Hey. Hi. Uh, I'm looking for my Nana. Uh, her name is Eunice Kennedy." He said. "Go around front and see the nurse." The guard inside said. Dean glances back to us then goes inside shutting the door behind him. Sam and I glance at each other then away to see if anyone's coming.
Then we hear Dean knock on the door and we quickly slip into the room while Dean pulls the guard into a corner out of the way. "Eunice Kennedy?" Sam asked. "That's the beauty about improv, Sammy. You never know what's gonna come out of your mouth." Dean said. "Yeah, you would know." I grumbled, with a sneer, and Dean turns his head to me and I shrug a bit.
We sit down in front of the screen and spend what felt like hours watching them. "So, what are..." I started to asked but then I notice Dean had drifting off to sleep, leaning his head against my shoulder. I roll my eyes at this then I flick his forehead, waking him up. "Hey." I said and he sits up, quickly. "What are we even looking for?" I asked as he shakes his head to wake himself up. "Well, he's Pestilence, so he probably looks sick." Dean said as he runs his hand over his eyes. "Everybody looks sick." Sam remarked.
We spend hours watching the camera until a man leaves a room cause a distortion on the monitor. "Hey." I said, pointing to it. Dean, who's been pacing to keep himself awake, comes over to look at the screens. We watch as each monitor has a distortion when ever the man is caught by the camera. "Oh, now we're talking." Dean said, smirking.
We exit the security room and made our way through the halls to catch up to the man. Ducking behind a wall to avoid one of the nurses seeing Sam holding Ruby's knife and Dean and I holding shotguns. We continue down the hall, passing an open room where a nurse was checking in on one of the patiences.
Further along, I suddenly start to feel sick and we all started coughing, my vision became blurry with tears but we pressed on. We round the corner and found the bodies of a doctor and a nurse. I lean on the wall while the boys leaned on the opposite wall for support, Sam coughs up blood onto his hand. "Ugh...Must be getting close." He said. "You think?" Dean asked.
We keep going, getting sicker and sicker with every step. Finally, my body couldn't take it any more and I start to sink to the floor.
"(Y/n)?" Dean said, coming over to me. He tries to help me up and tries to get me to keep going, but we both stumble and I fall to the floor. Sam stumbles to his feet and slowly made his way to the room, while Dean crumbles to the floor unable to keep going as well. We all lay on the floor, coughing uncontrollably.
Sam makes it to the room and the door is open by a nurse. Sam raises the knife to her but the nurse was unfazed by it. "The doctor will see you now." She said, stepping aside showing Pestilence was sitting on the bed next to a dead old woman.
"Sam. Dean. (y/n)." Pestilence said, waving for us to come froward. Sam keels over and falls to the floor. "Come right in." Pestilence said. The nurse steps out into the hall and drags Dean and I into the room next to Sam.
"Hmm. You three don't look well. It might be the, uh, Scarlet fever." Pestilence said, getting up from the bed staring down at us as we continue coughing. "Or, uh, the meningitis. Oh! Or the syphilis." Pestilence said, then clicks his tongue as he shakes his head. "That's no fun." He said.
Pestilence steps closer, grabbing Sam by his hair and lifting his head up to look at him. "However you feel right now? It's gonna get so very, very much worse. Questions?" He asked, dropping Sam and letting his face drop back down to the floor. "Disease gets a bad rap, don't you think? For being filthy. Chaotic. Uh, but, really, t-that just describes people who get sick. Disease itself...Very...Pure...Single-minded. Bacteria have one purpose...divide and conquer." Pestilence said as Dean reaches for the knife that Sam had dropped.
But Pestilence steps on his hand, stopping him. "That's why, in the end...It always wins." Pestilence said, kicking the knife away before releasing Dean. "So, you've got to wonder why God pours all his love into something so MESSY...AND WEAK! It's ridiculous. All I can do is show him he's wrong, one epidemic at a time. Now...On a scale of 1 to 10, how's your pain?" Pestilence asked as he takes out glasses from his pocket and puts them on.
The door flies open and Castiel walks in. "Cas." Dean and I said, surprised and relieved. "How'd you get here?" Pestilence asked Castiel, taking off his glasses. "I took a bus. Don't worry, I..." Castiel said but then he falls to the floor, coughing. "Well, look at that. An occupied vessel, but powerless. Oh, that's fascinating. There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?" Pestilence asked as he leans over Castiel, grinning.
But then Pestilence was pulled backwards and slammed against the desk. "He's not alone." Ariel said as she appeared behind him. The demon nurse charges at Ariel but Ariel waves her hand and the nurse flies back. Then Ariel raises the knife, Sam dropped, grabs his arm and cuts off Pestilence's ring finger and pinky finger. Pestilence screams out in pain then pulls his bloody hand away.
The nurse gets up and goes after Ariel again but Castiel tackles her down and they fight. Ariel then goes over, grabs the demon and stabs her, killing her.
With the ring cut off, we were suddenly healthy again and we stand up then Dean picks up the finger to retrieve the ring. "It doesn't matter. It's too late." Pestilence said, before he disappears. I furrow my brow at this then look over at the others, who also had the same confused, concerned expression.
We return to Bobby's and Dean drops Pestilence's ring in the desk in front of Bobby. "Well, it's nice to actually score a home run for once, ain't it?" Bobby said, but no one says anything. "What?" He asked us. "Last thing Pestilence said. it's too late." Sam said. "He get specific?" Bobby asked. "No." I replied. "We're just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere. So please tell us you have actual good news." Dean said and Bobby pauses for a moment.
"Chicago's about to be wiped off the map. Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die." He said. "Huh." Dean muttered, looking down.
"I don't understand your definition of good news." Castiel said while Ariel paces. "You and me both, Cas." I said. "I think what Bobby is saying is that...Death, the horseman...he's gonna be there." She said and Bobby nods. "Exactly! And if we can stop him before he kick-starts this storm, get his ring back." Bobby explained.
"Yeah, you make it sound so easy." Dean said. "Hell, I'm just trying to put a spin on it." Bobby said. "Well...Bobby, h-how'd you put all this together, anyways?" Sam asked. "I had, you know...Help." Bobby said, quietly, seeming unusually nervous all of a sudden.
We hear a glass clink and turn to see Crowley in the kitchen pouring himself a drink. "Don't be so modest. I barely helped at all." He said to Bobby as he picks up his glass and walks over to lean on the doorframe of the library and kitchen. "Hello, gang. Pleasure, et cetera." He said to us, taking a sip of his drink. "Go ahead. Tell them. There's no shame in it." He said to Bobby, setting his glass down.
We all turn to Bobby. "Bobby? Tell us what?" I asked, very worried. "World's gonna end. Seems stupid to get all precious over one little...Soul." Bobby said. "You sold your soul?" Dean asked, dumbfounded. "Oh, more like pawned it. I fully intend to give it back." Crowley said. "Well, then give it back!" I growled at him. "I will." Crowley said. "Now!" Dean and I yelled.
"Did you kiss him?" Sam asked Bobby. "Sam!" Dean said, exasperated. "Just wondering." Sam replied. We all look at Bobby, who looks between us. "No!" He exclaimed and Sam narrows his, suspicious. Crowley clears his throat and we look at him to see he was holding out his phone which has a picture of himself and Bobby kissing.
"Why'd you take a picture?" Bobby asked, ashamed, while Crowley glances at the photo. "Why do you have to use tongue?" He asked. We all turn to Bobby again, in shock, while Bobby glares at Crowley, who smiles back at him.
"All right. You know what? I'm sick of this." Dean growled as her walks over to Crowley. "Give him his soul back now." He ordered. "I'm sorry. I can't." Crowley said. "Can't or won't?" Dean asked. "I won't, all right? It's insurance." Crowley said. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "You kill demons. Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it. But you won't kill me...As long as I have that soul in the deposit box." Crowley said, waving his phone before putting it away in his pocket.
"You son of a bitch." Bobby growled. "I'll return it. After all this is over, and I can walk safely away. Do we all understand each other?" Crowley asked and I glared at him.
I went outside with Dean to help him pack the trunk when Sam walks up. He sighs and he leans against the car. "Let me guess. We're about to have a talk." Dean said. "Look, guys, um...For the record...I agree with you. About me. You think I'm too weak to take on Lucifer. Well, so do I. Believe me, I know exactly how screwed up I am. You two, Bobby, Cas, Ariel...I'm the least of any of you." Sam explained.
"Oh, Sam..." Dean and I mutter as Dean leans on the car next to him. "No, it's true. It is. But...I'm also all we got. If there was another way..." He said then he paused for a moment, shrugging. "But I don't think there is. There's just me. So I don't know what else to do. Except just try t-to do what's got to be done." He explained.
"Aaaand...Scene." Crowley's voice said and we turn to see him walking around the Impala to join us on the other side. "There's something you need to see." He said and he hands a newspaper to Sam. "Niveus pharmaceuticals is rushing delivery of its new swine-flu vaccine to 'stem the tide of the unprecedented outbreak. Uh, shipments leave Wednesday." Sam reads aloud. "Niveus pharmaceuticals. Get it?" Crowley asked, we stare at him blankly.
