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littlemisspascal · 3 years

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Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them.

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #Mandalorian #soulmate au #my fic #my writing #death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din x you #din x reader

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

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GF - Mystery Twins: Not Freaking Out

A new AU inspired by Mystery Skulls…

AO3 link

Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~

April 6th, 1972

“What?! Stanford, tell him he’s crazy!”

But Ford glanced down at his navy-blue pamphlet, wincing, and closed the curtains, purposely keeping his eyes off his brother.

“Stanford? Don’t leave me hanging?” Stanley croaked. “High six?”

And the door was slammed in his face by his father’s hand, deaf to the wails of his nephew and the choked sobs from his mother.

Stanley growled in his throat. “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone! I’ll make millions and you’re RUE the day you turned your back on me!”

~~~~~~~~~~

May 14th, 1976

Fiddleford had insisted that he and Stanford go out to celebrate their upcoming graduation. In a few days they would no longer be students, ready to use what they learned out in the real world. Stanford was reluctant, but agreed. What were the odds anything outside of a few drinks and some good food would occur? Stanford had a lot to drink for and it did seem like he never left campus for some typical college fun, so he took a shot and then stuck to some cozy beer and some onion rings.

After fleeing Columbia prison with a gang, and then weaseling his way out of that mess in New Mexico, Stanley had been apprehensive about trying to make it big in southern California, not knowing much about Stanford’s new life, but he did know that’s where he was going to college; Moses bless Ma and her phone calls. But what were the odds Stanley would ever run into his brother? He needed the money so he took the shot.

At first, Stanford thought it was his imagination and he nearly choked on his beer while Fiddleford was busy talking to a guy who was also from Tennessee. A second, longer look confirmed his fears and Stanford saw his long-lost family member exit the bar, leaving behind a small table with a few empty beers on it to smoke.

With Stanley’s back to him, Stanford studied him through the glass. His hair was a bit longer than how he kept it in high-school and it wasn’t slick back tonight; probably from holding his head so much. From what Stanford had seen before Stanley had leaned against the window, his face wasn’t as round and youthful as it was four years ago; he had grown a square jaw like Pa’s. Like Stanford’s. His skin was rough and scraggly, unlike Stanford who was clean-shaved, and he wore work boots, dirty jeans, and a worn white t-shirt. Stanley Pines looked rough around the edges, but when he re-entered the bar Stanford saw that spark in his brown eyes that guaranteed a heart made of plastic gold and a promise to protect the things he cares about.

Stanford wanted to be angry. He wanted to shake his rage, punch the jerk in the face, and leave for campus. But he couldn’t. He was too relieved to see his brother alive and a very very small part of him had missed him like crazy these last four years. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive Stanley for what he did, but maybe if he was ready to apologize, Stanford could be ready.

Stanley’s eyes landed on Stanford on his way to his table and he froze like a statue and paled three sheets. Stanford wondered if Stanley would pass out and he could feel himself turn red with embarrassment. He bit his lip and tried to move his own eyes to the six-fingered hand around his drink, but his mind stayed on Stanley and the corner of his eye kept him in view.

Stanley looked ready to walk out the door, but with a sigh he returned to his table. Stanford could feel Stanley staring at his back; he let him; it was only fair that Stanley got to absorb Stanford’s appearance since he had his fill of how much Stanley had changed. He was bigger than he was in high-school, taller and slightly thicker maybe, but not nearly as muscular as his twin. Stanford’s hair was still an uncontrollable fluffy mess and he still wore glasses, and today he wore clean jeans with black sneakers to go with his black t-shirt that was covered by a brown jacket with tons of pockets.

Stanford couldn’t stand his brother looking at him and not looking back for too long. When he looked at Stanley, a waitress was picking up the empty glasses. Stanford watched Stanley hold up two fingers, the waitress nodded and said something he could hear across the bar, and she left. Stanley looked at Stanford, their eyes meeting, and he gestured casually for Stanford to join him at his two-person table and looked away, waiting for Stanford to either accept or reject the invitation. After taking a deep breath, Stanford swallowed one last mouthful of his drink, wiped his lips dry, and made himself walk to his brother’s table.

If either of them thought things were awkward before the moment Stanford sat in the empty chair, the atmosphere became even thicker and the room suddenly felt even warmer. None of them said a word and remained silent until the waitress came by with two more beers. While Stanford quietly thanked her, Stanley gulped his down. Stanford snorted with a small smile as he brought his glass up to his lips. The drink half-empty, Stanley slammed his down, gave a small grunt, and spat out, “So, what’s the word, Sixer?”

Stanford smiled as he slowly began to spill about college and his new friends. Well, more like best friend and acquaintances, but his status was much better than it was in high-school and he was much happier. Stanley nearly choked on his beer when Stanford mentioned his twelve PhDs and he immediately congratulated him and told him how proud he was; he even ordered two shots to celebrate with. Stories of college were swapped for stories of Stanley’s travels and before either brothers knew it, it was almost like nothing had ever happened. (This was probably thanks to the alcohol in their systems, but let’s not ruin a good thing.)

As less and less people crowded the bar and the drinks started to slow down, more and more was said between the pair of twins and it was almost too easy with how things flowed. Eventually they were the only ones at the bar and they could tell the staff was waiting for them to leave so they could close, so they decided to go for a walk to keep the good conversation going. It seemed like nothing could end such a surprisingly successful night until the hairs on the back of Stanley’s neck stood up and he looked over his shoulder.

Four dreary shadows followed them in the dead of night, but Stanley recognized them instantly. He tried to get Stanford to leave, but the eldest twin refused, no matter how hard the younger one pushed. Stanley stopped trying when Stanford gritted through his teeth, “I won’t abandon you again, Lee.”

The twins may have been out-numbered, but the gang was out-matched. After a few scrapes and close calls, the Pines twins left the goons on the sidewalk and ran before the cops could be called. One look at Stanley while under a lamppost and Stanford saw how badly his brother was beaten, so he forced him onto a trolley for Backupsmore and took him up to his dorm, where a first-aid kit sat under his bed.

Stanford ignored the fact that Fiddleford wasn’t back while he fixed Stanley up. He also ignored his twin’s groveling, claiming he could take care of himself, but Stanley had a broken nose and needed the extra pair of hands to snap his bones back into place. When all was said and done and Stanley’s schnoz had quit bleeding, Stanford filled an ice pack and made his twin lay down on his bed so he could rest. That was when Stanley spat out what had been on his mind all night.

“Why do you even care?” His eyes were covered by his beefy arm, making his expression hard to read. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Stanford stared. Had he really made it seem he was so angry at Stanley he wouldn’t help him? “I… Yes. Yes, I’m still mad at you, but… but I…” He stumbled over his words and swallowed, the ice pack making his fingers numb.

Stanley peeked at his brother and sighed. “I’m mad, too… but I missed you so much that I ain’t got the time to be mad. You get what I’m sayin’?”

Stanford smiled and could feel a hundred pounds being lifted from his shoulders. “I think so. I might be angry at you for what you did, but I’m at a point in which I don’t care. At least, not as much as I care about getting my brother back.” He added nervously.

Stanley finally returned the smile. “Yeah. Me too.” And he accepted the ice pack and placed it on his head to help with the ache.

The next morning, Fiddleford tiptoed into his dorm and was surprised to find Stanford asleep on the floor, sitting with his arms-crossed on the bed, and a stranger on Stanford’s bed, one of his hands in Stanford’s hair. But a closer look told Fiddleford that the stranger was family and so he left them alone without a single sound.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No way?!” Stanley reread the check his brother handed to him. His eyes were particularly drawn to all those zeros, but he also checked the address and such and such. He grinned proudly and handed the slip of paper back with a playfully shove of his twin’s shoulder. “Congrats, Sixer!”

“Thank you, Stanley.” Stanford replied with rosy cheeks, pocketing the check in his brown jacket. “Now I just have to decide on what to study and how I’ll study it.”

“You’ll figure something out.” Stanley said as he munched on his bacon, happy to sit at a breakfast joint with his brother and just casually talk about life and junk. He didn’t need anything else. “Stanford Pines always thinks of a way.”

Stanford chuckled nervously, then changed the subject. “So, how do you like San Francisco?”

“It’s nice.” Stanley muttered with a shrug. “Not gonna lie, much of what I’ve already seen. Big city on water. It’s a lot nicer than Columbia, for sure, but it’s okay.” Stanford didn’t miss how uncomfortable he was about the subject, which made him only more sure what he was about to say was the right thing.

“I… I think I’ve decided what I want to study.”

Stanley grinned, his spirit much higher. “That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s hear it!”

“Well, when I was thinking about it, I couldn’t help but remember how I had always been teased for my six fingers.” Stanford started, raising a hand and wiggling his fingers. “But that got me thinking about anomalies.” And he pulled out his book on the subject and set it on the table for Stan to pick up and flick through the pages. “You know, things that are odd, unusual, statistically improbable, but not impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible, yeah I know.” Stanley agreed. “Well this all looks great! So you’re gonna go find monsters and stuff? Sounds right up your alley!”

“Thank you.” Stanford said with a smile. “I’ve already calculated where to start, and there appears to be a large cluster of anomalies in Oregon. The grant will cover the cost of a house and lab and everything I could need to properly investigate. But… it’s a bit overwhelming.” Stanford admitted. “It’s a lot to explore for one man.”

“Hey hey,” Stanley said firmly to squash any doubt. “You’ll be amazing at it.”

“I was thinking of hiring an assistant.” Stanford went on, hoping to get his point across successfully. “The grant is enough to cover some help.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea! What about that Fiddlesticks guy?”

“I was actually thinking of keeping this in the family.”

Stanley’s smile dropped. After staring at him for a second or two, he lowered his head and sipped his orange juice. “Oh.”

“I’ll pay you for your work.” Stanford explained. “I haven’t even started on the blueprints for the house yet, but you were always creative and ingenuitive; we can think of a design we both like and would give us our own rooms and space. You wouldn’t have to pay for rent or the bills, you working would do that, but your pay would be lower, but it would be enough for whatever you need. Sure, if I really had to I could probably figure it out, but I would really rather not, and…”

“I’m in.”

It was Stanford’s turn to stare. He was really expecting his brother to refuse, to be stubborn about this. Stanford wasn’t an idiot; he knew Stanley was living in his car and had not been doing well the last four years, and he harbored a lot of guilt for that, but now he had a chance to make things right. Things were still uncertain, and there were still some things about what happened they would have to talk about, some day, but family helps family. Right? “Really?”

Stanley laughed and smiled at him. “Yeah, bro! You need help and I can help you, so I’m in. Last thing I need is for you to go skipping into Roadkill County by yourself and getting eaten by a two-headed mountain lion or something. ‘Sides, we always wanted to go on monster hunts as kids, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is way too short to not do whatcha wanna do.”

Stanford grinned. “You won’t regret this, Lee! I swear!”

“Don’t sweat it,” Stanley chuckled. It was scary how similar they were; it appeared that Stanford was just as scared of losing Stanley as Stanley was of losing Stanford. “Wherever we go, we go together, right?” And he raised a hand to him.

Stanford grinned. “Right.” And they sealed the deal with a high-six.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 30th, 2000

“Move! MOVE! Outta my way!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Please excuse us, sorry!”

Ford was attempting to be the responsible and respectful one, since Stan was clearly going to be rambunctious and obnoxious enough for them both, but truth be told, if Stan was the one who was calm, Ford would be going ballistic.

They both ran into the hospital lobby, glanced at the directions board for the correct floor, and glanced at the elevator, stuffed with people like sardines in a tin can. Stan groaned and darted for the door to the stairs, making Ford grin and follow. They both used their adrenaline to run as fast as they could up the stairs and they nearly broke the door off the hinges at the sixth floor.

Of course, no one familiar was there to greet them, but the twins took that as a good sign; they hadn’t missed it. They walked to room 18 and saw that it was labeled “Pines.” The door suddenly opened and they were met faced-to-face with their nephew, Alex.

The young man grinned at the sight of his uncles. “Hey! You made it!”

“We wouldn’t miss it, my boy.” Ford assured, patting his back.

“Is the squirt here yet?” Stan asked.

Alex shook his head. “No, not yet. But Dana’s at eight centimeters, so it shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Well, we’re here for you if you need us.”

“Thanks. I better go get her ice chips…”

“Oh, I gotcha, sport.” Stan said and headed down the hall casually, his hands in the pockets of his khakis.

“Seriously,” Alex muttered to Ford, a bit more mournful now. “I really appreciate… I’m glad you’re both here.”

Ford smiled kindly and squeezed his shoulder. “Your father would be very proud.”

Alex managed to smile back. An alarm rang over the door for room 18, and Alex ran back inside, leaving Ford to stand there in horror as Dana lay in bed, sweating. Two doctors hurried inside the hospital room and the door was closed, leaving Ford in the dark. He sighed, hoping no more death would strike this family, and he took a seat in the hall to wait.

Stan was shaken, but hid it well, when he came back and Ford had to tell him that something wasn’t right. They were both very surprised when the door was thrown open and Dana was wheeled out in her bed. Alex was squeezing her hand as two doctors called out orders and took the new mother away. Ford and Stan hurried close behind, but were stopped at a different door.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but only the father is allowed with the mother for the C-Section.”

The twins paled. “C-Section?!”

Two hours later, Alex emerged, shaking, but grinning. “They’re… they’re okay. They’re okay.”

“Holy Moses, Lil’Lex, what happened?” Stan said sympathetically.

“It’s… well, why don’t you come in first, then I’ll tell you.” Alex suggested. The pair of men nodded, and were led into a bigger room.

Dana was asleep, apparently on some kind of medicine to help her sleep. There was a special hospital crib next to the big bed. Stan and Ford cautiously approached with Alex, but Ford had to cover his mouth with his six-fingered hand and Stan accidentally let out a long line of swears, making Ford smack him upside the head.

There were two babies. One wore a pink hat, one wore a blue hat, both wrapped in warm blankets, and lying close together. There was a second crib off to the side, but there was no wonder why it wasn’t in use. Twins stick together.

“Mighty Axolotl, thank you.” Ford muttered under his breath. “Alex, they’re beautiful.”

Stan rounded on his nephew and ruffled his fluffy brown hair. “You trying to be a conman like your uncle?”

“Heh, we did decide to take a leaf outta your book, Uncle Stan.” Alex admitted. “We wanted to surprise you both. That’s why things were a bit complicated, but everything worked out. The girl, Mabel, came out first. She kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

“Hah! That’s my girl!” Stan said proudly.

“The boy, Mason, had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Came out blue.” Alex admitted. “He’s okay now, just gave us a scare, but the doctors say he’ll be alright.”

“Thank goodness.” Ford looked down at the baby boy and smiled, truly grateful he was okay, and he thought he could see something poking out of his hat, but it was probably just fuzz.

Alex watched amusingly as the older twins just looked down at the sleeping younger twins. They were smiling so peacefully while their brown eyes were glued hungrily at the newborns. Alex waited for them to ask, but apparently they weren’t going to, so he chuckled warmly, “You know you can hold them too, if you want.”

Ford swallowed. “V-Very well…”

Meanwhile Stan pulled up a chair, sat, and excitedly waited like a child.

Alex scooped up the baby boy and gave him to Stan, who held him like a champ. Then Alex carefully picked up his little daughter and let Ford hold her, who was as stiff as wood and extremely cautious, but after a minute of feeling how peaceful she breathed against him and slept, it was easy to relax.

“Hello,” Ford muttered down at the baby girl, who slept happily.

Stan smiled down at the baby boy, getting strong deja vu from when he held his nephew all those years ago. He noticed something on the baby’s forehead and carefully freed a hand to smooth over his skin, but it wasn’t something that could be wiped away. He gently pushed the tiny blue hat up the small forehead and beamed with pride at the unique birthmark. “Well, look at you, buddy boy. Whatcha hiding that for, ey? That’s pretty special.”

Ford looked down and smiled. “How interesting.”

“Kinda looks like the Big Dipper.” Stan said.

Ford chuckled. “It does.” Something caught his eye, drawing his attention back to the baby girl. She was stirring in Ford’s arms, and soon opened one eye, getting used to the bright world. The scientist held his breath as she looked up at him, and slowly opened her other eye, staring up at him with brown eyes that matched his own. “Stanley,” He hissed. “Stanley, he’s looking at me.”

Stan looked and smiled. “She must see something she likes.” He sneered playfully.

Ford smiled warmly down at her. “Hello there, sweetheart. I’m your Great-Uncle Ford, hi.”

Stan snorted and looked down at his new nephew. “That’s too much of a mouthful. You two gremlins just call me your Grunkle Stan, k’?”

~~~~~~~~~~

January 18th, 2001

The phone was ringing. No, maybe Stan had dreamed the phone rang, because when he lifted his head to listen, he couldn’t hear it, so he let his head fall back on his pillow and he began snoring again.

Ford soon opened the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathed deeply to control himself, and then he entered Stan’s bedroom. He stood beside his sleeping brother and squeezed his shoulder. “Stanley. Stanley, wake up please.”

Stan blinked awake, groaned, and turned. “Whatcha want, Sixer?”

“Stanley, please sit up. I need to tell you something.”

That got his attention; how grave Ford’s voice sounded, how serious, how scary and non-urgent it was. This wasn’t an emergency, but it wasn’t good if Ford was waking him up in the middle of the night. Stan sat up and slipped on his glasses. “What’s wrong?”

Ford sat on the bed, facing his twin. He was quiet for a moment, but then began to talk in a melancholy tone. “W-We… um… The…” Ford cleared his throat in a sad attempt to start again. “I need you to, please, be ready to leave for California as soon as you can. W-We should pack for a few days, maybe a week just in case.”

A shiver went down Stan’s spine. “Why?”

Ford took in a deep breath and took off his glasses. That was never a good sign. “Alex and D-Dana went out. Left Mason and Mabel with a neighbor for a date night. I-It was raining…” And Ford was at a loss for words.

Stan sighed tiredly. “They got into a car crash, didn’t they?”

Ford nodded.

Stan clapped his hands on his knees. “Well, we can help ‘em out. Those little guys love us, and we can stay longer than a week to help the love birds recover.”

“Stanley… they can’t recover.”

That nearly made Stan’s heart stop. He watched as Ford’s head was hung low, but he could still see how wet his eyes were.

Ford swallowed and croaked out, “They’re gone.”

Stan bit his lip.

Ford turned his head away. “Let’s try to leave within the hour…” He made to move, to attempt to be a man and hide his tears, but Stan wouldn’t let him.

He brought his brother in for a tight, warm hug, and closed his eyes. Ford’s eyes brimmed with tears, and fell when he shut his eyes and buried his face in his twin’s shoulder, but he couldn’t do more than shudder and control his breathing. Stan was still as stone, but a single tear leaked out of one eye, and he let it fall without shame.

~~~~~~~~~~

The nice old lady who had babysat the twins when their parents died kept an eye on them until the uncles arrived, coming just as quickly as they did the day they heard the niblings were being born.

When Ford and Stan arrived at their dead nephew’s house and made a short journey to the one next door, crying disturbed their ears. The frail old lady sighed sadly and explained to the men, “I’ve tried everything for her. Bless her heart, she’s fine, but she misses her parents.”

When the old lady shuffled away to find her spare key for Alex and Dana’s house, Stan and Ford went to see their niece and nephew, the pair in a bassinet in the living room. Soft music played on a record-player, but they were deaf to it. Poor Mabel was crying her little heart out, wailing as hot tears streamed her red cheeks. Mason was by her side, holding her hand as his bottom lip trembled, trying to help his sister but having no idea how.

Stan noticed this and smiled down at the six-month-olds. He ruffled the brown fuzz on top of Mason’s head and cooed, “Hey there, gremlins. Remember us? C’mere, pumpkin, let’s see if we can’t make you feel better, ey?” Stan carefully picked Mabel up and Mason let go of her hand, his bottom lip still shaking with emotion.

Poor Mabel still cried just the same, but Stan was patient and even smiled at her stubbornness. Ford watched, intrigued, as Stan cradled the baby girl in his muscular arm, ran a finger down her button nose a few times, slowly, and breathed deeply. By the time he ran his finger down her nose the third time, Mabel had stopped crying, curious, and then yawned, turning towards his chest and clinging onto his red Hawaiian shirt.

“There we go, better?” Stan asked. Whimpering from the bassinet made Stan chuckle and he reached a strong arm down for his nephew. “Don’t think I forgot about you, Lil’Dipper. I gotcha.”

“How did you do that?” Ford whispered as Mabel snuggled against his chest and Mason calmed down the second he was in Stan’s embrace.

The businessman shrugged. “I dunno, it worked for Alex when he got fussy and it worked on one of Soos’ cousins at Thanksgiving last year.”

Ford smiled and patted his shoulder. “Well you’ve always had a way with children, Stanley.”

“You’ll get the hang of it, Sixer, don’t worry.” Stan assured, but he was suspicious when he saw a new expression on Ford’s face. “Well we are taking them home with us.” You would think they had this conversation on the long car-ride, but the drive had been dead silent as the cold reality had set in.

“Stanley, no.” Ford said firmly, looking away. “We can’t.”

“Have you lost your mind, cuz I’ll help you find it!” Stan scolded. “Why in the world wouldn’t we take them home?!”

“W-... I… I w-... It’s not a good idea.” Ford stuttered, finally looking at his brother again. “It’s not that I don’t want to! I want to! And you would be brilliant at it, Stanley! But… But they would be b-... I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

“You were fine at the hospital!”

“That was different! Gravity Falls is too dangerous. I hate to say it, but they…”

“Then don’t say it.” Stan growled warningly. He calmed down a little, and then said with the kind of authority that made his word final, “Listen, we’re family; wherever we go, we go together. If they didn’t come home with us, where would they go? Everyone’s gone, so they’d go in the system, and you and I have both heard the horror stories. Best case scenario they would be separated, and that’s the best case scenario. They aren’t going in the system. They’re coming home.

“And what’s all this talk about you not being good enough for them?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I’ve heard you say some stupid sh-stuff! They need you, and you need them. And honestly, if these kids are anything like us, I’m more worried about the town surviving than I am of them being okay.”

Ford snorted and bit his lip, smiling down at the pair of babies.

“It’ll work out, Sixer, just you wait and see.” Stan reassured and handed Mabel to him, despite the frantic look on Ford’s face and the fact that he was shaking his head “no”.

Mabel hadn’t really fallen asleep; she was merely resting against Stan’s body. Now she grabbed Ford’s black sweater tightly and nuzzled her chubby cheeks into the yarn. She smiled at the soft touch. Ford held his breath, waiting for Mabel to start crying again, but she didn’t. He took in a few breaths and adjusted his hold so she was cradled more comfortably. The scientist smiled down at her and found all of his troubles were a bit less troubling.

“And no offense, Brainiac, but I don’t give a… gnome’s butt what you say.” Stan injected; he was really going to have to work on his swears. “I’m going to the courthouse before we leave town and I’m adopting these gremlins.”

“What?!” Ford looked back up at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Stan had a very serious look on his face that Ford had only seen on rare occasions. “I ain’t risking some distant cousin or whatnot deciding I ain’t good enough, or the system deciding to take ‘em. They’re my kids…”

“I want to adopt them with you.” Ford interrupted, his voice lighter than it had been all conversation.

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to do that…”

“I want to.” Ford said earnestly, looking back down at Mabel. The second Stan mentioned the possibility of them going away again, Ford’s heart broke. He couldn’t do it. Not if his life depended on it. He couldn’t let his children go. “Y-you’re right. I can’t… I can’t lose…” And he bit his lip and cleared his throat. “You were right, Stanley.”

“Heh. A broken clock is right twice a day.” Stan quoted and let Mason hold his finger as he held him in his arms. “Trust me. We’ll be okay.”

And Ford nodded, putting all of his trust in his family.

~~~~~~~~~~

“SIXER! C’MERE!”

Ford jumped up from his desk, knocking his chair to the floor, and sprinted down the hall for the living room, where he was certain his brother was yelling from. He stood at the doorway to find Mabel standing thanks to the help of the couch, a chubby hand on the cushion, and Dipper on his hands and knees beside her. Stan was sitting on the floor just two feet away from the toddlers and grinned at his brother. “Mabel almost took her first steps!”

“Really?!” Ford gasped happily and stepped into the room to watch.

“C’mere, pumpkin!” Stan cooed and waved his hands to himself. “Come to Grunkle Stan, c’mere!”

Mabel giggled and bounced on her knees, but still didn’t step to him. Stan even clapped one or twice to grab her attention, but all that made her do was let go of the couch to clap, but she was more than capable of standing on her own.

“Go on, sweetie, you can do it.” Ford encouraged.

At last Mabel seemed to notice that her other great-uncle was present. She turned and smiled a big smile at him, showcasing her new baby teeth, and surprised everyone when she turned and ran to Ford. Mabel might have tripped and fallen on her baby butt, but that didn’t stop her from giggling and reaching out for Ford, who instantly scooped her up while Stan stood, laughing.

“Mabel, you can walk! Clever girl, clever girl!” Ford praised.

“That’s our girl!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was on the floor of the living room a few days later, playing with Dipper and Mabel, building block towers. The door opened and closed and a booming voice called, “Where’s my troublemakers, ey?!”

The babies squealed and giggled and had a little race, crawling as fast as they could to the hall where Stan stood with groceries in his arms, but he sat the food on the floor to have free hands for his kids, and he scooped them up and scratched their chubby cheeks with his stubble.

“Hey there, kiddos? Been good for Grunkle Ford? No? Good!”

Ford rolled his eyes as he picked up the groceries. “They were as good as gold.”

“Eh, I guess that’s okay.” Stan smiled at Dipper, who was reaching for his glasses, and said, “Hi.”

Dipper smiled. “Hi!”

