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#you're extremely correct #wear your vest [wayne rigsby & grace van pelt];

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absolutely stellar

#jsfkjsdf jane is the last one #[professor verse placeholder]; #et voilà [janeisms];

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Heart Shaped Tea Bags from absolutelee

#oh #cute cute #like a hug in a cup [likes]; #we escaped together [angela ruskin jane];

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going a little insane remembering jane drew rj's smiley on his hospital room wall (presumably with his own blood).

#self harm for ts #ik jane is Not Okay but there are times when i'm reminded he's Really Not Okay and it hurts all over again #out of tea [ooc];

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          Jane had gone to fetch them snacks from the vending machines. He was taking a while, but Grace didn't mind because she wasn't all that hungry anyway. Any snacking would be stress-snacking (which, she was, by the way, way more stressed than she wanted to let on). Rigsby was as fine as he could be after getting shot, their perp was in jail, and all things considered, they'd tied up their latest case pretty neatly. It could have been way worse. And that was kind of the problem.

          Grace shifted in the hard waiting room chair, squirming out the pins and needles in her thighs and encouraging a little bloodflow back into her legs, and her attention slid naturally to the still, quiet that was Connor. To her surprise, his LED was flashing. It made her sit straighter, then lean gently into his peripheral.

          "Are you okay?" she asked, realizing only now that she hadn't yet. She'd been so caught up in Rigsby and her own worry that she'd completely forgotten to check on him. Rigsby might not be his team, exactly, but Grace considered them friends enough. Here, she smiled, turned her knees toward him. Full attention.

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Connor sat beside Grace quietly, in the waiting room. They hadn't needed, necessarily, to come out here, but Agent Rigsby had wanted them to, while the nurses did necessary but mildly embarrassing things (changed out his catheter, helped him dress that side of his body), and so here they were. Connor would not be here for long, though he had dedicated 35 minutes to this visit. His LED was flickering, as it had been since he'd first arrived, though he was yet to voice anything besides greeting and queries after Agent Rigsby's health.

It wasn't his place to ask, or to apologise, when Rigsby was still injured in a hospital bed. It was something that was bothering him - but he did not apologise directly, to either Agent. (If either of them wanted to know what was going on in his head, they would have to ask directly.)

#detectiveconnor

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photo: David Castenson

#like a hug in a cup [likes];

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you and me both patrick

#:( #the charlatan [self];

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nothing wakes my patrick jane muse up faster than thinking about his thirst for revenge. crazy how that drives even my muse.

...and scrambled eggs. he wakes up for a good thought about scrambled eggs.

#not quite related but i've been watching columbo #and there's this line (which was actually a mistake but they kept it bc it was funny) where columbo is like #''i'll tell you what the secret is to a good omelet: no eggs just milk'' (he meant it the other way around) #and idk i think. columbo and jane would have interesting conversations about eggs. #i play it in my head sometimes. it makes me laugh. #and then it makes me sad bc columbo has his wife and kid and jane... ah. :( #idk. contrasts. pain pain pain. #out of tea [ooc];

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Whenever I see an Ivan Aivazovski painting the sea monster in me goes absolutely feral

#...hm... something something... jane always being related to the sea / always returning to the ocean #something something... the captain ahab and moby dick comparison that lives in my head all the time #teacups and tarot cards [aesthetic]; #like a hug in a cup [likes];

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@ofkasterborous

          It was supposed to be a quick trip. Hop the the Amtrak at Sacramento Station, end up in Emeryville a little over two hours later. Two and a half, maybe, if the train was late. She'd done so dozens of times on other vacations and could probably do it a dozen times more in her sleep, to the point that the trip itself was almost boring now. Or was. Right now, Grace was sorely missing those long two hours thumbing through magazines she didn't really want to read. Be careful what you wish for, right?

          "Hurry," she told him, wondering why she was trusting him to go out alone at all. They'd met only about forty minutes ago, stopped to chat over pre-made sandwiches in the dining car, the dining car where they still were, now upturned. He'd seemed charming and a little silly then, but now he was all business, all intensity. It wasn't a look Grace was used to seeing on a civillian. "And be careful, okay?"

          Grace watched him pick his way over the mess of plates, and cups, and shattered glass into the next car, into the flickering lights and clinging dark. Then she waited. And waited. The Doctor (just 'the Doctor', he had insisted) had been gone for almost ten minutes when Grace began to grow anxious. Could he have come to any trouble? Maybe it was the conductor, maybe he was hurt. Or maybe their situation was more precarious than either of them had anticipated. Maybe they were dangling into a sinkhole. She'd seen one on the news once; a big hole had simply opened up underneath a highway and swallowed half a dozen cars in seconds before anyone could realize what was happening. Maybe it was like that.

          The thought twisted uneasily in her belly and she told herself if the Doctor didn't come back in five, then she'd go look for him. She'd...

           Someone in the passenger car behind moaned. Crap. Of course. The other passengers. Some of them must be waking up and many, she suspected, hurt like herself. Worse, her mind offered, some might be trapped.

           "Hello?" Grace refolded the cardigan and pressed it tight to her side as she made herself rise. "Hello? Is someone there?"

          The train groaned and shuddered with her footsteps. The moan came again.

          "My name is Grace Van Pelt." She winced as she hauled one leg over the doorway, then the other. "There was a doctor with me. He went to check on the conductor, but he'll be back soon. Are you hurt?"

          The lights at her feet flickered, just enough to see for a second or two. Grace gasped. Ahead, a body was slumped between the seats, but that wasn't what had startled her.