Crowley sighs. "You three are lucky you have your looks. Your demon lover, Brady? V.P. of distribution, Niveus." He said then the boys and I exchanged a look of realization. "Ah, yes, that the sound of the abacus clacking? We all caught up?" Crowley asked. "So, Pestilence was spreading swine flu." I said. "Yeah, but not just for giggles. That was step one. Step two is the vaccine. And you think..." Dean said, being interrupted by Crowley. "I know. I'll stake my reputation... That vaccine is chock-full of grade-a, farm-fresh croatoan virus." He said.
"Simultaneous, countrywide distribution. It's quite a plan." I said. "They don't get to be horsemen for nothing. So, you lot better stock up on...Well, everything. This time next Thursday, we'll all be living in zombieland." Crowley said, the boys and I exchange worried looks.
That night, I was helping Bobby pack his van while Castiel was standing around, depressed. "What's your problem?" Bobby asked the angel. "This is what they mean by 'the 11th hour,' right?" Castiel asked. "Pretty much." I replied, shrugging. "Well, it's the 11th hour, and I am useless. All I have is this." Castiel said, waving a shotgun. "What am I even supposed to do with it?" He asked. "Point it and shoot." Bobby said, like it was so obvious. "It's easy Cas. You'll get the hang of it." I said, patting him on shoulder.
Castiel shook his head. "What I used to be..." He started to say. "Are you really gonna bitch to me?" Bobby asked and Castiel glances at him then looks away. "Bobby, be nice." I said to him and Bobby scoffs then looks back at Cas. "Quit pining for the varsity years..." Bobby said, wheeling himself over and tossing his duffle bag to Castiel. "And load the damn truck." He said, wheeling away.
Castiel sighs and tosses the bag in the van when Ariel appears. "You'll be fine, Cas. I'll have enough power for the both of us." Ariel said and she pats his shoulder as he looks down and I give Cas a sympathetic look. "Everything will be okay, Cas." I said and I pat his back then I go over to the boys.
"All right, well...Good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse." Dean said to me and Sam. "Yeah. Good luck killing Death." Sam said to Dean. "Yeah." Dean said, nodding, and I scoff. "Remember when we used to just...hunt wendigos? How simple things were?" I asked them. "Not really." Dean replied and Sam sighs. "Well, um..." He said and he pulls out Ruby's knife. "...You might need this." He said to Dean.
"Keep it." Crowley said, suddenly appearing again, then he hands Dean a small scythe. "Dean's covered. Death's own. Kills, golly, demons and angels and reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself." He said. "How did you get those?" Castiel asked while Ariel eyes him with suspicion. "Hello...king of the crossroads. So, shall we?" Crowley said, then he looks to Bobby.
"Bobby, you just gonna sit there?" He asked. "No, I'm gonna riverdance." Bobby said, sarcastically. "I suppose if you want to impress the ladies. Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted that crossroads deal. Fact...you get more if you phrase it properly. So, I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub-a clause on your behalf." Crowley said, we stared at him confused.
"What can I say? I'm an altruist. Just gonna sit there?" Crowley asked. We all turn to Bobby, who looks down at his legs, shocked. He twitches his foot and looks up, astounded then Bobby gets out of his wheelchair, amazed. We all stared at him, equally amazed.
"Son of a bitch." Bobby whispered. "Yes, I know. Completely worth your soul. I'm a hell of a guy." Crowley said, waving his hands vaguely. "Thanks." Bobby said, sincerely. "This is getting maudlin. Can we go?" Crowley asked, gesturing to the Impala then turns away. "I'm coming with you, Dean. I don't really trust him." Ariel said to Dean. "You sure?" I asked her and she nods then follows Crowley.
Ariel and Crowley go to the Impala, while Bobby, Sam and Castiel go in the van, leaving me and Dean alone. “So…” Dean muttered, slightly looking away. “So.” I repeated, an awkward silence fell over us for a brief moment which Dean breaks by clearing his throat. “Be careful and uh…watch out for Sammy.” He said and I nod.
“I will. You and Ariel be careful too.” I said and Dean nods, turning to leave but stops. “Something else you want to say?” I asked as Dean turns back to me, opening his mouth looking hesitant.
“You um….when this is over. Do you uh…want to do something? Maybe get a beer?” Dean asked, looking like a flustered teenager asking a girl out for the first time. I smile a little at how uncharacteristically nervous he is. “Maybe. Are you buying?” I asked and Dean smirks and nods. “Sure.” He said.
“Alright. Sounds good.” I said and Dean nodded. “Good, good. I’ll uh…see you when this is over.” He said, continuing to be nervous, and I couldn’t help but giggle at this. “Are you always this nervous when you ask a girl out for a drink?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. “Only the pretty ones.” Dean replied and I blushed at this.
Dean smirks a little. “See ya, weirdo.” He said, turning and heading towards the Impala. I smile as I watch him go. “See ya, jackass.” I said, feeling my heart flutter, as I go over to the van.
"Yes to Lucifer. Then jump in the hole. It's an interesting plan." Castiel said. "That's a word for it." Bobby said, sarcastically, and I scoff out a laugh. "So? Go ahead and tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard." Sam said to Cas, exasperated. "Of course. I am happy to say that if that's what you want to hear. But it's not what I think." Castiel said and we all turn our heads to him.
"Really?" Sam and I said, shocked. "You two and Dean have a habit of exceeding my expectations. Dean resisted Michael. Maybe you could resist Lucifer but there are things that you would need to know, Sam." Castiel said. "Like?" Sam asked. "Michael has found another vessel." Castiel said and I gasp.
"What?" Sam asked. "It's your brother Adam. You must have considered it." Castiel said, sounding like it was obvious. "We were trying not to." I said and Sam nods. "Sam....If you say yes to Lucifer and then fail...This fight will happen. And the collateral...It'll be immense. There's also the demon blood." Castiel said to Sam.
"What? What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "To take in Lucifer, it would be more than you've ever drunk." Castiel warns. "But...Why?" I asked him. "It strengthens the vessel. Keeps it from exploding." Castiel explains.
"But the guy he's in now --" Sam said then Castiel answers his unfinished question. "He's drinking gallons." he said. "And how is that not the worst plan you ever heard?" Bobby asked as Sam and I exchange looks.
We make it to the Pharmaceuticals warehouse and parked then Bobby pulls out his binoculars. "Yup, they're loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks. Okay. First truck don't leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the c-4 every 25 feet, then we pull the fire alarm." He said.
"That truck is leaving." Castiel said as he points out a truck leaving and I curse under my breath. "Balls! Okay, new plan." Bobby said and we start to rush out of his van.
"Help!" A voice calls out to us as we get up to the warehouse. "Side door!" Bobby yells and we go over to the side to see a door. "Help me, please! Help!" a panicked, fearful voice called out as we get to the door. "Get back!" Sam orders and he shoots through the door lock, opening the door.
"Go. Come on, boys. Go." I shout as we run inside and see a whole pack of Croatoan infected people attacking someone. We take aim and shoot down the Croatoan infected. "Help me! Please! Help!" another voice calls out, which told us there were more people.
"There's still people here." I shout and Sam and I start to move further into the warehouse. "Kids, no!" Bobby yells and Sam turns to him. "Wait here." he said as he hands Bobby his knife and he and I run.
We were able to make it to a different part of the warehouse and found more Croatoan infected attacking an employee. We immediately kill them then check on the employee. "You okay?" Sam asked him and he nods then we take the employee to Bobby, who is holding off other Croatoan infected.
"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Bobby shouts as we lead the employees out of the building and kill any Croatoan infected. "All clear." Sam said and I turn to him just as I see a Croatoan infected coming up behind him.
"Sam!" I shout as Sam is attacked by a Croatoan infected but, quickly, Castiel appears and shoots the infected with his shotgun. "Actually, these things can be useful." Castiel said as he looks at his gun.
"Can we commit our act of domestic terrorism already? Let's go." Bobby said and we nod and begin to plant the bomb.
*3rd Person POV*
"I'm still insulted that you came along." Crowley said to Ariel as they drive into Chicago, which seemed mostly deserted despite being a big city. "I don't trust you, Demon. Especially around my friend." Ariel said as she nods to Dean, who smiled to himself. "Aww, and the name calling? I'm heartbroken. Also, I didn't know Angels were so attached to humans?" Crowley said. "This Angel is." Ariel growls as she points to herself.
They get out of the Impala and started walking. "Hey, let's stop for pizza." Crowley said. "Are you kidding?" Dean asked. "Just heard it was good. That's all." Crowley replied and Ariel scoffs.
Then Crowley catches their arms, stopping the duo. "Up ahead. Big, ugly building. Ground zero. Horseman's stable, if you will. He's in there." He said, nodding to the building ahead. "How do you know?" Dean asked. "Have you met me? 'cause I know. Also, the block is squirming with reapers. I'll be right back." Crowley said, disappearing.
Dean turns to Ariel, who was looking towards the building. "Is he telling the truth?" He asked her. "Surprisingly, yes." She replied.
"Boy, is my face red." A voice said and they turn around to see Crowley has reappeared, not even a second later. "Death's not in there." He said. "You want to cut the cute and get to the part where you tell us where he is?" Dean growled. "Sorry. I don't know." Crowley replied, turning around and walking away.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. You don't know?" Ariel asked, hurrying in front of the demon to stop him. "Signs pointed. I-I'm just as shocked as you." Crowley said, brushing pass her.
"Bobby sold his soul for this!" Dean exclaimed, Crowley stops and turns around to look at them. "Relax. All deals are soul back or store credit. We'll catch Death in the next doomed city." He said. "Millions, Crowley. Millions of people are about to die any minute." Dean said. "True. So I strongly suggest we get out of here." Crowley said, walking back to the Impala.
