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sundayswiththeilluminati · 4 years ago

Note

I LOVE your meta on how essek was the perfect asset and want to ask the follow-up question in your tags: how do you think it went down? The agreement between Essek and the Assembly? And I think the fandom was convinced Essek would be disposed of after the peace talks — how do you see his future if there was no intervention by the Mighty Nein in 97?

ruvi-muffin asked:

What are your specific thoughts abt how ludinus recruited essek??👀👀 oh Person who knows a surprising amount of spy stuff 🙏🙏🙏👀👀👀

Anonymous asked:

PLEASE share your specific thoughts about how Essek was recruited, I'm so intrigued!

Anonymous asked:

Hello yes i am very interested in these very specific thoughts about how Essek got recruited? All these things about how actual intelligence works/uses their assets/how that ties to Essek and the M9 is really interesting :D

Thank you all so much for asking me the specific question I wanted someone to ask. I had to write and rewrite this post a half-dozen times because I kept going off on tangents about other Cold War spy stories so trust me there’s plenty more where this came from.

For reference, my original post on what made Essek an ideal recruitment target and why the M9 were the ideal counter to it.

First off, this is all based on real-world intelligence ops and is only as relevant to the campaign as Matt Mercer cares to make it. Having said that *slams notebook on table* BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

There are two ways Essek may have been recruited: he approached the Assembly or the Assembly approached him. I think the Assembly approached him. Not to be too hard on the guy, but Essek said it himself: he’s kind of a coward. I can’t see him mustering up the nerve to take that first step. Plus his espionage seems to have focused specifically on the beacons rather than dunamancy as a whole; that sounds like the Assembly to me. The beacons specifically offer the prospect of immortality and the Cerberus mages are arrogant enough to assume they can figure out dunamancy themselves if they have a beacon in hand. There’s no way the Assembly haven’t been trying to beg, borrow, or steal those beacons for centuries. Essek may not have even been their first try - just the first that worked.

Chronologically, Essek would have popped up on either the Assembly or the Augen Trust’s radar quite early as I assume they keep tabs on all powerful Dynasty mages. As they followed his career, the Assembly would have ID’d Essek as a perfect target for recruitment as a spy, and then further for ego-based recruitment. Recruitment for espionage is a slow process - even slower in a fantasy world where some races reasonably expect to live 500+ years. Many intelligence agencies will do a sort of light meet-and-greet just to start a file on various people who might years later be of interest. The Assembly would have cultivated Essek as an intelligence asset with the same degree of time and care - and using some of the same methods - that Trent used to turn the Blumenthal trio into assassins.

If they followed a modern playbook, they would have made contact with Essek anywhere from 2 to 10 years before the theft - nothing underhanded. A Cerberus mage approaches him at a negotiation or conference and strikes up a conversation. Then it’s increasing “chance” encounters to get Essek familiar with the handler, play the “we’re both mages, really we’re on the same side” angle to earn enough sympathy & trust to start talking regularly. Once the channel’s open, the handler and asset meet and/or talk routinely while the handler assesses the target’s motives, weaknesses, and the possibility that they’re a double agent.

Espionage proper then starts with small favors, acts Essek can rationalize as victimless or even helpful to the Dynasty. In this stage the handler is getting the asset comfortable with engaging in espionage. They reward the asset for what feels like minimal moral trespass. For Essek that would have been praising his research, encouraging avenues of investigation they knew the Dynasty had shut down. Having meetings with Ludinus plays right into the ego trip - the Head of the Assembly himself is taking the time to meet with him! The Assembly gets how important this work is! That keeps Essek isolated from Dynasty members who might convince him to take a step back and builds loyalty to the Assembly over the Dynasty.

Once an asset settles in, espionage becomes easier. Routines get established. Moral hurdles have been overcome. Now the asks get bigger and the rewards get sparser. The handler will suggest larger acts just to get the asset thinking about them, since the more they consider “just hypothetically” how to pull it off, the more likely it is they’ll do it. This is where the idea of stealing the beacons would get introduced (though of course it’s been the goal all along.) I’ll bet the Assembly hinted at all the study that could be done if they could just get to the beacons in person, constantly bemoaning the lack of access. By now Essek sees the Assembly as colleagues in arcane pursuits, kindred minds, unlike the boring, stuffy old mages of the Dynasty. Of course he could outwit the Dynasty’s security and get the beacons to the Assembly - he’s a prodigy, a genius, everyone says so. And it’s not like he was stealing all of them. The consecuted would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

None of this is intended to absolve Essek of personal responsibility. But it provides a context for his actions, and for why he might regret them so much even though he apparently did them willingly. Asset handlers are very, very good at drawing someone willing to commit minor transgressions into far greater crimes. Look at how Trent shaped Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf. He didn’t order them to execute their own parents on day one. He spent years coaxing, tempting, and coercing them into darker and darker crimes, letting them rationalize their own actions at each step, preying on the same vulnerabilities as Essek: isolation (separating the three from other students, telling them their work was secret), ambition (the promise of great arcane power, of shaping the Empire’s destiny), and ego (”we were going to keep the empire safe,” telling them they were gifted, they were chosen).

So how do IRL spies rationalize their actions? Those who spy for reasons of conscience or ideology have done the rationalizing ahead of time, but everyone else has to get there somehow. Some who spy for revenge tell themselves it’s what their superiors deserve, while others tell themselves everyone’s doing it. Some just need a lie to get started (most commonly about who they’re spying for), while others have to keep up the charade all along. Let’s look at a few cases similar to Essek’s that demonstrate just how slippery the slope can be.

Aldrich Ames, a long-term CIA officer slash double agent for the KGB, got suckered in by thinking he could control the situation and wasn’t really hurting anyone. Ames had chronic financial trouble related to excessive drinking & his wife’s lavish lifestyle and in 1985 came up with a plan: he would essentially con the KGB by selling them a minor amount of classified info that he deemed “virtually worthless.” In April he set up the exchange and the KGB paid him $50,000, enough to satisfy his immediate debts. But after actually doing it Ames said he felt he’d now crossed a line he couldn’t step back from, and continued to sell information to the Soviets. By the time he was caught he had, by his own admission, compromised “virtually all Soviet agents of the CIA.”

While some assets just need a lie to get started, others require a delicate dance of self-delusion. Col. George Trofimoff was an Army officer who ran the center where would-be Soviet defectors were assessed & questioned. Trofimoff, a Russian émigré at a young age, was chronically in debt. In 1969 he renewed his acquaintance with his stepbrother back in Russia, now a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church, and began to pass secrets in return for money - but he and his stepbrother never framed the transactions as such. Trofimoff described their meetings as, “very informal. ... First, it was just a conversation between the two of us. He would ask my opinion on this and that--then, he would maybe ask me, 'Well, what does your unit think about it?' Or, 'What does the American government think about it?’” His compensation was similarly informal: “I said I needed money. ... And he says, 'I tell you what, I'll loan it to you.' So he gave me, I think, 5,000 marks and then, it wasn't enough, because I needed more. ... Then he says, 'Well, you know, I'll tell you what. You don't owe me any money. And if you need some more, I can give you some more. Don't worry about it. You're going to have to have a few things, this and that.' And this is how it started.” Trofimoff could pretend to himself that he wasn’t really spying - just having a chat with his stepbrother - and wasn’t really getting paid for it - just borrowing a little money.

This got longer than I intended it to be and there’s still plenty to talk about, so I’ll save the rest for a second post. Next time: what happens long-term to espionage assets? And what happens if an asset regrets their actions and/or attempts to cut off contact with their handlers?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Essek Thelyss #tradecraft #mostly Cold-War-related tradecraft TBH #hot boi got ROLLED by the Assembly though #sounds like he didn't even get paid!#I do wonder at stealing TWO beacons though #why two? what was wrong with one?#maybe Essek was just showing off at that point #it's been a long pandemic

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etherealluminescence · 4 years ago

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op, p l e a s e do this one.

gn-mc is a great fighter according to their profile, but everyone severely underestimates them, since they’re kinda short and they’re thinking it’s to human standards. as soon as they come though the three (Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer) realise that the number of fights have gone down, and that RAD is a lot more quiet. Apparently mc had fought all the trouble makers or scary students on a whim, and has forced like 30+ scary demons into pacts, and plans to conquer RAD’s bad students. on top of that, they’re just like “one day i’ll beat the shit out of diavolo too fair and square, and conquer him as well.” for the brothers and undateables. bonus if mc said they only started their “conquest” because someone tried to bully Luke, so they decided to just conquer the demons for him like a good? older sibling

Holy shit OP this is what I signed up for when I started doing headcanons. Recently I’ve been working on my actual novel but I am still writing these out! I decided to answer this first because the creativity just HIT me.

The part that killed me is just how they did it for luke, I love him like my own son. Also side note the goth theme on tumblr hits different I really like. WARNING - a little bit of language, and violence.

Everyone reacting to GN!MC “conquering” RAD’s demons

Lucifer

He had chosen you and noticed your profile, thinking that is was almost cute humans would consider a tiny thing like you strong.

He immediately brushed you off when he saw how close you were to the chihuahua, thinking that you too, are just like a tiny chihuahua then.

But he soon hears less and less about fights going around, and even Diavolo investigates with him, and he is beyond shocked. He severely underestimated you.

He finds out because he forced some lesser demons to talk, and they were in tears saying you forced them to make a pact with you each time they lose, and by your order they weren’t allowed to fight students anymore, or else you’d punish them.

Although it was the truth he didn’t quite believe it, so they followed you around for a day before realising it absolutely was, you kicked ass so hard, the demon was crying and unrecognisable, and you forced him into a pact while snot was even coming out his nose.

He then sees you open the door behind you and take Luke’s hand before walking away from the bloody scene you had just caused. He was slightly angry and a bit intimidated, how did you, a tiny human do that?

When he confronted you about it, you just held onto his shoulders tightly, answering with “I’ll conquer you too, I’ll conquer Diavolo, I’ll conquer all of RAD, fucker. I am going to protect this child with my life.”

He was about to argue back, possibly attack you, but according to all the students investigated, you had well over 50 pact marks by now, and Diavolo found it amusing, so you were let off with that.

He swears he won’t submit to you, and has to stay on high defense because even at the HOL you will try to attack him with murderous intent to get the pact. 0/10, wants a new exchange students.

Mammon

He was the first one you made a pact with, and afterwards he started following you around like a dog, despite literally calling Luke a dog.

He knew you were a good fighter since you kept saying so, but he kept telling you demons were another level, and you should be glad to have him.

You and Luke hung around a lot, while Mammon thirdwheeled, and finally came the day of your first fight. Mammon was ready to defend you, but you ordered him to sit as you beat the literal fuck out of the demon.

Mammon couldn’t tell if that was a lesser demon or a dismembered corpse at that point, and covered Luke due to all of their screaming in agony. When you were done, you kicked their head into a wall and demanded a pact, making him slightly pouty but happy he’s alive:

Getting the pact, you left and gave a head pat to both Luke and Mammon, telling them that they’re safe with you. Mammon didn’t like it at first but then he loved it.

It didn’t take Lucifer long to find out, and when you told him with such confidence that you’d “conquer all of RAD, including Diavolo” he was like woah!! You’re going to die for that, but you’re amazing!!

And then you didn’t die, because Diavolo found it funny, and you were only serving justice to those who cause mayhem at the moment, so it was fine. He also accidentally finds out that you rival Lucifer in power, and absolutely won’t let Lucifer punish him, because in your words, “Mammon is my property now, whore.”

You were the only person to protect him, and he absolutely loves you, he may be weaker than you, but he loves staying by your side and saying he’d beat people up for you anyways.

Leviathan

Levi never really talked to you at first, nor found out about the incidents because he didn’t go to school, but when he heard Mammon talking about it he thought he was exaggerating a lot.

Even Lucifer said you were strong, but he refused to believe it at first, even denying the pact marks you had. Until you beat the life out of Levi during the TSL games.

He got angry at you and tried to kill you, so you ripped him apart, quite aggressively. He swore his tail had bite marks in them, and that he couldn’t see out of his left eye for a week. The icing on top was you demanding a pact from him. He finally believed.

After you calmed, he made a pact with you, and was now afraid of you, until you comforted and apologized to him, telling him he did try to kill you first.

When Luke comes over one day, you invite him into Levi’s room, no permission, and start to talk, and when Levi tries to make fun of him, Mammon shuts his mouth.

“Luke is the whole reason they decided to start their conquest, the whole school knows that by now!” Mammon shushed him, and Levi began feeling a little jealous that the chihuahua got more of your attention than him. But when he hears that you ALSO want to conquer Diavolo, he’s just like !?!!??? You’re crazy.

But more than that you’re like some over powered anime protagonist who got sucked into a different world with over powered plot armor, Levi thought, and he really liked it.

Begs you to come with him when he’s trying to buy stuff in lines, so anyone who tries to cut gets the life beat out of them when they do.

Satan

Absolutely member #2 of your fan boy club, Diavolo being the first one in it.

He thinks oh yeah, you can fight sure. But when he witnesses it he absolutely loses his mind. A human shouldn’t be that strong, but the way you force a pact mark from them, and even defended the tiny chihuahua before leaving, while being tiny yourself, he was interested in how your body worked.

But what really excited him and made him like you is when Lucifer entered the room and you sent a flying kick to him, putting up a harsh fight as well, before you break the table when you were knocked into it, calling it a tie.

“I swear one day I’ll conquer you and force you to make a pact with me. I’ll wipe that smug look off your face, fucker. And once I do that, I’ll beat the shit out of your prince, too.” You spat, getting up and holding your back.

So now you went from protecting the chihuahua to devildom domination? Basically asks you to make a pact with him so you can use him to fight Lucifer. When you tell him you want a fair fight, and that you’ll beat Lucifer yourself, he’s just so excited because you held your own for five minutes, and Lucifer can’t even kill you!

Literally tags along each time you decided to fight Lucifer and cheers you on so hard. Will purposely try to make you and Lucifer run into each other at the halls, so you automatically try to hurt him.

Please tell him not to eat so much popcorn, we know the show is good but it’s like he has boxes of them now knowing you’re hating? on Lucifer like him.

Asmodeous

Has absolutely freaked out and began cowering in a corner, shaking, begging you anywhere but the face.

He came to watch the show of you beating up a demon, not realizing it was you at first. When he did, he was so shocked and got closer to make sure.

You mistook him for the demon’s crew who made fun of look and tried to attack, seeing red. He held his own for a minute, before you almost rip off his wing in one swing.

He’s begging for forgiveness like the demons, despite not doing anything wrong at all. When you calm and realize it’s just human, you make the other demons unrecognizable and get your pacts, before making your way to him.

He’s just crying not his face, while you just say “Pact mark.” Pointing out you won fair and square against him, too.

He gives it too you beyond willingly, just not his face, he doesn’t even think twice. Nodding, you take Luke’s hand and leave.

He has to leave too for then next class, but then sees Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos confront you.

Is afraid for you but then you literally punch Lucifer and tell him you’ll conquer him, and then turn to Diavolo and declare his ass as your own, making Asmo secretly swoon but worried.

Actively tried to avoid you while at the HOL for awhile, but noticing your docile nature when you’re not fighting, he felt a little comfortable with you, and right now his only concern is how many callouses your hands are getting from punching thick skulls.

Beelzebub

This man wanted to believe you when you said you were a strong fighter in passing conversation with him, but he just couldn’t. You were the tiniest creature he’d ever seen, and he was so sure you’d crush under one of his hugs.

He heard you were protecting Luke from the whispers of lesser demons, but he didn’t think it was through fighting.

This all changes when on his way to practice, he watches you beat up one of his teammates so hard they’re crying, they’re so huge, and yet lost to you, and the fact you sent him flying and cracked a wall, by one kick.