          "Are you hurt?" again, a little louder. Grace reached the first seat and carefully swept her toe in front of her, seeking. The lights popped and flashed again, illuminating the car for one precious second, and she saw she had been right. When she had boarded the train an hour ago, it had been full. Now, it was completely empty, void of any sign of life. Save the single, unmoving shape ahead, and the streak of something dark smeared down the length of the car.

          "Doctor?" Grace called, though she didn't really expect an answer. "Doctor, I think I've found another injured passenger!"

          The shape moved then, and this time she could hear it clearly: "Help... me..."

          Unable to ignore it, Grace hurried now ("Doctor!" Where is he?). She guided herself through the dark by the chairs overhead, crouching and feeling lower once she guessed she was close and-- There! Her fingers brushed the passenger's shoulder.

          "My name is Grace Van Pelt," she repeated. "I'm a police officer. A doctor is coming and..."

          "Help me... please, help..." The body shifted under her touch. There was a terrible wheezing. "The train..."

          "I know, I know. Don't worry about the train right now. We're going to help get you out of here," she promised. "Can you tell me your name?"

          Cold, wet fingers encircled her wrist. "Move... move... Must... keep... moving..."

          "As soon as the Doctor gets here," Grace said. Their grip was coming strong. It was beginning to hurt. "He'll be able to take care of you."

          Tighter. Colder. Pain began to spike up her arm. Grace hissed and tried to pull back. The passenger wouldn't let go.

          "Easy, hey, easy. I'm not going to leave you."

          "Move, move..."

          Grace was beginning to panic. It felt like they were grabbing her with both hands now, trying to snap her arm in half. "Ow, ow! Hey, okay, stop-- Stop--"

          Just as she tried to pry the passenger's hands off of her arm, the cars began to light up one by one as if a switch had flipped. Grace looked down at the passenger as light flooded the car, and screamed.

          The passenger's skin was flushed bright red, their shirt stained with something black and viscous, and their hands weren't hands at all. Wrapped around Grace's forearm was a thick, red tentacle, leaking the same dark, oily liquid that covered the passenger's shirt.

"Don't leave."

“I’m coming back.” The answer was immediate - the Doctor’s hands lifted to find Grace’s shoulders, hands steady, grip firm. He ducked, to catch her eye in the dark of the too-still train, turned sideways and off its tracks: he needed to figure out what had happened to their conductor, and also - to some extent - to their location: it was pitch black outside. It had been the middle of the day, when he and Grace Van Pelt had boarded the train in the middle of Sacramento, California. Maybe something blocking the windows? Or they somewhere else, altogether. “Grace.” Demanding her attention - he didn’t get it - the Doctor remembered she was a police officer (”Oh, no! Grace! I liked you!” he had complained, when he’d found out, making conversation, twenty minutes ago) and he said, “Van Pelt. Look at me. I’m coming back.” Did she hear him?  He checked, and waited for her to nod, and then his hand shot down to remind her to put pressure on her bunched-up cardigan; they were using it as a makeshift bandage. “Keep pressure on that. I’m just going to check where we are.” 

#idk idk idk i got carried away and am 110% winging it #this was going to go one way then spun in a totally other direction midway #lmk if it is too much or not a direction you wanted #ofkasterborous

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THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE — 1.02, Open Casket 

#memory palace [thoughts];

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—Smallville, “Lexmas”

#reblogging this purely bc for a hot second i thought that was a young amanda righetti #and. i realize this character is clearly not supposed to be a teenager but. #she would possibly make a good teen grace fc. #does anyone else see it or is it just me skdlfks #out of tea [ooc];

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@parameddic idk i love to see tk suffer

"—Mr. Strand, I know that this will be hard for you..."

Grace kept her hands folded neatly in front of her. There were a lot of things she loved about her job, but talking to the bereaved was not one of them. It made her feel cruel; salt to the wounds that they had not even begun to lick clean. So, hands, neatly clasped. It kept her from reaching out to touch him like she wanted to.

"...but I'm going to need you to tell me exactly what you remember happening that night. Okay? Whenever you're ready."

#parameddic

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@parameddic

          "Hey! Wow, long time no see!" Grace met him with a too-wide grin and a sudden, seeking touch against his shoulder. "How has work been?"

          He won't know her. Can't, because they have never met before, and she worried that it was obvious. With a little nudge, she urged him to turn around, to walk with her, and hissed, "A man has been following me and I forgot my phone in my hotel. He's seriously creeping me out. Can you tell me where the nearest police station is?"

#h/o you get 2 for tk bc i couldn't make up my mind #parameddic

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@idcnticxl

          "Pasta's about ready," Grace chimed from her kitchen. The smell of oregano, homemade sauce, and garlic bread was full and warm in the apartment, and she couldn't help a little childish excitement. Having Nova over felt a little like having a kid sister over to entertain, and it was a great excuse to treat them both to something more indulgent than she usually made for herself for dinner (serving a teenager steamed vegetables and whole grain rice was a crime on the weekends, definitely).

          Grace circled around into the living room and propped her elbows on the back of the couch.

          "You pick out a movie yet?"

#ayayaya there are probably mistakes here but i keep getting interrupted lol #if it doesn't work lmk!! #idcnticxl

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logging into old tumblr accounts / gmails to keep them from being deleted (google is deleting old emails btw) and ran across my old metacrisis doctor and rose tyler rp accounts from 2013 🥺

i was so earnest then wow.

#the temptation to write them again......... ooughh #i have too many though

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hmm

bonk the heart if you'd like a wee thing from grace van pelt. i think i have decided to move her from her solo blog here as a guest muse.

#i love her but like. she doesn't really get enough traffic anymore to warrant her own blog. #and i keep forgetting she exists skdflskds #out of tea [ooc];