"So, what? Call in a bomb threat? 1,000 bomb threats? I mean, how the hell are we supposed to get three million people out of Chicago in the next 10 minutes?" Dean asked Crowley and Ariel as they walk down the streets and to the Impala. But then Ariel stops and looks across the street and disappears.
Dean turns around and sees she's gone. "Where's Ariel?" He asked and Crowley turns and see she's gone too. "Maybe Miss Goody-two-shoes decided to bail out. Like we should be doing." Crowley said but then Dean noticed Ariel was across the street, looking in a window of a pizzeria.
"What is she doing?" Dean asked but then she disappeared and reappeared in front of him. "If you actually got your head out of your ass, Demon, you would see that Death is in that pizza parlor." Ariel said at Crowley as she points at the pizzeria. "Well, excuse me, princess." Crowley sneered and they glare daggers at each other.
"Okay, then...good job, Ariel." Dean said and Ariel smiles and nods at him then they start to head to the pizza parlor. "You coming or..." Dean said as he turns around only see Crowley has disappeared. "...Not." Dean grumbled and Ariel scoffs. "Typical." She growls as they cross the street to the pizzeria.
"You sure you want to go in here? I mean, I know he's gotta terrify you..." Dean said and Ariel nods a bit. "He does but...." she said then she looks over at him. "I'm not leaving my friend behind." Ariel said and Dean gives her an appreciated smile then they get closer to the parlor and enter it, slowly and quietly.
Inside everyone was dead, except for a man who was seated at a table, eating. As Dean and Ariel approach Death, the scythe Dean was holding starts to heat up until it burned his hand. Dean drops his weapon and it reappears on the table Death is sitting at.
"Thanks for returning that. Join me, Dean and Ariel. The pizza's delicious." Death said, not turning around to look at them. Dean and Ariel exchange a look and slowly walk over to the table. "Sit down." Death said as he cuts off a piece of his pizza to eat it with a fork.
Dean takes a seat in front of Death and Ariel takes a seat on Dean's right. "Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to both of you." Death said. "I got to say...I have mixed feelings about that." Dean said. "S-so is this the part where...where you kill us?" Dean asked and finally Death looks up from his food at them.
"You have an inflated sense of your importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well...Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old. Very old. So I invite both of you to contemplate how insignificant I find the two of you." Death said then he places a couple of slices of pizza on the plates in front of Dean and Ariel.
"Eat." He ordered. Dean and Ariel look down at the pizza then glance at Death, who waits. Dean takes a bite his pizza while Ariel looked at it before taking a bite of her slice. She really didn't need to eat but she didn't want to anger Death. "Good, isn't it?" Death asked as he goes back to eating.
"Well, I got to ask. How old are you?" Dean asked. "As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless...at the end, I'll reap him, too." Death said. "God? You'll reap Father?" Ariel asked, stunned. "Oh, yes. Your Father will die, too, Ariel." Death replied as lighting flashes outside. "Well, this is way above my pay grade." Dean said. "Just a bit." Death said.
"So, then why are we still breathing, sitting here with you? What do you want?" Ariel asked. "The leash around my neck...off. Your brother, Lucifer, has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum." Death explained and Ariel nods.
"And you think...we can unbind you?" Dean asked. "There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun." Death said and he sets his fork and knife down. Then Death held up his hand that was wearing his ring.
"I understand you want this." He said. "Yeah." Dean said. "I'm inclined to give it to you." Death said. "To give it to us?" Ariel asked, suspicious. "That's what I said." Death said, simply.
"But what about..." Dean started to asked. "Chicago? I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza." Death said, taking his ring off. "There are conditions." He said. "Okay. Like?" Dean asked. "You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell." Death replied. "Of course." Dean and Ariel said. "Whatever it takes." Death said, firmly. "That's the plan." Dean said. "No. No plan. Not yet. Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one." Death said. "What, you think..." Dean started to say but Death speaks over him.
"I know. So, I need a promise. Both of you are going to let Sam jump right into that fiery pit." Death said as Dean and Ariel stare at him, speechless. "Well, do I have your word?" He asked. Dean and Ariel exchange the look before they look back at Death in the eyes. "Okay, yeah. Yes." Dean said.
Death stares at him, then turns his head to look at Ariel, who nods. "That had better be yes, you two. You know you can't cheat death." Death said, before dropping his ring into Dean's hand. "Now, would you like the instruction manual?" Death asked.
Back at Bobby's, Dean sat outside in the scrapyard, looking at Death's ring. When he sets it down next to the other three rings lock together. Bobby kicks a box out of his way, getting Dean's attention. "Well, how'd it go at the Rockettes audition?" Dean asked him, smiling.
"Well, high kicks...fair. Boobs need work. I walked up and down stairs all night for no damn reason. I'm sore." Bobby said, laughing. "Feels so good, I'm scared it's a dream. But then I remember that the world's dying bloody, so, drink?" He said, handing Dean a beer.
"Check it out." Dean said and he shows Bobby how the rings link together, making the old man nearly spit up his beer. "Hmm. Oh. So Death told you and Ariel how to operate those? The whole deal?" He asked as he takes a seat across from Dean.
"Yeah. It's nuts. Of course, we got bigger problems now." Dean said. "Really? Like?" Bobby asked. "What do you think Death does to people who lie to his face?" Dean asked. "Nothing good." Bobby replied, shrugging. "Yeah." Dean muttered.
"What'd you say?" Bobby asked. "That we were cool with Sam driving the bus on the whole Lucifer plan." Dean said. "So Death thinks Sam ought to say yes, huh?" Bobby asked. "I don't know. Yeah." Dean replied and Bobby hums, thoughtful.
"But, I mean, of course he'd say that. He works for Lucifer." Dean said. "Against his will, I thought he said." Bobby said. "Well, I'd say, take his sob story with a fat grain of salt. I mean, he is Death." Dean said. "Exactly. He's Death. Think of the kind of bird's-eye view." Bobby argued.
"Seriously?" Dean asked. "I'm just saying." Bobby replied. "Well, don't. I mean, what happened to you being against this?" Dean asked. "Look, I'm not saying Sam ain't an ass-full of character defects. But..." Bobby started. "But what?" Dean asked.
"Back at Niveus? I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another. Must have saved 10 people. Never stopped. Never slowed down. (y/n) even helped him as much as she could. We're hard on him, Dean. We've always been. But in the meantime....He's been running into burning buildings since he was, what, twelve?" Bobby asked.
"Pretty much." Dean replied. "Look, Sam's got a...Darkness in him. I'm not saying he don't. But he's got a hell of a lot of good in him, too." Bobby said. "I know." Dean muttered, looking down slightly.
"Then you know Sam will beat the devil...Or die trying. That's the best we could ask for. So I got to ask, Dean." Bobby said, leaning forward. "What exactly are you afraid of? Losing? Or losing your brother?" He asked and Dean doesn't answer.
“How about losing (y/n)?” Bobby asked and Dean fidgets a little at hearing this question. “If Sam’s plan goes south, Ariel will probably ask (y/n) to be her vessel, so she can take on Lucifer herself.” He said.
“You think she’ll say yes?” Bobby asked. “I know she will.” Dean replied. “So, what you’re really afraid of is losing both of them.” Bobby said questionably and Dean once again doesn’t answer, but his silence was enough.
“We gotta make a move soon, you’d better use what time we have left to clear the air and not live with any regrets.” Bobby said and Dean gives him a look. “(Y/n).” Bobby said and Dean looks down slightly. “I’m taking her out later.” He said.
“You know what you’re gonna say?” Bobby asked. “No, not really.” Dean replied and Bobby stares at him for a moment. “Before my wife…” He started to say, pausing in hesitation. Dean looks up at him, intrigued. “Before she was possessed, she and I…we got in a real nasty argument. I said somethings I wish I could take back and apologize for. But I never had that chance. You do. So don’t waste it.” Bobby said, sternly, and Dean nods.
#fandom#fanfic#fan fiction#reader insert#x reader#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x you#dean x you#supernatural dean#dean x y/n#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x y/n#supernatural fandom#supernatural fanfic series#supernatural fanfiction#tv shows#tv#tv show fandom#horror#fantasy
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Hoping you've seen some light, sally! If you're still up to it, I'd love your thoughts on the Fingolfin & Maglor dynamic.
True North is still spiraling in my brain, the rotating definitions of kingships, who wants it, who deserves it, what it all means. They are both so sharpened when they meet at that point.
And then what? Neither of them is King, not officially. How does this work? How do people react? How does it all develop when Fingon brings Mae back from Thangorodrim?
Many questions, I can never get enough of the Mithrim era. Feel free to choose one or none, or something else entirely.
Thanks for the ask!
That time in Mithrim is so interesting, isn't it? True North was a dive into it, but I suspect I'm not yet done playing around in those waters.
This is a place where I really do hew closer to canon than some, in that I prefer to treat Fingon's rescue of Maedhros as first and foremost very much an effort to heal the wounds between their factions and prevent further disaster. I do frequently write those two as lovers, but Russingon or no Russingon, the stalemate of Maglor (holding Maedhros' regency, which is really his standing in for Feanor) versus Fingolfin (crowned in name by his own host but definitely not by the Feanorians) was an explosion waiting to happen. It took Fingon's courage, and then Maedhros' in abdicating, to move the Noldor to a point where they could actually pursue their goals of revenge for Finwe's death and Building a Better Life in the Old Country. More under the cut...