Ford did a double take as Stan laughed proudly and squeezed his nephew.

~~~~~~~~~~

From first steps to first words to first birthdays, the pair of old explorers were there for everything and couldn’t believe their luck. Pretty soon they were taking the children on safe adventures with them, fishing and hiking, and teaching them everything from Cowls to how to hot-wire cop cars. For eight years their lives were complete and things were too good to be true.

But then Stan went missing. At first Ford wasn’t too worried, only mildly annoyed, but to be fair they had a disagreement recently and Stan was a grown man, so maybe he needed to blow off steam. But then days went by. This was extremely unlike Stan, and there were some people that would want him gone, so without scaring the children too much, he began searching for his twin, definitely not freaking out.

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #mystery skulls #stangst

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

our love will (never) end

pairing: dogma / reader

word count: 3414

summary: all you wanted was for dogma to come back home but you don’t recognize the broken man that comes off the ship coming straight from umbara.the next time he sees you, he doesn’t recognize you either.

warnings: implied canon typical violence, angst af, umbara happened, lemme know if smth was missed

a/n: don’t say i didn’t warn y’all. no beta just me drinkin’ my dumb bitch juice

you’d spent more than half your life around the clones, had become used to their presence since your mother was recruited to train them in combat. had even helped with the youngest ones when they were fresh from their tubes, washing the fluids from them before wrapping them in their first set of clothes. the clones had become your brothers and friends, and they were much better company than the longnecks that occupied tipoca city.

once you were old enough, you joined them in their training. you learned their battle techniques, the subtle languages they spoke without uttering a word, you were one of them.

that’s why the losses sustained at the battle of geonosis, the first true test on the training they spent their lives surrounded by, wounded you so deeply.

days after the battle you were able to weasel your way into the records kept by the longnecks. it took you nearly hours to finish scanning the holo list of numbers, and only seconds for the grief to thrum through your veins, to settle into your bones. so many of your friends were lost that day, many that you had given names to, and your shoulders were aching under the weight of a loss that substantial.

then they were assigned to generals, jedi that probably wouldn’t care about who they were as men, as living beings with hearts and minds and souls that were far more different than the origins of their creation led people to believe. kamino had never been so empty as it had been once battalions were formed and assignments given, thousands of soldiers being sent to war.

the solemn emptiness took some getting used to, as did the togruta jedi sent to kamino to oversee the functioning of the cloning facility. she was kind though, and none of the clones appeared afraid of her so she was okay in your book. the one thing that you had yet to get used to was the fear you’d see in the eyes of a clone before their first assignment.

even though this is what they were raised to do, was what they were told by the longnecks was their only purpose (it was banthashit and you never hesitated to express as much), there was still a residual fear because they had seen brothers come back from the battlefield. they also knew that not all of them returned to their battalions once they left the front lines.

this knowledge was common, and there were many secrets told to you by long dead men about things that would have gotten them into trouble with immeasurable consequences. things they did to pass the time, things that made them happy like singing or writing poetry. it didn’t take you long after bonding with the clones as a young child that you realized that you were different than them, that you were lucky to be able to play and smile and be a child.

you lamented this discovery to your mother once. all she said was that the soldiers were dealt a shit hand by the galaxy and that they were lucky to have you to make it better for them. then she would tell you bedtime stories and fairy tales she knew good and well that you would relay to your identical brothers young and old.

but these days, you weren’t allowed to show the clones that kindness, that silliness that you were able to have with your brothers all those years ago. you were an adult now, and as such you would soon be expected to aid in the training of the republic’s soldiers despite a lack of actual outside world experience. you hadn’t left kamino since you arrived here as a child and had never used your training in a real-life situation.

what if you failed them? what if you taught something wrong and it resulted in their CT number being the next to show up on the lists of casualties? you were quaking with fear at the trust being placed in you.

which is why you were sitting outside during the kind of downpour kamino was known for, each raindrop heavier than your heart. no bother was given to your sopping wet state nor to the fact you’d get sick from this.

then you were joined in the rain by a familiar form.

“your immune system isn’t made to withstand this weather for very long.” some would have thought him to be uncaring, even callous and dickish with his words, but not you. this was the way he showed he cared about you — very seldom with those exact words, and never in a way where someone he didn’t want to know could see that he cared.

your eyes flitted up to his before returning their focus on the crashing waves around you. “my heart wasn’t made to withstand you leaving me.”

he sank to the ground beside you, the sound of his breathing being heard once he removes his helmet and lays it down beside his sitting form. an arm finds itself around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, a gentle kiss being placed against your rain-slick temple.

his touch warms you from your nose to the tips of your toes in spite of the cold rain pouring down. it was something he was able to do effortlessly and it never failed to bring a smile to your face. “i’m never truly gone, cyare. you’ll always be able to find me no matter where i am in the galaxy.”

a gloved hand found your shaking ones, his thumb smoothing over the top of your hand in an attempt to quell the shaking. you squeeze it in thanks and let yourself be pulled into his lap by it, your face quick to nuzzle into his neck.

“promise me you’ll be safe, dogma.”

“of course, my love.”

when he joined the five-oh-first comms were as frequent as possible, and when you weren’t able to talk to him, your eyes would be glued to the casualty reports that made their way to kamino. his number was never among the most of the dead, thank the stars, and that knowledge would sustain you until he would finally have the chance to talk to you again.

it was late into the night cycle when your private channel beeped, signifying an incoming call from dogma.

“that last mission… it was rough, cyare. i’m sorry i couldn’t comm you sooner.”

“never apologize, i know it’s not easy out there.”

dogma could never grow tired of the way you were so patient for him, for the things he did day in and day out. it made what he was about to say even harder for him.

“this next mission isn’t going to have any free time, we’re being sent planetside on umbara within two rotations. i don’t know how long the planetary takeover will last, but there won’t be a moment where we’re not unconscious or fighting. i won’t be able to talk for a while, my light. please understand.” he sounded almost in tears, like there was a lump in his throat trying to keep the words from escaping, to keep from hurting you.

you didn’t like to hear him like that. your strong and brave dogma crippled by emotion was never a comforting experience, especially when you couldn’t hold him and guide him out of the dark spaces his mind crawled into.

“never feel guilty for doing your duty, for keeping your brothers safe. just be sure you come home to me when your duty is done.”

“i’ll always come home to you, i swear it.”

the longnecks were in a tizzy three days later, rambling about a defect on the front lines. the sounds of a panicked kaminiise was not a sound you thought you’d ever hear again after what happened on christophsis. you eavesdropped plenty but you could never catch a CT number or a planet or a battalion name which infuriated you to no end. it was time to check the most recent records to see if you could find something there.

the morning cycle was minutes from beginning when you made your way to an unrestricted holoscreen where several reports were pulled up. your eyes scanned the writing; there was the familiar list of the dead, several more numbers sending waves of grief to crash against your soul.

information about how three members of the five-oh-first defied orders and flew umbaran ships in a successful attempt to destroy the separatist ship giving supplies to the enemy, and the death of one of the troopers involved in the unsanctioned air raid, one ct-6969 — hardcase. another wave crashed against your weary heart and was beginning to turn your insides into a hurricane that kamino’s oceans could only dream of rivaling.

there were details about the botched execution of two clones who defied the aforementioned direct orders from a general pong krell, ct-27-5555 and ct-5597 — fives and jesse.

pong krell wasn’t dogma’s general, wasn’t the general of the boys in blue. that was anakin skywalker and dogma spoke highly of his jedi general the few times he was brought up in conversations. pong krell, even though you’d never had the displeasure of meeting the besalisk in person, knew of his reputation.

he was cruel and vicious, using the lives of those under his command as rungs on his own ladder of wartime success. many of the brothers you loved perished under his commands and his name was an eyesore.

most jarring was the depiction of how a clone shot general pong krell in the back, and how the clone’s sentence was to be decided upon once they arrived on kamino.

that meant one of three things: euthanization, reconditioning, and experimentation followed by one of the former options. none of them are by any means pleasant, but you hoped for that trooper’s sake that they were allowed peace no matter their offenses.

but now one question remained: who killed the jedi general? why was his CT number not mentioned in the files? you had to talk to dogma, to make sure he was safe, that he was finding healthy ways to grieve the loss of hardcase, to cope with everything this report says occurred on the shadow planet.

“i know you said you wouldn’t be able to talk while on umbara but i just read the reports sent to the longnecks. i’m scared and i need to hear your voice for a second, just a second, please.”

“i heard about hardcase,” you sniffled and swallowed your grief for one of your dearest friends in the name of supporting your beloved. “what him and jesse and fives did… the death of the jedi. please answer me, i need to know you’re okay.”

“you know i wouldn’t ask this of you any other time, but please give me something, tell me you’re alive! tell me you survived the carnage of pong krell!”

“dogma, answer me please! you’re scaring me!”

“ner kar’ta, please don’t make me add you to my remembrances. please, dogma, don’t make me do it…”

“dogma… ni kart’ayl darasuum.”

fitful sleep came with you clutching your commlink against your heart, tears falling like rain. there was a good chance that maybe he was mangled beyond recognition, or maybe they haven’t noticed he was missing yet. there had to be a reason dogma wasn’t on the list of the lost and why he hadn’t answered you.

then your commlink crackled you life. “who is this and how do you know dogma?”

did fate exist only to torment you? that’s what it felt like in this moment.

“i’m not answering any questions until you tell me where he is and how you found that commlink.”

logic told you that the person on the other end was indeed a clone, but your mind was too jumbled for you to recognize who it was. you had to clean up the mess your love left behind you and dogma, anything to keep him from punishment.

“the name’s fives, the comm was confiscated when we… when we had to court martial him for disobedience.”

disobedience? dogma? those words may start with the same letter but they couldn’t be more juxtaposed if the words themselves put effort into it. then your mind reminds you of details from that karking report and you suddenly feel like you had been tossed into the roaring waves below you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

the arc trooper grew enraged in his grief, in the horrors of what he saw on umbara and the audacity you had to accuse him of hurting his brother. “he did it to himself! he did it to protect us all from that demagolka even though no one ordered him to! when no one had the courage to do it, not even rex!”

what did your cyare do? your heart was in denial of the ideas your brain supplied because now they were leading to the same place.

“was he the one that killed krell?”

silence.

“fives! was he the one to-“

“yes! kriff, it was him! he’s the one who did it!”

dogma remembers the besalik’s traitorous admission and the way he manipulated dogma for his own benefit, to divide his brothers enough to keep them from revealing his plan. the way he and the five-oh-first fired on their own brothers, how their own brothers fired on them. naive death caused by what dogma discovered was the blind loyalty he heard others talk about when it came to following orders.

he remembers the feeling of the bracers around his wrist as he was escorted to the laat, the nods from his brothers as they give him respect he isn’t sure he earned for killing the man who caused them so much suffering.

the only thing that his mind doesn’t bring to his attention is the commlink that was stripped from him when taken into the umbaran cell, the only means of communicating with you without taking immeasurable risk.

he’s halfway to kamino by the time his mind registers that it isn’t with him and it’s the first true fear he’s felt since he was led into the cell by his own brothers and krell revealing how he manipulated every last one of them.

his thoughts drifted to what would become of him once he returned to the planet he was born on, the planet where he met the only sunshine he had to speak of on the shadow planet that sealed his fate. he hopes to see you before he’s punished for his actions but that’s uncertain. there’s no guarantee that you’re going to know he was returning, even more so under the circumstances that he’s coming back under.

there’s one certainty dogma has through all of this: he’s going to die on kamino. but if he’s able to see you in person and hold you in his arms one last time, then he’d accept death with open arms.

the last thoughts that run through his head as he’s being pulled from the ship and into longneck custody are of talking to you only days before, when things were still okay, when there wasn’t friendly fire instigated by a traitor, when dogma hadn’t killed a jedi.

his duty was in fact done, and he was coming home, but there was no guarantee that you would be part of that home, not after what he’s done.

you fail. despite the strength of your love and determination to find him, you don’t.

in all your years of finding longneck secrets and reading their reports, there was nothing on dogma. there was no record of his presence here and it was chilling. you knew the sorts of things that could be found in reports (and they were by no means pleasant), but if even these assholes weren’t going to keep digital record of it, it must be bad.

no one even saw the arrival of the ship dogma was carried in and there was no footage from any of the docks’ security cameras. your lover was a ghost, a wisp, a memory. even the cadets that dogma had known before he deployed (slightly older now, almost ready to be sent to the front lines) seemed to forget about their ori’vod.

it was as if dogma didn’t exist outside of your own head. like he was a figment of your imagination that you would conjure when the nights got lonely. you frequently drew his v tattoo in hopes of you keeping its pattern fresh in your mind because dogma deserved to be remembered. for his sacrifice, for his loyalty, for how deep his love ran not just for his brothers and the republic, but for you.

months flew by with endless searching, digging through files and scouring the base when no one was around. it was all in vain. dogma was no more; at least, not the dogma you knew.

you had found a new normal in your life on kamino. taking up the torch of training young cadets that your mother carried before you, doing your best to ensure their survival in a war built to destroy. dogma was carried with you always, but you stopped asking others about him, resigned to keeping him in your heart like a deep secret. what little hobbies one could find on the rainy planet were indulged as you tried to refill the time you allotted to talk to your cyare before he faded from the memories of his brothers.

since obtaining your new training role, many of the clones looked to you as an authority figure and not an equal. you were a superior now, and they treated you as such. there were no words in any language that you could find that could convey how uncomfortable you were with that, not when you had grown up with so many of them, had swaddled them when they emerged from their growth tanks.

although, there was one clone whom you called a friend these days that didn’t treat you with the same rigid respect his batchmates treated you with. his name was novak; he was kind and loyal and attentive, and if you squinted under the bright fluorescent lights you could see the faintest outline of a geometric v on his face.

that had to be your imagination playing tricks, you reasoned. you’re mostly sure you had seen that same shadow on the face of every clone in the days after dogma’s supposed return to kamino. then again, nowadays you only had this thought around him and no one else.

“got my assignment,” he told you one day over breakfast. “the 327th, under general secura and commander bly.”

“i hear she’s a great jedi, novak. you’ll be in good hands.”

he nods and hums in acknowledgement around a bite of food. there’s a look on his face that tells you he’s deep in thought and for a moment you think you’re looking at a ghost, but then his eyebrow ticks up and the illusion fades.

“my squad and i, we’ll be headed to felucia. and i, uh, wanted to ask you something before you left.” his demeanor changes. before he was casual, relaxed, and you had no idea what switch flipped that now had him fidgety and with the beginnings of a stutter. “could i… could i possibly comm you while i’m there? my batchmates are gone, and i don’t really have anyone else i want to talk to. but if that’s something you’re not comfortable with then you don’t have to do anything i wouldn’t want to cross any bound-”

a finger pressed to his lips ends his rambling. “novak, i would like that a lot.”

it took two weeks.

novak spent two weeks on felucia before he and most of his squad were either killed by droids or devoured by the various flora and fauna of the jungle planet.

the trooper’s last thoughts were of you.

he had been having dreams about you for months. they were of late night conversations through holo about things he had no memory of. time spent in the kamino rains holding each other tight as if letting go would be the end of life as you knew it. the love for you that seemed to have appeared overnight. you would never know these things, and novak regretted that until his last breath.

#dogma x reader #clone trooper dogma #dogma #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #swtcw #star wars angst #this is so sad #angst #wow this is painful #y'all thought 'homesick song' was bad #just you wait #i'm prepared to be fought

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meowdymista · 3 years

Text

Van der Driscoll Pt 7

Part 6 - Masterlist

Part 8

This is a bit of a filler chapter, which is stupid for the ratio of original wording to in game script ratio. Next one will be more engaging, I promise. Also sorry for the long wait; I took time off from writing last week because it was my birthday, and then England swept into a second lockdown so it’s been poo trying to prepare especially in work because I process somms for small-medium businesses but whatever. No one is getting much for Christmas this year lol

****

You find, much to your relief and Arthur’s annoyance, that Sean’s chaotic charm and energy swallows everyone’s attention over the next few weeks. He’s loud, boastful and brash: The Irish Terrier as Arthur and his adopted fathers call him.

You can’t help but find his totally unapologetic nature comforting. Whilst washing shirts, you overhear him get Molly to admit she considers him no better than a chimney sweep from the local bog - and immediately crucify her for it, calling her “snotty nosed” and a “right little madam”, much to her dismay. After the weeks of dirty looks (despite little to no actual confrontation), Sean brings a breath of fresh air. With him nearby, you know exactly where you stand and whether anyone in the vicinity is plotting against you.

“Please, Y/N,” groans Arthur into his hands one evening. “Please tell me you ain’t makin’ friends with that bastard.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he like a little brother to you?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” He moves his hands to give you a look of despair. “What’s wrong with Lenny? Or Tilly? Or Mary Beth?”

“Karen’s fun,” you muse, earning yourself another groan.

“Always with the loud drunkards,” he grumbles.

“Mmhm, and what was it Dutch said? When you go missing he checks the saloon, and if you’re not there he checks the jail?”

“Shurrup.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his body, grinning as you protest, laughing.

“Don’t play innocent - Hosea’s been telling me stories!”

“Ahh, don’t go listening to him. He spins stories for a living, and anyway I was a kid in most of them.”

“And the stories I’ve heard from Lenny?” you smirk, still fighting despite it proving futile with you laughing so much. He growls, peppering your exposed skin with kisses as you wrestle playfully.

You cry out when a flailing limb makes contact with one of your swollen breasts. Arthur immediately releases you, watching you with concern as you try to rub out the punch without swearing.

“Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just sensitive is all.”

“I’m sorry - shouldn’t be playing so rough with you when you’re… in the way tha’ you are.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you repeat firmly, staring him down. “I’m fine. You didn’t knock my stomach, so we’re fine. Like I said, I’m just sensitive.”

He hums doubtfully.

Following a shootout with the Pinkertons and the law in the middle of Valentine, Dutch had ordered the camp out of Horseshoe Overlook and ushered you south east into the state of Lemoyne. On the other side of Dewberry Creek, Arthur and Charles had scouted a hideout chistened Clemens Point. Arthur hadn’t been the keenest to tell you that story, but you had weaseled it out of him.

Micah had recommended the dried out river bed, but when Charles and Arthur had arrived to scout it, there was an abandoned camp nearby, complete with a dead body. Whilst trying to assess the location’s risk to a group of outlaws should they move in, Arthur had moved some crates to find a woman with her two children.

“I guess I saw you,” he mumbled sadly, avoiding eye contact. “An’ the mess I might leave you in one day.”

You rubbed his shoulder patiently. “What happened?”

“I told ‘em to go ‘cause we needed the land.”

You were confused by the guilt still plaguing him and told him so. With a heavy sigh, he described how the girl translated her mother - that their father had been kidnapped and how it took Charles insisting otherwise to convince him to go look.

“So it’s really thanks to him we found this place,” he says gesturing at the open space bordered with woodland and lake.

If anything, you prefer this new destination to Horseshoe Overlook, and not just for the absence of bad memories. You love the sense of freedom swimming gives you: how it makes you weightless, how easy it is to tilt your head back and listen to the low rumble of the earth and water. You also enjoy that the road is more than a stone’s throw away here. A wanderer would have to purposely go out of their way to discover the camp, to hear the noise or see the light of the campfires. Clemen’s Point made you feel safe, even with the occasional canoe sailing by with a wave.

The new location lifted everyone’s spirits. So much so, Dutch dragged Arthur and Hosea out fishing. They returned hours later - singing and surprisingly sober - with deputy badges and a boat load of fish. Whilst the shiny badge continues to earn Arthur a lot of gib from you and everyone else in camp, Dutch insists the news is beyond fantastic.

“We are inaugurated in the local law!” he cries during one of his many speeches. “Hiding in plain sight!”

Still tired and snacking throughout your waking hours, you are relieved to find your morning sickness has passed its peak. Whilst you feel like your veins are popping out of your skin, Arthur insists your stomach is beginning to curve. You accuse him of an overzealous imagination until you try (and fail) to button the jeans from your past life as an O’Driscoll and your shirts that still fasten offer little to no breathing room.

“Think a trip to town is in order.” You jut out your bottom lip, demonstrating the distance between the buttons and their corresponding holes as your lover looks on laughing.

“I think you might be right.” You don’t resist as his fingertips tilt your chin up to plant a kiss on your lips. “Let me go see if Pearson’s got a list and we’ll head out. Think they’ll do another couple hours?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” you grumble, stealing Arthur’s worn blue shirt from under the cot. You can hear Sadie and Pearson bickering even from the edge of camp, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur’s tone cuts through the noise.

“-ain’t cooking work?”

Looking over, you see Arthur has taken the expostulating Mrs Adler aside. You look away quickly - there’s no reason to ruin an acceptable day by agitating her enough to start shouting at you too. Her and Pearson have been at each other’s necks since she’s pulled herself out of the worst of her depression, almost as though he has become the target of her grief.

You focus your attention on preparing the cart. A trip to town means a trip for supplies, and with so many mouths to feed, horseback wasn’t a viable option.

"How are you, Miss?"

You turn around, surprised at being addressed directly by someone other than Arthur. Seeing Kieran’s familiar pastiness relaxes you a little. As an ex-O’Driscoll himself, you trusted him the most not to stab you after Arthur and the little boy, Jack.

"Fine," you reply flatly, brushing out the tangles of the shire’s mane.

"We ain't really had much time to talk since we was in Tall Trees a few months back, have we?" You hum in response, trying not to flash any amount of flesh by moving too much. The poor boy was skittish enough. He immediately begins to help you, being the horse fan he is.

"I never even suspected a thing, Miss,” he gushes. “So I bet you anything Ol' Colm won't have neither."

"So you two were close, huh?" You barely contain the sarcasm.

He shrugs off the question awkwardly. "Which feller was you again?"

"Well I must’ve been good if you have to ask." You feed the shire a carrot, avoiding eye contact. "I was Thomas," you admit quietly. The following silence is prolonged. Doubtful.

“Thomas Donoghue?” You shrug your shoulders. “So you were friends with Paeder then?”

“Peter?” You respond coolly. “Never knew him.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but Arthur is marching across camp, shouting back over his shoulder to Mrs Adler. Spooked, Kieran bolts to a safe distance, doing nothing but look on as Arthur helps you up onto the back of the cart.

Acknowledging you with a sneer, the other woman takes her place on the bench up front. “So I’ve graduated from choppin’ vegetables to shopping?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth…” grumbles Arthur, reins in hand as the cart moves off. You give Kieran a small, apologetic wave farewell, but it’s difficult to contain the relief of your companions’ timing. Paeder was a private matter, and one which you had no desire to discuss out loud. You’re sure the shaky man meant no harm, but some things were better buried.

“You cooled down then, yet?” Arthur asks the widow, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I guess,” she grumbles. “And I ain’t no scullion! And I sure as hell ain’t takin’ orders from that sweating halfwit!”

You can almost hear his eyes roll. “Well I guess we all gotta do our share, princess.”

“Where’s that letter?”

“Oh, you reading his mail now?”

Sadie throws him a dirty look. “Robbing and killing’s ok, but letter reading’s where we draw the line?”

You stifle a smirk as Arthur pulls it from the inside of his coat, knowing he’s been had. “Here.”

“Dear Aunt Cathy-”

“You are somethin’ else…”

“I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further… bla bla bla… s’boring… Oo! Wait a sec, listen to this! Since we last corresponded, I have travelled widely, making no small name for myself.” You all laugh out loud. “Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it is not for lack of suitors.” Arthur barks out laughing again as Sadie giggles. “He ever actually talked to a woman he ain’t paid for?” she asks in disbelief.

“Look, we’re all hiding behind something.” Whilst his tone advises the limit of fun has been reached, the smile is still audible.

“And what’s this? Return to Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Oh that? That’s Dutch’s idea. All mail to be sent to the same alias. Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss, he heads into town, tells them to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore or whatever they changed it to… Here, gimme that back. We got work to do.”

You all sit quietly as the cart rolls into Rhodes. The locals watch you, wary of the unfamiliar faces, but you keep your head high. Strangers smell weakness. It’s better to come off aloof and avoid trouble than to present as vulnerable and be beaten down at every turn.

“Ok, here we are.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mrs Adler points a pistol at the side of the building, squeezing one eye shut as she gauges the iron sights. “I shoot the shopkeeper, while you-?”

“No! You insane?”

“Well I thought we was outlaws…?”

“Outlaws! Not idiots!" he hisses, pushing down the gun as he looks around for any witnesses. "We rob fools that rob other people! These people- they’re just tryna get by! So you head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time.” The two of you share a look again as he helps you down. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for killin’ soon enough.”

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna go check the mail, nothin’ exciting.”

Sadie shrugs and saunters off. Arthur sighs and shakes his head, touching your arm. "You gonna be alright?"

"Here's hopin'."

"Any trouble, holler. Stay outta her way best you can though, alright?"

Knowing that his concern lies with your companion's open hatred for anything remotely O'Driscoll rather than your ability to defend yourself, you nod. Blowing him a cheeky kiss, he waves back at you with a grin as you enter the general store.

"-flour, oats, salt, eggs, apples if you have them..."

"Sure, not a problem,” responds the shopkeeper as he begins to gather the goods. “Big family, have you?"

"Somethin' like that." Mrs Adler barely spares you a glance as the titter of the doorbell announces your presence. "And you sell clothes?"