When you said you wanted a pact mark, he was shocked the rumors were true. On top of that, Luke was near by holding a cake he planned to give Beel as thanks for something he did for him earlier that week.

He watched you wipe the blood off your hand and pat Luke’s head, with a gentle smile. When he came in, Luke ran to him and gave him the cake, and he learned everything.

You were the one subduing the demons around here, big or small, and even protected Luke. He even learned that you challenge three totally strong demons, Lucifer, Barbatos, and Diavolo.

He totally believed you could do it now, with what he just witnessed. He’s seen his fair share of fights with egotistical demons thinking they’re so tough just because they play sports, and he’s seen guys at the gym, you were beyond that.

You had speed, strength, and great perception. Wasn’t even mad that practice was delayed, and began going to the gym with you, and will happily play with Luke too, another older sibling figure for Luke.

Belphegor

When he exited the attic and tried to kill you he watch his brothers grab popcorn from the sidelines, as they said to him enjoy dying.

He was confused at first, but then got the LIVING HELL beat out of him, oh how the turns have tabled. He intended to murder you, but you nearly killed him.

You forced a pact out of him as well, kicking him repeatedly where the sun doesn’t shine until he agreed, understanding why even Lucifer stood back. It’s not because they wanted you dead, it’s because they couldn’t stop you.

When he gains consciousness later, he finds out Lucifer is the only brother you haven’t made a pact with, and that you have over 80 pacts at this rate, and that you even planned to conquer Diavolo.

He thought it was stupid at first but after seeing you fight Lucifer, with no cheats just your normal hands for combat, while Lucifer was in demon form struggling, he understood he really liked you.

“Soooo... when are you beating the shit out of Diavolo?” He asks, and he also nearly makes the mistake of calling Luke a dog before Beel puts a hand over his mouth.

Jaw nearly drops and he loses his mind when he finds out you only started beating the shit out of people to make Luke happy.

Diavolo

This man just fucking cackles, like after watching you fight, he’s just in full tears from laughing. He’s just clapping, and telling you that’s amazing.

When Lucifer asked why you did it, you stood tall despite your short stature, and looked him in the eye with no fear. “I’ll beat each fucker who approached Luke, I’m going to defend him with all my fists got, and if you get in my way, I’ll do the same to you.” You said, before turning to Diavolo.

You walked up to him, and pulled his tie down so he could meet your eyes, and declared, “I’ll even beat the shit out of and conquer you too, one day, prince. I’ll be the ruler of this place one day. Prepare yourself for that day, until then, I won’t stop:”

This makes him laugh, not belittling you, but telling you he can’t wait, and he hopes that day comes soon, because he wants to fight you as well, and he hopes you hold nothing back against him.

He loves how strong you are, he loves how you want to protect Luke, he loves that you only did it to protect, and didn’t even bother to summon a demon, you did it with your own style. That took guts, confidence, and the fact you told him of all people with that confidence you would one day conquer him, his heart fluttered.

He would definitely start watching over you, and probably fan boy over you. The first person to ever force the prince of the Devildom to lower himself; and they even declared they would be the one to make him their’s, by forming a pact mark. It was honestly amazing to him, and he likes it.

Barbatos

He really should of seen this coming, a new fighting student, who was clinging to Luke protectively, and suddenly all the bad demons were being silenced.

Guess there’s no need for his torture chamber anymore, you’re much more feral than whatever he does, he just needs to sick you on them.

Joking aside, he doesn’t really take it too seriously. It’s great you can get a lot of pacts, and defend yourself, and even want to conquer Diavolo by forcing him to give you a pact mark, but he knows you’re still no match for him yet.

To get to Diavolo, you’d need to beat him up, and he’s a bit of a harder fight than Lucifer, by that he means a lot, he won’t even flinch if you bite his tail when he grabs you by it and puts you out the room, with a smile on his face.

It’s become a game at this point for the both of you to try and fight each other, you trying hard to get a pact mark out of him. He even offered it to you at one point, but you told him you wanted to win it fair and square, and he’s just in love with you even more because of that.

He’s pretty much a dad to Luke, so he appreciates how kind you are to him, and appreciates how you have your own set of morals for fighting, making him know that if Diavolo were to ever make a pact mark with you, it would all be fine.

Solomon

“Hey... are you sure you’re not actually the demon?” Solomon asks you, looking at the sheer amount of pact marks on your body, one week after coming to the devildom.

He’s seriously impressed by you, considering how easily you beat up demons without any weapons, magic, or underhanded tactics. You simply use your fists and legs, sometimes your head, but you get the job done scarily.

He’s even more impressed when he finds out the reason, you were visiting purgatory hall and Luke was being rather loud. “I can’t believe that’s the 7th demon this week that fought with you! You’re just so cool, you’re so strong! Thank you for protecting me!”

Probably wants to try to enhance your strength with a potion, and offers it to you when you try to have your epic showdown with Diavolo, claiming he is the boss and Barbatos and Lucifer were his right hand men who dragged Luke into this mess.

You decline though, wanting it to be fair and square. Truly admires yet fears you. But then again, i don’t think you stabbing him would making him afraid of you. I don’t think this man can feel it at all, unless it was you dying.

Anyways, he’s delighted to ask the demons you make pacts with to make pacts with him as well.

Simeon

Nearly loses his mind at first. He’s so concerned if you’re hurt,, but then he’s just like wait what.

Luke had told Simeon all about it when he reached purgatory hall, about how you beat up a demon for him, and even promised to always protect him. Simeon is really distraught you may of been hurt protecting Luke while he was busy.

But then Luke tells him about how you forced a pact mark out of the demon, and you didn’t even break a sweat, and that is was the coolest.

He doesn’t tell Diavolo about this thinking it was just a one time thing, and tries to watch over you two more. But then he sees you and he’s literally just frozen.

Humans aren’t that powerful right? And when Lucifer Diavolo finally confronts you about it, he watches as you just stare him down and declare that you’re going to conquer him as well, to make Luke feel happy and safe in devildom.

Needless to say Simeon is extremely panicked about your well-being, but extremely happy Luke is protected by someone so kind to him. Probably doesn’t approve of the violence, but Luke adores you.

Luke

The first time you met him you told him not to worry about the demons, because if they ever bullied him you would beat the life out of them.

He thought you were just saying that, and he said that he too would protect you, which you found extremely adorable and nearly went “I’m taking this kid home with me and he’s my child now.” not that anyone could physically stop you.

He found out you were actually sincere about it when the two of you were alone in RAD’s hallway, trying to leave for purgatory hall since he invited you over.

You two were stopped by a demon, who tried picking a fight on easy prey, and it was quite frankly, the worst mistake of his life, ever.

You beat the LIVING SHIT out of him, and even told Luke to look away, because this man was beyond recognisable, because you were so small you could easily duck and move fast, so the demon didn’t even land one hit on you.

Just because he’s a demon, doesn’t mean his stamina is forever you figured, and beat him up, forcing him to make a pact with you. You had one with Mammon already, so you knew how it worked, especially knew you could have multiple due to Solomon.

When it was over, you told Luke he could look, and there was zero damage to you and he was just like woah!! You’re so cool! And from then on you stuck close to him, literally demolishing any demon he thought looked scary, or just stared at him for too long.

When Diavolo comforted you about it, you stared him dead in the eyes saying “I would literally beat the shit out of you for Luke, so you better hope he starts liking the devildom soon, fucker.”

Diavolo laughed and Luke insisted you didn’t have to go that far, but you just patted his head and said it was okay.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me hc #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me Satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me Simeon #obey me Luke

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thesimperiuscurse · 4 years ago

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08.04

It’s The Kingston Legacy’s sixth anniversary, so here’s a throwback post to celebrate! Last month I forced myself to reread the entire legacy, and while I stopped, clicked off the tab, and emitted a soundless scream of pure cringe numerous times (I wish I was kidding)—the past generations are actually not as terrible as I remember. I think enough time has passed for me to detach myself from the childish storytelling and look back in nostalgia.

Thank you to my fellow Wordpress writers who have come along the journey, some for many years now, through every high and low. It’s astounding how much has changed in the legacy from when I was 15, and 21. Follow me down the (very) long memory lane, as I reminiscence about each story and my perspective on them now ❤

Generation 1 — Fern (2015)

To my shock, I found myself genuinely enjoying Fern’s story. I think this was because the first generation was purely me commentating on gameplay, and not trying to write a story (that’s when the cringe began). I was inspired by one of the original stories, Alice and Kev, to make a homeless sim and document her struggle for a better life: Fern, a snobby aspiring writer. Reading this, a huge wave of nostalgia hit me, and it reminded me of how wonderful Sims 3 gameplay is. Although I’m long past it now, there’s real heart and life in the design. I think it speaks about the rich personalities and quirks that I could write a whole life story off it. It was super fun making Fern camp out at Old Pier Beach, stealing from townie picnics and roasting apples on the fire, finding little ways to scrounge money, giving her a makeover in the salon, watching the townie dramas unfold around her. Although she faced homelessness two times and a shitty first husband (yeah, fuck off, Xander), Fern grew into a strong and independent yet sweet and gentle character, in love with the ocean like her great-granddaughter comes to be.

I never actually addressed this, but she (and her love Christopher) passed away in the story between the end of Gen 3 and start of Gen 4. It just felt weird to make it a big deal because they never died in game—still ‘alive’ and well, scattered across different backup saves and the bin.

Generation 2 — Briar (2015)

Briar’s story was strange, because it was half gameplay and half story, which meant that there were things that just did not... make... sense. She was quite an ‘unreliable’ character to follow because of her Insane trait. The plot revolved around her as a fresh detective, investigating supernatural phenomena in Sunset Valley. Her character arc was almost the opposite to her mother’s: a naive, optimistic, silly girl hardening through trauma into a cold and ruthless police chief. Ash’s death was the one moment I felt true sadness in this legacy, because he did really die. Imagine me actually getting emotional over my characters, lmao. Wild.

Also, Max is OP. To this day he is one of the best male characters in my legacy, a healthy and supportive best friend (to husband) in stark contrast to the following generation.

Fallen Angels — Cherry (2016-2019)

Yes. It’s this generation. Square the fuck up, Cherry. I will fight her any day. Old readers will know of my pure hatred for this story. It’s been about two years since it thankfully ended. My verdict now?

It’s not quite as horrifically shitty, Gabriel and Lilith being a lot nicer than I remembered (Gabriel’s only a bit of a dick at the start), but it still has glaring problems, such as the pacing and clumsy handling of sensitive topics. The story would have been far nicer if it focused less on Cherry and Luc’s relationship and their respective issues, more on the found family and her relationship with Gabriel (which was rushed due to me despising the story by that point). During the first chapters, I was cringing spectacularly at the combination of Luc’s initial jackass behaviour and Cherry’s whining. Toxic as FUCK. I had to skip 3.8 and 3.9 entirely. These two (because of my own shameful mistake) tainted the generation in my eyes, and even though all of the characters grew from their toxicity, I can’t really see past that guilt to the better parts of the story.

Jade has been telling me for years that this story isn’t all bad, and upon forcing myself to reread, I can see what you mean. I’m sorry LOL. Something that pleasantly surprised me was the writing quality (just the prose, not the actual story mechanics... lmfao), and Raphael, who made me smile every time he appeared. Every single careless, sarcastic line of his was a banger. The pictures are something else I like, too. Many of them stand up to the best ones in En Pointe—the fiery, gritty, industrial tones of Bridgeport just hits different. The world was rich and immersive, which is missing at the moment in En Pointe because of me being too lazy to build a proper Los Angeles world, but Act III is set in Boroughsburg so I’m excited to get back into the city scenes. 17 year old me wasn’t mature enough to tackle dark themes, but at least the visuals for them were nice, I guess. The atmosphere of the story I really enjoy. It’s just the toxic characters and way-too-angsty moments that ruin the whole thing for me.

En Pointe — Evangeline (2019-)

And here we are now! The early chapters are kinda painful to read because 1) Mako looked so ugly and 2) the dialogue was so clumsy and generic. I sighed in relief when Chapter 5 came around, because it was then both of those aspects really began to improve. Eva’s voice was simple, with her punchy remarks, much less romantic and descriptive than Cherry, so it was interesting to see her voice becoming more complex and layered as I more understood her character. Also, me visibly struggling with the natural lighting and only getting a handle on it 7 chapters later has me shaking my head.

I’m already beginning to identify issues with the story, mostly with character arcs and pacing. It’s a strange combination of fast pacing (spanning half a year in 8 chapters) and Eva becoming surprisingly comfortable with Mako’s touch due to their unusual pas de deux circumstances. It’s curious how real life time actually played into the pacing of the story—because of the slow publishing schedule, less time has passed in the story as real life, so it’s almost as if the time jumps were made up by real life time, making the jumps feel not too strange. Reading consecutively, however, Evako’s relationship growth doesn’t feel slow burn... a little underdeveloped, in a way, despite their lengthy conversations. I think that’s because of Mako being such a reserved and mysterious character, and that I’ve unconsciously come to rely on Tumblr to give more depth to the characters/relationships. Luckily, pretty much everyone who comments on the story also follows me here, so this dual-platform storytelling is okay, I suppose. I want to post more of #Mishako since there just isn’t enough time to explore their bromance in the story!

At the moment I’m not happy with the story, but it’s fine. I’m learning. There’s more than half the story to go, which means plenty of time to reflect upon the issues and improve. I’m really looking forward to Eva and Mako’s character arcs in Act III. At the moment their relationship is based on their natural chemistry and respect for each other, and since they are yet to face trials their bond isn’t super deep, but Evako are still my favourite couple in the legacy thus far, and feel much more real than any character I’ve written before. It’s been very interesting for my aro ass (and being way more logical than emotional) to figure out a dynamic that is actually compelling to me, because most of the time when I look at romance I’m just like 😐🤨 I’m liking it so far but we shall see how everything unfolds, because I have barely any idea what’s going to happen beyond Act II, lmfao.

That’s it for my incredibly long throwback! I hope it was at least nice for the OG readers, and interesting for anyone else who managed to battle through this essay, haha. This family has been an integral part of me growing up, as a person and writer and artist (what I’ve developed in visuals I apply to architecture), learning a great deal of awareness about real life through story research, which is pretty cool now that I think about it. I’m aiming to finish En Pointe by the end of 2022. I’m excited for what unexpected changes are to come!

#wordpress is being annoying like tumblr right now #they're trying to sneakily integrate the new site design into the old #pretty sure a lot of people don't like the new one #why can't i view media by month #now i have to scroll through a million pictures to find old ones #why is it selecting several when i just want to open one pic #fuck youuu #anyway #very busy week #lilaremonn #thesimperiuscurse

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 5 years ago

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reid’s anatomy pt. 2

summary: after seeing spencer in the OR, you have no other choice but to wait and see if he makes it or not

word count: 1,827 reading time: 7 mins

masterlist

Pt. 1

My spine had succumbed to the soreness that had spread throughout my lower body as me and Morgan sat almost lifelessly together on cold hospital floors.

If Spencer was present at the moment, he would ramble about the billion strains of bacteria and viruses incomprehensible by the naked eye, at which our skin would be exposed to. But he wasn’t here, he’s laying placid under OR lights that were just as bright as Time Square’s streets at night and a scalpel just as sharp as the sushi chef in the japanese cuisine he took me out for our 2 year anniversary.

Morgan still continued to stroke my head, our tear ducts running dry as the minutes passed us. I sat up from his shoulder, facing him for the first time since he came to check up on me.

“What happened out there?” I asked disdainfully. It was evident in my tone that I held some sort of animosity, possibly blame towards the team for not protecting Spencer. But deep down I knew that no matter how many cautionary provisions they’ve taken, you can never dodge the inevitable.