Where this period gets really headcanony is in the interpretation of Fingolfin and Maglor. I just don't like the take that Maglor was a failure as regent. The Feanorians established themselves in those years. There was no alliance with Doriath, true, but they were working with the Northern Sindar and with Cirdan, which is not nothing. And not launching another frontal assault on Morgoth in that time is not necessarily the wrong choice. You're outnumbered in a strange place, facing an enemy much stronger than you thought. Dig in, strategize, resupply, forge alliances, etc., before you try to repeat what has been proven to be a failure. And I do write Maglor as having facilitated those things. For him to just shrug and hand everything they had built over to Fingolfin would have been disastrous, particularly because he was only regent. The rights of the House of Feanor were not his to give away. If Maedhros were known to be dead, maybe he could have done it, but that wasn't the case, and everyone knew it.
Both Fingolfin and Maglor have to have been tempered and sharpened by leadership in the time between the Darkening and when the Indisian Host arrives in Mithrim. They both suffered in somewhat similar ways, in particular in losing the brothers they each fell into line behind. I choose to write them both as dangerous for that reason. Neither has enough authority to force a position on the other, and neither is willing or able to back down. So you end up with the split camps, the lost focus on why they're there in the first place, and the rift that threatens to turn into war.
Maedhros' rescue changes everything, because he can defer, and he chooses to, with a little wordsmithing that can still keep his people hoping. It's the smart thing to do, politically, and it's the right thing to do, emotionally, especially in the wake of the previous Kinslaying.
I occasionally tinker with some ideas about conversations Fingon and Maedhros have about that transition. I prefer not to think Fingon was surprised. But that's a story for another day!
Thanks again for this ask. Good stuff to chew on!
** I'm still taking random questions on my older fics, if you'd like to pop into my inbox. Help keep me sane while convalescing! **
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Ohh could you write some speedingbullet whump and/or hurt/comfort pretty please? alternatively some dom/service sub body worship dynamics between demo and sniper however which way you like it
TF2 Fanfic - Textures
Scout catches the flu and a sinus infection robs him of his senses of smell and taste, leaving him miserable and having trouble willing himself to eat. Sniper helps figure out a workaround to get him eating, at least.
Sappy Hope you enjoy, anon! I couldn't come up withy any good whump so I went hurt/comfort, drawing from some of my own experiences with illnesses over the years (and particularly my bout with COVID last year).
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"You've gotta eat somethin'," Sniper urged, setting a bowl of soup down on the night stand. "If you don't eat you're not gonna have the strength to recover.
"I'm not hungry," Scout mumbled though a stuffy nose, his eyes slowly rolling open, squinting in the low light that filtered through the blinds of his quarters. "Can't taste it anyway with this sinus infection."
"I know, Jer, but—"
"I can't get it down!" Tears pricked at Scout's eyes, and he rolled onto his side to face away from Sniper, shifting on the bed with what little energy he had. "If I can't taste it I can't get myself to swallow it. It's just nothin', no sensation. Everythin's just all snot."
Sniper sighed, sitting on the bed in the space Scout left, utterly frustrated. The younger man had been sick for a week and a half with what Medic was sure was the flu, and once the coughing had given way to a sinus infection, Scout had completely lost the ability to smell or taste anything. He'd claimed it had just tasted like rotten mucus, and he had stopped eating.
It had been a sad thing at first, seeing the usually spry and energetic athlete rendered inert and writhing with muscle aches and fever, coughing up his damned lungs. Ever the dutiful boyfriend, Sniper had done his best to tend to him while minimizing contact, not too keen on getting sick himself. But now that Scout wasn't eating, he cared less about his own safety and more about his boyfriend's.
"If I get you some interestin' textures do you think you'd be able to choke somethin' down? You've got to eat, Jer."
Scout mumbled quietly, his voice more a whimper than actual speech.
"Can't understand you." Sniper tried not to let himself get frustrated. Scout would always get so quiet and pathetic when he felt like shit.
"I can try," Scout repeated, unsure and exhausted. He'd half said it just to get Sniper to stop lecturing him, wishing he'd just let him sleep.
"Alright, that's all I ask is that you try. I'll figure somethin' out and be back. If you can, try to get some of that soup down too. At least drink some broth, yeh?"
"Okay," Scout mumbled, drawing the blanket up around himself. "Thanks, babe."
"You don't gotta thank me; just get better," Sniper sighed, petting Scout's hair fondly before standing. "Love you."
"Love you too."
Closing the door behind him, Sniper sighed and pulled off his hat, running a hand through his hair. Scout was an absolute mess, and he had no idea if he was getting better or not at this point. Medic had told him that progress was not expressly linear, especially with a flu as bad as Scout's, but it still didn't make him worry any less as he progressed from symptom to symptom rather than simply shedding them on his way to convalescence.
The fact that the poor guy just had to suffer through it as the virus ran its course just made it worse. Sniper hated seeing Scout have to go through this, and worse was that the only thing he could do was try to make sure he ate, showered, and made it to the bathroom if he was too weak to get there on his own. Thankfully, that last contingency had only come to pass twice over the past week.
With a shake of his head to rouse himself from his thoughts, Sniper donned his hat again and set off down the hall for the mess to try and scrounge up something with an interesting mouthfeel. Hopefully the novelty of sensation would be enough to get Scout past the inability to taste anything but his own infection.
It was hot. On a good day, the New Mexico badlands were blistering to the native New Englander, but here, curled up in bed with a fever rolling in and out like the tide, the heat came in unbearable waves. The slightest draft, the barest caress of a breeze made him feel like he was freezing and brought on fresh cramps and joint pain. So instead he would sweat, bundled tightly in his blankets on his stiff, unyielding RED-issue bed. Even so he shivered, too cold, too hot simultaneously, and he craved more blankets as though wrapping himself in a cocoon of warmth would somehow solve anything. Maybe he just craved the pressure that it would provide, some comforting weight to envelop him and make him feel safe.
He wished Sniper would come back, curl up with him, wrap his arms around him and tell him he was going to be okay. He craved the familiar embrace of his lover, gangly limbs holding him close, lips pressing kisses onto the crown of his head. He wished dearly for Sniper to envelop him in himself, to make him feel like everything was going to be okay, like he wasn't dying.
Scout didn't think he was dying. He'd died enough times to know how that felt. But here, now, shivering and sweating under his scratchy covers, Scout felt like death regardless.
He'd lost track of time, no idea how much or little had passed, when he heard a soft clack at his door, a single-knuckle knock of courtesy before it was opened and Sniper slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. The bushman wore a smile writ with trepidation, and held a paper bag in his hand.
"'ope I didn't wake you, love," he soothed, his voice as soft as he could manage in spite of its rough, gravelly tones. Scout didn't mind. He loved the sound of Sniper's voice when it was quiet; he found it almost unbearably sexy. It was really too bad he felt too much like shit to properly appreciate it.
Scout mumbled muzzily, words not quite congealing out of the jumble of syllables he'd wheezed out. He tried again, his eyes cracking open to look up at the gentle, worried face of his lover, "It's okay, I been sleepin' so much."
"That's a good thing," Sniper replied, steadying himself with one hand on the bed as he settled onto the floor next to it, crossing his legs and setting the bag down. "Rest's important for you."
Inching to the edge of the bed, Scout flopped an arm over to pet at Sniper's cheek, his fingers clumsily tracing the line of his jaw fondly. He wanted to give him a hug, a proper squeeze, but could barely keep his arm up enough to do this. "'m so tired 'a sleepin'."
"I know, but you need it."
"I'm lonely," Scout murmured, curling his legs up a little tighter against himself. "But if you sleep with me you're gonna get sick."
Sniper sighed. He hadn't slept in the same bed as Scout in over a week, and he wasn't ashamed to admit he was lonely too. They'd gotten so used to the comfort and safety of sleeping in one another's arms, of just being around one another so constantly, that this time apart—marked by Sniper only visiting for brief periods and trying not to make too much contact—practically felt like one of them was in prison. At this point he'd almost wished he hadn't made the effort not to get sick, so they could at least have been miserable together through most of it.
"I'm sorry," Sniper replied, unsure what else to say. He opened the bag in front of him, withdrawing a few folded Chinese food containers and a styrofoam bowl with a lid. "We gotta get you better sooner then."
"Whassat?"
"Couldn't find anythin' on base to cook that would be good enough. 'Least, nothin' I know 'ow to cook," Sniper chuckled. "So me and Pyro went on a run to town for some Chinese. Pyro says 'e used to get sinus infections all the time when 'e was a teenager. Real sickly kid. Lost 'is sense of taste all the time. 'e said somethin' crunchy-fried'll 'elp with the whole texture-for-flavour substitution thing, and that we 'ad the right idea."
Scout blinked and slowly pulled himself up onto his elbow, realizing for the first time that it was nearly night. Grey light filtered through the blinds, the golden rays of sunset long past, but the blue shadows of night yet to fully overtake the desert. He'd been out for a while. "You went all the way to town for me?"
Sniper smiled. "'course. You gotta eat," he said with a shrug of one shoulder. "If this is what can get you to eat, then it's well worth it, I'd say."