So Arthur had explained to her your purpose for the journey. You're flattered, if a little bewildered at this kind gesture. From the looks she’s been giving you, you’re surprised she has buried the hatchet of your past so quickly.

"We do. Not the widest range of ladies fashion, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. I'll look at everything you got."

"Of course, Mrs…?"

"Kilgore," she smirks, turning to bat her eyelids at you. You realise then that her request is completely unrelated to you. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re not the only person that has been swept into the Van der Linde gang with little more than what you were wearing on your back. From Arthur’s story, she escaped with nothing more than her wedding ring and her nightclothes, so it’s only natural that she is also in need of a new wardrobe. "What? You don't even trust me to handle the shopping by myself?"

"You're not the only one in need of new clothes, Mrs Ad- Kilgore." You force a polite smile at the sales clerk whilst Mrs Adler browses the shelves dully. "What are the biggest sizes you have in stock? Any maternity wear by chance?"

"Ain't many women round here makin' babies," he sighs, pulling out a few options. You can feel Sadie's eyes burning past you at the pile. "You're best tryin' Saint Denis or ordering outta the catalogue. There's a tailor in Blackwater I heard is pretty good for that sorta thing, but it's quite the journey-"

"Too far for me, I fear." You flick through the pages as Mrs Adler leaves to try a few things on from the pile in front of you. Writing a quick list with estimated sizing, you purchase the largest button up shirt and skirt for sale. The trousers will have to wait for another day - you know investing twenty dollars in a pair that you'll breach the waistline of in a matter of weeks is a luxury you can't especially afford right now.

Mrs Adler on the other hand spares little expense with a sturdy pair of jeans. Finally out of the cumbersome skirts, her whole character changes and suddenly you feel the same pit of dread you did when faced with a full camp of spitting Van der Lindes all those weeks ago.

Intimidated, you step outside whilst she settles the bill. You take a short wander up the main road, taking in the familiar buildings with apathy. Who would have thought you would end up here again? Now you’re not so apprehensive about your life span, you can see how rundown this dusty crumbling town is. The few shops that are open have seen better days, and the best kept building is the bank. You feel your skin crawl as you spot the large parlour houses on the horizon. Of course this place is struggling to survive - anywhere that profited from slave labour deserved to rot. Part of you hopes it’s slow perilous march to abandonment continues: it would be disappointingly merciful to see a place be lost to one good shoot out.

“I’ve birthed foals with more strength than you!” Mrs Adler’s cursing sinks your stomach as you navigate your way back to the store where a man is helping her load the cart. “Hell, my sister’s newborn had more strength than you and he came out bright blue!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Spotting Arthur, who is strolling back himself, fills you with relief. The shopkeeper walks back to the porch, checking the list before walking back. “I think this is everything,” he says, swinging the sack of salt on the cart.

“Thanks… here, take that for yourself, okay.” She flicks a silver coin and he catches it out of the air, scowling.

“Thanks,” he spits.

“Well, give it back then! Jesus! I didn’t ask for his goddamn help..." She pushes the sack on more securely to stop it rolling off when the cart moves. “OK, get on. I’m about done here.”

“Why don’t you drive?” suggests Arthur coolly after making sure you’re sat safely amongst the supplies. “C’mon lady, get a move on.”

She scowls as she takes the reins. “I like Sadie, not lady.”

“I know. So you get everything?”

“I think so.”

“And some… new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, the heat returning to her voice. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. You sure look the part now. Won’t be long before you’re smoking cigars and playin’ the harmonica.”

“I’ll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before… well… my house and everything I owned got burned to the ground.”

“I know... I’m real sorry. About what you… you know. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for another one.”

“I don’t want no pity,” she snaps. “Just… treat me equal and know… nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again.”

Arthur hums in comradery. “Just don’t kill the camp cook…”

A horse gallops up alongside you. “Hey there! What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home,” says Arthur casually, adding a quiet “keep it cool, Sadie”.

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” The hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the anticipation of conflict. You realise with a sinking stomach that you’re completely unarmed. “How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?” he repeats incredulously. Your eyes scan the bags and boxes around you. There has to be something here that can double as a weapon of some kind.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!” calls Sadie coolly. “How’s about this?”

A pistol cracks and the Lemoyne Raider cries out in pain. She ushers the horses on with a Go, go, go! as Arthur stands up, drawing his revolvers and firing. You duck down as bullets fly over your head, your hands scrambling for anything that could be of use.

“What the hell was that?” cries Arthur furiously.

“They was gonna rob us!”

“A new pair of pants and you think you’re Landon Ricketts!” He curses loudly as more men run out in the road ahead.

“I’m gonna run this son of a bitch down!” she shouts, pulling the wagon over one raider and off the road.

“Well you wanted to see some action, lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur slings his longarm from his back and shoves it in your direction as he continues to fire. You can see more men coming out from between the trees and you take aim, knocking them down one by one as Arthur clips off any extras over your head.

“You alright there, Sadie?” you shout over the gunfire. Arthur is still firing behind you, but she’s out of your line of sight from where you’re crouched behind sacks of grain.

“Of course! You think I can’t handle these fools?” You don’t retaliate and you can almost hear her voice aim at Arthur. “Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” he grunts, tossing you extra ammo just in case. The last bastard is fleeing south down the dirt track. You take aim, but he’s out of range.

“Yeah you run, you goddamn coward!” screams Sadie before taking a steadying breath. “I think we’re good here. Nice shooting. I’ll drive us back-”

“No! Pass those reins here!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”

She doesn’t find grounds to argue, instead looking back at you, her face straight and unreadable. “We showed those bastards, huh?”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur scowls.

“They was clearly plannin’ to bushwhack us!” she argues, facing forward again.

“You did good, but that’s a lotta mess to make near camp. Hope it don’t bring anyone sniffin’ around.”

“Are you gonna tell Dutch?” she asks mockingly.

“Maybe… if he asks. But, maybe not.”

“So who did they say they were? Lemoyne Raiders?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Who knows… Anyway, don’t you go ribbing Pearson about that letter.”

“How dare you? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Riiight, you wouldn’t…”

“I have travelled widely, making no small name of myself…”

Arthur laughs. “I won’t be giving you no mail to post any time soon, that’s for sure.”

She chuckles too. “I just wanna peak in that journal of yours. The mind boggles.”

“Not a chance…”

“You didn’t get yourself killed then, Miss Adler?” calls Pearson, strolling over smugly as Arthur pulls up near the horse station.

“Not quite,” she responds truthfully.

“Well, I’d like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I’d be lying.”

She accepts the box shoved into her chest without complaint. “I… I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Yes, we err… Mrs Adler did ok!” He holds up his arms and lifts you down gently by your waist.

“At shopping?”

“Yes, at shoppin’...”

The double meaning doesn’t go unrecognised by Sadie who thanks him with genuine gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. I would ride with you again, Mrs Adler, if you will ride with me.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. “If you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We got this, Arthur. You’ve already done me a big favour today.” Turning to you with a smile, Arthur accepts the repeater you proffer. It’s best to remain unarmed for now - there’s no need to risk one of your lesser fans finding an excuse to regard you as a threat. “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. And… nice pants by the way.”

“You okay there, Y/N?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side. “You manage to find something too?”

“Just about,” you admit. “Had to put in an order. How long do you think we’ll be around here for?”

“Until we can’t most likely. Everything alright? They didn’t catch you or nothin’, did they?”

“Of course not, Arthur.” Your weak smile is genuine and heartfelt at his concern. “I’m not above shouting when I’m shot.”

“‘Course not.” He rubs your back, leading you back to your shared tent. “You gonna try them on, or what?”

“Nah, I figure I might as well make the most of still being able to fit in this stuff, even if it’s only for a few more days.”

He laughs, pulling you into a big hug. “Fair enough.”

From under his arm, you spot the rousing attention of Herr Strauss nearby. You nudge him in warning, but it’s too late.

“Ah, Herr Morgan! How are you enjoying yourself out here?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he replies gruffly. “And you?”

“Well, it turns out the pursuit of freedom is not a cheap business. Not for us, and not for some of the locals.”

“Sharking, already?”

“I prefer to call it banking.”

“You ain’t the one handing out the beatings,” snarls Arthur.

“No, but I am the one feeding the women and children in the camp,” he retorts. “What choice do we have, Mr Morgan?”

Arthur sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. Well, come on then! Tell me who…”

You stop listening as Strauss reads off a list of names, and only tune back in to hear Arthur ask how many he expects to be able to pay.

“With enough encouragement, both of them!” he chuckles, his black eyes twinkling from behind the round spectacles.

Sighing, Arthur returns to where you’re sat on the camp bed. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’d best be gettin’ on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up to kiss him. “The gang comes first.”

He grimaces at that, but doesn’t dispute it. You give him another kiss for good luck and wave him out camp before dropping the flaps, not missing the glare of bitterness from Sadie across camp.

#red dead fic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x o'driscoll #meowdymista

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

Text

Take A Chance

Part 1

mafia! hyunjin x hacker! reader

fluff

w.c: 2.2k

a/n: here is part 2 as promised :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I know what it looks like but let me make one thing clear, I’m not with these people.”

From what she was mumbling earlier to herself that much was clear but that meant someone else knew I was coming and informed my mark beforehand. Do we have a mole somewhere? Why is she here though? She recognizes me, was meeting her this afternoon not a coincidence? The more I thought about it the more questions came up. The only thing I was sure of was don’t lower your guard… or your gun, even if my gut is telling me to. Seeing as though I wasn’t going to speak she added on after pulling down her mask.

“Long story short, I’m a hacker. I got a job but I was told I have to do it in person. Now I see why, I was double crossed but then again I didn’t expect much from this broker Seunghyun.”

Silence.

“Look I don’t know who you’re affiliated with but I wanna walk away alive and that requires me to know you won’t shoot. I think we both know who would win in a shootout here.”

She makes a valid point. She holds the gun with hesitation, most likely she’s never killed someone if she’s ever actually shot a gun before. Those observation skills again... makes sense now I know her profession. Our eyes connected again and she lowered her gun, is she dumb?

“Do you really think that’s a smart move?”

“Call it a gut feeling. Plus, since no one came for us yet the only threat right now is that gun.”

I should’ve cut my losses and got rid of her, but why is my conscience weighing against me on this? Chan-hyung won’t be happy this assignment was a bust, it took us forever to locate this base on top of the fact this group works on anonymity so we haven’t identified the boss yet.

“You said you’re a hacker right? How good are you?”

“I mean on a scale of one to ten I would say a solid eight.”

“C’mon you’re coming back with me.”

This was going to be a stretch, a bad decision even, but maybe she can find our target. She said her gut trusts me so maybe she’ll help? Or maybe your trying to make up dumb reasons because you don’t want to kill her. Whatever not like she’s going to willingly-

“Okay.”

She shrugs her shoulders… Does she even know the circumstances she’s in? Or maybe she does cause you’re still pointing your gun at her idiot. I put my gun away before heading out, grabbing her arm in the process and pulled her along. The car ride was silent and there were too many questions that needed answers so trusting my gut this time I decided to just ask.

“Why did you come with me so willingly?”

“You asked about my skills so you weren’t planning on shooting me, maybe I’ll get a job out of this. Plus I wanna catch Seunghyun, our goals are in the same direction and I can’t go back home. The weasel thinks I was basically killed in his client’s place, so it’s best to play dead.”

“Don’t you think you’re being too trusting of me?”

“I blame the fact we got to know each other prior, you had a trustworthy personality… Can I ask where we’re going? Apparently you keep questioning my actions, so I don’t know if I can ask."

"Well you just did but we're going to one of our home bases."

"Surprised we didn't just go back to yours since it's so late."

"... That would be inappropriate given the current situation."

"Inappropriate? You're more innocent than expected."

"I was saying for security purposes where is your head at?" I teased.

First time tonight she reverted to the girl I met this afternoon and deep down I was glad. No more analytical observations, just a girl not sure how to handle conversation. Although it was silent in the car once again there was less tension thankfully. I turned to check on her after a while and she was… asleep. I let out a sigh as I rolled my eyes. I can’t decide whether I think she is smart or naive at this point. Is she always so trusting? How has she survived this long? She was still asleep when we arrived so I nudged her softly. She blinked a few times as her mind remembered her situation before she hurriedly climbed out after me. Once inside there were only three of the members in right now, the biggest imposition being Chan-hyung. I roll my eyes, he’s always trying to use the years of experience etched on his face to scare outsiders. I felt y/n move a bit closer, keeping her eyes darting around the room but always ending back on hyung. We went straight for the lion’s den as I motioned her to take the seat across from hyung’s desk, taking my own seat on the arm of her chair. His eyes looked her up and down in question before turning to me for explanation.

“The target wasn’t there, instead I found her.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t working with them?”

“She was set up by Seunghyun. Was told she had to do an on site hacking job.”

“Seunghyun is the last of the brokers you should ever trust,” hyung said, throwing that comment at y/n before adding, “and she’s trustworthy?”

“Yeah, she wants back at Seunghyun and she’s willing to help for a hiding place for now.”

At this she looked at me cause we never talked about a deal but I mean she does need a place to crash so was I really wrong? Chan-hyung smiles. Thank god, I was getting tired of his tough act. It gives me chills cause it feels like someone is going to get into trouble.

“It’s a deal then. We have a few rooms here for when we pull late nights anyways.”

It’s been a few weeks since then and among the many things I’ve learned about her, y/n has made me question yet again how she has lived this long. After the first night she has basically turned the computer room into her own, rarely leaving even for food. I have yet to see y/n sleep longer than a few hours and if I didn’t check up on her with some food, she would’ve probably lived off of whatever snacks Felix had lying around the room. Aside from me basically becoming her babysitter, she grew close to some of the boys. Felix and Minho-hyung have adopted her as their kin and she’s grown on the other boys, some have even whined to me about how she only really talks to me. I constantly roll my eyes cause that’s not true, if anything it’s cause she's known me longest out of all of them but once Changbin-hyung snitched about that one lunch everyone suddenly knew why. Luckily there wasn’t much time for chatter about feelings since y/n identified some high rankers in that group, one being the boss’s right hand.

After a few days of tracking, y/n and Felix found the main warehouse in which the right hand officer operated from and with the current information Chan-hyung and Minho- hyung devised a plan. It was a long shot but if things went well we could smoke out the leader. We broke into three teams as we moved to location. First was the infiltration team consisting of Seungmin, Changbin-hyung, Jeongin, Jisung, and Chan-hyung. I was to be positioned as sniper support on the building across the street and Felix, y/n, and Minho-hyung would be in a surveillance van down the street to assist remotely, giving new orders if needed. From my perch on the rooftop I counted off how many people they’ll have to go through to reach the main office, which Felix confirmed was the current location of the right hand, and on Chan-hyung’s count they went in. Infiltration went smoothly and we were able to take out most of the members stationed in the factory with little problem. In a matter of minutes the office was breached and the right hand was captured but it felt… wrong. He was too calm and it was too easy, there should’ve been more resistance on their way up.

“You guys…”

I was about to warn them but a chill shot down my spine as the man I had my sights on turned to look at me with a smirk. The next moment I felt a cold barrel on the back of my head and I froze.

“I’m going to need you to hand over your ear piece please,” I begrudgingly threw it behind me before I heard him speak again, “Hello Stray Kids. I would appreciate it if you don’t act rashly, a good friend of yours is with me. It would be a shame if something happened to him.”

Watching through my scope, I could see the others tense up. It was a trap. Hopefully the others in the van are safe… you idiot, you’re the one in danger why are you worrying about others? Just focus on the person behind you!

“You lot really don’t know how to give up, do you? I tried to throw you a few bones but you are a hard crowd to please. Then you started to look into my alias and it was a little too close to home, how did you figure that out anyways?”

Wait a minute that voice sounds familiar... Seunghyun? I’ve only heard him on select occasions but that’s his voice. I can’t believe the boss was hiding right under our nose, it’s smart I give him that. He must’ve found out when y/n started looking into him. Y/n… why does she keep popping into my mind when I’m in a life or death situation? I scoff.

“Excuse me, why are you chuckling to yourself? I believe you’re the hostage, what’s so funny?”

“Because someone’s gut feeling just happens to be scarily right. She said our goals would be in the same direction, who knew they were actually the same?”

I felt the frustrated twitch in his hand as he pressed the gun harder onto the back of my skull. I shouldn’t be provoking him in this situation, what’s wrong with me? Maybe y/n’s recklessness is rubbing off on me. Bang! The pressure disappeared and in an instant I whipped around to see an out of breath y/n still holding her gun up as Seunghyun groaned in pain on the ground. I maneuvered around him and kicked his gun away, keeping my eyes on the scene unfolding before me.

“You bitch… I thought you were dead.”

“And I thought I would be enjoying my favorite show tonight, it seems we’re both disappointed.”

“No wonder they were getting close, they upgraded their hacker.”

He laughed to himself before spitting out blood. By now y/n had moved to stand over Seunghyun, stepping on the shoulder she had shot. The usual hesitation she had was gone and the familiar warmth in her eyes had frozen over.

“No, I think you just got sloppy. You may cover your tracks but the powerful people you work with didn’t. You’re fault really. Of all the hackers you chose to double cross, it just had to be me.”

She turned her attention to me. Her eyes scanned my body, making sure I was more or less unharmed, and smiled when she realized I was in one piece. Seeing her like this was kind of hot and I would almost be scared if I didn’t notice the small tremble in her hand. This wasn’t her and I could tell she no longer wanted to be in that position.

“Do you feel better after getting revenge?”

“No, which is anti-climactic.”

“Then I can take things from here, tell the boys they can clean up and I’ll meet you down there.”

“Awww this is almost cute enough to make me throw up,” Seunghyun’s annoying voice spoke.

Y/n gave a final dig of her heel for that comment before going down, her voice echoing through the stairwell. Once she was gone and out of earshot, I pulled the trigger without hesitation and finished the job. I packed up and went down to meet the others who were already complimenting y/n for her heroics. As I threw the stuff in the back Felix started whining how she no longer had a reason to stick around.

"Hyunjin hurry up and date her already so we can keep her.”

At Chan-hyung’s comment she looked away from me and in the dim light from the van, I could see the tips of her ears turning red. Probably as red as my face felt and most likely the guys caught it too.

"If he won't ask you out, I gladly will," Seungmin added suddenly.

I knew this was going to earn me the teasing of a lifetime, indicated by the ooooh’s they were already making but my brain wasn’t thinking. I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms around her as my voice came out as a low growl.

“Back off she’s mine.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #my writing

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sierraraeck · 3 years

Text

Return to Normalcy (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Returning to normal has never been so hard. Just as Aundreya is starting to make amends and fit back in with the group, something gets in the way. Story twenty-two.

Category: Angst, but there’s some fluff too

Warnings: Cussing. CM talk. Mentions of death and suicide as a COD. Break-ins.

Word Count: 5.5k

It was odd, how quickly things seemed to go back to ‘normal.’ It was a new sort of normal, like if you’d moved out of your house and years later the new owners invited you over for dinner, but it felt familiar nonetheless.

It seemed to me that we were all more focused on the cases coming in, and while the rest of the team still went out for drinks after a long case, I no longer took part. It didn’t feel right, and above that, I had to get home and prepare for whatever new guest decided to grace me with their presence.

The nice way of saying that people were breaking into my apartment.

It started the Monday I had returned to work with the BAU. Once we got home, my apartment was trashed with a lovely note carved into my bedside table letting me know that this was only going to get worse. I had no motive for them either, but I had three guesses: they were working for DeLeon, they were working for Archer, or they were working for me. If they were working for me, they were probably pissed that I went back to the BAU, or they were clients that held a grudge.

Either way, it didn’t really matter, because if I wasn’t already having trouble sleeping, I definitely was now. I never knew what day, what time, or how many people there’d be. I hate to call it a game, but that was honestly what it’d become. I tried to track their pattern, but they were good, keeping everything very random. I started making bets with myself about the day, time, and number of people, just to keep things interesting.

I walked into work with new bruises and cuts all the time. I tried my best to cover them up, but I wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t believe my teammates were blind. But none of them pushed, they only ever gave me weird looks, which I promptly ignored.

It wasn’t until I was so tired and in pain that I couldn’t do my job correctly.

I was chasing down and unsub, but I couldn’t keep up. He turned a corner and when I followed, ambushed me. We started fighting, but I couldn’t hold my own. Had it not been for Derek following me and shooting him off of me, that man would have strangled me with his bare hands. Only then did Hotch pull me aside.

“Chambers, what is going on with you?” he had those stern, yet caring eyes trained on me.

“Do you want the real version, or the boss version?” I sarcastically asked. He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m having trouble sleeping. I wake up every night from nightmares if I’m lucky enough to fall asleep in the first place.”

“Do you expect me to buy that, or do you also fight your furniture in your sleep?” he asked.

“I do expect you to buy that, because it’s true,” I shot back.

“But that’s not everything,” Hotch pointed out.

I shrugged, “It’s close enough.”

“Chambers,” he warned.

“I’m okay,” I assured.

“You almost died today in hand to hand combat. I’ve never seen you even come close to losing to someone in that area. You beat Morgan on a regular, and he’s one of the best fighters I know,” Hotch acknowledged, “What is going on?”

“Hotch, please-”

“I will ask you to take time off if this is not something that can be solved.”

“No!” I barely let him finish, “You cannot confine me to my apartment.”

He gave me a quick once over, and I tried my best to look composed. “I will order you to tell me if things get worse.” I nodded and gave a small ‘thank you’ before walking away.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I did everything I could to prepare for the intruders, but it was another long night. I was never sure if they were out to kill me or just scare me, but it usually ended up with me fighting two or three people at the same time. Usually they fled before things got too serious, but I ended up having to drag out a body every now and then.

Last night was no different, fighting two masked people until they decided to leave. The one upside of all the constant fighting after a while, was that it was allowing me to sleep better. I was so exhausted by the time I was done, that I could actually get three or four solid hours of sleep. Ironic how the same problem causing part of my lack of sleep, could also help me sleep.

The one thing different about last night, though, was that I finally got a look at one of their faces, unmasked and alive. It wasn’t much, but it was something to go off of.

I convinced Garcia to help me find someone who was hopefully in the system. I gave her a description; a man in his early thirties, red curly hair, about five foot eleven, scar behind his ear. She pulled up known felons and those in the prison system, but none of them were him. I didn’t want to have to raise suspicion by asking her to do it, but I had to know who was coming after me. So I went out on a limb and asked her to search for people in the Bureau, and those who worked closely with Agent Howard Archer.

And then I saw him. Some new assistant of Archer’s that also happened to work for the MI6 before moving to the US.

I played it off to Penelope, but I now knew who was coming after me. He must have been nearly as pissed as DeLeon was about Xena, and even more so about the fact that I weaseled my way out of charges, out of DeLeon’s grasp (if he knew about that), and all the way back to the BAU.

But I had a plan, one that would grant me more peace, and help keep the BAU team together.

Things just worked out even better than expected when Emily accidentally dropped information to one of the deputies that was helping his son get away with muder. Not like I wanted her to make a mistake, she was already feeling more guilty about it that she needed to, and I did want to be there for her, but it also just so happened to serve a bigger purpose as well.

We boarded the jet on our way home after using a couple extra days to catch the deputy and his son. Emily sat by herself in the back, clearly beating herself up. I saw JJ say something and squeeze her shoulder, but Emily was not having it. I gave her the first half of the trip to wallow, and then made my move.

I approached her seat and went to sit down when she waved me off, “Chambers, I really can’t go through another ‘it’s okay we still got him’ pep talk right now.”

I sat down right next to her and put my feet up on the other seat. I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking her movement, and said, “Nah, man, I came over here to tell you that you majorly fucked up. Didn’t you hear? If you’re in the FBI and wrongfully trust your fellow law enforcement officers who are supposed to be helping you catch the bad guy, you’re immediately terminated?” She glared at me from the corner of her eye and I smirked, “I’m serious, Emily. If you ever make a mistake and then end up solving the whole case for us like that again, I think we might just have to fire you.”

“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned.

“No, not really,” I smiled, “I only think I am when I’m massively sleep deprived and my badass coworker makes the coolest unsub takedown of the century.” She rolled her eyes. I looked across the aisle to where JJ was seated and asked, “Come on, JJ. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” JJ absentmindedly sang, not even bothering to look up from her magazine, “It’s not like she launched through the air, tackled him, and rolled on the ground a couple of times before handcuffing him from her position on top, then stood up like it was nothing.”

I shrugged, turning my attention back to Emily, “Ooh! So, does this mean, now that you’re obviously leaving, that I will be the best at the shooting range?”

“Okay, please stop,” Emily finally spoke back up. She still wouldn’t look at me, but I could see the beginning of a smile creeping up on her face.

I lightly poked her in the side, and she finally cracked a smile, looking over at me. “Look, historically I’m not the greatest at giving pep talks, but I’ve fucked up enough time to know the usual bullshit that they entail, and I know that not a single ounce of it is helpful. It’s gonna feel crappy for a while, that’s just how it goes, but trust me when I say that you have a lot more to be proud of than slipping up once in your seven years of being with the FBI. Not to mention that you personally got to kick his ass anyway.”

“Yeah, but,” she shook her head, “next time, things might not end as lucky.”

“God damn it, Emily,” I tsked playfully, “You’re starting to sound like me. And I can tell you with confidence, being me, that I do not recommend that path.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying but-”

“But you don’t want to come out with me and the girls tonight,” I sighed, posing it more like a statement than a question. “I get it.”

JJ perked up at this, and asked, “What is this you’re saying about girls night?”