He flinched at the presence on my voice, not anticipating that I would be so prominent in speaking. He shifted to face the ceiling, sighing as he dragged his hand over the bridge of his nose.

“I-i can’t even to begin to explain Y/N. I-i’m so sorry” He repented, his eyes beginning to water again. I prolonged my examination of him, egging him to continue his narrative.

He now bowed his head, laying them on his hands that were supported by his knees. “We were with the unsub right” He painted out the scenario, I nodded while following along with his recollection of the events. “We were in the middle of a standoff. We had about 3 additional agents with us and the police force, but me and Reid were hanging back behind the unsub, in case he had tried to escape...” He paused in the midst of his sentence, taking in a breath as he began to choke on a few words.

“It was supposed to be me” He confessed, earning a look of perplexity from me. “The unsub had a kid in hostage, and the kid got in the middle of me and the unsub. So naturally I went to take the kid away, but I made the stupid mistake of dropping my gun. Obviously, the unsub heard and turned around to shoot me and the kid since we were both defenseless. But...Reid, he-. He shoved both me and the kid, taking the shot himself”.

The words that came from Morgan’s lips were incoherent by the time he finished. He looked over to me, his eyes exhibiting a great deal of grief before searching my own for a response or clemency.

In contrast to the circumstances that were placed before us, a forced chuckle lunged out from my throat, acquiring Morgan’s attention. A morbid smile planted on my lips as I thought about Spencer.

“He would’ve been such a good father. Don’t you think?” I asked using the same tone from earlier. Morgan agreed apprehensively, sorrow still evident by the way his body responded to mine.

“He deserves children. Doesn’t he, Derek?”

“Y/N- I don’t understa-”

“Then he should be able to have them” I snapped, slamming my fist against the wall behind me. Morgan reached a comforting hand out, but I swatted his hand away. I gave him a crazed look, running my hand through my hair. “H-he should have a family, he deserves a future...Morgan, he should be...alive. That’s how it’s supposed to be” I choked out, word vomit spilling from my mouth as my thoughts swirled around my head at a thousand miles an hour, any sense of rationality I had depleting.

“Y/N- I-”

Soft sobs racked my entire body and defeated whimpers had crawled up my esophagus. I rocked myself back and forth, burying my head into my arms until all I saw was the artificial darkness I placed myself in. It was almost a cocoon that composed of me and my thoughts, regardless if Morgan was next to me.

My own heartbeat was ringing in my ears, drowning out any other noise around me, including Morgan. That wasn’t until I heard scurried footsteps, metal hitting metal, and the attending inside the OR yelling brutal commands at the staff.

It suddenly came clear to me when Morgans hand gripped mine and all that could be heard from the OR was, “his BP is down, he’s going into V-fib, we’re losing him”. At that moment, my heart stopped and my vision dwindled, I was too tired to react. Pain resurfaced as my mind grew dizzy, next followed the sensation in my arms, legs, and back. Finally, my consciousness inevitably followed in its footsteps as it withered away to the sound of the doctors frantically shifting around to save Spencer’s life.

Light began to be apparent again, my vision gradually retaining it’s efficiency as I noticed I was placed on a hospital chair. I rubbed my eyes, sitting up in the seat that I was slumped down on, scratching my head while my eyes examined the environment.

The first thing that had caught my attention was that I wasn’t in the hallway anymore, but in a post-op room. My eyes felt heavy from all the crying I’ve done previously and my forehead grew hot from the stress I’ve undergone.

The sound of voices pricked my ears, and in curiosity, I stood up to investigate. Getting closer to the noise, I noticed my legs were tender and that I had a great difficulty at maneuvering around.

How long was I out?

I finally got to my destination and was met with a privacy curtain that ran from the ceiling to the floor. I heard a multitude of voices that rang from the other side of the curtain.

Uneasiness set in my bones, not wanting to get my hopes up. I slowly pushed the fabric aside, letting my presence be known, and let me tell you, it was the best decision I’ve made.

To my fortune, there stood the attending that was operating on Spencer with the rest of the crew that surrounded a single bed. On that hospital bed laid the love of my live.

Spencer was the first one I locked eyes with, he was in the middle of speaking with his colleagues when we did, which halted his speech. In recognition of Spencer’s pause, all eyes were then relocated to me. Although I didn’t reciprocate anyone else’s glances, except Spencer.

“C-can we have a moment of privacy please?” Spencer requested, looking at his doctor for approval.

The attending nodded in agreement, shifting his focus to me and gave me a hopeful smile. The same smile I would give to my patients after a successful surgery. Everyone filed out after the doctor one by one, leaving Morgan to be the last one out.

As he exited the room, I stopped him by the shoulder and silently thanked him. He returned the gesture with a large smile, nudging me towards Spence. When the room was finally empty, I inched towards spencer with the brightest smile I can wear. His eyes shone nothing but love as he continued to gawk at me venturing towards him.

When I finally got to his side, he greeted me with an amiable ‘hello’ like it was the first time we met. He reached out for my hand, placing it on his chest for comfort and giving it an affectionate kiss.

I, then, proceeded to lovingly whack him upside the head in return, earning a playful wince from him.

“I swear to god Spencer Reid, if you ever, and I mean EVER, put me through anything like that again, I will personally go into the OR and cut your LVAD wire and kill you myself, bec-”

“Y/N, honey, I’m here no-”

“DON’T. Don’t you dare tell me to calm down Spence because I will have to be restrained and placed in a mental hospital when I lose my license for kicking the IQ out of you” I finished, heaving as I gathered my composure.

Spencer looked at me amused, gripping my hand in his and hauling me closer to the side of his bed. “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m sorry for putting you through everything you went through” He looked up at me with sincere eyes, melting all the disdain that swelled in my heart.

I sighed, leaning down to lay my head on his chest, in which he gave me permission to hop into his bed. I pulled him in closer, terrified that he might vanish from my grasp into thin air. “Spencer, I love you so much” I sniffled, muffling my words into his chest. “You have no idea Spence, I-i felt so lost and hopeless. I-i couldn’t do anything to save you, they-they wouldn’t let me” I sobbed, my throat tightening up as the words spilled actively from my lips.

Spencer quieted me down, stroking my hair as I spoke. “I don’t know where I’d be without you Spence”. I looked up at the man who held me, my heart beating in delight, in contrast to the emotion my face was probably expressing.

He leaned in pressing a long lasting kiss on my lips, then he proceeded to reciprocate the same gesture on my forehead. “You’re my absolute everything Y/N’ He sighed. “Before I- before everything became a blur, all I could think of was you. All I could think of was that I took out one less person that can harm you. I love you so much Y/N”.

A comforting silence followed after, creating an environment of serendipity. I toyed with the hospital gown that covered his body, thinking of all the events that had occured before, thanking the heavens for the outcome that was given to me and praying for the future.

“I want a baby” I professed without warning, feeling Spencer tense up in surprise.

“W-what did you say Y/N?”

“I want a baby, I want to start a family with you” I continued, adjusting my position to get a good look at his reaction. “I want to have a baby now” I declared, determination dripping from my confession.

Spencer chuckled, gesturing to the IV and the tubes that were wired into him. “I would be glad to Y/N, but I’m kind of a human experiment as this moment” He joked.

We both chuckled in glee, holding each other tight as we basked in the pleasant scene. “But I would love to have little Y/N’s and Spencers running around, especially with the one I’d want nothing more than to spend my lifetime with” He pulled me into another kiss, peering deeply into my eyes before shutting his own to get some rest.

“I love you so much, Y/N Y/L/N” He whispered through his breath.

“I love you more than you know, Spencer Reid”

A/N:

That’s a wrap, you know I was going to end this short story with Spencer dying, but I thought about how evil that was. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and don’t be afraid to put in any requests :)

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @spideyreid @evelyn-4034

#spencer reid imagines #spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid icons #spencer x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagines

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jinxedpanda4life · 4 years ago

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Criminal Investigator AU HC

I would first like to start off by saying thank you to everyone.

I honestly did not expect the response I got to my Damirae Hospital AU HC list.

When I first woke up and checked tumblr ~13 hours after posting I had a holy shit moment.

I felt powerful, should I? Probably not.

But! Since I am noticing a lack of AUs in the fandom, whether on Tumblr, AO3 or FanFiction.net, whatever AU comes to my mind I shall jot down some hcs for!

Thank you all once again!

(Also trying format changes for easy reading)

(Also Also, I am thinking the story is less fluid but more episodic)

Let’s get started:

- So I’m thinking this is some FBI, SVU, and FBI BAU mixture or whatever. Basically all the great shows we know in love shoved together. From Bones to Criminal Minds and everything in between.

- Special Agent (Dr.) Raven Roth is a lead interrogator and is the resident psych consult.

She’s been educated in interrogation, behavioral science, psychology, forensic pathology, and criminology.

She has combat training (hand to hand), she carries (for her job) a gun and at all times has a knife/dagger on her person (people have stopped trying to figure out where she keeps them).

Her father was/is crime boss T. Trigon who is currently imprisoned.

Was born in the states but fled with her mother to Romania when she was a newborn.

When Trigon found them he killed Arella and took Raven, she was abut 9 - 10 years old.

She took her mother’s last name when she turned 18.

Knows two languages besides English; French, Romanian, Romani (various dialects but knows multiple), Greek and Latin

On more than one occasion some goon of her father’s tries to recruit her, every time she kicks their ass. (Damian was there for the most recent (he was still green though))

Lives by herself in a decent sized apartment, has a gun safe (gun safety is important!), a cat (Nevermore), and is a regular at a 24/7 bookstore &/ cafe

Can usually be found wearing some kind of jacket, sweater, cardigan

She once helped save some kids (Melvin, Tommy & Teether) and is now their surrogate aunt, she has photos of them at her desk @ work. (Damian assumes/ed that they were her kids)

She also, when she can, hangs out and babysits them on occasion.

Raven is part of a team consisting of Dick Grayson (unit leader), Kori Anders, Garfield Logan, Jaime Reyes, and very recently Damian Wayne

- Special Agent Damian Wayne is a lead investigator (he is still a bit fresh to the unit), translator, sniper and combat coordinator

He’s been educated in martial arts, explosives, hand to hand combat, close range combat, and combat (basically he knows how to kill you 9 ways to Sunday), also, behavioral science, computer science, criminology, linguistics and language.

He can easily translate (into English): Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Hindi, Bengali, French, Polish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, he can also learn any language you put in front of him and know the basics within a day

(Having lived in many places around the world he needed to be able to speak and understand in order to survive) (wow dramatic much?)

His father is currently the director (or deputy director, whatever floats ya boat) of the FBI.

His mother was essentially a secret agent who worked for various agencies around the globe. (deceased)

His grandfather was the leader of a, um, well to be honest, terrorist agency. (deceased)

Was sent to live with his father when he was 15 (when his mother died) and has been in the states ever since

Lives alone, he has an upscale apartment that he truthfully spends little time in, has multiple locations in the home where various weapons are stored, his place has a very cold atmosphere

Is either in proper work attire or in work out clothing, there is no in between

Tries and fails not to take work home with him

He sees a therapist (who says he should probably try investing in relationships with the people at his job)

His only “friend” (he hates calling him that, more like close acquaintance) is Jonathan Kent who was in his class at the FBI Academy, Jon works in a white collar crime department in Metropolis

The only person he actually kind of sort of doesn’t dislike is in fact Raven Roth, she’s a no bull shit person, he likes that

He may know Grayson because of how he’s Bruce’s kind of son but it does not mean he likes him

He finds Logan annoying as all hell, even if he is somewhat useful

He picked a fight with Reyes first day and regretted it (he will never admit that), he respects him

Anders is overly friendly in his opinion, kind of acts like a secretary with all that positivity and grates his nerves, he tolerates her

(Unlike last time I am not going in detail about the rest of the team, this will be brief)

- Supervisory Special Agent Dick Grayson (Unit Chief) is basically Dick Grayson with a big fancy title but all the same skills

He is also obsessed with Slade Wilson and Red X (who is Jason in this)

- Supervisory Special Agent Kori Anders is a lead investigator and is also a go to for undercover work

- Special Agent Garfield Logan is a lead interrogator, is head of the unit’s K-9 unit and kind of has a thing for Roth (which she does not reciprocate)

- Special Agent Jaime Reyes is a tactical analyst, tech analyst and is head of the unit’s SWAT team, he does not do well with talking with people, or change

The Scarab is a computing program that Jaime created himself

STORY START:

- When Damian first joins the team there is another member, Special Agent Terra Markov, she is revealed as a sleeper agent but she aligns herself with the team and sadly is shot and killed in a fire fight

- A couple weeks after Agent Markov’s death everyone is talking about what they are doing for an upcoming holiday, Damian says probably nothing, Raven invites him to spend it with her and her “niece” and “nephews,” he declines

- About a day after the holiday Damian is home looking through case files when someone knocks on his door

-- It is Raven. He asks how she knew where he lived, she says she asked Dick, she also says that she knows how it feels to be alone and that he may be insufferable but it doesn’t mean he can’t have a friend

-- His response is saying he isn’t the kind to make friends with co workers

-- “I’m not asking to be your friend Damian, I am asking you to be his,” She reveals a small black great dane puppy “I know that other people aren’t really your thing, but having someone in your corner and waiting for you is always nice, even if it isn’t human.”

-- Damian invites her in, names the dog Titus and thanks her

-- “Just make sure no one tries to kidnap and kill you, we don’t need you to go full blown John Wick.” Damian has no idea who that is. Raven tells him it is an action movie series that he should watch. She leaves. He does watch them that night with Titus on his lap. (after having gone to the local pet supply store to get everything he needs) The action is inaccurate but he enjoyed the movies none the less, and decides that he probably would go into John Wick mode if someone hurt Titus.

- SA Roth and SA Wayne are sent to a high security federal prison to interrogate a prisoner, who refuses to speak

-- When they get into the interview room the prisoner does start to speak, but not in English and not in a language Damian is fluent in

-- Raven on the other hand immediately responds to the prisoner (shocking the prisoner and Damian) “He is speaking Romani though not the dialect of those overseas, he learned it here.”

-- Damian is fascinated by it and they are essentially switching roles the entire time

-- They leave having successfully interviewing the prisoner, and Raven leaves behind a written list of common words in Romani so that they can possibly communicate with the prisoner better

-- As soon as they are on the plane back Damian asks her a myriad of questions from “How many languages do you know?” to “When did you learn that?” and even “Are you a spy? Sleeper agent? Part of a terrorist cell?”

-- “Not as many as you, when I was a child, if I was part of any of that you wouldn’t be asking.” The rest of the trip is spent with her teaching him Romani and even some Romanian

- Dick & Kori eventually get together and after a while they break up. Kori takes some vacation time. At the same Dick has been temporarily reassigned to another unit.

-- Chaos ensues

-- Garfield thinks he should be the interim unit chief, Jaime thinks the same, as does, you guessed it, Damian (Raven doesn’t want to she is comfortable with her role on the team)

-- In the end they are assigned an interim unit chief, SSA Jason Todd, who usually works overseas on covert op missions (not gonna lie this could easily flow into a Jayrae thing)

-- Everyone kind of falls into line, except Damian, Damian doesn’t like him for two reasons

1) He doesn’t act serious about the job 24/7

2) He has been flirting and hitting on Raven the moment he stepped into their sector

-- Damian hates the names he gives her; “Little Bird,” “Sunshine,” “Princess,” “Rae,” (no one calls her Rae, not even Garfield, at least not after the incident) etc.

-- (Little does Damian know, Jason and Raven have worked together before and are actually friends)

-- This all comes to a head when Damian and Jason are the only ones still in the office after a tiring case.

“You shouldn’t do that you know.”

“Do what? All I am doing right now is contemplating where Grayson keeps the liquor.”

“Call Raven all those names, she doesn’t like it.”