"Mick..." A wobbly smile crawled across Scout's lips, and he felt like the slightest thing would set him off crying. Sniper was so sweet, so kind, so doting, and he could never really figure out how to handle it. Scout had spent his entire life as an afterthought, the last one to get anything, even respect. And here, this man almost twice his age treated him like he was his world. Scout still couldn't really wrap his head around it, and it made his chest flutter. A soft laugh escaped him, and he shook his head to keep his eyes dry. Then he stilled, the shake leaving him dizzy, all of the mucus in his head sloshing and shifting in horrible ways. When he could bring himself to open his eyes again, he looked into Sniper's, and lost himself there for a long moment. "I love you," he fairly whimpered, reaching to pet at his face again.
Sniper caught Scout's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each fingertip before pressing a final smooch to his palm. "Come on, you sappy wreck," he teased. "Let's get you fed, yeh?" Scout stared a long moment, expectant, until Sniper rejoined, "I love you too, Jer."
That satisfied him, and Scout finally brought himself up to a seated position, folding his legs under himself and tucking his blankets as flat as he could. "So what'd you get me, anyway?"
"Fried pork and cabbage potstickers with ginger sauce, and some fried wontons. Got some sweet and sour sauce to dip those into."
"So it's just all crunchy," Scout mused. He inhaled, hoping against hope that the aroma of hot pork, ginger, fry oil, anything really, would break through the stench of rot and mucus that filled his senses. He suppressed a soft sob at his failure to smell any of it, and tempered his expectations accordingly. Eating without taste was like fucking without pleasure, leaving him wholly unsatisfied and desperate for any of the sensory input he craved. But as he took hold of a wonton and bit into it, he took solace in the crunch and crispiness, textures giving him something to cling to as he dutifully performed the joyless task of eating something to fuel his recovery.
"How is it?" Sniper asked.
Scout sighed through his nose, "I can't taste anything. Still. But at least it feels different."
"That's something then. All I ask is you get something down, so we can get you healthy again."
"I just wanna feel better so you can hold me again. I miss you."
Sniper frowned and stood, walking around to the other side of the bed. He kicked off his boots and set his hat and sunglasses on the footlocker at the end of the bed, and sat behind Scout. He lay down, rolling to face his lover's back, and wrapped an arm around his waist as he ate. He placed a kiss on Scout's side, ignoring the chilly sweat that had collected on him.
"You're gonna get sick," Scout mumbled around a potsticker, ginger sauce running down his chin.
"I'll be fine. And you're not gonna get any better layin' 'ere depressed and lonely on top of not eatin'. If I gotta curl up with you to get your spirits up, so be it."
Scout smiled at that, his free hand coming down to pet through Sniper's hair. "Thanks, Mick."
"'s nothin," Sniper mumbled in reply, snuggling in against his lover. "Can I get one of those potstickers, though?"
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Okay so now that I'm back home (no pun intended), here is my contribution to @stood-onthecliffside's love letters event!
In short, the prompt of 'home' really reminded me of a written piece I wrote up when I changed psychologists in 2022. I have put the written piece below (because it's quite long) but have also made a playlist which you can listen to here that compliments it for the event.
Thank you for holding the event
Home is a four letter word. So is jail.
Too often, they are one in the same. For prisoners, both physical and within their own mind, the walls around them feel like a tomb. A child raised in chaos may not see much difference between a prison riot and the shouting matches within their own house. Likewise, the disinterest, disdain or overall lack of respect and grace society shows both groups while still expecting their loyalty and respect makes them more alike than anyone would like to admit. It is no wonder we live with an oxymoron in which most released prisoners are re-incarcerated and many of the children who wish to leave home most stay the longest. Society says that actions speak louder than words, but when the great escape and happiness feels like a pipe dream compared to all you've ever known and no clear course to change that, home can be a loaded term.
Forgiveness is an eleven letter word. So is passiveness.
Too often they are confused with each other. Growing up, I was taught that “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” and that Harley Quinn and the Joker were a love story. It seemed to be this all encompassing force that overcame all. And at the centre of that? The idea of the home; the physical representation of love held up by the foundation of respect and forgiveness. And yet for so many years, I felt I never received either. Worse yet, that the lack of either was my fault for not speaking up or acknowledging the habit. For forgiveness meant allowance of a clean slate and not using past discretion that had been 'dealt with' against others, right? To love was to not keep records, to and forgiveness is a pillar of love, so how could it not?
Change is a six letter word. So is choice.
Too often people think the two are conflated; that if change is not happening that is because they have no choice. Or worse yet, that someone never had the choice to change. I've spent so much of my 20s being the first and giving my power away to those who are the second. Time has made me realise that we control both. By making choices we make change and by making changes, new choices will come to us. Furthermore, love changes over time and is not an all encompassing force, it is a choice we make over and over. So when push came to shove, I made the biggest change of my life; I chose to love myself over and over again and never let anyone disrespect me again.
Apprehension is a twelve letter word. So is convalescent.
Too often people thought that you cannot have both. That to have apprehensions was a sign that you were venturing down the wrong path. During the early days of my estrangement from family, I became 'worse' in every way to the point my loved ones feared how much longer I'd be around. Their fear spread and interventions were being had about how they were wrong to encourage me to leave and they should be sending me home; so much so that I almost agreed with them. Years later, when I could finally talk about what happened, my psychiatrist sent me several studies showing that it's common for people to fall apart when they first left toxic environments, and in fact was a sign they finally felt safe enough to start the grief and healing process. Knowing I was a swiftie, he paraphrased her quote that being fearless is not the absence of fears, but to have them and move forward anyway. He noted that healing was much the same; you never really stop missing people and times, you just keep moving forward and doing the best you can, even if you have to do it alone.
Independence is a twelve letter word. So is relationship.
Too often I thought that I could not have both. Before my mid 20s, most of my relationships consisted of others taking too much and me letting them. Those that didn't were held at arms length to avoid the 'gotcha' moment where they could do the same. If love is always selfless, independence is always selfish, and in my case, was deliberately so. I felt that relationships were compromise. and compromise was the death of independence, and with it, my hopes and dreams. I was proudly an independent woman and had accepted that relationships just weren't for me. But the more time passed, and the more my loved ones and their loved ones uplifted each other and myself, the more I realised that they were kind, patient, trusting, proud rather than envious, did not keep score and perhaps most importantly, never were self-seeking in ways that cut down the other's needs; even when I was not so towards myself. And so simultaneously slowly, yet all at once, I realised that at least some of the ideals I had been taught all along weren't wrong, just simply happened with the wrong people. My family had tried their best with the misguided extremes they were taught, but it wasn't enough. Balance is required and though it still feels fake, you really can have it all with the right people. I'm still not as good as I'd like at being in any kind of relationships. But when I look at the smiles of my loved ones, I realise that I've finally made the great escape right to where I wanted to go; home.
Home is a four letter word. So is jail. But then again, so is love.
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20 questions for fic writers
Hi, friends! I was tagged by the forever-incredible @ladyvader23- thanks for the tag, my friend!
1. How many works do you have on A03?
I have 12 works and counting!
2. What's your total A03 word count?
67,866 words (woah! More than I realized!)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
I write primarily for Star Wars, but also write for Harry Potter, Hunger Games, and believe it or not, the Simpsons! Sideshow Bob sparked something in my bestie and I that kicked off a year of non-stop Google Doc sharing and squee comments on each other's works XD
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Grounded (578)
L & V One Shots & Ficlets (554)
Convalescence (278)
Tortured Soul (191)
Come With Me (159)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I sure do! I always try to respond with a least a "omg thank you!!!" or something of the like to show my appreciation. I wish I could go more in-depth for them all, and I do for the really long ones, but I end up not always having the time or energy to pay each comment the response it deserves. As always, thank you to everyone who has commented on my stuff!
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
It's actually one I haven't posted yet (nor finished, and that's one I def want to be done before I post it). To give you context without too many spoilers, basically it's an alternate ending to ROTJ in which Vader doesn't die...but Luke does. I've been writing it on and off since my freshman year of high school and am excited about it, but damn, it's so hard to write because it makes me so sad!
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Probably Grounded! That was the first one I ever posted (during my first week of senior year of high school!) I feel like that one wrapped up nicely.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Once in a great while. Most of the hate comments I receive are digs on my characterization of Vader. One time I got a negative comment on a oneshot that I specified was part of a larger story I would recommend reading beforehand, and the commenter didn't understand why Vader was written the way he was, when in actuality, it had a lot to do with his development in the larger story. That one was a detailed hate comment and was hard to shake, but I'm learning how to let them roll off my back.