“Oh, I guess it’s not that exciting. Emily doesn’t seem interested,” I feigned a grimace, reaching into my pocket to produce five ticket.

“What are those?” Emily asked.

I hummed, “I guess I’ll have to sell yours, or refund it or something, you know, since you don’t want to come out with us.”

“Aundreya, I swear to god,” Emily started, reaching for the tickets in my hand. I jerked them back, but Tara yanked one from my grasp.

“Alanis Morissette? Are you for real?” she asked.

“Dead serious,” I grinned.

I turned to Emily whose mouth was agape, “How’d you know? I’ve been trying to see her for years, but we always have a case!”

“Look, we have tonight and then the extended weekend off. I figured we could get some sleep this afternoon, get ready, go out to dinner, and then go to the concert,” I suggested.

“Absolutely!” Emily’s excitement was enough to make all of us smile, “This is amazing. Does Garcia know?”

“Does she ever,” I murmured. “She nearly wrecked the surprise about twelve times already!”

The girls laughed, and the prospect of getting away and doing something fun seemed to put everyone in a much better mood.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke up on Garcia’s floor completely exhausted. But for once, it was a happy exhaustion. No break ins, no nightmares, just the five of us girls having the night of our lives. I checked the time, and the brightness of my phone blinded my eyes. The time read 9:24, and my head hurt a little, but I knew how to drink. Emily and Tara would be fine by the end of the day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if JJ and Penelope were hungover until the weekend was over.

I started cleaning up the place, trying my best not to make any sound or knock into any bottles. When it felt sufficiently cleaned, and I did everything I thought I could that would be quiet, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Emily was the next up, and walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and holding an empty tequila bottle. She placed it in the trash, then walked over to where I was flipping pancakes.

“Damn, aren’t you tired?” she asked.

I gave her a look. “I’ve adjusted to the constant pounding in my head.”

“Right,” she rasped, “I forgot. You’ve got that super power that allows you not to be affected by drugs and alcohol and stuff.”

I just nodded. “How was it, though?”

She looked at me confused for a moment, before realizing I was talking about the concert. “Aundreya, it was amazing. I can’t believe you did that for us.”

I shrugged, “I just figured we all needed a break.”

“Amen,” Tara said, finishing the last of her beer before placing the empty bottle on the counter.

“Beer before pancakes?” Emily asked.

“My head already hurts, I don’t think another swig’ll change that,” she pointed out. When the other two woke up, we ate breakfast and finished cleaning Peleope’s apartment. It was the first time since I’d been back that I actually did something with the group, and it was actually really fun. We were all Alanis Morissette fans, so we practically screamed the lyrics all night. Not one of us could talk properly, our vocal chords probably wrecked for eternity.

When we finished up, we all decided to head back to our own places. I dreaded leaving, knowing that there was a 50 percent chance that mine was raided yet again.

I was the last one out, and right as I was about to leave, I felt Penelope’s eyes on me. She’d been acting a little strange around me the entire night, and I was wondering if she was ever going to talk to me about it. I turned around to face her and saw that she was looking at me with very nervous eyes. I offered her a small smile, hoping that she would come out with it on her own.

When she just kept looking at me, shifting her eyes between me and the door, I carefully asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she quickly said, seeming to pull out of her thoughts. “Sorry to keep you. You can head home if you need to.” She rushed over to me and started to open the door but I slightly leaned back on the door so she couldn’t fully pull it open.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” I looked her straight in the eyes, “But if you have something to say, or ask, please do. I don’t want you to be nervous to talk to me.”

She struggled for the right words for a moment before she sighed. “Do you want to sit?” I nodded and followed her to the couch. She took another deep breath before starting, “It’s about your ring of people.”

“Okay…” I invited her to continue.

“Um, Deen, that’s his name right? Deen?” I nodded, “Well, he mentioned something to me about you wanting to recruit me before I got offered a job at the FBI.”

I pressed my lips together with understanding. Of course Deen would slip up when it came to ‘The Black Queen.’ I already knew he had a not so little crush on her, and now that he’d met her, he wouldn’t shut up. “Yeah, I did. You were just starting to get really big around the same time the Cloaks were going under, and I knew you’d be a big asset to our team. Once I had the ring up and running, I made a plan to reach out to you and ask you to join us. It was a bit of a long shot considering you were using your skills to do good and you’d probably think we were on the opposite end of that, but we really wanted you. Well, I really wanted you and Deen was really pushing for it. Honestly, we were only three days out from inviting you in when you got caught. We were hopeful, but when you accepted the job with the FBI we weren’t surprised. Still sad, though,” I admitted.

“So, had I not got caught, or you’d gotten to me a few days earlier, your life could’ve been my life?” she asked, a bit of wonder in her voice.

I joked, “Hopefully not. But you would’ve been in the room with me whenever I was planning something new or we were tracking a client or mole. You probably would’ve been our lead in operations considering you’d have access to all of their information and security cameras we’d need to hack into, not to mention some of our own.”

“That’s… wow,” Penelope stared out the window as if she could see her other life playing out.

“But I think you ended up where you belong,” I smiled at her.

She mirrored my expression and agreed, “Yes. I think you’re right. It would’ve been interesting though, to see how different my life would’ve been.”

“Maybe,” I reminded, “But you might not have even said yes to us to begin with.” She looked deep in thought, understandably. It was a lot to process, especially since she had some idea of my lifestyle and the amount of trouble I got into. But it was still a possibility that she’d never had the opportunity to ponder. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes. Thank you for last night and, for answering my questions this morning,” she stood up with me as I went to grab my stuff and head out the door.

“If you want to know anything else, just ask,” I smiled.

She nodded and was about to close the door behind me she shyly questioned, “And Deen?”

I grinned from ear to ear. “Great guy, super loyal, funny, and a natural leader and protector. Oh, and super into you.”

She smiled to herself, looking down a little bit, then gave me a wave as she shut the door.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When I got back to my place, and saw that the door was already cracked, I sighed. I swung open the door to see that things only continued to get worse.

Sitting there on the couch was Spencer. There was broken glass and knocked over furniture strewn all around, and he was like a rare diamond sitting in the middle of the rubble.

“Aundreya, what is going on?” his voice was soft and concerned, eyes wide.

“Spencer, please-” I tried.

He shook his head and gestured for me to sit down next to him. I swiped off some of the stuffing coming out of a read and sat down. “Please. Please tell me what all of this is. I want to help.”

“You can’t help,” I said.

“Only because you won’t let me,” he pointed out. “You’re coming to work with new bruises all the time, you’re clearly more tired than usual, and your ability to think and physically perform are decreasing.”

I looked down at my hands, spinning the bracelets around my wrist. “People are breaking into my place. It’s completely random but I can fend them off.”

The shock and concern in his eyes grew, “How long has this been going on?”

I purses my lips, “Since I came back.”

“And how many times has this happened?”

I looked around my apartment and shook my head, “I stopped cleaning after four.”

“Aundreya-”

“Don’t say anything,” I pleaded. “If you do, then I’ll have to take time off and leave this place defenseless, or you’ll assign people to stand guard which will likely only get them killed. I’m handling this.”

“You call this,” Spencer gestured to the disaster I called an apartment, “handling it?”

“I’m trying to handle it,” I corrected, “And it’s actually been getting better.”

“I know that’s not true,” he accused.

“Well now I’m too tired for nightmares and can actually get some real, solid sleep, so I’d call that a win,” I snapped. He looked at me hurt, “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

“My point exactly. You’re too tired to control your emotions. You’re irritable,” he stated.

“I’m okay,” I insisted. I could tell he was not buying it, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him anywhere near my apartment. Anywhere near me. It would only put him in harms way.

“Is this why you always insisted on going out to meet me instead of going to one of our apartments?” he asked.

We’d been meeting up for food or just walks when neither of us could sleep. He was still dealing with prison, and drugs, and Cat Adams with his mom (which I didn’t know about until I came back), while I was dealing with Xena, and DeLeon, and Agent Archer. We quickly realized that there was no one else to call at 3am in the morning when we couldn’t sleep besides each other.

“That, and I didn’t want to intrude on you and Maeve,” I whispered.

“She actually hasn’t been staying over these past few days,” he murmured. It threw me off guard, so I just stared at him with my head tilted to one side. “Yeah. I don’t blame her though.”

“Wait, it was her decision?” I asked.

“No, well yes,” he stumbled. “I mean, I felt bad constantly being away, and the only time I was here I was waking up with nightmares. She deserves better than that.”

“And you deserve to be with who you want. Don’t push her away because you feel guilty, let her make that decision on her own,” I finished with a yawn.

“God, you need sleep,” he said, effectively dodging my previous statement.

“Yeah, but then who’s gonna protect you if they come back?” I attempted to joke.

He reached down and produced his gun, then flashed the other one around his ankle along with a small dagger. I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged, “I think I can hold down the fort for tonight. The team needs you to be rested to chase down our unsubs.”

I laughed, “Yeah, but they need you rested to actually find them in the first place. I can pass the whole chasing them down thing back to Morgan for a while.”

“You’re not going to be able to sleep with me here, are you?” he asked.

I shook my head, “In your defense, I wouldn’t be sleeping if you weren’t here. But now that I know there’s more than just vases in here to protect…”

“Fine. How about we take shifts?” he offered.

“No, you should go and get some real sleep on a bed, not a couch that’s falling apart,” I suggested. He gave me a pointed look, and I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping either now that he knew what was going on. “Fine. Shifts it is.”

He stood up to go shut and lock my door, then came back to sit next to me on the couch. I put my head on his shoulder, and before I knew it, I was out.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke to the sound of ringing. I looked up to find that somehow, we both ended up asleep on my couch, my head on his chest, curled up in his side. His arm was around me and I wanted to believe that the ringing was just a part of another nightmare, but when it went off again, I sprung up off the couch. I quickly scanned the windows and all the doors, waiting for someone to jump us.

“It’s okay,” Spencer rasped, sitting up, “It’s just our phones.”

I looked down at the coffee table near the couch to see that he was right. “Oh.” I answered mine and walked into the other room while Spencer answered his, cursing myself for being so jumpy in front of him.

It was Penelope, “You need to get here fast. There’s been a death.”

“Be right there,” I answered. I shuffled back into the main room where Spencer was already grabbing his stuff, running his hands through his hair.

“Do you want to ride with me?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

When we arrived at the bullpen, Hotch ushered us up to the round table room, and locked the door behind us.

“Hotch, what is going on?” JJ asked first.

We all looked at him expectantly. “Early this morning, the body of Associate Deputy Director Howard Archer was found in his apartment.” He flashed a picture up on the screen. Archer was hanging from his ceiling fan by his bed sheets. “It has been deemed a suicide, but we’ve been asked to confirm that COD.”

“Why? Is there any evidence of foul play?” Derek asked. I stayed completely silent.

“No.”

“Then what do they need us to investigate for?” Emily prompted.

“His wife swears that he wasn’t suicidal. He had been happier these past couple years, and only recently seemed on edge, but she said he seemed scared, not depressed,” Hotch presented.

“Yeah, but can’t fear and sadness sometimes appear to be similar?” JJ asked.

“Sure, but she claimed he seemed jumpy. Like looking over your shoulder scared,” Rossi answered.

“Chambers, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Derek looked at me.

I shrugged. “It looks like a suicide to me.”

“No more?” Derek pushed.

“Look, Reid, don’t you have some fact about people who subconsciously make stuff up when a loved one dies to cope? It’s like transferring but-”

“There are all different types of memory bias and false memories. Sometimes as a coping mechanism, victims can convince themselves that something different happened, or there were warning signs when there weren’t. Inaccurate recall, especially one of a key eyewitness causes almost-”

“Exactly,” I veered back to the point, “And if there is no evidence of foul play, I’d say we give it a little time and close it.”

“I agree,” JJ backed me, which I found slightly surprising.

“Okay,” Hotch said, “Rossi, take Reid with you to the scene and assure them of our conclusion unless anything else turns up.”

They nodded and left for the scene, while the rest of us went to our respective desks to get a jump start on paperwork.

I was relieved that I had played it off, and so far, it seemed like no one suspected a thing. I mean, I was with the girls for the entire night, or most of it anyway, and would have a clean alibi.

But I did kill him.

When we went out to dinner, I told the girls that I’d left my jacket at home. They all knew how tired I was lately, and didn’t question my forgetfulness. JJ offered me ker keys, which I took, but dropped in Heidi’s pocket. Heidi was one of the girls that I used to dance with, and she and I looked remarkably similar. If she kept her head down and away from cameras, you’d think she was me. I had her drive back to my place to get my jacket while I pickpocketed our waiter for his keys. I drove to Archer’s place, sneaked in through the window of his bedroom, and grabbed the sheets off his bed. I had gloves and shoe covers on, and my hair pulled back, so I was in the clear. I came up from behind him, and strangled him to appear the same way a suicide would. Tying him up to the ceiling fan was the fun part. At least I got to use a ladder I made sure to push over at the end. I then headed back to the restaurant where I grabbed my jacket from Heidi, and took back JJ’s keys. Entering the restaurant, I ‘bumped into’ our waiter to replace his keys, then sat down for dinner and went to the concert.

I didn’t plan on getting questioned, but if it got that far, I knew the girls would vouch for me. I mean, I was with them for the entire night except for the 20 minutes I left to get my jacket.

I was lost in thought, reconfirming to myself that there was no way I would get caught, when Derek viciously called across the room, “Chambers, what the hell?”

I looked and noticed the team and I were the only people left in the room. Rossi and Reid had returned, but I couldn’t figure out what he was so mad about.

“What do you mean what the hell?” I fired back.

“What is this?” Derek demanded, walking over to me and shoving his phone in my face.

It was the recording of me, sitting in the nursing home chair, saying the shittiest things I could think of. And I looked stone cold serious, “I don’t really have to think that much when it comes to that pathetic, riddled with daddy-issues boy. All he really adds to the team is a pretty face and a body that can chase down unsubs. Now that I can do that, I don’t really see his value on the team. I think the team just keeps him around because he’s funny to watch at bars surrounded by women.”

“Shut that off,” I croaked. The rest of the team had circled around me, looking hurt and shocked and betrayed.

“How could you say those things!”

“Derek, I can-” explain. But he cut me off before I could speak.

“Do you have any idea-”

“Yes!” I interrupted, “Yes, I know what I said, I know what I did! But if you’d just-”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he shouted back. Unbelievable. He’s not even gonna let me explain. I’m back to ground zero, and they won’t even give me a chance. “Penelope is by herself crying right now because of what you said!”

That was the last straw. “She almost died because of what I didn’t say!” That shut him up long enough so that I could finish, “God, one thing goes wrong and every single one of you flips on me in an instant.”

“I don’t know how you expect us to constantly forgive you for all the things you’ve done.”

“I don’t. Okay, I don’t. Not anymore,” I hissed, “Don’t expect me to do the same for you.” I shoved the last bit of paperwork into my bag and picked it up to leave.

“Do the same?” Derek’s voice was littered with irritation and sarcasm, “What do you have to forgive us for?”

I was almost halfway to the door when I spun on my heels, “Leaving me to rot in prison.”

“Yes, that was a mistake,” Emily jumped in, “But we realized that and came to save you from DeLeon.”

My mouth was agape, “You think that makes up for it? If you wanna play that game, how about this: I saved Spencer’s life that day, and you repaid me by forgetting about me behind bars. I got myself out of that DeLeon situation alive, and not like you’d care, but I got the rest of you out alive too, so don’t try to use finding me and carrying me out of that place as a remedy, because if I wanted to, I could have saved myself the pain and the torture and just let you all die.”

The team was in shock, and I started taking backward steps toward the door again when Derek recovered and spoke up, sounding slightly confused “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“You don’t seem interested in anything else I have to say,” I spat.

“Look, we just-” Derek tried, his voice softening a little.

“No! No, I’m done with you constantly turning on me without hearing my side and then expecting me to accept your half-ass apologies. But I’m supposed to be understanding, right? I’m supposed to cut you slack because I’m the problem, right? I’m always the problem, with you, with the team, with every single relationship I’ve ever been in.” I huffed, “With me. I’m always the problem, okay, I get that. I’ve received the message loud and clear.” I continued on my path to the door, and I felt all of their eyes on me. Against my initial intentions to just walk out, I spun around and continued, “Just so you know, those things that I said saved your lives. And I didn’t mean a single word of it.”

“What do you mean saved our lives?” Emily asked.

Then I laughed. For profilers and FBI agents, I was surprised they hadn’t picked up on it. “How do you think he knew where you were and what you were doing, huh? Who did you think shot Penelope?” They still looked at me with empty faces. “He had snipers on you, and it seems I just couldn’t lie well enough when it came to her.” I turned toward the door.

“Chambers-” Emily tried.

I didn’t even turn around when responding, “Have fun at your little outing tonight. I won’t wait up this time.” They always went out after paperwork days, and I finally thought that tonight would be the night I’d join them again. But I was wrong.

Part 2

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pretendwiseguysofficial · 3 years

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MBTI: Star Wars

Written by Ryan (archive post from January 30, 2019)

It’s the gift that just keeps giving! And it will, forever, and ever, and…….ever, because of Disney. I can see both good and bad in that. Anyway, here’s another daunting list of characters, this time from Star Wars. Major characters have gotten their own articles. Rey: ISFP (https://goo.gl/p5TKP4) Finn: ENFP (https://goo.gl/bXp2fU) Kylo Ren: ESFP (https://goo.gl/Fh2cSa) Poe Dameron: ESFP (https://goo.gl/rFc6ob)

Luke Skywalker: INFP (separate thread pending) Han Solo: ISTP (separate thread pending) Leia Organa: ESTJ (separate thread pending) Lando Calrissian: ESTP (separate thread pending) Obi Wan Kenobi: ENFJ (separate thread pending) Yoda: INFJ (separate thread pending) Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker: ISTJ (separate thread pending) Sheev Palpatine/Darth Sidious: ENTJ (https://bit.ly/2B8rzk4) Darth Maul: ISTP (separate thread pending) Qui-Gon Jinn: ENFP (separate thread pending)

Ahsoka Tano: ENFP (separate thread pending)

More Below

PREQUELS

Padme Amidala: ESFJ Padme is the most prominent ESFJ in the saga (aside from C3PO), and she’s portrayed by Natalie Portman with……..wooden acting. How ironic. The basic white girl of the saga is reduced to a monotone delivery in the first film. Who knew the Queen had to act like such a dingus so that her body double would have an easier time imitating her? If you think about it, it’s pretty genius. That being said, Fe is the name of the game here for Padme, as she’s primarily concerned with the needs and wants of those around her, and often champions for social causes due to her role as a senator later on in the films. The Clone Wars series amplifies her primary Fe and secondary Si, as she fights to restore the Republic to its glory days.

Count Dooku: INFJ No one got tricked harder by Palpatine’s schemes than Dooku did. Darth Tyranus himself wanted nothing more than for the Separatists to restore a rightful order to the galaxy (in his eyes), free from the corruption of the Jedi and the Republic. Even as he was in on most of Palpatine’s grand plans from the start, he was unaware of his master’s true deception towards him until his final seconds.

It’s only fitting that the gentlemanly villain of the saga, and even more fitting that he wanted Obi-Wan as his apprentice (another xNFJ), to usurp Palpatine. Count Dooku is basically the Ra’s Al Ghul of Star Wars.

Jar-Jar Binks: ESFP My favorite character! Just kidding. But really, Jar-Jar ain’t all that bad; he’s just an annoying ESFP. Jar-Jar lives primarily in the moment as a comic relief goober that bares little-to-no importance to the plot, except for the crowning moment where he facilitates the senate to give Chancellor Palpatine emergency powers. Oh, now you’ve got a reason to hate him.

Mace Windu: ENTJ “George……I want a purple lightsaber. Pleeaaaase?”

Unfortunately, Samuel L. Jackson himself never got to utter his catchphrase as he portrayed a more stoic ENTJ this time around. Mace Windu, known in the Legends continuity for his infamous Shatterpoint technique (very Te-based), gifts a strategic mindset to the Jedi council. He’ll often say things for how they are in a Te-based manner (but with a little more tact), such as when he states that Anakin is too old to be trained when Qui-Gon presents him to the council. And then he’ll sometimes give us some one liners, such as “this party’s over.” But the signifier of Te-Ni? When he proposes to execute Palpatine because he is too dangerous.

Jango Fett: ISTP Jango Fett? Neevah houd uf ‘im. But what about Boba? Rest aside, Jango Fett just cares about the fat stacks he gets from being a clone template so he can be the best dad in the galaxy there is, and he don’t care who pays him. Sounds pretty ISTP to me.

General Grievous: ESTJ Hello there! Our favorite coughing cyborg general turns out to be an ESTJ. Through primary Te, he barks out orders to his subordinates, often impatiently. It’s like he knows you knew how to do it but screwed up, which is a superpower that ESTJs have and will use to pounce on you and your failures.

Grievous himself is a natural boaster, like any ESTJ. Your GIFs will make a fine addition to his collection!

ORIGINAL TRILOGY

Tarkin: ESTJ Roll your R’s! Heighten your received pronunciation! Peter Cushing is here to add some Britishness to your Star Wars! Tarkin stands as one of the most brilliant tactical minds the Empire has known (rivaled only by Grand Admiral Thrawn). But he is also one of the governors/administrators of the Empire, and it is because of this reason that he has become known for his Te, dishing out orders with an elegant terror. ESTJ it is, folks.

Boba Fett: ISTP Fact: Boba Fett survives the Sarlacc Pit in both continuities. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. Everyone’s favorite character, Boba Fett, is just like his father (an ISTP); his allegiances do not matter as long as his employers pay him fat stacks. Unless he has to work with Han Solo. Archenemies do not get along that well. The everchanging neutrality of the ISTP is displayed most importantly in the Legends continuity, in one story where Fett himself turned on Vader and dueled with a lightsaber (successfully), when it wasn’t in his own interests to side with Vader.

R2D2: ENTP I’m always under the theory that if we could hear R2D2 speak, he’d be swearing ¼ of the time. This wisecracking little astromech droid always comes up with creative solutions when in a bind, all the while wising off to C3PO in the process. Sounds like Ne to me, right? But more importantly, the moral of the story for most ENTPs to learn is a little common sense and to sit back and think things through a little more. Sure they have excellent reasoning abilities on the spot, but would R2 have ended up in a Jawa sandcrawler if he hadn’t smarted off to Threepio in the desert and abandoned him? He may have had a “mission,” but he could have let Threepio in on it.

C3PO: ESFJ Like a true ESFJ, goldenrod here never learns to shut his mouth. The ESFJ will blab on and on about small talk and things no one cares about, which is often why C3PO gets interrupted all of the time when he explains what he does or where he has been. Much to his annoyance, too. Because he’s a protocol droid, his Fe is slanted to please others, and this is why we have the perfect ESFJ in this galaxy far, far away.

Chewbacca: ISFJ Can Chewbacca really be typed? I think so! Just because we don’t hear him speaking anything, doesn’t mean he can’t be! Solo: A Star Wars Story did a really good job of fleshing out Chewie’s character, giving him motives and ambitions. Such as, his desire to free his people in the spice mines of Kessel. That moment signaled one of the few times that Chewie would act impulsively, to me, and it reeked of ISFJ.

Jabba the Hutt: ESTP Big shot gangster, you say? That’s pretty clear-cut, ESTP. And we see this in Return of the Jedi; Jabba just sits around on his butt indulging in sensual pleasures, changing his mind in deals quite often. He’s a reasonable man, since he uses Ti. In A New Hope, we see the way he deals with Han Solo, and he restrains his displeasure in the hopes of giving him another chance to pay him back. ESTPs, with their tertiary Fe, can often do this, although their patience will ultimately wear thin in the long run.

Wedge Antilles: ISTJ Wedge is your basic everyman, like any ISTJ there is. Does he have much of a personality to him? Not really, but from what I’ve seen of him, he reeks of ISTJ.

THE CLONE WARS

Asajj Ventress: ISFP Ventress has been burned in life before, so it’s easy to assume that she could be an ISTP based upon her cold, sarcastic exterior. However, upon further examination, ISFP seems to fit far better. Ventress lives wholly for the moment, so it would be easy to think maybe she could be an Se-user. However, her biting comebacks that she displays are a very common trait from many other fictional ISFPs, who, when unhealthy, can show a lack of morality when it comes to their enemies and this is displayed in their inferior Te which manifests as either a childish outburst or a calm and collected burn. Her primary Fi is displayed with her sense of purpose with the Nightsisters, fueled by revenge against Dooku. In the New Canon novel Dark Disciple, we see the cold exterior melt a little bit in Ventress’ newfound romance with Quinlan Vos, and we finally see her inch toward becoming a healthier ISFP.

Captain Rex: ISTJ Rex is a simple man, and our main conduit upon which to view the clone troopers who chose not to obey Order 66, all due to a little thing called tertiary Fi. ISTJs are like big cuddly goobers sometimes, and Rex is quite the example sometimes, especially in his appearances in Rebels.

Mother Talzin: INFJ All Talzin wanted was her revenge on Palpatine for double-crossing her and taking her son Darth Maul, ultimately for the Nightsisters to prosper. She wanted power in the galaxy, but even Palpatine saw through her lunacy and said nah. Sometimes, because of their imaginations getting the best of them through Ni-Fe-Ti, the INFJ can seem a little bit delusional. And Mother Talzin seems pretty INFJ to me.

Hondo Ohnaka: ESTP Hondo Ohnaka loves to party, and he loves making material gains out of any situation possible; this only proves that he is ESTP. He’ll ally with you, and then betray you if the reward is greater, and this is fueled by Se as he sees infinite possibilities in the present moment. With secondary Ti, he’ll always choose the right words for the right purposes to weasel his way out of situations, and with tertiary Fe, he’ll also treat even his enemies in a cordial manner!

Cad Bane: ISTP The most grizzled and seasoned bounty hunter there ever was between Jango and Boba Fett’s dominance, Cad Bane means business and business means credits. And if you eff it up, he’ll get mad, because he only cares about himself and his payday, which is a common stereotype of many ISTP bounty hunters in fiction. The severely underdeveloped inferior Fe that he has explains his cold personality toward not only his enemies, but his fellow bounty hunters. And with his quick strategical mind informed through primary Ti, which also fuels his own sardonic wit, Cad Bane is an easy ISTP.

Savage Opress: ISTP There isn’t a whole lot of character development for Savage Opress, but he makes a terrible user of Fe (with the exception of his brother Maul), which is the inferior function of ISTPs. So I’m just going with ISTP here for Savage.

SEQUELS

Captain Phasma: ISTJ Phasma, portrayed by the lovely Gwendolyn Christie, has always managed to keep this air of coolness to her character despite being punked by Finn twice and surviving the explosion of a planet (and possibly a spaceship; we’ll find out in episode IX). Phasma herself is an ISTJ in the best possible way, and we find this out about her character in her work ethic which is displayed in the novels and comics of the new Disney canon. The wild extents of her tertiary Fi is explored more vividly in these new-canon works.

General Hux: ESTJ General Hux hates Kylo Ren (secretly) for his whining, immaturity, and overall terrible leadership skills, and the fact that Snoke clearly favors Ren compared to himself when it comes to leadership. What can we learn from such an ESTJ character? Well, we can learn that unhealthy ESTJs are prone to loud, angry outbursts and shouting matches when their patience wears thin (that which they run low on almost daily). The unhealthy ESTJ is also known for sucking up to their superiors while they ironically continue on to treat their subordinates terribly, such as the case when Hux sucks up to Snoke, or Kylo Ren when he usurps leadership. It is only because of Snoke’s protection that Hux was allowed to say whatever he wanted to Ren, and now that Snoke is gone, well……that’s an interesting dynamic to see in Episode IX to come.