“Really? Because if you haven’t noticed she hasn’t exactly asked me to stop.”

“She gets uncomfortable, maybe not to the extent of asking you to stop, but she tenses up and her body language becomes slightly more agitated.”

“You seem to pay a lot of attention in how she reacts to thinks baby brat. Seems to me that you like her.”

“Of course I like her, she is a good friend and reliable teammate.”

“No, you like like her.”

“That presumption is juvenile.”

“But you don’t deny it.”

“Tch.”

-- If anything after that conversation Jason seems to doubled his advances. Which confuses both Damian and Raven. Damian because it is inappropriate and HR will be hearing about this. Raven because she was under the assumption that she and Jason were just friends. (Jason actually does have genuine intentions but is like 60% just egging Damian on)

-- Eventually (far too long for Damian’s tastes), both Dick and Kori return. At first it is sooooooo awkward. Like mom and dad divorced have shared custody but don’t hate each other but also cannot look each other in the eye. ((Was that a mouthful? Good)) No one can really look at each other the same? Though they do have a meeting to sort it out, get everything out in the open.

- Raven’s annual kidnapping/attempt to convert her/torture comes almost exactly one year after Damian joined the team (this is his 2nd time dealing with this)

-- This time Damian is prepared. By prepared I mean Raven doesn’t even leave her apartment before she is taken to safety.

“Damian what is going on?”

“Christmas came early this year that’s what.”

“Christmas? What in gods name are you talking about.”

“God has no dealings in this matter.”

“You do realize you are sounding like a bad action movie? It is not even 6 am and I am in your car going somewhere, I have had little to no sleep and I am barely dressed. What is going on?” Damian hadn’t payed attention to what clothing Raven was wearing. His mind was on one goal. Find Raven, keep Raven safe. His eyes glanced off the road enough to realize she was indeed not properly dressed. Her body was merely adorned with an oversized tee-shirt, tiny barely there shorts and a pair of fluffy socks.

“I apologize, it appears in my haste I did not leave you time to properly clothe yourself. As to why you are here, it seems your father and his people have shortened their waiting time this year from one year to a little more than ten months.” Ravens hands fisted her shirt. “This time I was prepared,” last time he was still new to everything, last time he made mistakes, this time there will be no mistakes. “Since our last encounter with your demon, so to speak, I have been setting in place precautions and safety measures to ensure Nevermore and yours’ safety. I have also been tracking the movements of his big players. If any came close I would mark it down. Multiple are entering the city at this moment. Seeing as you we taken last time I have made plans to ensure that will not happen again.” The car made a snap turn down an unfamiliar street pulling Raven from her clouded gaze.

“So I am going to be okay this time?” Her voice was faint and restraining against hope.

“You’re going to be okay.” His hand lightly held hers. Only to stop the shaking, they told themselves, only to make everything better. “Nevermore is with Titus at my place being watched by a friend of mine. I have already walked Grayson through everything we will not be expected at work this week, but we can work remotely.”

“We?”

“I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

-- ((Sorry for the blocks of text))

-- As Raven finds out they are at one of Damian’s safe houses. The one least likely to be tied to her. It is fully stocked with food, has security cameras and if needed weapons. The only problem is that the only clothes there are Damians.

“Thought of everything huh?”

“I was following their pattern, I expected to have more time to acquire clothing for you.” (he was looking away and blushing, you cannot tell me he wasn’t)

-- Raven just resigns herself to wearing Damian’s clothes, yes his brain does stop working for a hot second when he sees her in only his clothes.

-- All attempts to try and retrieve codename: Gem of Scath are foiled (like some good math)

-- So many bonding moments happen. Cuddling (pure accident *rolls eyes*), eating together, inside jokes, etc. At one point Damian answers her phone (he disabled and disconnected the tracer) to one of the mob guys after them.

“Hello?”

“You can hide the gem but we will find her.”

“I’m sorry, is there a jewel you are looking for? I don’t think I have and any jewels that I am coveting.”

“We know you are with her! It is but a matter of time until we collect her.”

“I hope you do eventually find whatever you are looking for sir, but I haven’t the slightest idea the gem you speak of. If you could give me a physical description? Is it a ruby, diamond, onyx? Is it round or more of a pear shape?”

“...”

“Well, I will look for it here, but I do not believe I possess what you speak of. Will you give me your number so I can call you back?” (The line cuts dead, and Raven can be seen laughing in the background, the phone was on speaker)

-- Once the team tracks down, arrests and interrogates all of the parties working for Trigon; Raven and Nevermore can go home. Though both are reluctant in their own way. Nevermore has grown attached to Titus, and Raven well Raven has feelings. Sadly, as Raven knows, feelings are dangerous to have in their line of work.

-- Look at Dick and Kori they were together and then they fell apart and the team almost imploded.

-- What about Trigon if he finds out about Damian and how she feels towards him? What kind of danger will he be in then?

-- Like all of her feelings Raven puts them in a box and locks the box away. Not just figuratively, in her safe there is a box with: post its, torn papers, journals, etc. That box has a lock on it. Whenever she has a new feeling that she cannot ignore, like her feelings towards Special Agent Wayne, she takes out the box and writes her feelings down. They can range from a single sentence to pages worth. (Her feelings towards Damian fill a small notebook she has on hand). Once she has written all of her feelings out she places them in the box, locks said box and then places the locked box in her safe, which she then locks.

-- Is this a healthy way to cope with her feelings? Maybe not. But, it is way better than how Damian deals with his. Violence. Also art but violence comes first.

- At this point both Damian and Raven have caught the feelings (highly contagious I hear), which makes this a little awkward and a little not awkward. For one everyone but Raven knows how Damian feels towards her. He does things for her and with her that no one else gets the privilege to.

-- To list a few:

--- He brings her tea whenever he gets himself coffee or tea

--- He talks to her about what he does outside of work, even about his kind of friend definitely not enemy, Jon.

--- They socialize outside of work. Watching bad movies (some of them are not that bad), going to the park with Titus (they once got Nevermore in a leash and walked her), meeting each other before and after work to get breakfast or dinner.

--- He doesn’t glare at her

--- He allows physical contact between the two

--- He worries about her (hello he created an entire plan so that she wouldn’t get kidnapped, with contingencies and everything, garfield would be lucky to get a plan)

--- His eyes light up when she talks, or enters a room, or you know exists in his vicinity

--- He actually smiles around her (Dick caught him smiling once at Raven and he though Damian was having a stroke)

-- Even though everyone knows Damian likes Raven, very few know that Raven likes Damian back. (this only includes; Kori, Dick, Jason, Titus, Nevermore, and Melvin) She does do certain things that give herself away just like Damian.

--The list:

--- When Damian gets frustrated or angry she puts a hand on his arm, or holds his hand

--- She laughs at things he does (light chuckles, or little giggles)

--- She will talk to him about his interests and actively tries to have conversations with him about things unrelated to work.

--- She blushes when he does something unexpected (like a compliment)((Mostly she tries to hide it until he isn’t looking at her))(((Kori has caught the blush before)))

-- Luckily for them it does not take some cliche ‘One suddenly becomes in danger and the other one saves them only to be close to death and then they admit their love for one another and promise to go on a date when the other is healed’ situation.

-- Damian actually asks Raven out after being tipped of by Jason and Dick that she may like him back. Damian finds out when they have days off at the same time and asks her while leaving work.

“Raven, you have this weekend off correct?”

“Yeah I do. I wasn’t planning on doing anything though. Did you have something in mind?”

“Um, yeah, heh, I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of going to dinner with me tomorrow.” *Awkwardly rubs back of neck*

“Like a date or two friends going to dinner?” *Thinks she sounds harsh* “I am honestly fine with either since we are friends.” *nervous smile*

“Like a date if that is okay with you of course.”

“Yeah, yeah totally that is totally okay with me.” *Starts sounding like a teenage girl who only knows about 10 words, because she’s nervous*

“Good, I’ll be by your place around 1830, if that is okay?” *nerve central, the central nervous system could never*

“Yup that is totally fine with me.”

“Great.”

“Good.” The elevator opens in the knick of time.

“See you tomorrow evening Agent Roth. Have a good night.”

“You too, Agent Wayne, you too.”

-- When Damian does pick her up he feels like his brain is going to explode. She looks absolutely breathtaking. This is just like all the other times they’ve gone to dinner, except this restaurant is slightly fancier and they are on a date.

-- Raven feels as though all her emotions are leaking out at once, she has no idea what she is doing.

-- In the end they have a good time and decide to do it again. Damian does bring up that all of the breakfasts and dinners they regularly do could now be considered dates. Raven does not oppose that switch at all.

- Fast forward a handful of years (like 3?), Damian and Raven are moved in together (Nevermore and Titus are happy about this, they even allow the humans to adopt another pet, a cat named Alfred). Damian is now Supervisory Special Agent Wayne and is in charge of their unit. Raven has retired from field work and now works at the FBI academy and at Virginia State University. In about 6 months Damian is going to propose and Raven will say yes. Their wedding will be small but happy and full of life.

Once again I would like to thank everyone and all the support the previous post got.

Like last time if anything is disjointed, out of place or seems wrong, please go ahead and tell me. I have been working on this since the last one, but have finally had the time to finish it.

I hope the new year will bring us all some good. Possibly more head canons to come.

#damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #Rachel Roth #damian x raven #Teen Titans #Headcanon #How do tags work #dc #demonbirds

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sroloc--elbisivni · 3 years ago

Note

Here comes a request ^^' For the 'definitionless' story, could we get a Skids POV on some of the events?

Skids, bodyguarding a mech who isn't intending to let him fade into the background, and breaking entering.

let it be stairways (AO3)

Skids was used to being treated as part of the background. It was what he was comfortable with, as a guard. People went about their lives and didn’t ask him to do too many things except stay close and keep a lookout. He could still do that. Even in this city that he’d never been in before, full of mechs going about their days, and sightlines, and noise.

He was getting used to the noise, shunting it into background processing. Still working on getting used to Prince Jazz’s disinclination to slot him into the background. Skids felt he shouldn’t be handsy with royalty, just as a general rule to ensure his continued health and safety. Not that there was much he could do about the royalty getting handsy with him. In the specifics, he also felt he probably shouldn’t be this close to his commanding officer’s almost-conjunx, but again. Not much he could do about that either. The prince clung like a scraplet. A pretty polite scraplet, but boy did he have a strong grip on Skids’s elbow that he was refusing to relinquish despite a lot of hints. Skids gave up in time to walk and not get dragged into the very big and shiny building Prince Jazz seemed to be steering them towards.

It was pretty fancy inside, all spacey décor and big chairs and big windows. Not as many places for mechs to hide as you’d expect, must have been constructed with security in mind aside from the same sniper sightlines issue as every other building around here. Skids completed a lookover pretty quickly, and looked to the prince to try and get some idea of where they were heading next.

Prince Jazz was frowning. His field had tapered off from that weird ringing cheerfulness he’d been projecting, going quiet.

“Hm,” he said, sounding suspicious.

“You sound suspicious,” Skids pointed out. There wasn’t much here to be suspicious of. What did Jazz know that he didn’t?

“I am suspicious,” Prince Jazz said, which—sure, Skids could see that. Mysterious prince, not a whole lot of reports on what he’d been up to during the war but his tires showed plenty of use and his fingers were still maintaining a deadlock grip on Skids’s plating.

Oh, he’d meant that he was feelingsuspicious.

The prince let go of Skids and wandered away, leaving Skids to fall into place next to him and look intimidating as they approached the desk near one of the only inhabited couches. Clearly inhabited by a couple of guards. Incognito guards, at that. Very sloppy. Too far to do immediate damage control if someone charged the vulnerable parts of the building, not portraying an obvious allegiance and backup that made it not worth it to mess with them, and not even getting out of sight in case someone was scoping the building. Skids stared them down while Prince Jazz made zero headway with the secretary. Sounded like he wanted to get to the governor’s office. Skidshad to break eye contact when the prince hooked him again, laughed, and steered him away from prying eyes. In a new direction.

“So, suspicious, what are we investigating?” Skids asked as Prince Jazz scoped the lobby. He was casual about it, especially with the visor hiding the direction of his optics, but that was some scopage if Skids had ever seen it. He’d gotten used to boring guard duties. Whatever else he was, this prince certainly wasn’t boring.

Skids hadn’t been on a mission, a real mission, in ages. He maybe let the excitement run away with him, not thinking about the possibility that Jazz might not be able to keep up with his covert-ops trained antics until he was already halfway up a vent.

Every time he looked down, though, Jazz was right behind him and hanging onto the vents with some seriously strong magnets. And waving to let him know he was okay. Huh. Maybe Skids should worry more about keeping up himself.

It was good to work with a partner again. He and Getaway hadn’t been on any serious missions since the one against Meister, where Skids had gotten injured. Skids had been waiting to use the ‘too damaged to be causing problems’ routine for something more serious than sneaking poker nights past command ever since. It worked a treat, even if he got banged up on the way down to the floor and a little more by guards grumpy to have their jobs interrupted.

Skids got them to let him off on the third floor, and then took a different elevator bank down the rest of the way so the secretary wouldn’t see him come out when he hadn’t gone up and think something was up. It took him a minute to find the vent they’d gone up again. Once he had, he stood guard in front of it so Jazz would have backup as soon as he came out.

It didn’t quite work. Jazz walked up from a different direction after Skids had barely been there a full vent cycle, looking like he’d gone a couple rounds with a too-tight tunnel in alt. He waved again.

“Yo, Skids. You made it down safe.”

“Yes, sir.” Skids pulled up to attention. Whatever hierarchy they had run that op on, it probably didn’t apply in public. Skids could be discreet, especially if that meant looking deferential. “You took a different vent?” If he was more interested in being unpredictable than doubling back to make it easy to stay together, Skids should probably know that now.

“...No, I took the same vent.”

“Oh.” Skids had lost track, again. At least Jazz was nice about pointing it out instead of picking at him for it.

“You sure you didn’t hit your CPU too hard, there?” That reminded Skids he had never actually explained about his processor damage, which prompted Jazz to give him a looking-over that was about as subtle as his scoping out the building. Skids looked at him right back.

He was more beat up than Skids had thought at first glance. A lot of minor bumps and dings, especially noticeable when they were in places that didn’t really make sense for collisions in alt-mode. If Jazz’s op today was stealthy enough Prowl hadn’t briefed Skids on it, it was probably stealthy enough he shouldn’t get caught with damage that hard to explain.

“If I may, your highness,” Skids said, reminding them both that Jazz was supposed to be back here later for a meeting and should probably maintain his cover. Also being polite because they weren’t exactly friends and that made pointing this out kind of rude. “You look like you had a rough landing.” Jazz took that with some surprise, looking down at himself like he hadn’t noticed before. Skids tried not to be too amused at his expense. “General Prowl’s probably going to chew me out for it.” It certainly looked bad that he’d been assigned to specifically to guard Jazz and make sure he didn’t get hurt, only to bring him back looking much worse than he’d left. The general had certainly fussed enough over Jazz’s safety already, what with sweeping the entire house as soon as they’d arrived and insisting on regular security patrols and scheduling a trip to Staniz so the old security network that Skids and Getaway agreed probably predated the war and didn’t hook up to anything anymore could be entirely stripped from the walls of the house. He was probably entitled to a little overprotectiveness after an entire war.

Jazz paused halfway through his self-examination, field suddenly clanging with panic for an instant before it vanished. Too fast for it to actually have been dismissed. A soothing current thrummed up, and Jazz’s frame language shifted into something relaxed and...reassuring? “Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t blame you. ‘Specially not if I can get this cleaned up before then. Meant to visit a detailer in the city.” He was shifting his shoulders back, loose like he was ready to dodge an attack. Something was happening here that even Skids couldn’t miss. “Don’t want to look all messed up for my conjunx, right? Prowl doesn’t have to know a thing.”