On a side note, this is partly why I don't ask for constructive criticism; I have OCD and fixate on even little comments people make that could possibly be construed as negative, real life included. I'm working on how to let them go and look at the facts before I run off with some wild tale about how someone hates me for sure. I'm growing and learning how to manage, but like I said in my AO3 A/Ns, OCD is a bitch ;)
9. Do you write smut?
Sure do XD It's pretty much all Skysolo (which you will see in an upcoming Skysolo story I'm almost done with *wink wink* ;))
10. Do you write crossovers?
I haven't before, but I'm entertaining the idea of some kind of Star Wars/Harry Potter type thing. To be completely honest, it's inspired by the Sims I made in Sims 4 lol XD. I had my HP Sims meet my Star Wars Sims and it was so funny to see how they all interacted. Luna immediately grabbed a book off of Leia's bookshelf, Anakin began cooking dinner, and Harry and Luke were talking privately in a separate room from the group- I like to imagine they were talking about how hard it is to be "the hero" and have the world literally depending on you. If I do end up writing this, I'll be sure to post XD *cue Spongebob's "when worlds collide" lol*
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of, so hopefully that answer is no.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No, but would be open to working with someone to translate!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yes! Nothing I've posted, but I co-write Simpsons stuff with my real life bestie. Sideshow Bob has us in a chokehold XD
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
I love Skysolo and always will, but I think Finnick and Annie from Hunger Games takes the cake for me. I could go on, but the way they've both been through similar trauma and care for one another gets me big time. And Finnick is one of my all-time favorite characters, so I'm a little bias XD
15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Tbh, both of my Whumptobers lol. I bit off more than I could chew both years between that and school, work, life. Hopefully I'll plan a little better this year and will be able to finish!
16. What are your writing strengths?
I think I write hurt/comfort well, and it sounds weird, but I write crying pretty well too lol. I think I'm getting better at imagery and sentence structure too.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I struggle with writing action, and I tend to write run-on sentences. I'm hoping to work on this for future fics!
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I haven't done this personally, but I have a lot of respect for others who do. I think it's wild people can speak a whole other language period, but using that language in all its differences stylistically to tell a story? Absolutley amazing.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Hunger Games! I wrote Finnick becoming like a big brother for Prim after the war (flash back to me furiously typing out hurt/comfort scenes on my ipod notes in middle school LOL XD)
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
I have a special place in my heart for Convalescence; I live for that kind of hurt/comfort and angst, and I'm excited to finish it.
Thanks for reading if you did! I'll tag @spell-cleaver and @starr234, but don't feel obligated if this doesn't interest you!
May the Force be with you, friends!!!
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I hope I'm not too late and asks are still open. But I wondered if you had any more thoughts/ideas/scenes/etc for the Mummy au? I totally love your contribution of Booker and Nicky as brothers and what that dynamic would look like. BAMF!Nile and Librarian!Booker give me life. Thanks for all your wonderful au ideas and fic!
Oh man, you are NEVER too late for Asks and they are currently open! In the meantime, allow me to ramble about my PURE AND UTTER LOVE FOR THE FRASER/WEISZ VERSIONS OF “THE MUMMY.”
You see, I had a mad HUGE crush on Brendan Fraser when the first one came out. Except it turned out that the entire damn cast was so beautiful (OMG, the Oded Fehr hotness. So glad they brought him back for the sequel). They all have wonderful chemistry too, and rather similar to the group dynamics of The Old Guard.
On top of that, I have always maintained that it’s Evie who is the real protagonist of the movie. Everyone else stays pretty much the same to their characters as when we’re introduced to them. Meanwhile, it’s Evie who goes from librarian to adventuress. She is thrown into all sorts of situations where she can prove to the world that librarians are just as damn smart and necessary as the brawns of Rick, the cunning of her brother Johnathan and the honorable warrior of Ardeth Bay.
It’s also Evie who comes out of the other end of the wild-ass adventure a changed person. It’s even more obvious in the sequel, where she takes a level in badassery. The best part about that? Rick adores her for it and they are clearly in a happy marriage versus the tired trope of married couples being all bitter.
(I pretend the third movie NEVER HAPPENED, you hear me?!)
ANYWAYS, As Evie and Jonathan grew up rich (the museum curator clearly says to Evie that the only reason he puts up with her is that her parents were the largest donors to the museum), I figure Booker can grow up pretty wealthy too.
Sébastien le Livre is an only child who spends his life around his Action and Adventure!French Parents who have moved to Egypt to be archeologists. While they are world famous archeologists? They’re not the best parents. For they drag Sébastien along on their archeological excursions because they don’t know any better. So Sébastien spends all of his childhood time around his parents and their eccentric adult friends. Yes, they should have sent Sébastien to boarding school, like other rich folks of their time. But what kind of boring-ass education is that as compared to going out into the real world for field study?
Sébastien’s field experience makes him brilliant child. Yet it also turns him into a socially awkward little boy. He’s rarely around other kids or attending school since he out on digs with his parents. On top of that, when his parents can’t bring him on digs, they leave him home in their great big house with his nanny, tutor and the servants for company. Since Sébastien doesn’t have kid friends, he’s always taking in stray animals, rescuing birds that fell out of their nests and doing precious sorts of things like that. He also LOVES reading. He’s fluent in French, English, Latin, Greek and conversational Arabic. Oh, and he can also read hieroglyphs with ease.
Again, Sébastien is a weird kid.
When Sébastien is around say, nine or so, he catches seven year-old orphan Nicky in the parlor of his and his parent’s grand house breaking in and trying to steal things. His parents are out of town on yet another dig, so Sébastien’s randomly wandering around the house by himself. Instead of panicking, Sébastien just invites spooked Nicky to kitchen for tea and sandwiches out of the sheer delight of having another child to talk to. Thoroughly used to Sébastien and his soft spot for strays, the kitchen staff sits the two boys in the corner and lets Nicky wolf down whatever he wants. Nicky eventually leaves after Sébastien swears he won’t tell his parents about the stealing. But only if Nicky promises to come back tomorrow to hang out with Booker.
Nicky actually shows up the next day. Mostly due to the promise of food. While he thinks Sébastien is clearly odd, he also realizes he’s just as lonely as he is (after all, street kid orphan Nicky hasn’t survived this long on his own without being able to see people for what they truly are). But whereas Nicky is aggressive with acting out due to his abandonment issues, Sébastien tends to implode on himself due to his own parental abandonment issues. Basically, they balance each other out.
Three weeks later, Sébastien’s parents come back from their latest dig down in Alexandria. They find Sébastien playing with this street kid out on the extensive grounds of their estate. Shocked at seeing their usually quiet and withdrawn son having a blast with this Italian ragamuffin of a child, due to being the impulsive types, Booker’s parents decide to adopt Nicky. So Sébastien gains a new brother. No matter that they’re not related by blood, Nicky is his brother.
Since Sébastien loves to read, he enjoys reading out loud to Nicky (who is nearly illiterate since he’s an orphan who never had formal education before being adopted). While Sébastien and Nicky have their own rooms at their parents’ estate, Nicky will often sneak into Sébastien’s room at night so that his older brother can read to him. Their nanny usually finds the two boys asleep together with a book sitting between them. Sébastien also helps Nicky learn to read far better than their tutor does. Mostly because Sébastien is so patient with his new little brother.
It’s because of this that Nicky comes up with the affectionate nickname of “Booker” for his new big brother.
Booker graduates from boarding school and attends The Sorbonne back in Paris. While he misses Nicky something fierce, everything will work itself out because he’ll be graduating from The Sorbonne at the same time Nicky will be finishing boarding school. That way, they both be archeologists together and follow in their parents’ footsteps. Booker plans to focus on the research side of things from either libraries or teaching. Nicky plans to actually go on digs and bring back things for Booker to study and catalogue.
Booker does eventually get sent off to British style boarding school in Cairo, as is expected of a wealthy child of his class. A couple of years later, Nicky is sent off to the same boarding school.
Nicky's always getting into fights. Mostly due to the other kids bullying him for his accent, heritage and defending Booker against bullies too. The only reason Nicky doesn’t’ get kicked out is because Booker is able to charm the teachers into looking the other way (remember, he was around mostly adults before he started attending school) when it comes to punishing Nicky. Also, their parents donate a ton of money to the school.
Except the Great War breaks out the same year Nicky graduates from boarding school. He signs up with his school chums for “a great adventure,” like all of the other young men of means did in the opening days of the war.
However, Booker refuses to come along. He’s studied history all of his life and intellectually knows how terrible war can be. As far as he’s concerned, the war is stupid. People are going to get themselves killed over all of these royal families of Europe who refuse to apologize to each other over the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. He’s certainly not throwing his life away to get shot at, thank you very much. Besides, he didn’t grow up with much in the way of friends or camaraderie among the other boys while he was away at school. So he doesn’t feel like he’s going to miss out on anything.
Nicky thinks Booker is a coward who has no appreciation for a right proper great adventure. Booker thinks Nicky is a headstrong fool who doesn’t value the opportunities their parents have given them. They part ways on bad terms.
Booker eventually relents and writes to Nicky whenever he can. However, he never hears from his little brother. The only way he knows Nicky is alive is through their parents, who Nicky constantly writes to in Cairo. At the same time, Booker doesn’t return to Cairo because it would remind him too much of how much he misses his brother. So he throws himself into his work at the Egyptian Antiquities department of the Louvre. He also tries to ignore the raging war moving closer and closer to Paris.
Wars come and go, antiquities do not.
Except Nicky suddenly goes missing during the Battle of Verdun.
Still in Paris, Booker is dealing with his side of suffering through the war as a civilian. He suddenly gets frantic word from his parents (who still live in Cairo) that Nicky is MIA. The panic immediately starts to set in. He regrets that he didn’t do more to communicate with his little brother while he was away at war. To assuage his guilt, he goes down to the war office every single day to find out where the hell Nicky is.
After a few frantic weeks, Nicky turns up alive but injured. As a result, he’s evacuated to a Parisian hospital. Booker takes a sabbatical at the Louvre to attend to his beloved brother there. Nicky almost dies of an infection but pulls through. Too weak to go back to fighting, Nicky is honorably discharged and goes to live with Booker to convalesce.