Rose Tico: ISFJ Booooo! An ordinary type for an ordinarily character in Rose Tico.

Snoke: ENTJ We still know literally nothing about him, and quite honestly, I’m fine with that for the next few years. In The Force Awakens, he seemed quite the INTJ in his tiny amount of screentime. However though, he shows a much more charismatic side more indicative of a loony ENTJ. Those gold bathrobes……utter tertiary Se. And what differentiates Snoke from Palpatine, is a slightly more charismatic side that manifests itself in his speech, almost like he can’t get enough of his own voice (a trait also manifested by unhealthy ENTPs, but in a slightly different way), signifying ENTJ more than INTJ.

Maz Kanata: ENTP Maz Kanata is quite the character, being the leader of a den of space pirates and other equally colorful characters. And Han and Chewie seem to love her. Maz is ENTP; making quips about Chewie being her boyfriend, being the “guy who knows a guy” (like Cosmo Kramer of Seinfeld, another ENTP) with the Master Codebreaker, and going on wacky space adventures in her free time, as seen in her hologram in The Last Jedi. Mature ENTPs can add a large amount of wisdom to variety of experiences they’ve seen in their long lives, and it’s no wonder the screen sizzles when Maz is on it.

ROGUE ONE

Jyn Erso: ISFP It’s becoming a real trend, isn’t it? Female ISFPs in Star Wars? Never tell me the odds! Jyn Erso, like many other ISFPs, exhibits a “once burned, twice shy” mentality that often causes her to be reluctant to declare loyalty to anyone or even be involved in conflict. Like The Dude (an ISFP) from The Big Lebowski, and almost all other ISFPs, Jyn Erso doesn’t want to take a stake in any side of any conflict. She just wants her dad.

Cassian Andor: ISTJ It’s a pretty simple conclusion that Cassian Andor happens to be an ISTJ. As a higher ranking official in the Rebel Alliance (I presume?), it’s no wonder that he wants to follow orders first and foremost and eliminate Galen Erso, because his very own Si-Te is on overdrive. But then, the Fi hits. Oh, what the hell, Rogue One it is. Hello, Scarif!

K-2SO: INTP He’s the droid with the sassy wit! He’s gotta be ENTP, right? Nah, I think K2 is an INTP. Because most of his dialogue and humor revolves around skepticism, I’m going to stereotypically label him as an INTP. It just seems right, and I’m getting quite lazy right now.

Orson Krennic: ENTJ He’s the director of a project. That almost immediately indicates ExTJ, right? It does. And boy, what a massive amount of Te he has. With the amount of balls it takes for him to stand up to Tarkin, let alone run off to Darth Vader to tattle on him, I would say that it only signifies Krennic as an ENTJ, because an ESTJ would never have those balls unless they were given them by a higher up or through experience (ex. Tarkin). And why does he have Ni? First of all, he has a vision, and he’s sick and tired of a bureaucrat such as Tarkin taking credit for his accomplishments and then also taking control, something the ENTJ never wants to relinquish. And also, he’s got quite the fiery-hot temper.

Galen Erso: INTJ Galen is a bit reserved and dad-like (his purpose in this film too), and very healthy INTJs, like Galen, are kinda like that. He’s a very realistic portrayal of one that’s closer to real life INTJs. That being, his tertiary Fi is well-developed in that he was willing to betray the Empire and build a flaw in the Death Star.

SOLO

Tobias Beckett: ESTP “Didn’t I tell you never to trust anyone, Han?” Spoken like a true ESTP mentor, through tertiary Fe. As TV Tropes would put it, Beckett is another character that exemplifies the “Heel Face Revolving Door” trope, in which the character constantly switches allegiances throughout the story. A common stereotype of many slimy ESTPs are their tendency to switch sides for their own benefit, due to their primary Se and Ti. Just look at Lando in the beginning. That old scoundrel.

Qi’ra: ISTJ While not so mature as a youth on Corellia (is anyone ever, actually?), Qi’ra later comes into her own type over the years as she matures and we get to see her primary Si in action as she makes reasonable, considerable choices amongst the entire Millenium Falcon crew through the film. And Si is one for order and loyalty; that is, until the ISTJs Fi eventually gets the best of them in the second or third act and they have a change of heart. In this case, it’s her turning on Vos.

L3-37: INFP Freedom for droids! Sound like anyone you know? Probably that Social Justice Warrior or extremely passionate Fi-user that you know in real life. You know, like an INFP or an ISFP (morely likely an INFP though). The rest of you that are just as knowledgeable in MBTI, you can fill in the blanks and you’d probably agree with me on this one.

Dryden Vos: ESTJ Again, all he cares about is the money and the pleasures. So, another xSTP crimelord/bounty hunter stereotype? Actually not this time. Initially, I thought he was an ESTP due to this. However, the scene where Beckett reveals his true colors in the con and Vos temporarily offers an implied allegiance to Han to get him, only to turn on him when Beckett leaves, signifies a key difference between the ESTP and the ESTJ. While the ESTP may go forward and stick with the allegiance, the ESTJ will more than likely feign it. And the ESTJ will sometimes do anything and accept any methods to get the job done (tertiary Ne), but ultimately dish out order in the end after the parties and dust have settled, returning to the old status quo (or rarely, starting a new one). To be honest, I’m still thinking about this one. I might go back and change Vos to an ESTP. Who knows, in time.

GENERAL

Darth Plagueis: INTP Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the INTP? I thought not. It’s not a story Enneagram would tell you. It’s an MBTI legend. Darth Plagueis was an INTP so powerful and so wise he could use his primary Ti to influence the midichlorians to create…… life. He had such a knowledge of MBTI that he could even keep the ones he cared about from calling themselves an intuitive when they were a sensor, or convince an INTJ that MBTI was not baloney. The dark side of the INTP is a pathway to many abilities, some consider to be unnatural. Eventually, he became so powerful… the only thing he was afraid of was losing his Ti, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his ENTJ apprentice MBTI, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. Ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself.

Iden Versio: ISTJ I swear, this series churns out ISTJs like an assembly line. With Iden Versio, I hadn’t played Battlefront II, but I’d only seen a few cutscenes on YouTube to know that she’s another ISTJ. For my reasoning, just like at Cassian Andor above; it’s pretty much the same, except for an even greater amount of tertiary Fi from Versio.

Grand Admiral Thrawn: INTJ And now for the last but not least, most interesting character in the entire saga: Thrawn. And while his type is nothing but obvious, it’s interesting to delve into. Unfortunately, I don’t have all the time in the world to grant him his own separate post, so a paragraph or two will do. As an INTJ, what separates him from an ENTJ is tertiary Fi, and as small as it is, it’s still there. Versus being almost non-existent in unhealthy ENTJs. This allows him a more suave, cool demeanor, almost gentlemanly and noble, versus the ENTJ’s “I’ll only display that attitude because I’m sociable and charismatic, but I won’t be it” demeanor. In the Thrawn trilogy in Legends, Thrawn is more considerate to his subordinates and his partners, such as Jorus C’Boath (giving him Luke Skywalker), than Palpatine ever was to anyone. More often than not, when an INTJ makes a promise, you can bet they’ll stick with it.

CHARACTERS WITHOUT DESCRIPTIONS

Alright now, for the sake of brevity of this article, here are the characters I will not type descriptions for, just because either they explain themselves, they don’t warrant enough of an explanation, they’re minor, or they aren’t as relevant anymore (Legends characters). In regards to

SEQUELS

BB8: ESFP DJ: ESTP Unkar Plutt: ESTJ Lieutenant Connix: ISFJ Admiral Holdo: ISFJ

ORIGINAL TRILOGY

Uncle Owen: ISTJ Aunt Beru: ISFJ Greedo: who knows Lobot: ISTJ Bossk: ESTP Dengar: ISTP Zuckuss: ISTP IG-88: INTJ (even more of an awesome character in Legends) Wicket Warrick: ESFP Nien Nunb: ESFP

ROGUE ONE

Bodhi Rook: ESFJ Chirrut Îmwe: INFP Baze Malbus: ISTJ Saw Gerrera: INFJ

SOLO

Val: ISTJ Rio: ESTP Enfys Nest Leader: INFP

PREQUELS

Watto: ESTJ Sebulba: ESTP Nute Gunray: ESTJ Zam Wessel: ISTJ Captain Tanaka: ISTJ Captain Typho: ISFJ Boss Nass: ESFJ

THE CLONE WARS

Plo Koon: INTJ Luminara Unduli: INFJ Aayla Secura: ESFP Kit Fisto: ENFJ Bariss Offee: INFP Fives: ESFJ Duchess Satine: ENFJ Pre-Viszla: ENTP Quinlan Vos: ESFP

REBELS

Kanan Jarrus: ISFJ Hera Syndulla: ISTJ Sabine: ISFP Zeb Orrelios: ESFP Ezra Bridger: INFP Chopper: ESTP

GENERAL

Bail Organa: ISFJ Mon Mothma: ENFJ Iden Versio: ISTJ

LEGENDS

THRAWN TRILOGY

Mara Jade: ISTP Jorus C’Baoth: ENFJ

JEDI KNIGHT

Kyle Katarn: INFJ Jan Ors: ISFJ Jaden Korr: INFP Rosh Penin: ESFP Jerec: ENFJ Sariss: ISFJ Desann: ENTJ Tavion Axmis: ENFP

THE FORCE UNLEASHED

Galen Marek/Starkiller: ISFP Rahm Kota: ESFJ Juno Eclipse: ISTJ

MISC.

Durge: ESTP Dash Rendar: ESTP Carnor Jax: ENTP

KOTOR

Revan: INTP Darth Malak: ESTJ Darth Bandon: ISFP Bastila Shan: ENFJ Carth Onasi: ISTJ Mission Vao: ISFP Zaalbar: ISFJ Juhani: ISFP Jolee Bindo: INFJ Canderous Ordo: ISTP HK-47: ENTP Kreia: INFJ Darth Sion: ESTP Darth Nihilus: INTP Meetra Surik: ENTP Satele Shan: ENFJ

OLD REPUBLIC/TALES OF THE JEDI

Marka Ragnos: INTJ Naga Sadow: ENTJ Exar Kun: ESFP Nomi Sunrider: ISFJ Ulic Qel-Droma: ENFP

25 ABY - 45 ABY (and others)

Jacen Solo (Darth Caedus): INFP Jaina Solo: ESTP Lumiya: ENTP Vergere: INTP Ben Skywalker: ISFJ Jagged Fel: ESTJ Tahiri Veila: ESFP Anakin Solo: ESFP Abeloth: ENTP

LEGACY

Darth Krayt: INTJ Darth Talon: ISTP Darth Wyyrlok: ENTJ Cade Skywalker: ESTP Ania Solo: ISFP K’Kruhk: ISTP Darth Wredd: ENTJ

MBTI CHART

Key = Bold - Important (separate article), Italics - Major, Asterisk - Legends

ESFJ: Padme Amidala, C3PO, Bodhi Rook, Boss Nass, Fives, Rahm Kota* ISFJ: Chewbacca, Rose Tico, Admiral Holdo, Kanan Jarrus, Bail Organa, Captain Typho, Zaalbar*, Nomi Sunrider*, Jan Ors*, Sariss*, Ben Skywalker* ISTJ: Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker, Captain Phasma, Qi’ra, Captain Rex, Wedge Antilles, Cassian Andor, Iden Versio, Baze Malbus, Uncle Owen, Lobot, Val, Zam Wessel, Captain Tanaka, Hera Syndulla, Carth Onasi*, Juno Eclipse* ESTJ: Leia Organa, General Grievous, Dryden Vos, General Hux, Tarkin, Unkar Plutt, Nute Gunray, Watto, Darth Malak*, Jagged Fel* ESFP: Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron, Jar-Jar Binks, BB8, Zeb Orrelios, Aayla Secura, Quinlan Vos, Wickett Warrick, Nien Nunb, Exar Kun*, Tahiri Veila*, Anakin Solo*, Rosh Penin* ISFP: Rey, Asajj Ventress, Jyn Erso, Sabine, Galen Marek/Starkiller*, Mission Vao*, Juhani*, Ania Solo*, Darth Bandon* ESTP: Lando Calrissian, Tobias Beckett, Jabba the Hutt, Hondo Ohnaka, Bossk, DJ, Rio, Sebulba, Chopper, Cade Skywalker*, Durge*, Dash Rendar*, Jaina Solo*, Darth Sion* ISTP: Han Solo, Darth Maul, Boba Fett, Jango Fett, Savage Opress, Cad Bane, Zuckuss, Dengar, Mara Jade*, Canderous Ordo*, Darth Talon*, K’Kruhk* ENFJ: Obi Wan Kenobi, Duchess Satine, Kit Fisto, Mon Mothma, Jorus C’Baoth*, Bastila Shan*, Satele Shan*, Jerec* ENFP: Finn, Qui-Gon Jinn, Ahsoka Tano, Ulic Qel-Droma*, Tavion Axmis* INFP: Luke Skywalker, L3-37, Chirrut Îmwe, Enfys Nest Leader, Ezra Bridger, Bariss Offee, Jacen Solo/Darth Caedus*, Jaden Korr* INFJ: Yoda, Count Dooku, Mother Talzin, Saw Gerrera, Luminara Unduli, Kyle Katarn*, Jolee Bindo*, Kreia* ENTP: R2-D2, Maz Kanata, Pre-Viszla, HK-47*, Meetra Surik*, Lumiya*, Carnor Jax*, Abeloth*, Darth Wyyrlok* INTP: K2-SO, Darth Plagueis, Revan*, Darth Nihilus*, Vergere* ENTJ: Sheev Palpatine, Orson Krennic, Snoke, Mace Windu, Naga Sadow*, Desann*, Darth Wredd* INTJ: Thrawn, Galen Erso, IG-88, Plo Koon, Darth Krayt*, Marka Ragnos*

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liberationzine · 4 years

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We hope you’re excited for Liberation Zine! Pre-orders open June 21st, but until then, we hope you enjoy a villain-centric list of fanfic recommendations! All of the fics in this list are gen, SFW, and take place in the canon setting, although some canon divergence is included.

Fic: “Here” by ThrowYourChaosInNeutralAndDrive

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon

Length: 2.8k

Complete? Yes

Summary: How Kurogiri met Shigaraki.

“Here.”

The villain exited the doctor’s waiting room with his load only to dump it suddenly on Kurogiri. His loyal employee – servant really – grunted when his arms were burdened with an entire kid.

Fic: Sanctuary by DrAphra

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Divergence

Length: 7.1k

Complete? WIP

Summary: He doesn’t hear the rapid patter of bare feet until something small slams into the back of his knees.

Dabi staggers, curses, and pulls flames up into the pads of his fingers, searing the air as he grabs blindly for -- a child. A little white-haired girl who was digging her fingers into his jeans like they would keep her from drowning.

“Help me,” she whispers in the most cracked, terrified voice Dabi has heard in years. “Please don’t let him take me.”

Overhaul Arc AU in which Eri runs directly into Dabi, instead of Deku and Mirio.

Fic: No Such Thing As A Hopeless Case by Origamidragons

Genre: Family, Crack treated seriously, canon-divergence

Length: 14.3k

Complete? WIP

Summary: The story of how Toshinori Yagi (not All Might, Toshinori Yagi) singlehandedly defeated his archenemy's League of Villains by accidentally adopting them all.

Or: Toshinori's gonna redemption arc everybody, just watch him.

Fic: A Very John-chan Birthday by Ohmoka

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Length: 1k

Complete? Yes

Summary: John-chan has somehow become Eri's pet, and he loves her very much.

Fic: Holidaze in BNHA series by ThrowYourChaosInNeutralAndDrive

Genre: Humor/Crack, Angst, Adventure

Length: 54k

Complete? Yes

Summary: A series of League-centric one-shots taking place on Holidays that connect to tell a wild and poignant story.

Fic: Field Test by Kendrick_Harlow

Genre: Horror, Angst

Length: 11.8k

Complete? Yes

Summary: "Working with Ujiko isn’t a choice, per se. Dabi wears the title of lab assistant and field tester like chains around his neck, all while Ujiko continues to slip sly comments to the rest of the League."

Ujiko has blackmail and isn't afraid to use it.

Fic: Way Out of Character by Eternalglitch

Genre: Comedy, Drama, Crack

Length: 22.8k

Complete? WIP

Summary: Neither Izuku nor Shigaraki is sure what exactly happened, but a few days after their encounter at Kiyashi-Ward Shopping Mall, both wake up only to find out that they have switched bodies. While Izuku races against time to escape from All for One and make it back home in time to warn his friends and family about Shigaraki's plans, Shigaraki tries to figure out who exactly this strange skeletal man is that keeps pestering him, not to mention who he should kill first... As the two become increasingly tangled in each other's secrets, can they return to their original bodies? Or are they trapped like this forever?

Fic: Oichi by Saccha

Genre: Drama, Daemon AU

Length: 1k

Complete? Yes

Summary: “What the hell,” the scarred man said. “You’re so gross but you have such a cutesy daemon. Is that a weasel?”

Oichi hissed. Shigaraki scratched his neck, but she batted his hand away.

“She’s a Japanese marten,” he gritted out. “Kurogiri, warp them away. I hate these types. A brat and a guy with no manners.”

Fic: Inescapable by Starship_Phoenix

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Divergence

Length: 5k

Complete? Yes

Summary: Over and over he replays the memories that resurfaced during his fight with Re-Destro. He doesn’t understand why they won’t just go back to the dark recesses of his mind where they came from. He doesn’t need them anymore. They served their purpose.

At first, they felt like a blessing. A sign he’s on the right track, doing what he was always meant to do. He is destruction incarnate, and he will bring the heroes to their knees.

But there is something about one memory that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s like a splinter sticking out of a wooden table and his mind keeps getting caught on it. The more he tries to tug it out, the deeper it burrows, until it spreads like an infection that can’t be cut out, rotting him from the inside.

His grandmother was a hero.

Fic: And Another One Bites the Dust by Origamidragons

Genre: Humor, Action, Hurt/Comfort, mild Horror, Crossover (JJBA)

Length: 11.9k

Complete? Yes

Summary: In which quirks are mistaken for Stands, Stands are mistaken for quirks, and weird hand-related complexes are in abundance.

Or: Tomura Shigaraki and Yoshikage Kira switch places. They have fun. Nobody else does.

Fic: One Thing After Another by DrAphra

Genre: Humor, Drama, Canon-Divergence, Time Loop (Note: mildly shippy)

Length: 13.4k

Complete? Yes

Summary: Miruko was in the middle of a fight when she got the call that Hawks and Endeavor were in danger.

She leaves the fight, never knowing that she'd been hit with a time loop quirk - not realizing that she would pass it on to the next person she touched. It's something she finds out the hard way, when she kicks Dabi in the face... and then finds herself facing him again. And again. And again.

In between time loops, the heroine and villain reluctantly get to know each other.

Fic: You Have To Hand It To Him by ThrowYourChaosInNeutralAndDrive

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 3.7k

Complete? Yes

Summary: Shigaraki's big showdown with Re-Destro goes different. Ugly different. He loses his quirk in the worst way possible.

Spinner endeavors to talk him out of his depression, but can he reach someone who's struggling to reach for anything, literally and figuratively?

#shigaraki tomura #dabi #toga himiko #league of villains #bnha fic recs #PLF #paranormal liberation front #Liberation Zine #mod muse note: finding fics that focus on the plf as a whole and not just the league is. next to impossible #but i tried my best

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alitheamateur · 5 years

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The Grind: A Wedding

A/N: I’m unsure of how many parts it will take to cover everything I want include in this most anticipated story of nuptials for our cherished Liv, and Colton. But, I do hope you relish in part one. I love you, all! This process will be written, obviously. But, lots of pictures will be included, creating some sort of a photo album for you, as well. *I do not own any images you see*

Warnings: Language.

June bride. It always sounded so… so, Cosmo. So, cliché, and posh. So typical. And so no me. And oh yet, here we are. The sunny Saturday of June 22nd. Finalizing the last pins to my loose, naturally blonde hair. Colton’s only requests for that day including the blonde. And the down-styling. And the chocolate cake which I think he somehow requested because he knew it was my favorite.

Things were elegant, and still understated. There was not to be a single sequin, or rhinestone. The only beads permissible were pearls, and that was only if extremely necessary. My boycott against bedazzle made the dress shopping a nightmare, as it seems this generation prefers all the sparkle. But in the hands of Tia, who can weasel and tantrum her way into situation, I found the most perfect cut of silk in Pittsburgh. My mother ground her teeth a little. The back hung low, flowing down the airbrushed bronze of my spine. The lush shine of the material cuddled, and stretched around the swell of my bottom, and a slit climbed my left thigh. I was reluctant about it. My scar from the frightful skiing incident of 2010 was on full display, marked horizontally along the meaty flesh of my upper thigh.

“If that asshole won’t marry you, damn it, I will, LC.” Tia sniffed as I met her eyes in the full-length reflection of the mirror.

Even on my wedding day, still posing up a good threat to snag me away from my groom.

“You look… you look phenomenal, Liv, dear. I can’t wait for him to see you.�� Sweet Beth gracefully dotted away the salty residue from the full tears marking down her cheeks, as she daydreamed about her sons soon nuptials.

I squirmed at the foreshadow of Colton’s inappropriate groans and beady glances once he saw me in my dress. The dress. The one I never would’ve imagined I would try on in a private dressing room, much less parade in front of a crowd full of snapping cameras. But, love gives a girl some bold bravery, it seems. The sensual dip of the snug gown would be worth the raise of conservative brows in attendance once I saw Colt’s intrusive eyes turn black with the burying of his desires.

My mother strapped me into the buckle of my heel while Andrew snapped a few intimate snapshots of the moment on my phone. He was a member of Colton’s groomsman squad, but he’d spent a chunk of the day prepping at my side, and relishing in the bliss to come.

“Have you heard his vows, Drew? I mean, did he have you like, proof them or something?” I searched my clutch the folded note of worn paper where my own vows were scribbled down, and handed them to Sara for safe keeping until time.

“By proof them, do you mean have I checked to make sure they aren’t loaded with expletives?” He brought over my bouquet as I stood to finalize the approval of my reflection before my solo photos around the archway outside. “Yes, Liv. I read them. And that’s all you’re getting.” He sealed his mouth, and threw away the insinuated key.

I barely recognized the penetrative gazes of the woman staring back at me. My jaw was held at a confident angle, eyes lined thick with tasteful faux lashes, and hips slightly swelled with the weight of womanhood and true love. Colton had changed me in every way that made me better, before I even knew exactly who I thought I wanted to become. His many a kiss, countless moonlight confessions wrapped in the sheet of the bed we shared, and simply the way he watched me take my first morning sip of coffee constituted everything my naïve soul needed to recognize love in its most intimate state. I couldn’t wait to touch him in his suit at the altar. To let him still the trembling of my hands as we exchanged rings, and seal what I already felt with our first kiss as man, and wife.

Sara gently interrupted your thoughts, stuffing a dainty pink handkerchief into your clutches around your bouquet.

“Because I know you’re going to need this. And, because I know for a fact you’ve forgotten your something borrowed. I used it on my wedding day.” She kissed my cheek.

I wouldn’t have married Colton on this day, the day of his choosing, if Sara couldn’t have been here. I adored my Tia, and Drew, and each other person who was here with me in this adopted home of Pittsbugh. But my wedding day, the only one I know I’ll ever have, I needed my Sara to hold me in a moment just as this one.

A rattling tap echoed from the other side of the heavy oak door, capturing the attention of every eye in the room.

“Liv?”

Colton.

“Liv, baby? You in there?”

My face fell with haunting nerves, and Tia ran for the knob to answer his faint callings from the hallway.

“He can’t see me, Tia. No way! Don’t think of letting him in here.” I ordered.

“Relax, will you? I’m going to step outside with him, okay?”

Tia barely opened the door into a crack large enough for a toddler to squeeze through, and disappeared. I worked my busy hands at the ribbon flowing from the stems of my peony bouquet, scolding myself for even considering the worst reason for his unexpected visit.

I held my breath when she re-entered the overly crowded dressing area, purposely holding back her smile longer than necessary.

“He said he just wanted to hear your voice. That’s it. And only from behind the door, of course.”

Tia, and my mother ushered my prep team toward the reception area to check out the final touches, giving Colt and I a moment of solace, and a deep breath after the bustle of wedding day jitters. When the last person escaped, I wiped the sweat from my palm, and turned the door handle, carefully standing far away from the minimal crack.

Just as my fingers peeled around the door, I felt the familiar heat of his rough-skinned fingers grasping perilously for mine.

“Fuck, I needed this.” He moaned satisfactorily, and my side of the door bounced back towards me as he fell onto it from the opposite side. My touch alone fed his nervous withdraws from being apart for only two days. “I needed you. Just for a minute, at least.”

I played with his fingertips.

“Someone isn’t getting cold feet, are they?”

I could hear the tap of his black dress shoes we had bought last week for the occasion.

“Well, Drew had to talk me off the ledge a couple hours ago.”

I froze, and my bones nearly calcified into fossisl with the stillness his sentence bought over me.

“Woah. Hey, I’m only kiddin’, Livvy. Breath, baby. It was just a joke. Clearly, a poor timed one.”

Colton kissed the solo ring on my finger, staking his claim. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of my ass that easily.”

I wanted to kiss him. Those minty lips, now probably stained with a celebratory shot of whiskey were the only things my consciousness would focus on.

Maybe if we both closed our eyes first, then touched lips for just 2 seconds?

“How dedicated are you to this whole ‘no seeing each other thing’?” I thought out loud, Colton took the question as one directed at him.

“Trust me, angel. I’d give absolutely anything to see you right now. See how amazin’ I know you look, as usual. But, I think we both know you’d instantly regret breakin’ that little tradition you were so persistent about.”

He was right. I had just enough Indiana in me to keep hold of those age-old small-town traditions like not seeing your groom before the ceremony. And first dances, and flower girls.

“But, since I’m here, how about we go ahead and trade letters? I know Drew was going to do the swap for us, but I’ve got mine me if that’s cool with you?”

What a difference time can grace upon us.

I mentioned one evening, months ago, scrolling through websites while doing some planning, how I thought the idea of writing letters to each other was such a touching sentiment. Never expecting another word, much less even an initial response from my stoic, silent man. But, to my much pleasing surprise, Colton simply agreed with an “okay,” never the slightest inkling of protest in his voice. Love had done a number on this bitter, complicated man, too. A hard one. And it suited him mind, body, and soul.

“Yes, but under one condition?” I parted towards to counter to find my own letter addressed to him.

“Name it.”

“I don’t want you to read it until you’re back in your room.”

I slid the sealed envelope into his hand, holding my palm upward for his.

“I love you, Liv. I am so fucking crazy in love with you.” Colton whispered, almost breathlessly.

“I love you, you handsome brute. Now, go. Before I ruin what little makeup I still have left.”

I didn’t latch the door until his footsteps were no longer detectable, not wanting to miss the sounds of his closeness to me. Seated on the antique velvet of the elegant armchair at the foot of the bed, I delicately tore open the letter.

Liv,

You marvelous creature. You are a necessary electricity that shocks my heart to life every single day that I’m near you. My spirit is broken, and it’s only fucking hope is in your hands. Thank you for taking my hand, and warming me with your irreplaceable light. Naturally, we both know I’m not a verbal man, but it seems in writing you this letter, I may have found my newest, most favorite way to try and express how I feel about you. Nothing about you loving me makes sense, but it’s one mystery wave that I will ride until there is no life left in me with no questions asked. Yours is the only hand I want to hold, and get lost in the swell of life with, laughing, crying, and standing still along the way when need be. This day, the day you foolishly take my name as your own, and vow to be my wife will surely be the most precious day I have lived. Only second to the moment I met you. I swear, when I’m with you, it’s like the air tastes better, even. You have stroked my ego like a vicious woman in love, and you’ve stomped it out when I needed the harshest of reality checks, just as I deserved. I hope as long as you’ll have me, I can be the solace you need in the most troubling of days. And the strong tower you need when you feel scared or threatened. I’ll be the laugh when you’ve seemed to have misplaced your own, and the tears when yours don’t seem to satisfy whatever grief falls on you. Always, Livvy. It’s you. You and me, against the strongest of odds, we will come out on top. Can’t wait to see you. Soon. You know where to meet me.

I love you.

Colton

Waterproof mascara was a myth, whipped into a lie at the hands of Colton Ritter and his hidden talents with a pen and paper. I read his confessions three times, memorizing it like it was a secret that I was afraid would be torn away within minutes. All along, I’ve been the one in our household staking a claim to literary topics, and standing on my platform as an English major. But this, the handwritten romance of his raw admissions, blew me away, along with every mediocre talent I thought I wielded. Someone I had foolishly often discredited as “simple” or “distant”, had force-fed me to eat the sour swallow of “crow”, penning words that probably belonged alongside the most magical of love letters through fictional history. In my opinion, anyhow. Not the that object of the affections in said letter would be biased in the least.

. . .

Colton

I obeyed her commands, as I usually do. Happily. And waited until I was seated at the bar in my suite across the grounds from her before opening the letter. I wanted to drag her up the courthouse steps long over 6 months ago, but this place wasn’t so bad. Like it would be, with her taste. I even liked it, actually. I’d never tell Liv though, and have her thinking for a minute that any of this exhausting, unnecessary, wedding shit mattered to me. I would’ve married her in our living room with Mac ordained if I thought she wouldn’t have minded. But, I adore her. More than any should adore another human, truthfully. And I knew this day, with all the people she loves in attanedance, is what her heart needed. So, I shut my fucking mouth, and smile when I’m told like a good husband would. But, I’m not wearing those damn cufflinks. She’ll have to harass me for that one later, and I’ll ask forgiveness. Or, distract her with my mouth the way she likes so much.

I drank down another shot of the aged brown liquor, sucking in its warm after bite between my teeth as I opened the neatly sealed envelope she marked with my name.

Colt,

The mightiest of men could never steal my love for you. To most, your eyes may be the darkest, most dangerous pools of heartache and pain. But I only see the glow of a man who the world just doesn’t deserve to know. Whatever I have needed you to be, you have truly surpassed any responsibility as the man I love, and my heart shouts a thousand words of gratitude. You kickstarted the first pangs of real love within me, and sometimes I foolishly believe that there aren’t two people in the entire world who share as much love as you and I. The weight of your hand within mine is the only courage I have ever felt, and it somehow seems my most insatiable moments of weakness are both caused, and cured only by you. You’ve respected me as your equal, never pointing out my many flaws as a failed strong woman, and secured my every longing for my destined lover, and companion. I never truly believed in any definition of eternity, until I woke up one morning without you by my side and realized I never wanted to live another day without you in it. You have believed in me, encouraged me, and monumentally coached me. In the ring, and in life, I find that we are a team fit for whatever battle seems to threaten us, destined to come out victoriously hand-in-hand. I know you will only do justice to your newly deemed titles of husband….. and daddy