There was an urgency behind that line that Skids didn’t like one bit. He grabbed that tight, not letting it fall out of central processing before he could really think it over.

They weren’t exactly friends, but Skids had a feeling that the truest way of saying that ended with ‘yet.’ He liked Jazz, even if the mech was suspicious in more ways than one.

And he’d worked for Prowl for a while, but...as a subordinate agent, directly in his chain of command with a whole lot of checks and balances in between the way the general felt and the way he treated the people around him. He’d felt a lot of things about the general, but he’d never felt...afraid. Jazz was afraid.

Jazz was afraid, and he wanted to visit a detailer. That was something Skids could help with. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had opened a shop out here, hadn’t they? Sunstreaker did good work, according to his own bragging and the grudging admittance of other mechs near his unit. That might work.

And on the drive over, Skids could figure out exactly what to do about Jazz being afraid of the mech he claimed so easily as his conjunx assigning blame.

#sroloc writes stuff #talky talk #2021 prompts #is this transformers #marriagefic #maccadams #asks #anonymous #mouse friend

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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Illusions of Grandeur… Or Perhaps Just Illusions (Part 2) [A part of the Illusory Records Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus

Characters: Remus, Janus

Summary: Remus is training to be an undercover super-agent, but training is boring. So, being Remus, he… finds some “fun” (read trouble) with the city’s resident vigilante Deceit.

Janus is confused as to why this toddler dressed as a traffic cone won’t leave him alone.

This story is set in the Labeled Universe and takes place about 4 years after Sometimes Labels Fail, but runs pretty adjacent to Virgil, Logan, and Patton’s story.

Notes: Superhero AU, mind manipulation

AO3 Part 1

Stupid superheroes, Deceit thought to himself as he strode down an alley towards his secret base. Since when had superheroes gotten effective. Back in his day, superheroes were blundering idiots who were only good for punching things and creating property damage. When had all of these young brats decided to come out here and be good at things like subtlety and undercover investigation? When had they started caring about actual fundamental problems in the system instead of just showing up when some supervillain tried to make a death ray? That was Deceit’s job. They were stepping on the toes of vigilantes everywhere. Just because one of them lived cloaked in shadows and mystery did not give their little preschooler team-up the right to perform covert ops.

Janus had been doing surveillance on the Riddlon family for months now trying to figure out just what they were doing, and those two heroes had the audacity to show up at the exact right moment, clearly already well-aware that it would be the exact right moment, and tore down their entire smuggling operation a moment before Janus had planned to. How dare they?

He blamed the bloody bird.

Setting a good example and being a mentor to the younger generation. Who did he think he was? Deceit grumbled to himself and started putting his gloves on as he walked. He wouldn’t need to use his powers any time soon and, while he didn’t strictly need them as he was going back to base, it felt weird to be without them.

He paused at the end of the alleyway to use his powers to scan for any missed onlookers before opening the secret entrance to his base. He paused, eyes narrowed and turned his head to look behind him when he felt a presence.

“Halt villain!” a grandeurs voice said when he saw him looking. He put on a show at looking heroic, but it was a hard sell considering his costume.

Deceit wearily turned around. “You’ve got to me kidding me,” he almost groaned. Speaking of young superhero brats. It was Traffic Cone. Ever since the man, no child, had first seen him that day with Brigs, he’d been trying to track Deceit down. One would think that after seeing what Deceit had done to Mr. Penguins that the boy would get the message not to mess with the vigilante who’d been working in the city for probably decades before he was even born. Yet, the kid must have a chip on his shoulder or something, because he’d been persistent in following him around ever since. Deceit had managed to avoid him up until now, but he’d been tired and apparently had a lapse in vigilance.

“Fight me!” Traffic Cone insisted, shucking off his hero stance and tone to replace it with a slightly maniacal grin. Stupid idiot hero with delusions of grandeur. Did he really think he’d even get close to winning against Deceit?

“Look, kid,” Deceit ground out. “I don’t feel like kicking your ass today.”

“Well I do! And I finally caught up with you, so you’re not getting away from me without a fight!”

Deceit arched an eyebrow. “You do?” he clarified with a smirk. “You do feel like you want me to kick your ass today?”

Instead of getting all stuttery or angry and arguing that, no he’d meant he felt like kicking Deceit’s ass, he just stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry.

Deceit gave him an irritated look, feeling his already steaming agitation boil over. “Fine,” he snapped.

“Really?!” he looked almost excited, like a puppy wagging its tail. “So, ho- where did you go?”

Deceit rolled his eyes and took a step towards him, feet light even if they didn’t have to be since the illusion that Deceit was no longer in the alley that he’d just placed in the kid’s mind would supersede his natural senses. Traffic Cone’s eyes bopped around the space in confusion.

“Oh, I see,” Traffic Cone said after a brief moment of confusion, causing Deceit to pause a few feet away from him. “This is part of it. You’re still here, you just are making me think you’re not.”

Deceit hummed. Astute. Most people were panicking by now, but Traffic Cone was calm and accurately able to piece together what had happened.

“Alright then,” the man said cheerfully. He put his hands up in a typical boxing stance. “Let’s go!”

Deceit just shook his head, unwillingly amused with him and side stepped him. He positioned himself so the kid wouldn’t be able to lash out and hit him with his super-strength in the split second between when he’d feel Deceit’s touch and when the illusion would take hold. Then, Janus stripped off one of his gloves. He didn’t need to touch someone to activate his powers anymore. He was long past that. Yet, physical contact still gave Deceit more precise control over what he did to someone, and he didn’t want to accidently shove the dumb toddler into a nightmare if he resisted too hard.

Gentle, he reminded himself as he reached out. He’s an annoyance not an enemy. His fingers descended on his forearm, and the boy went still.

“Oh,” he said, blinking fast as though trying to remove something from his eye. Deceit made the alleyway around them fold and spiral away from his perceptions. “T-that’s weird.” There was a spike of fear, but it was more instinctual than anything real and was easy to bat away. It was surprising, actually, the lack of real fear. Most of the newbie cops and baby supers that came after him were doing so because they considered him a threat. So, most panicked when they felt themselves slipping under his power. Yet, Traffic Cone was steady under it. Deceit didn’t even sense any embarrassment about being taken out so fast. “It’s like a tilt-a-whirl,” he breathed.

Deceit arched an eyebrow. They were usually too trapped in their own minds at this point in the process to speak. That was strange, but what was even stranger was how the boy’s mind held steady in the transitional phase of fuzzy white and black that rippled like TV static across all of his senses. Usually one’s mind would start filling in the gaps automatically, grappling for some sort of calm in the storm, and Deceit would just push it away from anything dangerous. Yet, Traffic Cone seemed to be oddly be content to rest in the nothing. Deceit didn’t know what to make of it.

Despite his curiosity, Deceit still shoved at him gently until he teetered off the edge into what Deceit thought was the memory of three different locations. Most of the space Deceit saw was a childhood bedroom with cheery aquatic animals on the walls and a colorful rug, but what tipped him off to the fact that it wasn’t just one location was the out of place full sized bed with the dark green comforter and the matching nightstand with a murder mystery novel on it’s top. It was an adult bedroom, likely his current one, familiar and comfortable but not sentimental. The last location bled through only in the structure of the walls and a fireplace. It seemed to be based off a cabin in the woods if the view of the sun setting over a lake outside the large window on one wall was anything to go by. It was probably a place he’d visited a few times and had a good time at.

Even though it was a mixture of locations, the memory seemed strong. Nothing was fuzzy around the edges and the inclusions from each place were logical in its construction. It was tidy and calm. The fireplace gave off waves of warmth and it smelled vaguely of cedar. He imagined the blankets on the bed were soft to the touch and all was quiet except for the crackle of the fire. Deceit was impressed. He’d expected a mess of a mind from how he’d seen the boy act, but this was decidedly not.

After a pause, Deceit drew away, leaving him inside that illusion. “Let’s get you back to Brigs.” His eyes flickered to Janus to Janus’s surprise. He shouldn’t be taking in any external stimulus yet with the attack so recent and Deceit still so near.

“Okay,” he agreed, voice distant. If Janus didn’t know any better, he’d say that the kid must have some sort of mental power. The problem with that conclusion was that he’d already read up on him when he’d started following Deceit around, and his power was reportedly super-strength. He shook the idea of the boy having a mental power away. Surely, he would have met at least some resistance if that were true, and Deceit had met less than normal.

“Come on, Traffic Cone,” Janus said, physically and mentally nudging him back towards the street. Deceit threw up a small field around them to keep passersby from seeing them and then checked the hacked security cameras on his phone. As expected, Brigs was sitting in his car in one of his usual spots. It wasn’t too far, and they could walk there easily.

It was a few minutes of walking later that the boy looked up slowly. “I told you I didn’t choose the costume,” he grumbled.

Deceit blinked at him but didn’t comment on his unusual lucidness.

Upon Deceit allowing the man to see him and Traffic Cone, Brigs laid his head briefly on his steering wheel. If Deceit cracked a smile, there was no one around to see it.

Brigs exited his car and looked Traffic Cone over with a sigh. “I told him not to.”

“You always do.”

“This was fun,” Traffic Cone said with an out-of-it giggle. “We should do it again some time.”

“Is he always like that?” Deceit asked tiredly.

Brigs looked over at the man with annoyance and maybe an iota of affection. “Unfortunately.”

#sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #platonic demus #tsss #labeled universe #illusory records #adriana writes #superhero au #mind manipulation

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meteorstricken · 4 years ago

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Sephiroth Week, Day 3 Prompt: Uniforms

“Tactile”

"Demon," President Shinra announced incredulously, slapping the Wutaian-language news publication down onto his desk. He settled into his chair holding an unlit cigar between his teeth. "This is a smearing portrayal of a valuable company asset."

Tseng stood at attention on the opposite side. Heideggar had reclined into a chair, resisting the urge to guffaw at the headlines, which read in full, "Shinra Boy-Demon Slaughters Advance Crescent Platoon." Hojo leaned against the wall off to the group's right.

"The Turks will investigate the slums for the publishers and ensure a meaningful understanding is reached, Sir," Tseng offered.

"Acceptable first steps for mitigation," Shinra replied, "but this rag made it topside. It's probably spreading outside Midgar. We need rapid counter-programming, and I want to know if Avalanche is involved. Wutai was always going to have an adverse reaction to losing, but no one else should be questioning that Shinra is acting in their best interests."

"Gyahahah! That kid's a hero if you ask me," Heideggar said. "You know how many infantry I'd have had to send into the meat grinder without him? Those boys got to go home and kiss their mommas one more time. Hardly had to fire a shot thanks to Sephiroth."

Shinra lit his cigar and puffed out a few smoky rings. "Sephiroth, celebrated war hero. We can sell that. We'll publish our own account and promote fanfare. Adjust his age to sixteen for the official story, and make sure no one says any different. Set up scripted media interviews with the cadets who came home early. They were proud to serve, would have done whatever it took, but they're happy to be back. If there are any eyewitnesses, it's all glory, minimal carnage. Sephiroth's an unmatched prodigy and they want to be like him. Let's turn this debacle around into a recruiting boost."

"Yessir," Heideggar barked. "By the time my guys are done, we’ll have their girlfriends calling the wrong name at night."

"…Right. Professor, prep Sephiroth for a dress uniform photo-shoot tomorrow morning. One of my assistants will meet with him and the camera crew to determine designer uniform options. "

Hojo lightly cackled and pushed up his glasses. "Very well, but I may need to sedate him…Sephiroth's enhanced mako regimen has given rise to certain uncompromising tactile sensibilities."

Shinra shook his head. "Work around that. The public needs to meet a sharp, lucid face, not a specimen."

"Hm..suit yourself," Hojo replied.

--------------

Sephiroth had originally been scheduled for a battery of mental exercises this morning, but this photo-shoot had usurped it at the last minute. Attempting to sleep had become unpleasant after returning from Wutai, though he'd been reassured it was a common occurrence treatment would resolve. Shouldn't that take priority? Pictures were usually for the lab, but he'd only been offered a hurried explanation that this was supposed to mark his first war victory.

He frowned at the crisp, starched blue button up and matching jacket that hung in the dressing room with him. Unfamiliar medals and pins adorned the jacket's left breast, and its shoulders were inlaid with a circle of silver stars. This was not the military's standard issue uniform for anyone, even higher ranking officers. If a change was coming to their design, there were simulations and hired models. Why were these untested clothes necessary to convey his performance in the war?

The short, quick-spoken woman outside the door who'd introduced herself as President Shinra's assistant had instructed him to put the button up on over the low, v-cut white undershirt he normally wore from day to day, and to wear the jacket over that. It was too much. Layers were claustrophobic for him, and anything that sat too close to the front of his neck gave an impression of being strangled. He sat down on the bench and pressed himself into the corner, hesitating. The idea of being so covered, and in all the wrong spots, made the room feel smaller and hotter the more he considered it.

"Need help adjusting anything in there, kid?" the assistant asked after several long moments.

"No. I…these aren't suited for me," he responded, struggling to keep calm, hoping that excuse would suffice.

"Ah. Well, the President did say we might need to try a few things to make it work. Let's see…You know, let's cut the crap and just go for the prototype special ops one. It's functional, so you'll be literally dressed to kill!" she laughed.

Sephiroth didn't know what to say to that--he required only selective armor to battle effectively--so he waited in awkward silence as Shinra's assistant rummaged through boxes and plastic wrappings around assorted articles. First, a pair of black leather pants swooped over top of the door. Inspecting them, he felt that the inside was softer than the outside, and cool to the touch. A matching coat, a black turtleneck sweatshirt, and a set of pauldrons followed.

He clenched one hand at the sight of the turtleneck. It was obviously an outfit meant for missions under cover of darkness--an improvement from the dress blues in terms of what he was accustomed to--but the shirt made it impossible. He opened his mouth to protest again, and then shut it. Complaining over physical discomforts didn't have a history of aiding his situation, but he could attempt a compromise. He was able to negotiate his field uniform without too many questions in Wutai because of how he fought.

The pants, he found, were perfectly fitted and allowed for flexible motion--acceptable. That was once piece down he would wear. Shoving one arm into the coat, he quickly recoiled and pulled it back out again. It created an unwanted layer with his t-shirt along his back, giving him the sense that someone was pushing on him. Sephiroth let out an exasperated sigh, and pulled his shirt over his head, hanging it up on the door's hook with the turtleneck.

Trying the coat again, his nerves instantly settled. He'd have to work on moving with the long, draping material around his legs when he trained, but other than that, it felt right on his torso by itself. The collar was unusually high, but it left the front of his neck completely bare--inoffensive enough, and he could use the pauldrons to raise or flatten it as needed. He finished dressing and opened the door.

"We got a winner?" the assistant asked, turning around to face him. "Oh whoops, looks like you missed the shirt."

Sephiroth pouted. He'd missed absolutely nothing, and he'd continue not missing it.

"I…see. It doesn't look bad…Just...just let me check if this will work for the shoot." She left the room to make a call, but Sephiroth could still hear her-- "Sir? Yeah, mostly. Oh, is he? Oh. That would have been useful to know beforehand. We did find something he's comfortable with pretty quick--the ops set--but he's bare-chested aside from the harness. Go ahead? Alright." Hanging up, she added, "Your funeral, boss. Your funeral." She poked her head back in, "Grab your things, kid. No makeup for that baby face, but we'll have to do something about your hair before we get this over with."

"Will I be keeping these?" Sephiroth inquired.

"That's up to Shinra. If it plays well, count on it."