Nicky’s not the same vivacious, passionate young man he was before the war. He’s the only one of a handful of his unit to survive both death and not losing a limb or having parts of his face blown off. So there’s the survivor’s guilt. He constantly has nightmares about his time on the front and in No Man’s Land where he wakes up screaming. Bouts of rage and grief hit him without warning.
In order to deal with the crushing swirl of ugliness that’s festering within him, Nicky starts spiraling. He starts heavily drinking. He skips meals. He starts hitting up gambling dens and whorehouses that can make your every wish come true in Paris.
Booker has no idea how to cope with it all. So he once again throws himself into his work. He feels disgusted with himself for silently judging his brother’s actions all while he absolutely has no clue how to deal with his own guilt of not being by Nicky’s side during the war. Perhaps it would have been better to have died together than exist in the sea of darkness they are trapped within now.
Within two years, the war is over. Everyone celebrates only to see the rise of the Spanish Flu Pandemic. It ends up killing Booker and Nicky’s parents, who die within days of each other back in Cairo.
Now, Booker and Nicky are alone in the world and with only each other to depend on. Wanting to escape all the pain they’ve seen in Paris, they head back to Cairo to put their parents’ estate in order. Since their parents split their inheritance evenly between them, they’ve inherited a hell of a lot of money. At the same time, money doesn’t fix their psychological problems.
Yet while they both have a difficult time dealing with their parents’ death and each other’s war trauma? It turns over a new milestone for them. For it allows Booker and Nicky to make their peace with each other since they're the only ones left of their family. They vow that they’ll try to go back to their dream of working together as an archeologist team.
Unfortunately, it never happens. Nicky is still dealing with the PTSD and acting out. Booker tries to manage his brother’s psychological issues and balance his work at the Cairo Museum. Problem is, it’s a job he knows he only managed to secure out of pity since their parents were the largest donors to the museum. The nepotism stings and makes Booker feel inadequate. All despite that he's a damn good researcher and brilliant at languages and hieroglyphics.
Booker once again throws himself into his work at the museum. He has no social life, rarely goes out for fun and no relationship lasts for more than a few months at a time. For he’s grieving his parents and the shell of a man Nicky has become. Meanwhile, Nicky drinks, gambles and whores his way through Egypt in between digs with folks no better than grave robbers. But he always comes back home to stay with Booker in the nice house they own together.
Booker is always there for Nicky and vice versa. No matter how hard it gets for both of them to deal with the losses in their lives, they are and will always be brothers to the end.
And then one day, Nicky finds Booker in the Cairo museum after he’s been rejected by the Benbridge Scholars yet again. All after Booker’s ruined the library and knocked over all the bookshelves after he nearly killed himself trying to get off that damn ladder while filing away books.
Nicky reveals to Booker an odd little box that he found on a dig down in Thebes. Turns out the box contains a map to the lost city of Hamunaptra…
#Book of nile#my asks#booker le livre#nicolo of genoa#the mummy au#booker x nile#the great war#sadness#because even in AUs we gotta have that angst#fanfic#fanfiction#the old guard#why are my answers to my asks so damn long tho?
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1/2 Oh my word, that was so good and sad! Just Geralt's repetitive, futile screaming - I bet threw himself against the walls too. Poor, poor Jaskier. And the line about both their voices being nearly gone - I'm going to imagine a happy (well, happier) ending where G does manage to free them and spirits J off to some safe cave for convalescence, and they'reboth desperate to speak to each other but neither can for the first few days at least. Just nuzzling and pressing hands to foreheads while
pressing hands to foreheads while they let raw throats heal. Geralt's will heal faster, of course, and he'll get a chance to repeat everything he tried to tell Jaskier through the walls (except maybe he really is deaf? Oh god, that would change everything for a bard). What if the guards had never even told Geralt that they'd deafened Jaskier (I'm picturing ear-drum puncturing) and during the time that Jaskier's still not able to talk, Geralt doesn't realize he's not ignoring him because of trauma, he literally can't hear? All those years Jaskier wanted Geralt to talk to him, and now Geralt's willing to say anything, everything, and it's too late. That's one of the things I love about your writing - it is always so rich in new ideas and makes me think about other things! Thank you for posting and do be good to yourself tonight.
if only you could hear my voice
jaskier.
jaskier, you’re safe now, you’re okay.
we’re safe. it’s okay.
i’ll get you out of here - gods, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean - it’s okay, you’re okay.
can you hear me?
you’re okay.
it’ll be okay.
- - -
jaskier.
stay awake, jaskier, stay - stay awake...
i’m sorry.
stay awake.
- - -
look, we’re safe, we’re okay... here, let me - let me help you down, come on, we can stay in this cave a while...
i’ll build a fire.
it’ll be okay.
- - -
can you hear me?
can you - i’m sorry. can you hear me? i know it has to hurt, i’m sorry, i’ll... i’ll get you potions.
just lie down, okay? lie down.
jaskier?
can you hear me?
- - -
i’m sorry.
i thought they... i thought they were lying.
i shouldn’t have let you come with me.
- - -
i know it hurts, i’m - i’m sorry, just hold still, i have to clean this -
i’m sorry, jaskier, i’m sorry...
just... fuck, just breathe -
why am i even trying?
breathe.
i’m sorry.
- - -
just sleep for now... best thing you can do.
it’ll hurt less in the morning.
- - -
i should’ve gotten us out earlier.
i’m sorry.
- - -
i know you can’t hear me.
you probably... you probably have no idea what i’m saying right now, and that’s... that’s okay...
i just. i need to say it. i need you to know how sorry i am.
for all of this - everything.
you wouldn’t be deaf if it wasn’t for me.
you’d have a normal life.
i’m sorry.
- - -
i need you to know i love you.
should’ve fucking told you before, huh?
bet that’s what you’d say.
if you could hear me.
i should’ve told you before.
i love you.
i... i guess i have for a while.
i’m sorry.
- - -
you’re starting to laugh again.
it’s... thank fuck.
i missed it. didn’t realize how much.
#geraskier#gerlion#geralt x dandelion#geralt x jaskier#whump#my fics#answered asks#skyleen#i love you
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𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷
CHAPTER ONE
1940
March 13th, 1940
MEETING GWENDOLINE had been a blessing. For those nurses who were going to be moved overseas, there had been an orientation meeting at the university.
Alice was not supposed to be there on that particular day. She had applied to work in one of France's convalescing hospitals, but her application had been misfiled, and she was sent to be a front-line field nurse instead.
She was terrified, and her mother was on the verge of hysteria, but she knew that this was something that she could easily back out of - nor did she want to. So there she was, twenty minutes early in a lecture hall, equipped with a notepad and a pencil and trembling in her shoes.
This was not an unfamiliar room to her. One of her first-year English lectures had been held in this very room. How young she'd been then, how self-assured. She'd always wanted to be a writer, and she'd been fortunate enough that her family had just enough money for her to go to school and get her degree. And, while she may not have graduated with a masters, as her mother had hoped, she had gained a broader knowledge, a more analytical mind, and a deeper love of literature than she had ever had before.
She'd spent the previous year working in secretarial positions, which she'd adapted very quickly. Perhaps not as creatively satisfying as she had anticipated, but given the state of the economy, she was thankful for the job.
And then the war broke out.
She hadn't been the only one early for the lecture. There was another girl already there. Leaning casually against the front desks and chatting with a man Alice assumed to be the lecturer. A doctor in a clean white lab coat, not some army clerk like the one who had messed up Alice's papers.
She thought that might be something to soothe her mother's anxieties. She could be heading to a place where she could die at any moment, but there would still be eligible young men around.
The other girl seemed to already know the doctor. They were both quite relaxed as they discussed the many types of suturing materials that would be available. Alice wasn't trying to eavesdrop on the conversation, however, it was a very quiet room. Alice had no idea what suturing material even was.
She opened her notebook, flipped to a fresh page. At least she knew how to sew. She was a pretty dab hand with a needle, but she refused to consider the difference between stitching a garment and sewing human tissue at this time.
Other women started filing into the room. The lecturer patted his companion's arm and nodded towards the desks. The young lady in question slid onto the seat next Alice. Alice felt as if she was being scrutinized for a little while before the woman extended her hand in greeting.
"Gwendoline Richardson."
"Alice Harding?" So unsure was she that her own name came out as a question. "It sounds like you know what you're doing."
Gwen tossed her hair proudly. "I ought to. I'm going to be a doctor. I deferred medical school for this."
Not only was Alice impressed that this young woman was foregoing medical school in order to serve in the army, but she was also impressed that she was going to be a doctor in the first place. Alice wasn't a dud; in fact, she thought she was fairly smart, as her college scores demonstrated, but she was immediately intellectually frightened by the woman in front of her.
Intimidated in a lot of ways really. Gwen was intelligent and attractive, and determined to go to the one place Alice was terrified off. "Why go to the front line, when you could go anywhere?"
Gwen shrugged and set down a notebook on her desk. When Alice glanced through the book to locate a blank page, she noticed anatomical diagrams and illustrations, as well as what she assumed were chemical structures.
"I want to be a surgeon. I go to one of the military hospitals, even one of the ones in America, and I get stuck changing bandages and wiping noses."
That honestly didn't sound too bad to Alice.