Surprise, my love.

-L

Did she know what she was saying? Was this some sort of reference to the future that I wasn’t understanding? Was she applying that term as some sort of kinky slang that people use these days? It was like my mind told me I should freeze, and clam up with horrified dread at Liv’s very, very unplanned spilling surprise. But yet, as I read the word again silently to myself, then again, aloud, this time, my pulse never quickened with fear. I didn’t feel like shattering this fucking glass of bourbon against the brink of the bar where I sat alone. I couldn’t even squander up the slightest glimmer of resentment at the birth-control of hers that had apparently faltered.

Daddy. Dad. Pop.

My feelings only went directly into running over all the things I’d want he… or she to call me. And all the ways I’d hear it fall from Liv’s sinfully pink lips when she spoke to the little runt about me. Would she let me use my name if it was a boy? Could I take her to the gym with me unsupervised while Liv was working, even though it was probably no place for a little girl?

The itch my skin felt already from feigning for the feel of her touch, and needing her to fill the void between my embracing arms enlarged to a dull ache now. I woke this morning already drunk, knowing for a fact I hadn’t had a single drop of liquor, simply from the joy of knowing I would finally make an honest woman out of her today. And now, I could feel my heart crawling and leaping and vibrating with gladness like I never imagined humanly possible. For a once worthless fucker like me, especially.

A tear dolloped onto the ink of her swirly handwriting, and my toes curled inside these leather vices around my feet. I hadn’t cried like this since I broke my first knuckle when I was 16. But ever since Liv had waltzed her way into my life, it seemed tears were becoming a familiar foe of mine.

“You read the letter?”

“Shit!” I shook and sniffled, whipping round to see Andrew arming into his suit jacket.

“Yeah. Yeah… I uh, I read it.” Andrew was one of the only friends I really ever allow myself to smile with.

“You are one lucky man, Colton Ritter. You better know that. As if Liv wasn’t enough of a gift, now….”

“You knew? This whole time, you knew?”

He grinned. “Guilty. But you’re not allowed to hit me and stain the tux.”

I stood, dismissing myself from the stool, and carefully folding the fateful paper into my pocket. “How far along is she, Drew? When did she find out?”

Drew shook his head like I knew he would. “You know you need to hear all that from her, man. I can’t ruin that for you guys.”

He was indeed right. I wanted to watch her snub back tears as she told me about the tests I’m sure she had taken behind my obviously inattentive back. I envisioned in my mind the way her eyes would get all glassy and wide when I hugged her belly and told her I loved her more than life, and I would kill for her if it ever came to that.

“Half hour till showtime, Colt. Look alive.”

TAGS: @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @miidailyinspiration @littleluna98

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfic #tom hardy fanfiction #tomhardyfanfiction #Elizabeth Olsen #thegrind

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hail-the-supreme-leader-kylo-ren · 5 years

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EPISODE IX PREDICTIONS, HOPES, & DISCUSSION

This is a deep dive into the thoughts and questions I’ve been accumulating in regards to what might happen in Episode IX. (Sorry, it’s quite a long post).

My character predictions:

KYLO/BEN: My beautiful boy Ben is going to get redemption first and foremost. FACT. I’m so excited to see how it will go down though, so many possibilities. What’s going to be that final catalyst for Ben to finally stop resisting the Light? When we left Kylo/Ben in TLJ he had gained all the power he once sought, and yet he was utterly miserable. But, importantly Luke showing up on Crait offered Kylo that critical cathartic release he needs for the next step in his redemption journey. Looking back, TFA started with Kylo ordering a village massacre, and finished with him killing his father. We see progress in TLJ, as the act of committing patricide has been eating Kylo/Ben alive with regret and guilt, he then later cannot kill his mother, and instead he kills his tormentor, Snoke, to save Rey. So following this pattern of reversal, I predict in IX he’ll selflessly save a large group of people (the direct opposite of the original village massacre). It’s going to be so interesting to see how will he go with being The Supreme Leader of The First Order, as the evidence shows his ideology doesn’t really align with the Order. I feel like he’ll simply keep using The First Order for the sole purpose of destroying his mother’s Resistance, in a fruitless attempt to ‘kill his past’. Ultimately though, this story is about achieving balance between the Light and the Dark, not just in the force or the galaxy but also in oneself. Ben will need to accept the Light and the Dark sides in himself, and will have to come to this conclusion completely via his own initiative. Han (via Leia’s push), Luke, and Rey have all tried to convince him to the Light so far, to no avail.

REY: Strong Rey has been through a hell of a lot with Kylo/Ben in both films, and Luke in TLJ. She’s had to face her deepest fear that she’s ‘nobody’ and that her parents ‘aren’t coming back for her’. But despite this she has actually found belonging and empowerment along the way. Her self identity is in fact stronger than ever now (while Kylo/Ben is the opposite, he’s still having an identity crisis). I predict that in IX, Rey will be just as fearless and resilient as ever, but also more mature, less naive. Her relationship with the Resistance is interesting because in TFA Finn was lying to her about him belonging to the Resistance, so she was never actively apart of it, and then she was kidnapped by Kylo. Similarly, she sought Luke out for Leia (and the Resistance) in TLJ, but this was mostly a personal journey she undertook. She pursued turning Kylo/Ben to the Light, ‘for the Resistance’s sake’, but it was ultimately for her own sake. So I think that she might not completely feel like she belongs in the Resistance. It’s a sure thing, that she’ll still try to help them out how she can, but I predict it’ll once again be on her own ‘force’ related solo mission (because this fits her film narrative formula). This may be how she crosses paths with Kylo again? Also related to the Resistance, I have this gut feeling that she may clash heads with Poe over his decision making (IDK why, I just do). In terms of other predictions, it seems to be a given that she’ll repair the legacy Skywalker lightsaber, this is what Rey has done her whole life, salvage and repair. In regards to Ben, she’s learnt her lesson, and I truly believe she hasn’t given up on him, she just now knows that it has to be HIS decision to join the Light Side, she can’t ask him again – it won’t work. Like the TLJ novel states, she’s good at waiting, so deep down she’ll be waiting for him to eventually make the right decision. Also another prediction for Rey, is that the arm scar she got during the Throne Room fight will feature prominently in at least one on screen moment. I imagine it will go something like, she’s getting ready putting her satchel on etc, and looks down at her arm and remembers Ben/Kylo and that epic moment they fought together. Now Rey has a scar to remember him, and he too has one to remember her. ~swoons~ The recent costume leak (re: arm band) seem to support this scar’s significance further, but I initially thought that the scar would be important because LF chose to feature it on the damn TLJ poster.

THE WAR/THE BALANCE: This is the final film in the sequel trilogy, and this series is called “Star Wars” so I’m predicting more war, duh. However, we’ve already seen the Light side win over the Dark in the original trilogy, but it didn’t work – the Dark still rose back up. That’s why, this time round something’s got to be different. The Resistance can’t just defeat The First Order, I don’t think that’s going to cut it. TLJ expressed the nuisances of war, with the Resistance bombers and members dying, and also the large First Order crew who would’ve died on the dreadnaught. It really stuck with me what DJ said to Finn, “They blow you up today, you can blow them up tomorrow”. Maybe this wasn’t a precursor for IX, and was just Rian being Rian. But I still predict that Rey and Ben will team up again in this movie, but stay together this time, and they will initiate something like a ceasefire between the two sides, ending the vicious endless cycle of war that has plagued the galaxy for decades now. Ben and Rey are ‘the chosen one’ who will finally bring balance to the Force. It will be very interesting to see how this balance will be portrayed in a larger galactic scale.

FINN: Don’t get me wrong, I love my boy Finn, but to be honest on paper he is quite a one dimension character in regards to how he’s treated in these films. LF could’ve focused on his traumatic upbringing in The First Order and his emotions towards his ex-fellow troopers. Instead they have brushed past it, having Finn gunning down Storm Troopers with no second thought. (I guess they have the traumatic childhoods of Rey and Kylo to focus on instead). So the only prediction I have for him is that he will truly earn the title of ‘Resistance Hero’ in IX. Because in both the TFA and TLJ, he either left or tried leaving to save himself or save Rey, but by the end of TLJ he was finally committed to fighting for the Resistance’s cause (due largely to Rose’s influence).

POE: Poe was originally supposed to die in TFA, and in that movie he was really just a pilot (‘the best one in the Resistance’ though). In TLJ, he was still a pilot, but also shown to be cocky and impulsive, so the aim of TLJ was to teach him how to become a better leader, like Leia etc. So no doubt, in IX he’ll be making much better leadership calls, and assessing the risks more wisely. HOWEVER, it has been pointed out before how Poe, somewhat corrupts Holdo’s line of “We are the spark that will ignite the fire that will restore the Republic”, into “We are the spark that will light the fire that will burn the First Order down” this leads me to the juicy personal prediction (that probably won’t happen but...) maybe Poe in IX will turn into a ‘Coin’ like character, from the Hunger Games. Where Poe makes some very destructive calls, because he takes the war waaaay too far. I’m imagining this being Poe vs Hux, and it just keeps escalating and escalating in bloodshed. Hey, like I said, this probably won’t eventuate.

HUX: It seems obvious at this point that Hux is going to fail spectacularly again, for the third and final time. In TFA, his precious Starkiller Base was blown up. In TLJ, a dreadnought was destroyed under his watch, and then he lost his chance to become Supreme Leader as quickly as the opportunity arose. I predict that once he’s surrendered he’ll either sit there hilariously glaring everyone down, or pull the weasel move and beg/plead for his life. Regardless, it’ll be entertaining. Some might think that Hux is a serious military threat, and maybe in this film he might finally rise to the occasion. But throughout TLJ in particular, he was a laughing stock, and being completely honest Hux poses no serious threat to Kylo Ren. Kylo could end Hux’s life with the force or his saber, or both, within a mere second. WATCH YA BACK HUX. In all seriousness though, Hux will probably take every opportunity to undermine Kylo’s leadership – I know that. Man, do love their hate-hate colleague working relationship.

I’m looking forward to:

More Reylo scenes – need I say more?

More Force Bond sessions, because we damn well know it ain’t gone

Seeing Kylo Ren The Supreme Leader, acting as such, sitting in his throne, and ya know just generally running The First Order (eeeeep!)

Simply seeing more Kylo scenes in general, because let's be real, Kylo/Rey/Finn are the true trio, and this is the final movie so this is our chance to finally see more of his POV. This will also be crucial to the redemption story too, as the general audience will probably need a lot more information about him to be onboard for his redemption

My favourite comedy duo Poe and Finn will be back together again at last! I cannot wait for the new banter and shenanigans with these two

John Williams’ amazing final SW score

All the new costumes/hair styles (It’s very wishful thinking but I would low-key love if the characters changed costumes at Padmé's rate)

I know the sequel trilogy hasn’t had the largest scale of cityscape world-building, but ya never know!

I’m one of those people that fell in love with the Knights of Ren during that brief rainy flashback in TFA, so hopefully they make an appearance, after all what’s a ‘Master’ of Ren without those he masters?

I’m curious to see:

What kind of leader will Kylo be of the First Order? And how is his leadership in general is tracking, is it threatened (i.e. Hux)?

How will Finn and the rest of the Resistance react to Rey being a ‘Jedi’? in TFA everyone except Kylo (and the FO, I guess) were ignorant to the fact that Rey was Force Sensitive. Obviously the resistance noticed Rey force lifting rocks at the end of TLJ, so now they’re all in the loop. Will Finn think she’s ‘changed’? (This is specifically discussed by Finn and Rose in the TLJ novel actually)

Similarly, how will the resistance react to Rey being connection to Kylo, both emotionally and via the force? (They are undeniably connected now thanks to TLJ). How will they react if they ever find out about the Throne Room? ~This is so juicy to consider~

How romantic will Reylo actually be on screen? Will there be an epic kiss? (God, I hope so)

Will Leia survive this trilogy? Han and Luke haven’t, so there’s that...

Will we get the “return to mother” moment (re: reverse Anidala), of Kylo and Leia? If she doesn’t die, this seems like a no brainer

Will the Jedi teachings (the ancient texts) even be a big deal in IX? Luke wasn’t their biggest fan after all. What opinion will Rey take?

What role will Rose play within the resistance this time round? I think it’s going be more prominent; e.g. she’ll be at the decisions making table alongside Poe, Finn, and Leia

Will there be any tie-back to the ‘original’ chosen one, Anakin, to bring this story full circle? Anakin was supposed to ‘bring balance to the Force’ after-all (even though we know Ben and Rey are going to do this)

If the KoR are in IX, will they be Kylo’s blindly pledged allies, and then during his redemption journey will they turn into foes?

With Snoke, the ‘man behind the curtain’ puppeteer style villain being gone, does there need to be a new threat/villain? Is there room for that in the story this late in the game?

Will there be more Force Ghosts in IX, now that Yoda has set a precedent by appearing in TLJ?

If/when Rey and Ben team up again, how will this be possible this time round with Kylo being Supreme Leader of The First Order? Will he chose to leave the Order, or be forced to leave early on in the film?

With Rey and Ben united, will we see some new awesome powerful Force moments? Like how Leia rescued herself in TLJ, or how Kylo froze Poe’s blaster fire, or hell, how Force Ghost Yoda conducted lighting?!

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angelaiswriting · 5 years

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The Assistant (7 of ?) | Vladimir Ranskahov x reader

[original picture: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings:

(eventual) Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

Anatoly Ranskahov x OC (Paulina)

probably other pairings in the future

✏️ Requested by @kellydixon01 : Y/N–hacker, big mouth, even bigger attitude–is the new addition to Fisk’s team. Sent to help the Ranskahovs, she immediately gets on Vladimir’s nerves. But as time passes, they start to take a liking to each other, even if none of them is willing to admit their feelings. Yet.

✏️ A/N: I... Have you ever been punched in the face by a plot twist you didn’t see coming? While you were writing your own story? Yeah, me neither. I’m probably never going to let Emmentaler lead my writing sessions anymore, though haha

✏️ Warnings: I don’t even know anymore haha the usual, I think: sexual innuendos + mentions of violence, of dark past, of a bitch named Tatyana... Wesley is also a dick with Y/N.

✏️ Word-count: 4,240

REQUESTS ARE OPEN IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOU 💛

📚 To read the previous chapters, click on the MASTERLIST link in my bio (unfortunately I can’t put links here if I don’t want Tumblr to hide my post. I apologize.)

CHAPTER SEVEN: EVERYBODY LIKES Y/N

Vladimir did not wait ‘a few seconds’ to go up and instead of hopping into the elevator, he took the stairs.

His original purpose had been to tell her off: no woman touched him, not without him saying so. Touch was sacred and ever since he had moved to America, no one but the few women he had slept with had the chance to touch him. And it didn’t matter that her hand had been innocent on his chest, nor that she hadn’t hurt him: his skin still tingled underneath his shirt and he hated it. He hated the memories that contact brought back.

But then, the closer he got to his destination, the louder the voices got and he stopped in his tracks, out of sight, a few steps from reaching his floor.

Y/N had been honest. She hadn’t lied. And the surprise upon realizing so turned him into a statue.

That was Wesley’s voice. He would have recognized it anywhere, for it never failed to irk him, to make his skin prickle with annoyance and hatred.

Maybe that girl wasn’t so bad after all, he reasoned. Maybe–even if it still represented a huge risk–she wasn’t going to stab his back, at least not now.

He forgave her then–forgave her for touching him, for setting the crucifix in the middle of his chest ablaze. At least tonight, she had his back–did he have hers?

His apartment was his safe nest. He wasn’t going to call it ‘home,’ for nothing had felt like home ever since he and Tolik had been deported there, but it was still his safe hideout. Only his brother had seen its inside so far and before Y/N moved into the vacant apartment across from his, Anatoly had been the only one to know where he lived–and that he did indeed have a place to go back to at night. This was why her presence on his floor had always been unwelcome.

Until now.

Nothing she could ever find out about him could tell her how much her warning meant to him, how much he didn’t want anyone to even see his door. She could learn all she wanted about his past and she could do it by heart, but his feelings… That was something else entirely and she wasn’t going to read them.

He never opened up, not after what Tatya had done, but still this… For a second, he felt safe once again: whatever Y/N’s reason to keep him hidden was, it still meant Wesley wasn’t going to find out where he lived.

And that was a good consequence of the benefit of the doubt he had given her, one he hadn’t thought of. If it hadn’t been for her, he would have marched out of the elevator just to find himself face-to-face with James Wesley and he would have probably never been able to hear the end of it.

Maybe Tolik wasn’t that naive, after all. Maybe his brother was better at reading people than he was. Maybe that was the reason why he had found someone to spend his life with–or at least a portion of it. Maybe that was why fists weren’t the only way for his skin to crack open.

He leaned out from behind the corner of the stairwell and there he was, Wesley, one hand pressed against Y/N’s door, her back to the wooden surface.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t kept up with the conversation going on between the two, but he still noticed the way her arms had gone rigid by her sides. From that distance, he couldn’t be sure of it, but he knew–he felt it in his bones, for he had seen her that livid many a time–that her brows were set in a frown, her jaw clenched, her shoulders squared.

“It happened once and it was a mistake,” she was saying and Vladimir saw her blindly fumble with the doorknob.

“Oh, come on.” Wesley took her keys from her hand and shoved them into the front pocket of his pants. “I’m mainly here for work.”

Mainly.

“You could have sent me an email. Working time is over even at the garage.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“I didn’t.”

Half-hidden behind the wall of the stairwell, Vladimir frowned as one hand absentmindedly felt for the gun in the holster by his ribcage.

There was a loud sigh on Wesley’s part before he took a step back and even from halfway down the corridor, Vlad saw Y/N breathe deeply.

“Our employer sent me to know how the shipment went,” the man said. He shoved a hand into his pocket and fished her keys. “I will give them back after I got what I came for.”

“You have a meeting with the Russians and Gao in a week, you’ll know anything you want to know about the shipment then. I’m answering directly to Fisk since these are the orders, and if he wants to know how things go, he himself will have to come and ask.”

“Fine.” Her keys disappeared into his tight fist once again. “At least let me in for a drink, I’ve been waiting here like an idiot for hours.”

As if he already wasn’t an idiot, Vladimir thought and he had to resist the impulse to scoff. He hated that dog, hated the way he was trying to touch her with his filthy free hand.

And he hated himself for caring. Last time he was foolish enough to care about a woman, he ended up in a damp and dark cage with his brother and two of his best men, a breath away from death.

He had no responsibility towards her, he told himself as Wesley’s fingers trailed down her cheek, the one he couldn’t see from his position. He didn’t have to do anything, it wasn’t his business, he reasoned as she wiggled away from Wesley’s touch. She had managed to handle him, and Vladimir was a difficult person to have to deal with–she wasn’t going to have any problems with that weasel.

But then she slightly turned her face towards him, still standing there half-hidden in the stairwell, and even though her purpose had been to try and avoid Wesley’s touch, her eyes locked with Vladimir’s and he had half a second to choose what to do.

He didn’t choose. If anyone asked, he would say he hadn’t chosen her. His legs had moved before his brain had the time to stop for a second and think. But still, his feet climbed the remaining steps until he reached the landing and started to walk down the corridor.

He didn’t owe her shit, he kept on repeating himself as he got closer and closer to two of his worst enemies. He wasn’t her babysitter, nor her bodyguard. He barely was her boss, and sure as hell, he wasn’t her friend. Yet, he was marching towards her and when Wesley looked up and saw him, it was too late.

“I don’t like when people harass my people,” he said calmly, slowly but surely yanking Y/N’s keys out of Wesley’s grasp.

“I could tell you the same thing, Ranskahov.” Wesley wasn’t impressed–or, at least, he never showed it. The idea of getting killed by this Russian, or any other person for that matter, did turn his legs to jelly, he had to admit it, but may he be damned if he let himself show the least sign of fear. Those criminals were like animals: they smelled fear from miles away, and they knew how to feed on it. He was way better than that.

“We should call your boss,” Vladimir went on, prying Y/N away from her door until she stood by his side. “Ask him what he thinks of his dog being in heat with my hacker. I think he would not like it. Do you?” He turned his head towards Y/N and stared into her wide eyes as he let her keys fall into her palm.

The other man swallowed, fists tightening. “Your hacker?”

“Da. Chick works for me now. I give you five seconds before I take gun and empty magazine in your ass. It’s been long night and we still have work to do.”

Wesley stood there for a couple of seconds staring at Vladimir, fuming, trying to find a loophole in Fisk’s orders that would allow him to kill the Russian without getting killed in turn. “Very well, then. I’ll see you at the meeting next week.”

It felt like a threat, but as Vladimir stared as that dog got into the elevator to leave the building, he found himself not giving a shit. He didn’t give a damn about Y/N either. He admired her, sure: she seemed strong and she stood up to him–he didn’t exactly like that: he wanted her to do what he told her to, but at least she was no coward. And while he hated the fact that she was a spy and he - her target, one still needed to have guts of steel to spy on mobsters like him and his brother, and her courage–or was it stupidity?–was admirable. Still, he wasn’t going to admit to himself–let alone to anyone else–that he almost considered her his equal.

“Thank you.” She was touching him again, her fingers were lightly brushing against his.

But he couldn’t take his hand away, couldn’t show her his weakness. He hadn’t been touched in forever, not in a way that mattered, at least. He knew what kind of touches he had to expect from whores, knew part of them was afraid of him and that therefore they would never do anything to piss him off. But with other people, it was different. This wasn’t Tolya patting his back, and not even the rare client that insisted on shaking his hand. This was someone else, someone he didn’t really know. It was a woman and the feathery brush of her skin against his filled him with fear.

Last time he trusted a woman, he…

“I was hoping you would stay downstairs, though,” she continued, finally interrupting the contact–and the train of his thoughts. Vladimir could breathe again. “You never know it with people like James.”

“Or like you.”

She scoffed as she inserted the key in the lock of her door, but as she wore her usual iron mask, he still saw her shoulders sag. “I thought I finally had the chance to prove you I’m not against you.”

“You have to work for it, I don’t trust blindly.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer: he opened the door to his apartment and swiftly closed it behind his back. His actions had been so quick that her “Then why don’t you-” remained without an end–or an answer.

She stood there in the corridor for a while–he saw her from the peephole–before she turned around and entered her home.

It was surely that for her. Her home. New and still a little foreign maybe, but home nonetheless, he was certain of that.

She would have let Wesley in, otherwise, he reasoned. She would have let him in, offered him the drink he had asked for and he would have done his best to slip into her bed.

Tolik was usually the one who could read people and he was pretty good at it. Volodya, on the other hand, was better with facts and actions, but lust was lust from any point of view you looked at it and he knew Wesley had it hard for her.

Did she get wet for him, too, though?

But he didn’t care. He stepped in because he had read her discomfort–or at least that had to be the reason why his brain and his good sense had failed him. And he truly did not like it when someone harassed his people: he needed them in great shape for the kind of job they had to do. He needed them unbothered, they had to feel safe.

Even someone like her.

He had promised her he’d give her a chance, a chance to gain his trust and show him that she was indeed on his side. And he…

No. He hadn’t wanted to honor his promise. Wesley could want to fuck her all he wanted and she could choose whether she wanted to open her legs for him or not. But she had seen him standing there, watching the scene like a voyeur. She had probably deserved more than a shitty boss at that moment, with the unwanted fingers of another man trailing down her cheek. She worked for him now and whether he wanted it or not, her well-being now leaned against him like that of any one of his men.

Yes, that had to be the reason.

Days flew by and before any of them knew it, it was time to meet Fisk’s bootlicker. Vladimir couldn’t wait to tell him the shipment had gone to shit and that his girl hadn’t managed to do anything to stop it.

Ha!

If he put his annoyance to the side, the whole situation was almost comical. He was given what had been advertised as the ‘key to success,’ and his first meeting with a client ever since Y/N had started to work at the garage flopped. And it flopped hard. The only good thing in that mess was that Dobos’ organization was too weak to try any bad and risky move. At least, all he had to worry about was still Wesley’s dog spying on him.

But he… He was probably starting to like her. As a person, that is. Sentiments weren’t involved, he kept on telling himself: he wasn’t going to do that shit with a woman and risk dying again.

The news was, she had turned down Piotr’s advances and sexual innuendos like she did just that for a living and his face still contorted into a smirk anytime he thought back to Petya’s disappointed expression–with a pretty face like his, he wasn’t used to being turned down or to have to sweat it for a girl, which made it all the more amusing. He still wondered what had paralyzed her in front of James Wesley, though, and it had become his personal hobby: to try and find out what had happened between the two of them.

“What’s on your mind?” Tolik was fixing his shirt, staring at himself in the mirror above the sink, and he was grinning at his own thoughts.

Volodya shrugged his shoulders, quickly drying his hands before throwing the paper towels into the bin. “Nothing important.”

And it truly wasn’t–Wesley banging his new hacker, that is. It had been his constant thought ever since that night outside Y/N’s apartment, though. He didn’t even know why, but he craved that information: what happened? The weasel couldn’t fuck well? Or was he a creep in the sheets? That information could come in handy–if not for his own personal amusement, at least for some sort of fucked-up blackmail.

“I hope you’re not planning on ditching us to avoid the club,” Anatoly spoke up after a while, contented with how the collar of his shirt hid the hickeys on his neck.

Vladimir grimaced. “Clubs are not my thing.”

“Don’t care, you’d better come. Paulina wants to see you, she hasn’t met you in forever. She wants to make sure you’re still alive and well.”

“I’ll call her.”

“You won’t because you’re coming. And you know who else is?”

Vladimir shrugged. He didn’t care, he was still going to find a way to go straight back home. Clubs weren’t his thing, human contact in places like the one he had to go to tonight wasn’t his thing. Alcohol wasn’t his thing either, not anymore, not when he was surrounded by other people, at least. His mother had used to say alcohol was a truth serum: it brought the real person to the surface and erased the mask. Or at least that was the excuse she hid behind when his father beat her.

And whether too much vodka truly brought reality onto the stage or not, he wasn’t going to get drunk with other people. He could sit in a circle jerk and enjoy his time, but the same wasn’t going to happen when drinks were involved. He wasn’t like that, he wasn’t the thing he turned into when he…

Denial was still better than facing the truth and the truth were the monsters hiding in the darkness of his mind, waiting for him to let his walls down even for just a second to come out and eat him alive.

“Y/N is coming,” his brother continued just as he opened the door.

His back tensed, his squared shoulders drew back, chest puffing out a little. “One more reason not to come.”

“I thought things were good now.”

“I’m going to tell you what I told her, brother: she has to sweat for my trust.”

Tolik’s head tilted to the side as he crossed his arms on his chest. “You can’t keep on doing this, though.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