#sephirothweek2020 #sephirothweek #sephiroth #ffvii #my fics #day 3

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temperancejones · 3 years ago

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Some Kind of Curse- Chapter One

Upon Steve and Kris’ arrival at their base about half an hour later, they were both dragged to the medic, where they also got grilled by their Captain waiting for them there, who was red with anger that Anton Hesse was killed on the extraction mission. Steve and Kris tried to explain what had happened, and how their mission had somehow been compromised, but the Captain wouldn’t have any of it. Of course, they were immediately taken off the mission, as they were now emotionally compromised and a conflict of interest due to both of them and their father getting dragged into this mess and ordered to return to O’ahu for a family emergency. They were forbidden to investigate this case further and were told that if they were caught impeding on the Navy’s investigation and mission, they would be facing a court martial. And then, the Captain left as soon as he got there, mumbling something about how he was sorry for their loss.

Still unable to comprehend everything that had just happened, Steve and Kris let the medics look them over and patch up Kris’ bullet wound. Thankfully, the bullet ricocheted off of Kris’ TAC vest and lodged itself in her deltoid muscle. The bullet was easily removed, and by the looks of it, the wound should heal on its own in a few weeks, but unfortunately for her, her left arm is put in a sling and she is given direct orders to keep it as still as possible to allow the muscle to heal properly. Once the medics give them both approval to leave, they are escorted out of the med bay, where they are immediately taken to their quarters and given ten minutes to gather their things. Steve quickly fills both of their duffle bags, thanks to Kris only having one working arm right now. The twins are then quickly escorted to the Humvees and brought to the nearest airbase, where a cargo plane is being held for them to board so they can get home as soon as possible.

Steve and Kris keep their heads down and find themselves unable to find the right words to say to each other during their entire trip back home, so they were silent for pretty much the entire fifteen-hour trip. The trip took two separate planes to finally get them to Hickam airbase on the beautiful, sunny island of O’ahu, which was once their home many years ago. If the McGarretts’ visit back home for the first time in almost seventeen years was under better circumstances, they would almost feel relieved to be back on the island. But, of course, what they were feeling was quite the opposite- their visit to the island was to bury their father, and then take care of all of the legal issues before getting shipped back out overseas for their next mission, as if nothing had ever happened. Being ordered off the mission that resulted in their father’s death was definitely a low blow to both Steve and Kris, but they both knew that they couldn’t risk their careers for some petty revenge on Victor Hesse. So, like the good little soldiers they are, they will do what needs to be done here, and then get buried in another op as always. Hell, maybe they will even switch gears and go back to intelligence or something to make sure that their brains are constantly occupied so they can forget that they don’t have parents anymore.

Just as the plane touches down to the tarmac of the Air Force base and the pilot takes over control of the plane, the co-pilot turns around and looks at Kris. “Ma’am, I have an incoming call from the Governor of Hawaii. If you put on the spare headset, I will patch you in.” he says to her, gesturing to the headset dangling above Kris’ head. She tries to put on the headset herself, but with one hand, she has no luck. Steve reaches over and puts it on his sister’s head, chuckling a little bit at her frustration. Feeling a little angry at her inability to do such a simple task, Kris nods to the co-pilot to connect her to the call while the plane taxis around the airstrip. A woman’s voice patches through the headset, which Kris assumes is the governor. She hasn’t been keeping track of who is in office at home anymore, as her and Steve have been away for far too long to care at this point.

“Commander, this is Governor Pat Jameson. I just wanted to start by saying I’m so sorry for your loss.” The Governor says to Kris, which makes her heart speed up a little bit- she forgot how painful it was to hear people say I’m sorry for your loss to her. Its something she has detested since the day her mother died. Were people truly sorry for her loss? Or did they just want to make sure that Kris, Steve and their little sister Mary, who was only ten at the time of their mothers death, were getting enough attention, as all eyes were on the honorable John McGarrett, who was simply inconsolable… more than words could ever describe. Her father’s pained cry from the front door was a sound that was forever ingrained into Kris’ brain, and is something that will haunt her forever, along with the singular gunshot that murdered her father less than twenty-four hours ago.

Snapping out of her dreadful thoughts, Kris sits upright in her seat, putting on her Commander façade once again. She clears her throat and speaks into the microphone. “Thank you, Ma’am. What may I do for you?”

“I’d like to talk with you and your brother in person, can we meet at Pearl Harbour in two hours? That will be at about 1300.” Governor Jameson requests hopefully.

Kris takes a moment to wonder why on earth the Governor of Hawaii would want to talk in person with both her and Steve, especially when they have way too much stuff to do in preparation for their father’s funeral. But, A conversation with the governor should be relatively harmless, so Kris agrees to it, and ends the call with the governor. Kris immediately tells Steve about their meeting with the governor, which makes him scowl a little bit, silently wondering why the governor would want to see them as well.

The plane stops shortly after the call ends, and they quickly disembark, where they are met with Captain Twill, a short, stocky man who welcomes them home and shows them to their loaner car for their visit to the island, making sure that they can get around and take care of everything they need to. Thanking the Captain, Steve and Kris hop into the black SUV and head to Arizona hall, which is the lodging hotel for all Navy, Military and Air Force members on Hawaii. It takes them about half an hour to get to the hotel and get checked in, which leaves them an hour and a half to prepare for their meeting with the Governor.

Still not talking much, Kris and Steve take turns showering to wash off the grime on them from their mission in Korea and look presentable for the Governor. When Steve gets out of the shower, Kris is already putting on her dress blues, thankful that they didn’t get wrinkled from her abrupt trip home with them. Steve, who is already in his dress pants and has his shirt on, just unbuttoned, notices that Kris is struggling with the buttons, as they are impossible to do up one-handed, and chuckles at her from the door of the bathroom.

“Need a hand?” Steve asks, smirking a little bit.

“What I really need is a stiff drink, but yes, a hand please. I’m not going to meet the governor with a uniform that is half buttoned up.” Kris sighs. Steve does up his shirt and walks over to his sister, and does hers up for her, and fixes her collar. Kris thanks him, and sits down on the edge of the bed, sighing.

Steve sits next to her, fixing his own collar now, making sure it’s perfect. “This really isn’t how I wanted to come home for the first time since we left, y��know?” Kris confesses. Steve nods and rubs his eyes. “you and me both. I just can’t believe we never got to see him-“, Steve starts to say, but his voice breaks, and he chokes back a sob. He’s right, though. They haven’t really been on good terms with their father since he shipped them away to private school and the Naval Academy on the mainland when they were sixteen. Kris always wondered why their father had pushed all of his children away so much after the death of their mother- but that’s something she might never know now. Kris leans into her brother’s side and puts her head on his shoulder in a silent form of comfort. Steve wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in tighter for a side hug. He places a kiss on the top of her head- something that he hasn’t done in years, as Kris hates it when they show emotion to one another around fellow troops or even on base, since people assume things about them, which piss her off to no extent. Kris has spent most of her career trying to stay out of Steve’s shadow, as most people in the Navy and Military think it’s outrageous to have a female such as herself on the front lines with the men, even though she is more qualified and trained than most of the soldiers she works with. Kris broke a lot of barriers during her career in the Navy- she became the United States’ first female SEAL and was one of the first women to be on the front lines in general while the States troops were stationed in the middle east. So, with a reputation like that, she definitely doesn’t want people to think that the only reason she got accepted to all of those high-profile posts and ops was because of her brother, who was on them as well. Kris worked just as hard in training to walk alongside Steve during her career so far.

The twins sit like that for a few minutes, just allowing each other to silently mourn their father, a man they felt like they barely knew, but still loved him very much, despite not seeing him for half of their lives. Steve is the first one to break their silence again.

“So, what needs to be done for the funeral?” He asks, which immediately ruins Kris’ rare calm state of mind she had maintained from hugging her brother.

Kris lets out a loud exhale and rubs her face, now sitting upright again, and off of Steve. “A lot. We need to call Duke and get an update on everything. I’m assuming HPD is investigating this as a homicide, which is going to fuck us over, probably. But we need to make funeral arrangements and try to get him buried either at punchbowl or with mom and grandma. Duke should be able to help, I think. Hopefully we can push the funeral to tomorrow and get it over with.” Kris begins to ramble, suddenly remembering everything that she helped dad with for her mother’s funeral all those years ago.

Steve sighs. “Okay, so after we meet the Governor, we can swing by HPD and talk to Duke and get this shit over with… which leads me to my next question… what do you want to do about Hesse?” Steve explains, and then asks his sister seriously, with a little glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Kris furrows her brows and looks back at Steve, trying to read his face to understand what he means, hoping that he isn’t talking about risking his career with this. They both know that if they go down this road, there will be no turning back; they will either get away with disobeying a direct order or get court martialed for doing such an absurd thing, and then get dishonorably discharged. “Please don’t tell me that you’re seriously thinking about doing this, are you?” Kris asks, already knowing the answer. Steve is going to be a stubborn McGarrett about finding Hesse- of course he’s thinking about doing this.

Steve nods. “I was thinking about it the entire trip home, and in the shower. Some things just don’t add up to me. Dad called us Tiger and Champ. I think it means something, but I don’t know what. I want to find out, and I want Hesse to pay for what he did. That son of a bitch needs to go down.” Steve explains, which immediately makes Kris’ mind race.

Kris thinks about it for a few moments, wondering why these oddities never occurred to her; She was probably too busy being anxious about the upcoming funeral for her father. She has always hated funerals- they offered no closure whatsoever and were very upsetting to attend. “Tiger and Champ… Champ as in that old toolbox we got him for Father’s Day when we were little to work on the Marquis? And that stupid tiger I made him in grade six art class?” Kris speculates, just throwing her first thoughts out there to Steve.

“The one he kept on his desk, in the den, right? And the toolbox! Yes, it was in the garage, but I don’t ever remember grabbing tools from it?” Steve then adds on, snapping his fingers for dramatic effect, which ignites a spark of sheer curiosity between the twins. Now they both know that they have to follow up on these breadcrumbs their father left for them, even if it means their careers in the Navy will end because of it. They need the closure and answers as to why anyone, especially Hesse, would target an innocent man and murder him in cold blood. Damn it, Kris thinks to herself. This is going to change a lot of things in their lives if they go through with the investigation on the toolbox and the tiger, but she genuinely believes that it will be completely worth it.

Kris looks at the wall and nods, trying to anticipate everything that’s going to happen in the next few days. Kris can’t help but think that if her and Steve hadn’t been hunting down the Hesse brothers, then maybe, just maybe, their father might still be alive right now, and they could still have a longer career in the Navy. But everything happens for a reason, Kris decides, and says “fuck it, let’s get this bastard”, to Steve, which make him grin at his sister.

For the next hour, Steve and Kris grab a bite to eat at the restaurant connected to their hotel, and head over to pearl harbour, where they wait to meet with Governor Jameson. They arrive half an hour early, and decide to head to the edge of the pier to pay respects to their grandfather, as well as the other lives lost at the pearl harbour attack, who are still entombed in the ocean, only a few hundred feet away from where Steve and Kris stand now. Knowing that their grandfather, the original Steve McGarrett, was an honourable man who fought until the very last moment of his life to protect this country, is something that Steve and Kris hold dear to their hearts; they both have his service number tattooed on their forearms, reminding them constantly of his sacrifice. Maybe now they will have to get something for their father tattooed on them too as a reminder.

Once they are both finished paying their respects, Steve and Kris continue to stand at the pier and begin to devise an action plan to continue their investigation and start to track down Victor Hesse again. They talk in hushed voices, to make sure that they can’t be heard, and ultimately decide that they will go to the house tomorrow once HPD leaves the scene to recover the tiger and the champ toolbox and see where it goes from there. What matters most right now is arranging the funeral for their father, which should hopefully be tomorrow morning if they can pull the right strings with HPD today. Steve and Kris get so caught up in their plans that they almost forget that they’re supposed to be meeting the Governor any minute now, so when she gets their attention by saying “Commanders?” loudly over the wind, they almost jump in surprise. Thankfully, they keep their cool and turn around to face the voice that called them.

Governor Pat Jameson is a tall, blonde, older woman, who immediately gives off the impression that she will not be messed with. Kris likes that. Steve doesn’t really look impressed.

“Governor,” Steve says flatly, now facing the woman, who is approaching them still. Governor Jameson’s short blonde hair is blowing in the wind from the ocean, as is her business skirt and fitted suit jacket, but she doesn’t let that phase her. She walks up to the two Commanders and outstretches her hand for them to shake. Once greetings are passed around, Governor Jameson thanks Steve and Kris for meeting with her and invites them to walk along the pier with her. Still wondering what the Governor could possibly want, Steve and Kris look at each other, and then agree, following Governor Jameson’s lead.

This should be an interesting conversation, Kris thinks to herself as she slides off her hat, which is about to blow off in the wind. Here goes nothing.

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/233640136-some-kind-of-curse-hawaii-five-0

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176232/chapters/61334512

#Hawaii Five-O #Hawaii Five-0 #Steve McGarrett #H50 #H50 fic #some kind of curse #wattpad #archive of our own #Danny Williams #kris mcgarrett

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toomuchtv95 · 5 years ago

Text

Struggling Chapter 2

Characters: Jay Halstead, Hank Voight, Antonio Dawson

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Eventually)

Word Count: 3k+

Chapter Warnings: Swearing ( I think that’s all)

A/N: I am working on a Damon Salvatore x Reader imagine because I am been re-watching TVD and I forgot how much I love Damon so of course I had to write something. So just keep an eye out for that. I am also working on Chapter 3

Series MasterList

You had a busy week at work, and you haven’t had time to think about what Antonio said about moving on. And unfortunately, you ran out of time to think, today was the 2nd anniversary of Ryan's death. Waking up this morning, you already started to feel like you were going to cry. While taking a shower, you had some time to think about moving on and how to do that. After showering, you went to the flower shop that sat on the corner of your block before heading to the cemetery. As you walked through the cemetery, you carefully stepped over the headstones as you made your way over to his headstone. The gravesite looked untouched like it always does. Ryan had no family that was close by to take care of the site, expect you.

Kneeling you placed the flowers on the ground and cleaned up the grass and leaves. "I know I haven't been around in a while and I'm sorry, but I'm been struggling a little more than usual.” You whispered as tears formed in your eyes causing blurriness. “It’s been two years and I still feel like it was yesterday when I got the news.”

"I still think that you are going to walk through the door and kiss me and tell you to love me, but you're not because you're gone. I'm mad at you for leaving me and I shouldn't because it's not your fault. We were barely married when you left, I wanted a life with you, I wanted kids with you and now that's not happening." Your voice cracked as choked out a sob. "The last two years have been hell and today is even worse, because I came here to tell you that I can't keep thinking you're coming home. I need to move on. You're not coming back, and I have to learn to live with that."

“I know it’s going to be hard, but I need to do it for myself. I need to be happy again because I am tired of being broken and alone.” You wiped your tears just as fresh ones formed. “I’ve read your letter again, and I think your right about letting go and finding someone else.” Taking a deep breath, you wiped the tears again, “last week one night, I spent the night eating take-out and watching a corny TV movie with a guy who cares for me more than a friend, but he would never tell me that because he knows I would just push him away. I think he could be someone to be more than a friend, but I will never know if I keep holding on to you." Taking a deep breath, you stood up and placed a hand on the headstone. "I love you and I always will, but I need to let you go and move on." Leaning down, you kissed the top of the headstone before turning around to see Antonio keeping a fair distance.

Antonio opened his arms as you approached him. You collided into arms and lot out a sob that you couldn’t hold back anymore. “It’s going to be okay," Antonio whispered as he rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “I know that was hard for you.”

You pulled away to wipe the tears, “yeah it was, but I have to move on. He’s not coming back.” Antonio wrapped his arm around your shoulder as the two of head back towards his car. Originally you weren’t going to go to work but staying at home and sulking around isn't healthy. You needed to go to work.