"If I go to the front, I can get real time in a theatre." Gwen leaned forward over her notebook, eyes almost shining with determination. "After all this is over, I'll have more experience than most of the men in my class. It will be harder for them to deny me a good residency. I might just be able to escape the drudgery of general practice."
From the set of the woman's jaw, Alice assumed she had put a lot of thought into this. She had probably followed up on her paperwork instead of trusting it would be alright. Still it wasn't the 'we have to take care of our boys' or 'we have to do all we can in these dark times' Alice had expected. It didn't bear any resemblance to the poster slogans the other volunteers Alice had talked to spouted."Oh, that's..."
"Terribly noble of me. I know." Gwen winked and neatly crossed her ankles, her attitude of entitlement matched by her sense of comedy. "What about you? Doing your patriotic duty? Trying to run away, but discovering that the circus is not a liable career?"
"Something in the middle, I suppose. I want to help, but the idea of going to the front line scares me." That was an understatement. She was petrified.
However, she was going to go through with it.
She was sick and tired of reading about exciting things but never actually doing anything thrilling. The universe had made its voice heard. She was about to embark on a journey. A definitely uncomfortable, possibly lethal journey.
"You stick with me, honey." The other woman reached over and patted her knee. "We'll get through this. And call me Gwen. Gwendoline is my grandmother."
Alice emerged from the darkness of the lecture hall two hours later, rather shell-shocked. Nurses were supposed to perform a lot of things, and she had no idea how to do any of them.
Gwen patted her on the shoulder. "It is going to be alright. You're smart and tougher than you think. You can do this."
"Did you want to get tea?" Alice offered. "You can talk me through proper hand washing again."
"I would, but I have a prior engagement at the train station I really can't miss." Gwen replied, distracted.
A young soldier stood on the pavement, his bicycle resting against his side with a duffel bag attached on the rear. Gwen ran over to him and encircled his neck with her arms. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face against her neck.
As she saw her new friend ride away on the bike's handlebars, Alice felt a twinge of sympathetic sadness. She wasn't envious of such a relationship. Having to say goodbye to her father was difficult enough. Saying goodbye to a lover, she could never imagine.
As she walked to the university bookshop, the notion haunted her. Not for the first time she was struck by the terrible waste of it all. All the lives lost, all the families torn apart, all the heartbreak, and for what?
The bookstore itself was near empty, so different from the hub that it had been when she was in school.
Alice walked through the aisles to the shelf of medical literature, mentally calculating her limited resources. Though she had hoped to acquire a duplicate of everything, she realised it was impossible.
She hadn't taken biology when she was in school, so started with a copy of the Red Cross First Aid Textbook, and found herself glancing between The Principles and Practice of Nursing, and The Textbook of Surgery for Nurses.
It was more than she intended to spend, but she discovered one secondhand for a decent price and decided to buy all four, planning to start her studies as soon as she got home.
November 28th, 1940
The area around Dover was lush and green, and it was a lovely place to be. The British camp had a more laid-back vibe than Alice had anticipated. Sure, there was a sense of unease.
But it also seemed more like a vacation than she had anticipated. The nurses had all taken a trip down to the cliffs the day before. It was difficult to be scared when staring out at such a breathtaking landscape.
Alice didn't know why everyone had warned her about winter on the English coast. It really wasn't any worse than the weather back home. Especially not today. The sun had come out after a week of cold, soaking rain. The nursing staff were taking advantage. They'd grabbed a pile of supply boxes at the camp's border and were enjoying the autumn light. Gwen's yarn was in Alice's hands as she struggled to unravel a terrible coil in her knitting.
This scarf appeared to be heading in the same direction as the mittens before it, unraveling completely as Gwen uttered every swear word she'd learned during their time at war — as well as a couple Alice was pretty sure she made up. Martha was smiling over many folded sheets on the next box over.
Martha's reading was enough to divert Alice's attention away from Gwen's knitting problems. Martha was intelligent, talented, and charming.
Alice had wanted to be her friend since the first time she saw her beaming out from behind her starched white wimple with the type of apple pink cheeks she had assumed were done up for advertising until she saw them in person.
She was sure Martha would be an amazing friend, she just had to initiate some kind of conversation. And maybe pinch Gwen for whatever that look she got every time she caught Alice watching Martha. It wasn't helping, whatever it meant.
A couple of people emerged from the woods. An older man leaning heavily on the arm stretched over her shoulders, obviously unable to maintain his own weight, and a lady with curly brown hair clutching a worried crimson spot on her abdomen.
Army medics rushed in, catching them both before they could collapse.
"I need to speak to command and use your radio as soon as possible." The woman gasped, more red spreading over her hand every time she moved.
Gwen dropped her knitting and leapt into action. "Right now, you need a hospital slightly more than you need a radio. Boys, get them to the tent. Ladies, our life of leisure is at an end for the day."
Alice had never liked Lance Corporal Swainston. He was stuffy, always unpleasantly sweaty, and he stared. She liked him even less right now.
He was getting in the way of saving the life of a British woman who was bleeding out under her hands. It didn't seem to matter to Alice whether she was a spy or not. If she was a spy, they'd certainly want her alive so they could question her.
Gwen bravely confronted the man. He was a half-head taller than she was, and she wasn't about to give him an inch. "How about I do my job and make sure she doesn't bleed out from the bullet wound in her stomach, and you do your job and figure out if she's one of ours or not?"
The Lance Corporal wasn't quite as concerned as Alice had imagined. He grumbled and scratched his temples, as if he was the one who was being irritated. "Nurse Richardson. As the highest-ranking officer at this camp-"
"Actually, you're not," Gwen replied, interrupting him. "Doctor Jones has the rank of Major. In reality, I hold the rank of Captain. And as long as we're both in the hospital, I'll have the upper hand. So, I recommend that you leave my ward and see what's out there. If you can't contact someone on the radio to validate that code,"
Gwen turned her back determinedly on the man, making her dismissal clear. "Alice, Martha, how are we looking?"
"He's stable. I think it is just exhaustion and delayed shock." Martha said, inspecting the older man's pupils.
Alice spoke up quickly. "I've got a much bigger concern. With pressure, I think I've brought the bleeding under control, but we'll need at least a unit." She fixed her gaze on the woman she was supporting. Since there had been no time for introductions, Alice was thinking of their patient, who was becoming paler by the second. "Do you know what your blood type is? Normally, it's on the men's dog tags, but I'm guessing you don't have those."
"Fraid I rather missed that step. I've been terribly busy the last few months." Their guest's teeth chattered. Her whole body wracked with shivers.
Alice leaned harder on the wound. The remains of ripped sutures were pulling out and aggravating the situation. "Over here, I need blankets and a hot water bottle. She's in a state of shock."
"Shock. Oh. That's rather bad isn't it?" Their guest's voice faded to a weak tremor and her eyes fluttered.
"Nothing we can't handle," Alice said, smiling as reassuringly as she could.
Their guest passed out after that. It was probably for the best. The next bit got a little messy.
December 3rd, 1940
Their patient shook in her cot. She lay there for a few moments, blinking as she attempted to get her bearings, before attempting to pull herself free from her covers.
Alice set down her text book and hurried to her bedside. "Oh good. You're awake. We don't have a female ward here, so you're bunking in with us for now."
The woman groaned and let Alice help her into a sitting position. "Is it normal to hurt this much?"
Alice grimaced in sympathy. "Morphine is in short supply out here I'm afraid. I can get you an aspirin."
"I'd rather have a whiskey."
"We might be able to help with that too." Gwen said with a mischievous wink. "Don't tell the men."
Gwen rummaged in her footlocker and emerged with a bottle of amber and three camp mugs a few minutes later. Although the bottle of rye whiskey was theoretically illegal, the officers looked the other way as long as the nurses behaved themselves. After all, whiskey may be 'medicinal.'
The Matron occasionally joins them for a drink. She poured a finger's worth of coffee into each of the glasses. The third received only a smidgen of a mouthful. She handed Alice the light mug before handing one to their patient.
"I'm Sister Richardson and this is Sister Harding," Gwen said, obviously giving up on the mystery of not being properly introduced. "Gwen and Alice if we're going to be friends. And the unconscious blonde over there is Martha Greene."
Martha was having a well-deserved nap after tending to the woman's companion, and she was presently lying face-down on her cot with her covers drawn up to her ears.
The brunette woman smiled and breathed in the vapors off her drink. "Agent Carter. Peggy, since you saved my life and got me whiskey." Peggy raised her tin mug in a toast. "To new friends in terrible situations."
"To friends." Alice and Gwen echoed, clinking the three cups together.
Peggy took a sip and let out a long appreciative sigh. "Any chance of that radio any time soon? It was rather urgent."
Alice chuckled and licked the alcohol from her lips. She had thought that might be the first question once she was awake. "Once you've finished your drink, one of us will walk you over. Lance Corporal Swainston was apparently reprimanded for stalling instead of immediately reporting you and your companion."
Agent Carter pursed her lips and took a tiny sip of her whiskey. "I hate to say I'm pleased."
Gwen smirked over the rim of her mug. "But it is kind of pleasing."
Peggy and the Doctor stayed with them for three days before they were able to leave. They passed the time by playing chess and swapping horror stories about their most worst college professors.
When they eventually put her onto an aircraft, Alice was saddened to see her depart. The nurses who had hunkered down in their dorms came out to the airstrip to see her go. No one expected her to write. It just wasn't the sort of thing she could do in her job.
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