A scoff. “You’re putting her through hell just because… I don’t even know why. Why would Fisk want to ruin us when we refill his pockets with good money? You’re making her job impossible. If you had listened to her when she tried to talk some sense into you when we were getting ready to meet the Hungarians, probably it wouldn’t have been a flop.”

“So now it’s my fault? What’s up with you? You letting her suck you off? Is this why you’re always taking her sides?”

Anatoly took a step forward, forefinger pressing into his brother’s chest. “I’m nobody’s puppet, brother. I simply try to look beyond the here-and-now to see if we can gain anything from her working with us.”

“For us.”

“With us. She’s still Fisk’s propriety until we draw her to our side. Behave. Let her do her job. Stop giving her shit. After the meeting, we go to the club, you’ll greet my fucking woman and she will help us tear the truth out of Y/N. If she’s up to something, I’ll apologize, but if we have nothing to worry about, you’ll step aside and be decent with her.”

Vlad was on the point of telling his brother that Y/N had indeed been ordered to spy on them, but he kept his mouth shut. He thought he knew what Tolya was planning, how they were going to make her spill the truth, and all he had to do was wait. Wait for her to betray her cover and show his brother how fucking right he was. “Fine.”

The meeting with Wesley went by faster than usual and Vladimir thought he knew why. The doormat had kept on eyeing Y/N who, for the sake of everyone’s safety, had been introduced as Fisk’s new personal assistant, someone high up enough to be able to attend those business meetings. She had been forced to stand near Wesley and the Russians had agreed–Vladimir with a little help from Anatoly because while he was a stubborn dick who still didn’t trust her, he didn’t want Wesley to think he could do as he pleased with what now belonged to him.

She was his fucking hacker, not Wesley’s, not even Fisk’s. And she was so regardless of whether or not he was fond of her.

But as Gao showed her numbers and introduced the name of a new big customer from outside the city, Wesley’s gaze slowly walked up Y/N’s legs, her skin masked by the black semi-transparent tights she wore under her burgundy skirt. And Vladimir saw everything: the slight twitch in the weasel’s jaw, the way his fingers tapped away at his thigh, even the way his chest leaned forward, his ass pushing back on the chair because the crotch of his suit pants had suddenly become uncomfortable.

He could use her, Vlad thought. Use her against him and then against Fisk. If only he could put his hesitation and doubts to the side, if only he could see her as a person and not a profession… If only ‘attractive woman’ meant something different to him than what it did mean, then he was sure he could have the world, for he would maneuver her to give it to him.

“Hungarians are out of scene,” Anatoly was saying when Vladimir’s eyes met Y/N’s. “Will not hear from them anymore.” He wasn’t ashamed to say the deal had sunk–and it was better that way: with Dobos out of the picture, they had one less enemy on the chessboard of power.

But Volodya wasn’t thinking about it. He was staring into that girl’s eyes, his brother’s words from that afternoon echoing back and forth among his noisy thoughts. The benefit of the doubt he had given her was bullshit, it had been a plain lie. Or so he thought–hoped. But now, with her eyes set on him, he felt like she could read him, like she could read inside of him. Every fear and every memory, every scar, every tattoo, every murder, starting from Tatyana. Tatyana, whose curves he could see in Y/N, whose stubbornness he could see in Y/N, whose insolence he could see in Y/N.

And that was exactly why he didn’t trust her–couldn’t trust her. Physical appearance aside, Tanya and Y/N were two drops of blood. And if the former had managed to shatter him, what could stop the latter from doing the same?

Anatoly wanted to give her a chance, though, and he wondered if his brother had truly forgotten their past. Maybe Paulina had done some juju shit and now Tolik didn’t even know who Tatyana was anymore. Or maybe he didn’t see it as his own fault, maybe he thought it had all happened because of Vladimir. Their fall, the cage, their servitude to some American dick. All of it–Vladimir’s fault.

As the meeting came to an end, Vladimir too lost in his own thoughts to even be able to tell what it all was about, he reasoned he didn’t want to know the truth. Y/N’s truth. Because it was true, it had all happened because of him, and he didn’t want to be the cause of their fall once again.

Sergei had finally joined them at the club, some stuffed and noisy shithole Anatoly’s woman had chosen, and Vladimir let himself heave a sigh. Seriozha had always been on his side, he had always had his back like a brother, he had-

He was kissing her cheek and she was grinning, hugging him with one arm as she held a shot of vodka in the other hand. She yelled something in his ear so that he could hear her above the music–and that was the same reason why nobody else managed to hear a word–and he laughed back, pinching her side as he sat on the leather couch with her on one knee.

Vladimir frowned.

How was it that his men liked her? Couldn’t they see? Couldn’t they understand?

First, it had been Tolya: let’s trust her, let’s agree with Fisk, let’s bring her to the garage. Second, it had been Petya, whom he had overheard one night saying how he wanted to bang her in any possible position, how he wanted her to suck him dry. And now Seriozha, his marble Sergei.

What did she have that he couldn’t see? Tits? Check. Ass? Check. And had it only been Piotr, he would have stopped there, for he knew too well that his brother only had eyes for Paulina. Which, by the way, go figure! He had never been with a woman for more than a week in Russia, but after moving to New York and having spent nights fucking whore, he finds this Pole and he… settles down? On what planet?

But Sergei. That was another story. If Sergei was acting like this, all giddy and handsy in public, it meant she had something else, something she hadn’t shown him or that he hadn’t picked up yet. Or maybe they were simply fucking. Which was… impossible. He had never seen nor heard Sergei enter or leave her apartment, just like she stayed at home every night. And he wasn’t a stalker–at all!–, he just had a pretty light and short sleep.

He stared as she downed the shot of vodka and tried not to laugh at something Piotr said from next to her so as not to spit the alcohol, but a droplet still escaped the corner of her lips and-

And Sergei licked it away.

Vladimir squinted, brows furrowing, breath stopping. He clearly saw Seriozha’s tongue slip out from his smiling lips and lick away the drop of burning vodka from the left corner of her mouth. And that was…

Either he had been drugged and he was tripping–and tripping badly–, or there was something wrong going on with Sergei. Because that… Holy shit, that was a fucking first!

“See? Everybody likes Y/N!” Tolya yelled in his ear, tickling his brother’s skin with his warm breath.

Yeah, apparently everyone but him was stupid enough to chase after her.

As always, thank you for reading. 💛

What’s wrong with Sergei? (Don’t worry btw, it’s still all gonna be a x Vladimir story!) haha jk i was just horny i guess. Now what, though? What will Vova do? Will he manage to make Y/N talk with the help of Tolik’s woman, Paulina (hello there, cameo girl haha @sweetvengeancee)?

I love to hear from you and to chat with you, so feel free to give me any sort of feedback, I will love you forever 💛

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dramaqueeenamby · 6 years

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Space Between (7)

*****Tag notifications aren’t working so for those who don’t know, I update this story on Wednesdays. Your best bet is to just check for the newest chapters on Wednesday evenings. :/ At least, until Tumblr gets their shit together. Smh.*****

❤️ #BunBunWednesday ❤️

Words: 3253

MASTERLIST

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Space Between (7)

Y/N was avoiding T’Challa.

She’d been doing so ever since she woke up and carefully lifted Bunme out of his bed to prepare her for another day at school. She’d had breakfast delivered to their room and stayed in their even after her daughter’s departure. She wasn’t sure how long she could avoid him but was pleasantly pleased with her success thus far.

However, she realized that she needed to seek out Nakia and ask the woman about possibly accompanying her to Jabariland to go visit Hawla later that day and could not figure out how to work her Kimoyo beads.

She was walking down the hall, about to send up a prayer of gratitude for the continued avoidance of a certain king when she felt herself being grabbed.

Damn

“We need to talk.” She tried to not focus on how good he looked, smelled, or how his touch reminded her of their events just the night before. So passionate, so fulfilling.

As much as she hated him at times, she could never deny that the man always satisfied her every desire under those sheets.

“About?”

“Y/N.”

She jerked her hand back out of his hold, prompting the king to sigh. “Personal space, T’Challa. Personal space.”

“You really want to talk about personal space?” He propped a brow which earned a small glare from the woman.

“What do you want?” She relented.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” His handsome face took on a small frown which elicited a look of shame from the princess.

“I haven’t-“

“Y/N.” His voice indicated that he was in no mood for her sideways excuses.

“It was a mistake.” She said rather loudly. “We shouldn’t, I shouldn’t have, I don’t know.” She stammered, placing her middle and index finger on her temple. “I never should have come to your room, and I want us to just, to just forget it, okay? Let’s just pretend that it never happened. Alright?” Y/N went to walk away, but T’Challa grabbed her, pushing her up against the wall. “What the hell-“

“How much longer do you think you can hide from me?” He questioned darkly, his voice a mixture of frustration and desire.

“Let go of me-“

“Answer me!”

“Need I remind you the last time you neglected to heed my warning!” She hissed quietly, struggling against his grip on her wrist.

“Run? Just as you always do.” He shot back smoothly, remaining stagnant in his spot.

She tried to lunge at him, but his grip was iron. “I’m right here, T’Challa.” She sighed, letting her eyes fall on their connected hands. “How the hell am I hiding?”

“You know what I am talking about.” His voice dropped as he lowered his mouth toward hers.

“What are you doing?” She whispered with pure unadulterated apprehension, inhaling sharply as he quickly diverted his lips to the middle of her chest.

“Why do you continue to deny yourself?” He questioned against the top of her breast, sucking the supple skin that was pushed up by the corset of her top. “Deny us both?”

She exhaled shakily, her head dropping back against the wall. Damn him. Damn him to hell.

“It was just sex.” She tried to convince him, herself, maybe the both of them. It was hard to say and focus with such a talented mouth going to work on her bosom.

“We both know it was much more than that.” He spoke with a hint of humor, running his tongue up the middle of her cleavage. Y/N whimpered, shaking her wrists in an attempt to free herself from him. Again, she was unsuccessful. “Y/N.”

“Why can you not just leave me be?” She questioned with helplessness. “Why can’t you cast aside your feelings for me?” Her eyes were starting to water as T’Challa lowered their hands, lessening the distance between them so that their chests were almost touching. “Surely there are plenty of other women in Wakanda. Why must you like-“

“This is not a case of me liking you, sthandwa sam.” He interrupted with swiftness, his voice dripping with sincerity.

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she suddenly wished she had never gone to his room.

Or Wakanda, for that matter.

“What?” She breathed, her heartbeat going at an astronomical rate. Damnit, this sanctuary really was turning into purgatory.

The princess waited for the king to say something but instead watched as his gaze hardened with irritation.

“Stand down, boy.”

She frowned. “What are you-“

“Let her go.” Her eyes widened at the sound of Dumi’s voice. “Now.”

T’Challa growled and released her wrists, Y/N immediately deprived of his surprisingly warm touch.

“What did you just say?” It was almost rhetorical, but the menace and challenge in his voice were undeniable. “Have you forgotten who I am? Your place?”

“Dumi, stand down.” Y/N instructed as she moved between the two men, placing her hands on T’Challa’s chest.

“My place is to protect the queen.” Dumi retorted smoothly as he continued to hold his hand on his sheathed sword. “And I care not who I have to strike down to do so.” A beat. “Even if that includes the mighty Black Panther.”

At that, T’Challa ripped himself from the princess hold and grabbed Dumi, shoving him against the wall.

“T’Challa, let him go!” She pleaded, placing her hands on his bicep.

“You speak not to the Black Panther, but to the king.” T’Challa sneered. “And consider that a blessing from Bast for the politician is much more lenient than the warrior.”

“T’Challa!” Y/N yelled his name again, moving her hands to his waist, finally getting him to look at her. “Please.” She stared at him with pleading eyes, praying that she could get through to him, trying not to show her own fear.

She’d never seen this side of T’Challa.

However, she released a breath of relief when he finally let go as she moved her body in front of his. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, you will be removed from your duties-“

Dumi’s nose flared. “He was hurting you!”

“Raise your voice with her again, and it’ll be one of the last things that you ever do,” T’Challa threatened calmly.

She shut her eyes and avoided snapping at the king. “Do I look as though I am harmed? I am fine, Dumi. Now go.” She stressed. “That’s an order.”

Dumi looked from the princess to the king, a look of abhorrence and disappointment in his face. She was prepared to speak again when her guard turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

As soon as he was gone, T’Challa shared, “I don’t trust him.”

“Why? Because he does his job.”

“He is too invested and not into the right things.” He shared. “His loyalty is questionable.” Before she could further protest, T’Challa continued. “Why would he send Bunme, a five-year-old, alone, to navigate a palace in the middle of the night?”

Y/N frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night.” He stepped closer to her, neither moving as he placed a hand on her hip. “She told me that he told her you were in my room and sent her, by herself, to go find you.”

“He told me that she snuck away.” Y/N explained, and she had no reason to doubt him as she knew better than anyone that her daughter was one clever child. That little girl could weasel her way out of the most secure situations. “That explains how she just so happened to end up by us.”

T’Challa recognized the look of realization. “What is it?”

“I never told him that I was going to see you. I said that I was going for a walk.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t have to. He’s a man. He knew exactly where you were going and who you were going to see.”

She blushed and dropped her gaze before clearing her throat. “I will talk to him.”

“Or I could.”

“I said talk, not maim.”

“You do not believe that I can control myself?”

“That-“ she gestured down the hall. “-was control?”

“He still lives, does he not?”

“Too much, T’Challa.”

His eyes squinted ever so softly as he leaned forward, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him. His mouth dipped against her ear. “And yet you take me so well.”

She turned her head and rolled her eyes, but he could still see the faint smile on her face as she shoved him off and walked away, purposely swaying her hips in the process.

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

Y/N was reading a book, which book, she knew not or which page, just that it had occupied her thoughts and mind for the past thirty minutes as a way to keep her from thinking about everything else.

She wanted to talk to Dumi, needed to speak with him but was in no state of mind to do so.

How could she when the king of Wakanda had practically implied that he loved her? As if things weren’t bad enough already. She just really wished she’d stayed in her room last night, except she didn’t, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

Yet…..there was a small part of her that didn’t regret what happened. Waking up with T’Challa, her daughter snuggled between them, the three all so peaceful, there was a sense of normalcy that accompanied that image. Something about that which made her feel like she could get used to it. Like she could get used to him.

Damn.

“The History of Us,” She looked up from her book to see Erik leaning against the open door of the massive palace library with his signature smug smirk. “And here I was thinking that you were tired of hearing about Wakanda.”

“Erik.” She found herself smiling. “Please.” She patted the seat next to her, watching as he sauntered over before reaching over before to give him a hug. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled, eyeing her up. “I miss anything?”

She paused. “Nothing noteworthy. I attended Public Training Day.”

“Heard you did more than just attend.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you already knew, then why’d you ask?”

He shrugged. “And miss out on an opportunity to hear about someone kicking Challa’s ass? Shit, you must not know me very well.”

She giggled softly. “Where did you go?”

His gaze visibly softened before he cleared his throat. “To go see my mom.”

“She is American?” It made sense. The way Erik dressed, his lack of an accent, his Westernized way of dressing, and the whole nine yards.

He nodded. “She’s a professor down in California, over at Stanford.” He then went on to briefly explain how his parents never married, having conceived him when his father briefly visited America and how he spent his summers in Cali with her but the rest of his time in Wakanda with N’Jobu.

“Does she ever come to visit you?”

“Now that T’Challa has opened up Wakanda, that’s the plan.” He said, leaning back into the sofa and spreading his left arm over the top. “What?”

“What do you mean, now?”

“Come on, you know we never use to allow outsiders. It was the law. Ever since the beginning of our foundation.”

“Why?” She pressed, not even hiding her shock.

“Vibranium. It’s too powerful and valuable to fall into the wrong hands.”

“And you all are so perfect and faultless compared to the rest of the world?”

Erik grinned. “We’ve gone without incident thus far.” A beat. “But it makes no difference now, once T’Challa came back from Oxford and took the throne from my pops-“

“Your father used to be king?” Her eyed widened. This was all such surprising news to her and a much-needed distraction.

He nodded. “After T’Chaka was killed, T’Challa was too young and, obviously so was I, so the mantle fell to the next in line which was my father.”

She followed the chain of thought. “So technically, you could have been king too?”

“If I challenged him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Politics isn’t really my thing.”

“Perhaps you just don’t think you could best your cousin in battle,” she teased with a small smile.

Erik chuckled. “You’d lose that bet, baby girl. On any given day.”

She remained quiet, allowing everything she’d just learned to settle in before speaking again. “So, once T’Challa became king, he reversed the law?”

He nodded. “One of his first acts.” His eyes fell on her. “Maybe now I know why.”

She picked up on his indication. “Oh, please.”

“What?” He shrugged. “If I was him, I’d make it so the woman that I love and my daughter could come to visit as they so pleased.”

Y/N’s heart stopped and her mouth dried as she snapped her head in his direction. “What did you just say?”

“Relax, your little secret is safe with me and pops-“

She tried not to show her panic at the mentioning of the fact that not only did he know the truth, but N’Jobu did too. “I don’t know what-“

“I’m sure you don’t,” he winked, standing up and stretching. “A little advice though? Tell him. He deserves to know the truth, Y/N.”

And with that, Erik left the stunned Princess of Niganda with many, many thoughts and situations to ponder.

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

T’Challa walked into his room later that evening and stopped in the doorway.

“Hi, kitty!”

He couldn’t even stop his smile despite his confusion. “Hello, sam isipho.”

The energetic little princess was settled in the middle of his bed with a vibranium tablet, notebooks and other school supplies surrounding her. Of course, her doll was with her too.

He started to ask how she’d gained access to one of the arguably most secure rooms in the place but decided against it. It honestly didn’t matter. He doubted few could deny the child anything, period.

“Are you busy?” She tilted her head to the side and pouted slightly.

“For you? Never.”

That earned him a giggle. “Can you help me with my homework? I can’t find Shuri and bad kitty is being a meany head.”

“Bad kitty?”

She shook her head. “Erik.”

T’Challa mentally rolled his eyes and made a notation to ask Erik to politely return the Jaguar Habit back to the lab asap.

“Of course, I will help you.” He kindly agreed and motioned for her to follow him over to the sofa on the other side of his spacious bedroom. He watched with amusement as the child climbed off his bed with her dolly, tablet, and notebook, skedaddling over to join him on the expensive piece of furniture.

“It’s just the math that I don’t know.” She started to explain taking the king by surprise as she nonchalantly lifted one leg onto the sofa and then crawled over into his lap, making herself comfortable as she started to point out her area of difficulty. “Stay right there.” She wagged a finger to her doll that was sitting up beside them, earning a small chuckle from the Black Panther.

“Ah, I see what the problem is.” He started before going into a concise and lucid explanation for the child, watching in astonishment as she picked up on the concept in less than five minutes. “Brilliant.”

“That’s what my teacher said!” Bunme beamed while looking up and over at him. “She said I’m really...um.....umm...”

“Bright?” He suggested.

“Yeah!” She pointed with excitement before her smile dropped. “That’s good, right?”

“It is excellent.” He complimented. “You are a very special little girl, Bunme.” She retained her smile before it dropped again. “What’s wrong, sam isipho?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

“Well.” He watched her twiddle her fingers. “You have a mommy and a sister and other family....where’s your daddy?”

He froze, not expecting the question but handled it as best he could. “Bunme, do you remember when you told me that bad people killed your father?” She shook her head. “Well, when I was a little boy, not much older than you, a bad man killed my father.”

Bunme gasped in shock and once again surprised the king as she leaned into him, placing her tiny arms around his body in an attempts to give him a hug. “Stupid, meany head, bad man.”

His lips lifted into a small and sad smile as his hand went to softly caress the back of her head. “Indeed.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “Do you remember him, kitty?”

He looked down at her. “A little. My memories are few.”

“I never met my father.” She frowned with sadness, looking down, around, and then up at him. “Do you think he would have liked me?”

He answered without hesitation. “He would have loved you, Bunme.”

She grinned with pure appreciation. “Kitty, when mommy and I go back....is it....is it okay if I come back and visit you?” Again, her smile faltered slightly. “I like it here, and...I don’t want you to forget me.”

T’Challa’s heart sank not only from the child’s statement but just from the mere thought of them leaving.

He didn’t want them to go.

Not now.

Not soon.

Not at all.

“Here.” He put his hands around his neck and pulled a necklace out of his collar. “I want you to have this.” She watched in awe as he removed the necklace with a black vibranium pendant on the end in the shape of a Panther on it and placed it around her neck.

“It’s a kitty!” She exclaimed with wide eyes of excitement while observing it.

“It is.” He confirmed, carefully watching her. “Passed down in my family for generations. My own father gave it to me, a gift from his father to him and so forth, and now….I am giving it to you.”

She looked slightly confused as she squinted one eye. “Isn’t it special to you?”

“It is, but so are you.” He answered, watching as her smile started to reappear. “And now you know that I shall never and could never forget you, Bunme.”

At that, the little girl lost it. She got on her knees while still in his lap and attacked him with a better version of her previous hug, wrapping her arms around him as she whispered in his ear. “I think your daddy would think you’re a really good kitty.”

T’Challa quieted for a moment as the little girl’s words deeply resonated with him even if she didn’t realize exactly what she was saying. Being a good ‘kitty’ aka king, Black Panther, making his father proud.....that was all he wanted for the late King T’Chaka’s legacy. Somehow, hearing it out of her mouth solidified his latent fears.

He closed his eyes and lightly kissed her temple. “Thank you, sam isipho.”

“I think he’d also want us to get ice cream.” She whispered while his lips were still pressed against her temple.

The king laughed loudly. “Is that so?” She nodded fervently. “Well then....” Bunme started laughing loudly as T’Challa stood up with her in his arms, switching her so that she was on his hip, placing a kiss to her cheek as she held onto his neck. “Ice cream we shall get.”

“Yay!” She cheered as the two left the room, Bunme not even remembering the infamous doll that still sat on the sofa.

Welp. So Erik knows? And N’Jobu?

And Dumi.

Imma just tell you right now.

T’Challa don’t like his ass. The feeling is mutual though so....

Wonder if anyone else does....hmmm.

I decided to pull from the comics in terms of backstory because I felt it goes better with this storyline.

Also, question.

I’ve been receiving comments and questions that my stories and characters are too loaded and intricate to be “Y/N” aka reader stories. Do you all agree? Should this be switched over to a T’Challa x Main Character story? Literally, nothing would change except “Y/N” would have a name, and I’d provide a picture of how I imagine her looking. lol

Because we already have a picture of our child Bun Bun.

Or we can totally leave things as they are. I’m perfectly content with either option. Truly.

Let me know!

#black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #t'challa x reader #T'Challa Udaku #black panther #Erik Killmonger #t'challa #fluff galore #space between #t'challa x storm #t'challa x mutant!reader #Bun Bun Wednesday

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poipoi1912 · 6 years

Text

Barba-centric thoughts on Ep 19x13

For the last time.

But first, to get it out of the way.

Sonny Thoughts

Who’s that?

No but, are we honestly expected to believe that Sonny would pass on observing Barba’s murder trial?

Sonny, who is a lawyer himself, would pass on witnessing a) any colleague’s MURDER TRIAL, b) BARBA’S murder trial, c) Randy Dworkin working his magic and d) the skills of Peter Stone, out of sheer curiosity? How does any of that make sense? Sonny as a law student was eager to shadow Barba just to observe a random trial he had no personal connection to, and he’d return to the precinct literally saying “court was AWESOME” while the others rolled their eyes, and now that he’s a lawyer, all he does is say “lol it’s a good thing I’m a cop”?

Remember when the conversation was “will Carisi join or even replace Barba at the DA’s office?” to the point where Peter was asked about it in interviews? Remember when Sonny’s law degree had a purpose? When it was building up to something, to a potential change? When Sonny actively faced a dilemma? Now it’s only good for a throwaway line.

What has Sonny done all season?

Nothing.

Which brings me to, what has Barba done this season?

A lot, and none of it’s good, unfortunately.

Barba Thoughts

Barba has messed up many times this season. Too many. Twice it’s been completely intentional (causing a mistrial with the jurors on that elevator, and this). We’ve seen him act way too emotional for someone in his position, and indeed we have seen his heart guiding him (like it did the other week, with the alt-right/antifa case, when he dropped the charges because his heart wasn’t in it). It’s a fact that Barba changed, a lot, over the years, and this season saw him going through even greater changes.

In the past, he always had his integrity. He may have misstepped before (like with Munoz, who was a very close childhood friend) and he may have held opinions which pitted him against the squad or the police in general (the Terrence Reynolds case), but he always held his positions with impressive, if firm, conviction. Just last season, he admitted to what was, at the time, his “deepest” secret, i.e. giving money for drugs to a witness who ended up OD’ing, and even then he believed he had done the right thing.

Because he did do the right thing. Then.

This season, however, Barba has been doing the wrong thing, way too often.

Part of me appreciated the focus on Barba’s decisions, and part of me was suspicious (as I mentioned recently) because I knew that, usually, when a character receives an unprecedented amount of focus, it means they’re on their way out, and all those “bigger” moments are meant to sett up their exit arc.

I was wrong.

Barba’s exit wasn’t the result of his longterm disenchantment with his work. Barba’s exit wasn’t set up previously at all. Barba’s prior mistakes were, in retrospect, simply meant to highlight the fact he has turned into Liv, i.e. he shows complete disregard for the law and just does whatever he wants wait no, I mean, he has grown a heart. also he could never fully become Liv because her actions never have consequences Because you can’t have a heart and still prosecute criminals? For some reason? Do the writers know Barba wasn’t a defense attorney?

Anyway,

This was no masterplan. Barba’s exit happened on a whim. Even though the writers have known about Raul’s desire to leave since literally before the season started, they did nothing to create an actual exit arc. They just used him as normal, and they came out with the most dramatic, far-fetched and soapy idea they could to create a single exit episode, instead. Which Barba then had to share with McCoy and his own replacement, both of whom took up valuable time which could have been spent on Barba himself, and on highlighting Barba’s importance to the entire squad.

When an actor leaves amicably, and when they graciously make themselves available for an exit “arc”, it’s customary to treat them with the analogous level of respect.

Barba deserved a tribute, and this episode was no tribute to Rafael Barba.

Case(y) Thoughts

Remember when I said a “right to die” case had some potential for an exit arc, even though it would never come close to (the actual best ADA) Casey Novak’s iconic exit in S9? Casey, of course, put her career on the line by knowingly lying about evidence (i.e. something a lawyer would conceivably do), because she wanted justice. Because she tried to help a friend and colleague (my fave, Chester Lake) who snapped and resorted to extreme actions when the system failed him and a victim.

“He deserved to pay.”

“And so do you.”

That’s how you write a morally gray exit.

You do NOT have an Assistant District Attorney literally turn off life support for a baby even though he is not a doctor or even a relative of the child. Truly no one would do what he did in real life. No one. No matter what half-assed and canonically inaccurate story the writers tried to spin about his father.