Once the two of you were in his car, Antonio’s phone started to ring, which he took the call. You glanced over at him and you could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong. Once the call ended, you turned to look at Antonio, “what is it?” Antonio hesitated which caused you to worry. “Just tell me.”

“Jay’s security team was ambushed.” Jay was working his security job today and apparently while they were doing a deposit the team was ambushed and one of the guys was injured.

The whole car ride to the district you felt tense as you thought about Jay. Since the beginning of the year, you and Jay have gotten closer ever since you saved him when he was kidnapped while working an undercover op. Then when Jay took you home, and brought you food and stayed the night, you have just been feeling closer to him. Once the two of you got to the district, Antonio headed upstairs while you waited in the garage for Jay to show up. You paced the floor as your anxiety rose. You came to a stop when you saw Al walk in with Jay right behind him.

“Jay.” You immediately walked over to Jay and hugged him tightly.

"Y/N, I'm okay," Jay whispered against your hair as he wrapped an arm you. “Any word from Med about Terry?”

“No nothing yet.” The two of you pulled away and headed upstairs. Once the two of you made it upstairs your father looked at both and the two of you headed into this office.

“You are not taking me off this case.” Stood behind Jay as you closed the door. You leaned against the door with your arms crossed. Your father glanced at you then back at Jay.

“That is not your call to make.”

“This is Terry’s blood.” Jay pointed at this sleeve that was covered in blood. “I saw the guys. You need me.” Your father looked at you which you gave him a slight nod. After agreeing to let him stay on the case, he left the room to go clean up, leaving you and your dad alone.

“I know what-” Your father pulled you into a hug which you hugged back without hesitation. “I’m okay. I went to his grave this morning.” You pulled away and sat on the arm of the sofa. "You know the last 2 years, things have been a struggle, but I need to move on and learn to live my life. He’s not coming back, and I have to accept that.”

“Whatever you need to help you through this let me know.” Your dad squeezed your shoulder for comfort.

"Actually, there is one thing that I can think of right now." Your dad hummed in response. "I want to be with Jay on this one. I know you won't understand, but just trust me." Your father nodded his head in agreement as you pushed yourself off the couch and left the office.

“Jay.” You walked into the room where Jay was watching your dad and Antonio finishing up question Brianna Logan, who was Jay’s boss at the marijuana dispenser. “I just heard from Med. Terry didn’t make it. Massive hemorrhaging.” Jay turned to look at you and without saying a word he left the room. After a few moments, the interview was over and you exited the room only to be stopped by Adam, who said that the lab was able to get prints on the gun they found at the scene. You nodded your head and went to find Jay, only to see him and Brianna talking as you rounded the corner.

You couldn't help but hear the last first things exchange between the two. "I can't help but feel responsible for what happens to Terry." There was something about this Brianna woman that you didn’t like. Maybe it’s because she was clearly into Jay. Not that it should bother you. He a single man and he can do what and who he wants.

“You’re not. I am.” You could clearly hear the guilt in Jay’s voice which caused your heart to sink.

“Please tell Terry’s wife that I will take care of all the funeral costs." Brianna reached over and placed a hand on jay's bicep causing your to jealously raise. Okay, why does this bother you so much?

“He was in the marines, so he’ll get a military send off.”

“Hey, Jay we got something off the gun.” You took a step closer causing Brianna to step back. Jay told Brianna to lay low and that they would call her if they needed anything else. Once she left, you and Jay headed back into the bullpen to find the rest of the team.

"Okay, so the lab managed to pull a partial print off the clip inside the gun that was left at the scene. They matched to a guy named Joseph "Joey" Ortiz." Adam taped up the photo on the board as he spoke.

"Ortiz? Yeah, he's a known member of the Insane King crew. They don't sell drugs. Their M.O. is to follow the cartel mules with a large amount of money after big drug deals then they rob them. I had a run-in with them once when I worked a joint case with narcotics a few years ago.” You explained it to the team.

“Okay, put an investigative alert on Ortiz.” You nodded your head as you sat at your desk and picked up the phone.

“Okay, I gotta ask. Are you sleeping with this woman?” You stopped what you were doing and looked at your dad who was standing next to Jay by the board.

“Who Brianna?” Your dad looked at Jay with a stern face. “What does that have to do with the case?”

“All right, one more time. Are you sleeping with her?” You held your breath as you waited for him to answer. You also weren’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“No.” Jay came right out and said it and relief washed over you.

This case has really taken a toll on Jay the last few days but thankfully it was over. Al and Adam went to sweep the dispensary for bugs, and they found a bunch of bugs throughout her office. They were able to get serials numbers off them it turned out that Brianna’s soon-to-be ex-husband hired a PI to get dirt on her. Then after questioning the PI, we found out that he was in on the robbery along with a guy them Brigs but turned out that a crew that worked for Brigs was the one who did it. After the case was solved, Jay went to tell Brianna that he was quitting which made you secretly happy.

“Hey, need a ride home?” You looked up from your paperwork and saw Antonio putting on his coat.

“No, I’m good.” You fiddled with the pen in your hand. “I’m actually grabbing a beer with Jay at Molly’s after he’s done talking with Hank. I decided to tell Jay about Ryan.”

“Yeah? Are you sure?” Antonio sat on the edge of your desk.

“Yeah. It’s time.” You stood up from your chair and tossed the pen on your desk. “Lately, I’ve just been feeling, I guess you can say, closer to Jay and I thought I would feel guilty about it, but I don’t.” Tears built up in your eyes and you had no idea why you wanted to cry.

"Yeah, I've noticed that. This is a sign that you are moving in the right direction. Remember letting go and moving on. I know the last two years have been a struggle for you, but this could be the first step to figuring things out." Antonio placed his hands on your shoulders and rubbed your arms up and down. “So, if telling Jay about Ryan is what you feel is right then do it and then figure things out from there.”

You nodded your head before hugging Antonio. “This is why you’re my best friend.” You pulled away just as Jay exited the office.

“Ready to go? I can really use that drink.” You nodded your head as Antonio left leaving just you and Jay alone.

20mins Later

"Hey, detective." Herrmann leaned forward against the counter with a smile on his face.

"Hey, Herrmann.” You smiled back as you ordered two beers along with two shots. “Thanks.” You grabbed the drinks and moved through the crowd over to were Jay was sitting. "Alright, here we go." You handed Jay his beer along with the shot of whatever Herrmann gave you.

“To Terry.” The two of you raised your shot glasses in the air before chugging them down.

“How your cheek?” You motioned at Jay’s cheek where he got into an altercation with one of the crew members.

“I’ll be fine.” Jay took a swing of his beer. “Are you okay? You seem a little off the last couple of days.” You picked at the label on the beer bottle while trying to figure out a way to tell Jay. You wanted to tell Jay, but your nerves were getting the best of you and you were having second thoughts. “Y/N, whatever is you can tell me.” Jay reached over and grabbed your hand.

“There something I need to tell you and I don’t want you to look at me like I’m this fragile piece of glass.” You looked up at Jay and when his green eyes locked with yours, you instantly felt at ease. “Two years ago, I lost my husband.”

“Your husband?” Jay looked at you with complete shock.

“Yeah. I guess I should start from the beginning.” You took a deep breath then took a sip of your beer. "Well as you know I was in the Army and the reason why the left was because during my last mission I was taken, hostage. It was days until the rest of the team found me. When they did find me, I was in bad shape. I had two broken ribs, a broken wrist, a concussion, and a collapsed lung. I thought I was going to die."

“It was about a 6-month long recovery and it was hell. I did half my recover overseas in German and the other half back home in North Carolina, that was my post was at the time. Then after I left Army I can back home to Chicago. I moved back in with parents until I was able to get back on my feet. Coming back and adjusting to living was hard and it just triggered things. My father sent me to therapy to help with the problems I was dealing with and I was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety. Once I got things under control, I joined the police force, and then about 3 years into the job I met my late husband. I was working my first case in Vice and he was working security detail for one of the victims." You stopped to take a sip of your beer than taking a deep breath.

“His name was Lieutenant Commander Ryan Campbell. He was Navy Seal before he decided to join the reserves. We dated for about 2years before he asked me to marry him and of course, I said yes. We were engaged for a little while before he got the call telling him that he was needed for active duty. We deiced to get married at the courthouse because we didn’t want to wait until he came back home because we didn’t know long, he was going to be deployed for. It was 6 months later when the officers showed up at my step and I knew.” Tears started to form in your eyes as you thought back to that day. Two Navy Officers stood at your door and you knew the drill. You knew Ryan wasn’t coming back.

“Hey,” Jay squeezed your hand causing you to come back to reality. “How did it happen?” Jay spoke low almost a whisper.

“IED overseas in Iraq. Getting that news was devastating, but deep down I knew that it could happen. My PTSD was triggered again, and I need time off to deal with everything. I eventually got onto some medicine and seeing someone once a week and it helped but I struggled to deal with the loss of Ryan. I still struggle, but I’m learning to accept that he’s got coming back and I need to move on.” You looked down closing your eyes to stop the tears, but it was too late. Jay removed his hand from yours and walked over to your side of the table and sat next to you and pulled you into a side hug. “Sometimes I feel so broken that I don’t know if I can put myself back together.”

"You are not broken," Jay muttered into your hair. “I don’t think you realize how strong you are. You may feel like your broken, but I don’t think you are.” You pulled away and Jay looked at you with a soft smile. “This doesn't change the way I look you. I don't see you as a fragile piece of glass." Jay reached over and wiped the tears that were rolling down your cheek.

After the two of you finished your drinks, Jay drove you home, walked you to your door, and to be honest you felt great that you were able to tell Jay about everything. You felt a weight lifted off your shoulders. “Thanks for listening tonight. I really need to tell you.”

“Always. If you ever need to talk about anything. Just know that I am here.” You grabbed your keys from your purse, turned to unlock the door, and once you unlocked the door you turned back around. Looking at Jay, a smile formed on your face and something inside of you sparked. Without thinking, you leaned over and connected your lips to his. You could feel Jay was hesitant at your sudden actions and causing you to pull away.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You whispered as you turned back around and opened the door to head inside your apartment. Jay was about to stop you but decided against it, not wanting to make the situation worse. Once you were inside, you locked your door and leaned your back against before sliding down to the floor. What have you done? Did you misread the signals over the last couple of months? Maybe he found someone who wasn’t broken. For the first time in a long time, you thought you could be happy but you guess you were too late.

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#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #Chicago PD #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine

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my-fanfic-library · 5 years ago

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [11]

Masterliist

~^*^~

You sat on the steps, feeling as though you looked ridiculous. Here you were, in such a pretty dress, hands running through your hair, breaking up the curls and tears running mascara down your face. Your lips were curled upwards, into a sad and distorted smile. Goosebumps had risen on your skin. It was chilly, considering how late in the year it was. You heard the rumble of tires and looked up. The car pulled up against the pavement and the window rolled down.

“Get in, Cinderella.”

You rushed to the passenger side door, struggling to get in. You looked over at Jack who smiled sadly at you.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I’m an id-“

Your eyes snapped up to the top of the steps. There he was, glaring down at the car. Shit.

“Drive!” You demanded and Jack slammed into the accelerator. You looked back once to see Dracula rushing down the steps, but you were gone within a second.

“Jesus, [First], we are probably going to die tonight.”

“Not if I find a stake and ram it through that bastard’s heart.” You grumbled.

“[First]? You’re worrying me. What’s going on?”

“Lucy... it’s a lot to explain and you’ll definitely hate me after. Can we please just get somewhere and fast? I don’t know where we can go... we can’t go back to yours... he’ll follow us.”

“That’s ok. We can go to Zoe’s she gave me a key for emergencies anyway.”

Twenty minutes of silence passed. You tried to compose yourself, but the fact that Lucy was still alive and still disrupting your happiness was tear inducing enough. By the time you pulled up on Zoe’s drive, you were exhausted.

Jack had to help you out of the car due to the sheer weight of your dress and once inside, he immediately threw some of his clothes at you. It quickly became apparent he’d been staying here for a while, but you chose to say nothing. You couldn’t help your inner curiosity as to why, though.

When you managed to get out of the dress and into a pair of Jack’s pyjama shorts and oversized t-shirts, you plodded into the living room and sat down next to him. He took in the sight of you. He didn’t know what had happened, and he didn’t know if he was ready to know if it involved Lucy and Dracula...

He needed you to talk, though. You were very clearly upset.

“I did a really bad thing...” you confessed in a hushed whisper, “I did a really, really terrible thing... I deserve to be cursed by undeath for it...”

“[First], whatever it was, please tell me. I promise I won’t get mad at you.”

“You will. Especially because of how you feel towards Lucy.”

“Lucy is engaged. I have to just... move on.” He breathed, shifting his weight so that he was sitting to face you a little more, “tell me.”

“I... the first time Dracula came to my home... I asked him... to spare my life... in exchange for another...” you confessed.

“And it was Lucy you promised him?” The wavering in his voice broke your heart.

“I know it sounds awful... but I’m still angry at her, Jack... I thought Dracula would kill her and maybe I could move on from what happened but... it appears that he’s kept her alive and... again, he’d rather her over me...”

“This won’t make you feel any better but, it is Lucy. You should have foreseen something like this might have happened.” He told you softly.

“Like I said before, the attention was nice... it was nice to have someone who seemed to care even if they didn’t... and again, Lucy took that away from me.” You sighed.

“I’m so sorry, [First]. Maybe you should drop out of the investigation now? Someone else can take over in your stead?”

“I don’t know. He’ll need to be contained again and I don’t think he’ll like that.”

“He won’t really have the choice. Now come here.”

He pulled you into him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and brining you close. You rested your head on his shoulder. You wrapped one of your arms around his torso, getting a little more comfortable as you stared at the TV. It was late. You didn’t realise just how late until your eyes started to get heavy.

The TV faded away as you lulled off into your sleep for the night.

You awoke with a start. A thick duvet pooled around your body. It was hot. Too hot. Jack was asleep beside you. You supposed this was the only bedroom in the house. Your eyes scanned the room as you sat up and you sighed. Your head was pounding. What time even was it? You looked over at the digital clock. 3:23am.

Your throat was dry and screamed for replenishment. Swinging your legs over the bed, you made sure not to disturb Jack and began your staggering walk out of the bedroom and into the rest of the house. It was total darkness. You couldn’t really see where you were going at all and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. Slowly, clinging on to the bannister, you descended the stairs. When you reached the bottom, and you felt the cool wood below your doors you sighed in relief. You had no clue how you were going to navigate back up to the bedroom, but you would have to find a way.

To get to the kitchen, you had to work your way through the conjoined living room and dining room. It was one long room, with the living furtinture towards the front and the dining towards the back, opposite the kitchen. The entirety of the room was shrouded in darkness. It was quite a bit cooler down here. You flicked on a lamp and the terror that struck you caused you to gasp loudly. You stumbled backwards, knocking into the wall and you smacked your hands over your mouth. The patio doors were open at the back of the room, Count Dracula standing between them. His expression was dark and unreadable.

“What are you doing here?!” You hissed, not wanting to wake the sleeping man upstairs.

“Why did you leave?” He asked darkly.

“Answer mine and I’ll answer yours.” You challenged.

“I’ve come to ask you - why did you leave?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you were gone for 20 minutes?” You thought about saying something about Lucy but you decided against it.

“I had affairs to deal with.” The way he spoke was sending prickles down your spine. Not the good kind, as he sometimes did, either.

“You had affairs did you? Didn’t you think about me looking like a moron standing all on my own like that?!” You kept your voice as a hushed whisper and the anger was still easily recognisable.

“[First].” He warned, “let me in.”

“Oh no, you’re staying there.” It was your turn to command him, “you’re explicitly not allowed in to this house.” You narrowed your eyes and a deep growl resonated within him.