Can you imagine? Physically ending a life thus rendering yourself liable for homicide? When it’s not your place to do so? And you are fully aware of the legal ramifications? When the life in question is a child’s life, and the parents disagree on what to do? Can you imagine “siding” with one parent and taking that final (and irreversible) step, as the other parent is forced to forever live with the consequences of your actions?

Can you imagine any of us finding any of that ethical?

Can you imagine that, instead of having Barba passionately argue a case for the right to die, or find a smart, legal-yet-shady way to help the mother do the deed herself without being charged for a crime (which was what I thought was going to happen, when the episode began), the writers had him physically pull the plug?

With that one move, and with the fact Barba’s actions were attributed to (selfish) emotion, because of his father, Barba lost his moral footing, no matter what that opening eulogy tried to tell us. His position on the matter may well have been correct (it was certainly defensible), as was his instinct to help that poor mother, but his actions were wrong. And this is now how or why I wanted him to leave. Not because he was so very wrong.

Squad Thoughts

I admire Liv for personally and single-handedly manning an entire Special Victims Unit while taking the time to attend lengthy trials and also haphazardly inserting herself to any and all hostage situations in the Tri-State Area.

Stone Thoughts

Eh. That said, I did like his quip about the Class A Felony. My Barba thoughts aside, I’ve been saying it all along, SVU needs a prosecutor who does the job without being emotionally compromised every five minutes. It’s one thing if A Case hits home, but an ADA who can’t do his job because his feelings are clouding his judgment shouldn’t have a job oh wait he no longer has a job lol.

Also I can’t believe I’m saying this but I was Team Stone, not Team Liv (or Team Barba) and I kinda think that’s exactly what the showrunner intended? And I’m offended I fell for it? But Stone was right so I had no choice but to agree with him? is it because i’m a lawyer too omg

I’m conflicted. But Liv dissing him over not having children (I hate that more than I hate most things by the way) and then acting like Barba, who also has no children, “gets it”, I guess because he’s been around her long enough, and her parenting skills are so good they’ve transferred over to him? Ugh.

Seriously, Team Stone. Do you think there’s a chance the showrunner (who created the character and is clearly attached to him) will actually let Stone be his own person? And challenge Liv on equal footing? Because Liv might be Liv, and Mariska might be Mariska, but the showrunner’s love for Peter Stone might be enough to keep him from being swallowed by the Benson Vortex?

(and do I kinda like that? Are they gonna make me like Peter Stone by having him disagree with Liv every time she’s wrong i.e. all the time? Because I’m open to it 👀)

Religious Thoughts

Both Barba and Carisi have talked about their faith in the past. Carisi especially is a man of faith who regularly goes to church and has been shown to be a true believer. And yet, he had no insight to offer about what the Church might have to say about a case like this. In fact, religion was not mentioned at all. During this case, of all cases. In my opinion, that was because the writers knew that by religious standards there is no defense for Barba’s actions, and they didn’t want to give the audience a reason to think negatively of him. Still, this was a glaring omission.

Stray Thoughts

“Weasel”? They couldn’t find a better word lol?

RANDY DWORKIN. Not an obvious choice to defend Barba (oh, Rita, where art thou?), but definitely an entertaining one. I felt like I was watching the original Law & Order every time he spoke. Also, every single thing he argued was, indeed, defensible, and the writers made a decent (if schmaltzy) effort to paint Barba’s actions in a positive light, but the fact remains; having the right to die (which I personally support) is not the same thing as allowing a complete stranger to (technically) kill you “for your own good”. Even if it was the right decision, it was not Barba’s decision to make, and the trial glossed over that a bit.

Jack is still the DA? Since when? And why did they never namedrop him in all these years?

Both Peter Stone’s Class A felony quip and Jack’s quip about it being “unbecoming” to have his ADA’s killing people were great lines, but they rubbed me the wrong way because they were effectively making fun of Barba? But also they were accurate? And Barba deserved to be dragged? Again, I’m conflicted.

The new showrunner can write dialogue very well, but he cannot write season-long arcs (the Sheila mess confirmed that), he can’t write characters well or consistently, and he struggles with original episode ideas. For Season 19, I guess that’s not so bad. But for television in general, in its current thriving state, it’s pretty disappointing.

Liv, to an Assistant District Attorney: Forget the law for a minute.

me: *facepalm*

Peter Stone: lol how ‘bout I don’t?

me: u go gurl

The Barisi Corner

One last time, for old times’ sake.

The ship lives forever in our hearts. Where it’s always lived.

And also in Peter Scanavino’s heart ❤️

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reality-imagined · 6 years

Text

Schematics

Part IV

SWU Poe x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Flirting?, TLJ Spoilers

Word Count: 2614

Rating: T

I’m so nervous about this lol

Masterlist

“Do you want the good or bad news first?”

You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at Suna, once again she had interrupted your morning coffee like she had a few days before. Your silently prayed this wouldn’t become routine. “Depends. Is the good news about you and the bad about me?”

“I am offended. Do you really think so lowly of me?”

“No. I’ve just spent time in your presence.”

“Right. Well, so maybe this time the bad news kinda has something to do with you, but the good news is that Tiro and Raena are official!”

You instantly smiled into your mug, that really was good news. “That’s great! When did she tell you?”

“Oh, she didn’t. I just seen them making out behind the medical building.”

Your face went monotone, you should’ve known the good news wasn’t even actual news. “So the bad news?”

As she spoke, she turned her head, voice lower than she’d ever spoke.

“I can’t hear you, Suna.” You sighed, setting down your cup. Looks like it was bound to be another long day.

“Poe was on a date last night.”

“I-“ You wished you didn’t instantly felt the way you did. But your heart started to hurt that unique ache of utter heartbreak. “That’s great.”

“No. No. Don’t you dare shut down on me.” Suna moved from her side of the table to yours, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Even if you don’t care to admit it, I know you have feelings for him. And honestly, I thought he had feelings for you too.” She flinched, realizing there was a thousand other ways she could’ve rephrased that.

You shook your head, bottom lip pinned beneath your teeth. You should’ve known better and this is what you get for ignoring all your red flags. “So, how’d you hear about this one?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. She was one to give you a little taste but never the full dish. “Obviously it does if you felt the need to tell me.”

She stammered for a bit before sighing herself, “I heard it from that new recruit. She was… she was the one on the date. Said that he was extremely sweet and even walked her to her door.”

Of course he did.

“Well, at least he’s chivalrous.” You couldn’t help the bitter tone.

“Y/n… I’m sorry-“

“Don’t. There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you shrugged, “We wasn’t even… well there wasn’t anything happening to even warrant feelings. Really, it’s nothing.”

“Are you convincing me, or yourself?” She looked at you knowingly.

Maybe both. “I’ll see you later.” You gathered your bag and coffee mug, ready to leave. Thoughts about asking the General to work from your dorm started rolling through your mind. So much so that you hadn’t realized you nearly ran into someone.

“Woah there, easy love.”

Of-kriffing-course.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” His smile was ever charming and it was turning your mood even more sour.

“Awesome. Have a great day.” You tried to keep a neutral tone but you were very aware of how disdained you sounded.

His eyebrows creased, but he didn’t hesitate to place a hand on your upper arm that was pinning your coffee mug to your chest in an attempt to hold yourself together. It was failing. “I didn’t really get to, uh, ask you the other day because of the General and all.. but I was wondering if-“

“I’ll have your schematics to you in the morning.”

“Oh,” his eyebrows shot up, “That’s great, but I was actually-“

You didn’t give him time to finish, deciding that if you didn’t walk away now you’d regret it. He stood there, in the middle of the mess hall, watching you walk away so quickly he was sure you’d break into a run soon. Was it something he did?

“Great job, Romeo.”

He turned to see Suna looking at him bitterly from the table you normally sat at for meals. He couldn’t help but approach her, curiosity getting the best of him. “Is she okay?” He gestured to the way you had left as he sat down.

Suna ignored his question, angrily stabbing a piece of scrambled egg before asking, “How was your date with the newbie?”

“My what?” Now Poe was really confused.

“Oh please don’t act-“

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t have time for games.” His voice was hard and he couldn’t help but let his ‘Commander Dameron’ voice seep in.

Suna instantly became aware of her lower ranking and the fact she was speaking so disrespectfully. She briefly thought that she probably should’ve cared more. “There’s a new recruit going around saying you’re dating her. Y/n found out.”

His face was the poster of utter shock, then anger, followed by worry. “I showed a new recruit the base, had dinner with her as a welcoming gesture since she didn’t know anyone, then I showed her a quicker path to her dorm… I was just being- I wasn’t- I didn’t-“

The pure emotion in his voice convinced Suna that he was telling the truth. She tsked, but a smile spread across her face. So he did like Y/n. “What are you going to do to fix it then, flyboy?”

You didn’t know but Poe, with the help of BB-8 of course, had an elaborate plan to fix things, but in usual Resistance fashion - there was an influx of missions and assignments him and his squadron needed to complete.

It had been nearly two weeks since that first day Poe weaseled himself permanently into your mind, and while you had lived up to your promises and sent several new modification ideas to the Pilot, there was silence on his end. Which you had mixed feelings about. You’d seen him around on base, but in fear that he was avoiding you on purpose, you remained distant. He was probably busy with that new recruit any way. Your self-esteem still took a huge blow nonetheless. Suna and Rae eventually quit badgering you about the whole thing, especially when they realized that you really hadn’t spoken to him, and not just saying that to get them off your back. You couldn’t help but be bitter about that as well - especially since Suna knew why you hadn’t spoke to him. What was even more frustrating was that she started to advocate for him, saying things like ‘you don’t know the full story’ and ‘maybe it’s just miscommunication.’ It was all very hypocritical. Things had been so much simpler when you just admired the pilot from afar.

Things on the base were getting tense. Rumors that the First Order was about to mount an attack had everyone anxious - they had yet retaliated for the Starkiller Base events and it was inevitable. While you held a higher rank and there were a lot of confidential meetings you were included on and even led, you didn’t dare ask Leia if the rumors were true. Of course, a thought about asking Poe crossed your mind, but he hadn’t even replied to mods he asked for himself, let alone divulge intel to a lower ranking officer. You figured the return of Lieutenant Quadrix, who was making a remarkable recovery thanks to Raena, spurred on the rumors. You had debriefed them yourself so you tried to keep the rumors pushed to the back of your head as you went through your daily routines, but everyone being on edge had you constantly twitching your leg.

The day so far had been quiet, a few meetings here, a report there, and a conversation with BB in-between. The droid kept close to you, even if it’s owner had different priorities. Constantly ensuring you that Poe would get back to you soon about the mods, even when you didn’t mention his owner at all. Nonetheless after reminding you, BB would shift quickly to your usual conversations before wheeling off to continue it’s day. You had to keep yourself for bitterly mentioning the shift in Poe’s romantic life. You always refrained because, why were you so upset? It’s not like he had actually shown interest in you. You expected maybe one more visit from the droid before if was your time to sign off, what you didn’t expect was his owner to suddenly emerge. Decked out in his flight suit, full vest and gear attached. He was rigid but calm at the same time. You hated how handsome he looked in a work uniform.

“I need you to follow me.” He spoke urgently but in a steady tone, picking some of the things off your desk and placing them into your bag he had grabbed off the floor. You sat there in shock, wondering what the hell he was doing and why he had stuffed your little potted plant from your home planet into your messenger bag before being hauled out of your seat.

“Poe what’s-“ It was then you noticed that the anxiety in the control room had risen and there were alarms going off all around. Had you really been that oblivious? Sure, the meeting you were getting ready to lead had your undivided attention but you were usually more aware. The comm in your boot started wailing, but Poe’s hand set firmly at the small of your back, which had you walking rigid and very aware of the warmth he exuded, kept you moving and unable to grab it. Everything was happening so fast that you didn’t have much time to think about your once bitter attitude towards him. “Tell me what’s happening- the rumors were true.” Panic laced your voice with realization dawning as you and Poe weaved through the chaos. You instantly thought of your friends. With that thought, you made to swerve away to find them but Poe switched to a firm arm around your waist, keeping you on track.

“I need you on this transport, Y/N. I sent Tiro to get them when we found out.” Poe’s voice was strained and his face was set in a determination. Somehow he knew exactly that you were turning to find your friends. The General must’ve sent him, you thought. That’s the only reason he ‘needed you’ on the transport. He guided you into the hectic mess that was the hangar, there was a few a transport vessels nearly ready to launch. Just as you two reached the ship, Rae and Suna were running from the other direction, Tiro hot on their heels. The bitter in you came out and for a brief moment you contemplated asking him where his girlfriend was - but refrained because well… the base was about to be attacked by the First Order.

Tiro sent Poe a short nod before jogging off in another direction. You had managed to get through the Starkiller Base happenings easily and unscathed, but this seemed so much worse in retrospect and you were shaken to your core. “Has anyone heard form Y/N?!” A voice called that you recognized instantly. The General was pacing at the entrance of the shuttle, a comm tightly in her hand. Before you, or Poe, could reply she seen you. “Why aren’t you answering-“ she then noticed her prized pilot behind you. “Oh. Of course. I see. Commander-“ You didn’t think about that reply too much.

“I have an idea.” He replied, only after he seen that your feet were planted on the shuttle’s floor. Rae and Suna followed and stood close to you, unsure what to do and what exactly was going on

“Commander-“ Leia repeated, a stern air to her tone that she had never used with you. Or never had to use.

“Trust me.” His face was serious and for some reason your stomach bubbled with butterflies. You were usually nervous when him or his fleet went on dangerous missions, but for some reason this felt more intense than before. Like you had something to lose this time. “I’ll be back.” He said, now looking at you and not the General while placing your bag in your hands. His genuine eyes had your heart thrumming. You opened your mouth to reply but someone called to clear the shuttle doors and they closed quickly. Poe didn’t waste time sprinting to his X-wing, BB-8 already in place. The shuttle had started to lift off but you managed to see Poe slip on his helmet before the shuttle flew into space.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get more hectic, Suna spoke behind you. Her voice uncharacteristically small and timid. “Just in case we die, I think you should know that Poe never took out that recruit.” She paused, eyes shifting to the General who somehow shared a knowing look with her, someone she’d never spoken to. “He likes you, Y/n.” She finished, looking at you with a sincerity that alarmed you.

Your mind stopped, the beeps and concerned murmers fading into the background. Just when things couldn’t get more complicated. Suna went to say something else but you were already docking on another, larger ship.

Your mind, thankfully, went into autopilot. Once aboard you followed Leia to the main control hub, Suna and Raen following you because well, you three had managed to board the ship that carried the Resistance’s more important leaders and there wasn’t many crew on board yet. You readied a station for the General to contact the main fleets and instructed Rae and Suna to help unload the transports that were streaming in from the base. They followed your orders without hesitation. You hadn’t heard it said aloud yet, but you knew the First Order was planning to destroy the base. Your makeshift home.

“Get me a direct line to Commander Dameron.” Leia spoke, and you did so instantly. Rattling off her call sign and connecting her to Poe. You both sat staring at his line as he told the General his ridiculously stupid plan.

“He’s going to get himself killed.” You murmured, worried and horrified. What Suna had divulged shook you deeply, especially since the man in question was currently risking his life. Leia could only set a comforting hand on your forearm. Even if in the past weeks contained bitter thoughts about him, you had been lying to yourself in efforts to spare yourself. You wasn’t exactly sure when Poe had ingrained himself in your life as more than a silly work crush, but the feelings you felt were deep and it worried you on several levels.

“Just for the record Commander Dameron, I’m with the droid on this one.” Leia spoke, looking down at the display before the two of you. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse… he started toying with the General Hux of the First Order. The idea of Hux was much scarier than the idea of Kylo Ren, but you would never voice that to Leia.

“I think I might throw up.” You breathed, unaware you had said it out loud until Leia, couldn’t help but, let out a soft laugh.

You gave an incredulous and exasperated face to the display as Poe continued in his mocking, and had to step away from the controls briefly. You admired Poe’s courage but… Even if you two didn’t have a relationship, or friendship for that matter, he was being reckless. “Contact Connix and get a report on the evacuation.” Leia ordered, looking back at your pacing figure.

“Yes, General.” You replied, trying to pretend everything was fine outside of the main ship.

“Connix, this Captain Y/L/N requesting immediate update.” You spoke clearly into a separate comm, trying not to interfere with Leia’s connection to Poe.

She gave quick confirmation and you and Leia let out a breath of relief. But, the fact that the base was now destroyed still lingered in the air.

“You did it, Poe.” Leia smiled, relief etched in her voice and posture. Even though your pilot was safe, and had once again saved the day, your heart was still hammering in your chest. You placed a hand on her shoulder briefly, and not catching anything Poe was saying, before running towards the landing dock, needing to seek comfort in your friends. Your home had just been destroyed and all you had left was whatever Poe had managed to stuff into your bag. Your mind was replaying the past few days then down to the last hour and - Wait… since when was Poe your pilot?

I really hope this has lived up to the Hype™! Let me know what ya think. As always, thanks for reading!

Tags: @introvertedmouse @i-said-goddameron @ttawny @xfirewolfx74 @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @imaginecrushes @empathiccally

#poe dameron fic #poe fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars reader insert

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raevylle · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3: Unveiled Secrets

Session 3 - 26/01/2020 In-game date: September 4th, 36 TE. Once in Avarra they were surprised by the sight they saw. So many different races were walking around together. The guards had told them that Arcane & Divine live together in this City but that they don’t particularly like each other. It was better to stay away from the temple district if you were an arcane caster. They also warned the party about the Lower Commons being on lockdown due to some disease that has been spreading there. Better to stay away from that as well. The day was already coming to an end and they decided it was better to find another inn to stay and look for the Golden Grimoire tomorrow. They found themselves a lovely inn run by a family. It was roughly the same price as they paid before in the shady tavern, but this time around they had actual beds and food. It was a lovely stay. September 5th, 36 TE. The next day they made their way to the Thalonian District to look for the Golden Grimoire. It was a couple of hours walk but Raevyn had no problem with finding the place. They arrived at a big building with a golden book on the front. ‘The Golden Grimoire’ it said. Raevyn opened the door and entered the building. The store had a lot of things on display. In the corner of the store was a weird-looking thing. It was sorting out books and put it back on the shelves. A disembodied voice filled the room ‘’I will be with you shortly. Raevyn walked up to the thing and told it they were sent by Deidre from Nisher to come and visit here. The thing turned around, looked at her and went back to doing its business. A laugh came from behind the counter as a 7 foot tall Dragonborn walked in. ‘’That my dear is an automaton. It only has one purpose, helping me in the store. Now you said that Deirdre sent you? How is she?’’ The party looked up to the Dragonborn. None of them had ever encountered such a creature since they are super rare around these areas. You could say they were a bit starstruck. After some small talk, Vieryn gave the Dragonborn, also known as Belziros, the scroll he’d found at the massacre. Belziros told him it was a very old scroll, roughly six to seven hundred years old. It was in a really good state. He found it odd that the scroll had scorch marks though. He muttered an incantation and lit his hands on fire. Slowly the map started to reveal its secrets. It showed the map of Avarra and on that map, there were two symbols that looked like they were moving. A ring and a crown. Raevyn noticed that the ring that was on the map looked exactly the same as the one she was Bloodbender holding. The ring seemed to be in the Nightdark at the moment. Belziros also took a look at the tome Vieryn had. It was written in a language even he didn’t understand. It had influences of old Sylvan or Celestial, but not something he could read very easily. This book held some sort of ritual or ceremony, something that combined Arcane & Divine magic. Which was odd since those two had been at war for quite some time now. Raevyn said it could have been used as some sort of fail-safe, where you’d need both sources of magic to do the ritual. One could never do such a ritual alone. It could potentially be a very dangerous ritual. Belziros asked them if they had more things he needed to look at and Gofannon took out the stone tablet he had found. Belziros didn’t find anything interesting in the tablet but the depiction of angels and demons. At last, Raevyn handed him the small box she had found. The box itself wasn’t really magical at all but inside there was an unsealed letter and some small bags of gems and coins. Belziros took out the letter and read it to the party; ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dear Alenstà Dylith,

News travels fast my old friend, I wish to congratulate you on your recent archaeological discoveries. I must say the sunken stronghold or vault as some rumors say, has piqued my interest significantly. So if you could do me the honor of some of those relics to be lost in paperwork, if you know what I mean.

Deliver the items in question to where cowards hide in fear of reprehension. For your cooperation, you shall be rewarded greatly. I pray that you make the right decision and I look forward to catching up like old times.

Yours Sincerely

Soralon ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The party looked confused at one another and quickly realize what they got themselves into. Belziros says he knows Alensta, she is an archeologist and sometimes brings him relics. He knows that she is currently in Nightdark. She is currently working at a Sun Elven dig site. A long time ago the Sun Elves disappeared overnight and left their cities. No one seems to know how and why they all disappeared. Raevyn asks what a Sun Elf is and Belziros tells her that it is the opposite of what she is, a Moon Elf. Raevyn looks confused at him since she really didn’t know she was something of a Moon Elf. He tells her that she looks like a very close ascendant of one with her bluish hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She says her father never talked about her mother and that it could potentially be. Belziros speaks of the Moon and Sun elves as the original elves and that all the other sorts are ascendants from them. Nowadays you rarely see a Sun or Moon elf. They come back to the topic of the artifacts that they just got appraised. Belziros wants to buy it from them for 10.000 gold pieces. Raevyn immediately wants to sell it but the rest of the party seems a bit hesitant. Eventually, Raevyn makes a deal with Belziros; He gets the tablet & the scroll so he can keep doing research on whatever this text is and they get to keep the map and go to different locations on the map. If they find any relics they will bring it back to him, and only him and he will share the information he would have learned by studying the text. He would also have to learn Raevyn and Vieryn how to activate the map with the spell he used. Belziros agreed to this and went to shake Raevyn’s hand. But before he could shake it she quickly said; another 1000 gold. They shake hands and Belziros laughs. ‘’I like you, you are a feisty one.’’ The party split up. Vieryn and Raevyn stay with Belziros to learn this spell, while Gofannon and Arati make their way to a bounty board in Avarra. Vieryn also tells them to maybe look for some lockpicks and to not ask any questions why he asks for that. They are sent to the League of Coin. They are looking for Beast contracts but Gofannon tells Arati that the League of Coin only works with people. They go after people that owe a debt to someone. Gofannon’s old Guild seemed to have worked with these guys before. Arati is new and needs to fill in some paperwork. There were two jobs. One was to retrieve a man called Athelstan. He had lent a ship but hasn’t paid it back yet. He has a debt of 8000 gold. If they are to retrieve him alive they’d get 2000, if they retrieve him dead it would be 1000. Athelstan was last seen in the city of Tirdad. The other job was about a tavern owner in Nisher. He was the owner of the Lying Weasel and hasn't paid his rent for a couple of weeks now. If we get him we would get 1000 gold and if we are able to get the property back and hand in the keys we would receive 2000. Arati and Gofannon knew exactly what job they were going to take since they already knew the story of the Lying Weasel in Nisher. After that, they are looking for some lockpicks, which are highly illegal to have. They eventually find a small store that sells them but for the price of 15 gold. Gofannon is not going to pay 15 gold for little small iron sticks and walks away. They make their way back to the Golden Grimoire. Meanwhile, Raevyn and Vieryn are trying to learn this spell from Belziros. Vieryn seems to be unable to learn it, he says his magic seems to come more naturally to him. He doesn’t really learn things from books. Raevyn gets a bit annoyed at him and calls him a cheat. It is unfair that he just gets to use magic without learning it. But in the end, she manages to master this Produce Flame cantrip. She is a bit of a brat with it and is shoving it in Vieryn’s face that he was unable to do so. At that point, Gof and Arati come back. They tell the rest they have a job in Nisher and Vieryn gets all excited. He can’t wait to kill the guy that tried to kill them while they were sleeping. They take a look at the map to see where they are heading and Arati notices the crown symbol down south. She points at it and says that it looks like the Crown of Shar, the one her leader is wearing. It is also at the exact place where she is from, somewhere in the Ravenmounts. Arati suddenly grabs her eye and says that the mark is hurting. Vieryn asks what mark, and Arati takes off her eyepatch. The eye underneath the patch is singed closed She says it was a mark that was given to her when she became one of The Chosen. It is a mark for those who pass the test and it gives them sight beyond normal. Sometimes it comes in visions or dreams. She mentions the end of the world again, as we call this era The Final Era. The party is a bit startled about this whole cult talk from Arati. They decide on a path to take; first, they’d go to the Arcane District to put down another wanted poster for Raevyn’s father, then they will go to Nisher to fulfill the contract from Arati & Gofannon. After that, we’d go pay a visit to Alensta in Nightdark and then come back to the Golden Grimoire with whatever findings we’d find. After saying goodbye to Belziros they search for another inn to stay in, something closer to the edge of the city and the Arcane District. They stumble upon this inn called the Burning Grove. Its sign is a tree that is on fire. They take place in the tavern and Vieryn asks what the others want to drink. He takes their orders and walks over to the bar. ‘’Long time no see Vieryn.’’ Apparently, these two seemed to know each other. The girl had a greyish skin, fiery hair, and horns. He made his order and said ‘’Oh and the beauty of fire is that it burns to the touch.’’ her eyes shift to him. ‘’I think I have something like that in the back, do you want to have a look?’’ She takes Vieryn into the back where he meets the owner of the Burning Grove, who is also the mother of the girl who calls herself Nemeia. Vieryn talks to the lady to acquire some lockpicks. He also asked if she knew any information about the people with purple eyes. She laughs and notices that Vieryn is speaking of the undead. She tells him that she has recently seen a lady in black armour and white hair coming to Avarra and every time she has been there, a new case of the Plague is there. Knowledge is key and she wants Vieryn to give some knowledge in return. He tells her about the Bloodbender they heard of and the woman seems intrigued. She hands the thieves tools over to Vieryn and he thanks her. ‘’Don’t you know how to please a woman Vieryn?’’ she hands over her hand and he kisses her hand. Making his way back to the party, who is still waiting on their drinks.

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