How could you deny him access? Was the man from before, Jack was his name, if he recalled correctly, also in this strange house? Had you grown too angry at him? After the most pleasant evening he had just delivered you?

“You’re going to regret this, [First].” He warned you lowly.

“I don’t think I am. You won’t see me again, Dracula.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m resigning my post. I don’t want to work with you anymore.”

A lump caught in his throat. He had to admit that he had grown quite fond of you. Quite fond, indeed. He enjoyed to see you. If he couldn’t see you, then what was the point in playing nice anymore?

But were you bluffing to make him feel something? Was it your intention to make him feel a little guilt for leaving you alone like that? He should have been honest, and told you he was dying to have a taste of that sweet nectar that ran through the veins. He needed it. Why didn’t he just tell you? He would have been only a few moments if that brat from London hadn’t called him. She was begging him to come back, begging him to give her another dream.

‘I want to dream of you’ she had told him in that sweet voice that resembled treacle. Too sweet, too overpowering. It stuck to the mouth and clung to the throat. It suffocated you and in the worst way. She began to tell him what she was wearing, how she had left his mark open to the world to see this evening. All the while, he had thought of you. You, in that pretty dress, looking ethereal. How he had left you alone and how he simply wanted to reunite with you.

What would he have if he didn’t have you?

“You don’t mean that.” He challenged, “you’re bluffing.”

“Why would I bluff?” You folded your arms, “I told you. I’m sick of you.”

He said nothing. Instead, he began in inspect the air, drawing in a deep breath through the nose. He snarled.

“He’s here.” He observed lowly.

“And?”

“I thought we had an agreement?”

“I thought you knew a lot about social etiquette. Seriously, there’s nothing here for you tonight. You can’t come in so don’t waste your time.”

~^*^~

The next morning came and Jack offered to take you home. With such a bulky dress, you had no other option but to accept. The drive was pretty much quiet, with the radio creating a quite background noise to the rolling hills.

‘... a body was found outside of the Bay Royal Hotel this morning... similar conditions to many others that have been found throughout Britain in the past months.... speculations... an animal... or sadistic mass murderer.... be vigilant and stay with a group of people during night hours...’

Jack looked over at you as the news report went on, however you were staring out of the window. He gulped. You both knew what the cause of death was, even if Scotland Yard didn’t. You were surprised, only a little, that Zoe hadn’t informed them of the beastly man freely roaming the streets. Then again, it would most likely cause a launch of a large investigation and anyone who had ever stepped foot into the Foundation would most likely go to prison for something or another.

You sighed. Your mood had dampened considerably and all you wanted was to go home and curl up on your sofa with that tub of vanilla icing you kept for a bad day like this.

“It was a shame,” Jack piped up awkwardly, “Dracula leaving you like that... you looked very pretty.”

“Thank you, Jack.” You turned your head to smile at him.

When you pulled up outside of your home, you spent a few moments pulling your dress out. Jack had to help you a little and you declined his offer to help you inside.

“Since when did you stop opening your curtains?” He teased.

“I must’ve closed them before I left last night.” You shrugged, “thanks for last night.” You turned to give him a soft smile. The dress was draped in your arms and you were still in his clothes.

“It was nothing,” he waved you off, “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, alright?”

“Indeed you will.”

You made your way to the front door. The river was out, the tide had pulled all the water away. When you reached your door, you tugged on the handle. Open. You must’ve forgotten to lock it when you left last night.

You opened the door, forcing your way through the door. You turned, shuttling it and turned back. You screamed.

Sitting at the bottom of the steps, clad in his suit from the night before was Dracula. He was looking at you in a way that made your stomach do knots with anxiety.

“Here she is, the belle of the ball, the damsel in distress, the runaway princess.” He snarled.

“What are you doing here?” You tried to sound strong and confident, however your voice wavered.

“Not so tough now, are we?” He narrowed his eyebrows.

“Drac-“

“Ah, ah, let me talk.” He held up his finger, “you really thought you had one over me didn’t you? You naive little thing. I ought to punish you for last night alone.” His lips tugged up.

“You really don’t get it, do you? You left me alone. You embarrassed me. Not that you could ever conceive such emotions. But just answer me this, just this one thing, Dracula.”

You hid one hand behind you, clutching the door handle for a quick escape. He looked at you. Never in your life had you felt more afraid.

“Why didn’t you kill Lucy?”

“Why didn’t I kill Lucy?” He scoffed, “because she is something different. She is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. She peaks my curiosity. I wanted to savour her.” He told you coldly.

Your heart hammered in your ears.

~^*^~

Throwing your clothes into your suitcase, you ignored the tears violently soaking the materials. You were struggling to see past the tsunami, past the red storm that was brewing in your head. You heard a noise as the door opened and he grabbed your arm roughly.

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed, willing yourself to not look at him. You knew that if you did, you’d forgive him.

“[First], let’s talk-“ his voice was young and undoubtedly the catalyst for the wave of sobs that followed.

“No! No...! No...no... we can’t talk. We can’t talk this out, Daniel...” you clutched you’re heart, sinking down to your knees and clutching on to the duvet.

“Yes we can-“

“I just walked in to see you with her! In our bed! In our space! How the fuck do we fix this?! Why the fuck would you do that to me?!”

“I... she was... something different... unlike anyone I ever met before... I was curious and one thing lead to another...”

~^*^~

Your head was spinning. You needed to get out. Thinking wasn’t an option. You were staring into the eyes of a beast and never before had he looked at you with such malice. Did he feel betrayed? Had you hurt him by fleeing with Jack?

You didn’t care. You tugged on the handle, turning to rush out.

“No!” He roared and leapt out of catch you. Sunlight streamed in and like a magnet, he threw his body up into the corner, behind the door. He grabbed at the neck of your shirt, yanking you up. Your oxygen was cut off, feet inches from the floor. You gagged, feeling sick as you struggled in his grasp. The dress pooled to the ground, “shut the damn door.” He growled.

~^taglist^~

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#dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang #dolly wells

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potatocrab · 4 years ago

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Nothing Sweeter Than a Touching Scene (Noir AU Side Stories)

The Marmalade on 10,000 Pieces of Toast

Deacon finally gets the chance to cook breakfast for Charmer. In a tender moment, he shares some truths about his past and thinks about a future with Madelyn.

(Takes place during Chapter 16 (17 on Ao3) of Salvation is a Last Minute Business.)

“Another day, another ball of fire rising in the summer sky. The city is quiet now, but it will soon be pounding with activity. This time yesterday, Jean Dexter was just another pretty girl, but now she's the marmalade on 10,000 pieces of toast.”—The Narrator as played by Mark Hellinger (The Naked City, 1948)

4393 words | [read on Ao3]

May 31st, 1958

“The most intimate thing you can do for a person you love is cook them breakfast.”

Words to live by—echoes from a former life—advice Deacon still believed in after so many years. He’d always been somewhat of a hopeless romantic, and despite the amount of tragedy the universe—or God—had thrown his way, he remained steadfast in his convictions. A dangerous thing, given his line of work. If there was one thing he’d learned from watching Casablanca, it was that you didn’t fall in love in the middle of a war.

Not to say the investigation into the Institute was anything like fighting Nazis in Europe—or maybe it was. The days he was getting shot at certainly felt like it, not to mention the car bombs (okay car bomb—but one destroyed Volkswagen typically led to another). And then there were his fallen comrades—Railroad agents that had died at the Switchboard, Ticonderoga, and Augusta safehouse. This was war alright—Deacon only hoped that V-Day was sooner, rather than later.

Through the darkness of it all, he’d found someone—again—and was clinging to the hope that this time, maybe, it would last. That this time, the cruel hand of fate wouldn’t reach down and snatch her from his grasp, just as their connection deepened. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose her. Charmer—Madelyn—she was—

“Fuck,” Deacon hissed under his breath as he dropped an egg to the floor, frowning at the mess he’d made while distracted by his thoughts. He shot a glance down the hallway towards the half-open bedroom door, waiting several seconds for the telltale sounds of his creaky mattress and the even squeakier floorboards. But nothing came—good—she was still asleep. Full speed ahead with operation breakfast in bed.

Ignoring the broken shells and splattered yolk at his feet, Deacon considered himself to be a good cook. He hadn’t had very many opportunities to show off the skill and providing late night meals after Railroad ops to Drummer Boy didn’t count—the schmuck would eat anything without appreciation of the craft—couldn’t even tell the difference between Ragù and Bolognese. Madelyn though, she understood it was an artform, just like one of his many other clandestine talents.

She’d watched him intently the evening before as he prepared their meal—beef bourguignon—just as he’d promised. It would’ve been easier to eat at the 24-hour diner down the block, especially after all they’d been through that day. Hell, the holiday weekend had barely started and Madelyn had managed to be shot at twice. But she insisted, even if it took all night just to have a home-cooked meal made by him. She meant it colloquially—the home in home-cooked—but it struck a chord with him, glancing over his shoulder as he sautéed vegetables to look at her perched on one of the barstools.

Madelyn had been smiling in that small, secret way, blue eyes bright and entranced by his every movement. Deacon contemplated telling her she looked like she belonged there, in the safehouse, in the closest thing he had to a home—had very nearly asked her something far more dangerous after watching her savor the first bite. He held back his words, filled his mouth and burnt his tongue on hot stew, and laughed with her about French cooking and red wine. But the thought persisted—how nice it would be to settle down with her—if she’d have him.

He always was the type to fall too hard, and too fast.

Their first time had been rushed, fervent and had resulted in a few smashed items along the kitchen counter. There was no less passion in their kisses that second night, dinner finished and wine bottle empty, but there was a cadence to it all as they took the time to better familiarize themselves with one another—get lost in each other. Deacon wasn’t entirely sure if he’d gone soft, gone mad, or had died and gone to heaven. Maybe it was a sick combination of the three. Love always was like that, it seemed—a little part of yourself breaking off and floating away as it found root in the heart of one’s beloved.

“Damn,” he breathed a curse again, softly laughing to himself about the circumstances and bringing himself back to the present. He was in deep.

He caught his distorted reflection in the shiny surface of the toaster as he retrieved the crispy bread from the appliance, stacking it onto a plate next to a tiny jar of orange marmalade. “Shallow ends’ for chumps.”

Deacon quietly hummed a showtune as he organized the food on the wooden tray, plating the over-easy eggs next to the crispy bacon and freshly made hash-browns. He placed the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in one corner before situating the steaming cup of coffee in the other. He stood back to inspect his work, adjusting the silverware and lamenting that he didn’t have any fresh flora on hand to make the display perfect. Somehow he knew that Madelyn wouldn’t mind.

He balanced the weight of the tray in his hands before carefully making his way back down the hall, smiling at his efforts and rehearsing in his mind all the little ways he could wake her up. Deacon used his foot to push open the bedroom door but paused in the doorway as soon as he caught sight of Madelyn’s form on the bed. She was blissfully asleep, the picture of comfort dressed up in his button-down shirt from the evening before with the duvet pulled up across her waist, hair fanned out across the pillows like a golden halo of curls. With the sun shining in through the drawn-open curtains, she looked like she had walked right out of a movie—or maybe his dreams. Deacon suddenly cursed the fact Nick got to call her doll, but maybe he could stake a claim on angel.

“Are you going to stand there all morning?”

Madelyn peeked open one eye, lips curling up into a small grin as she looked at him, hardly a trace of drowsiness in her voice.

“The view is nice,” Deacon replied, watching as she leisurely pushed herself up to sit against the pillows and headboard. She stretched, arms reaching high above her head and shifting the fabric of the shirt she wore just enough that he saw a sliver of skin. He smiled at the cute way she yawned, wrinkled nose and all. “Just how long have you been awake?”

“Since that first egg crack,” she shrugged, eyeing the tray in his hands. “I’m a light sleeper, don’t you know? You can’t sneak out or up on me.”

“As tempting as it was to follow you out to the kitchen and join you, I decided feigning sleep was a better idea,” Madelyn continued with a quiet giggle, hiding her amusement behind her fingers. The delight and mischief in her eyes was intoxicating. “Let you surprise me.”

Deacon raised his eyebrows, lifting the tray as if on cue. “Surprise!”

He finally entered the room, crossing over to one side of the bed as Madelyn shifted to create space for him to place the tray of food down before he sat on the edge of the mattress. He turned to face her, stretching to rest his chin in his palm, elbow sinking into the plush blankets. She grinned, eyes shimmering as they scanned over the platter.

“First dinner, now breakfast—”

“A show too,” Deacon joked, prompting her to snicker as he alluded to their more boisterous activities.

“It was quite the performance,” she replied, gaze running over his body and lack of clothing—an undershirt and boxers was good enough for a lazy day at the safehouse. “I feel thoroughly spoiled.”

“Good,” he responded, nodding at her. “Now eat, before all my hard work goes cold.”

Deacon stayed where he was, lounging sideways on the bed as he watched her eat. He stole the occasional bite of bacon, smirking to himself when he noted the little blush dusting her cheeks, seemingly flustered under his observation. In the morning light, without his sunglasses or dark-haired wig, the two underdressed in their most natural states it was all very domestic—something Deacon hadn’t experienced in years. Might as well have been a lifetime. No wonder she felt nervous.

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, on the verge of saying something incredibly stupid and too soon, caught up in the afterglow and butterflies that continued to swirl around in his stomach. He quelled them with a generous sip of her coffee, even if the added sugar and cream wasn’t his preference. Madelyn laughed at his subtle wince, swapping the ceramic cup from his hands for a piece of toast. She’d spread a generous dollop of marmalade atop and had taken one bite before passing it to him.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked before taking a mouthful.

“With skills like this, you could replace Codsworth,” she quipped, smiling against the rim of the coffee cup. “What a shame you don’t have a third arm.”

“I don’t?” he teased between chews, raising a curious eyebrow.

Madelyn nearly choked on her sip of coffee, spluttering out the liquid into her hand and reaching for a napkin as she laughed at his lewd joke. As flustered as she was before, she was completely flushed now, neck and cheeks tinted a bright red as she struggled to contain her amusement and embarrassment at the mess she’d made. Deacon laughed with her, taking the cup from her hands to place back on the tray and offering another napkin as he sat up.

“You’re too much,” she sighed, slowly pulling the cloth from her face to reveal a coy smile.

Deacon took it from her, dropping it across the food tray before sliding it away and placing it safely on the ground. He sat in the empty spot, leaning over so his arms boxed her in on either side, fingers gradually peeling away the blankets to expose her naked legs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Madelyn leaned closer, arms circling around his shoulders as she traced her nose against his, lips smiling against his in the ghost of a kiss. “Jury is still out…if you’re bad for me.”

She was teasing him, Deacon knew that. But still, his heart strained against his ribcage, though he hid his reaction well. He knew he wasn’t the best choice for Madelyn—out of all the eligible bachelors in Boston, she could do so much better than some Railroad spy that couldn’t tell the truth. Lately, he’d been honest with her, but there was still so much she didn’t know—so much he would never tell her, just to keep her safe. That’s not the kind of partner she needed in life, not the kind of person you chose to share a future with.

Yet, there he was—there she was—kissing him just as sweetly and enthusiastically as the night before, as she’d done the first night he’d brought her to the safehouse. She’d kissed him a few weeks ago too, outside her apartment door, full of want and silently pleading, confirming to him that she’d made her choice.

“You,” she’d breathed, hot against his mouth when they were perched on the barstools two nights ago. “Deacon, I want you.”

Invigorated by the memory, he tugged Madelyn closer, her legs shuffling from beneath the covers and body shifting beneath his desperate grasp so that her knees straddled his thighs. He groaned, the feeling of her soft hands and manicured nails sliding up beneath his shirt a welcome surprise that had him breaking away from the heated kiss so she could remove it completely. Deacon moved to do the same to the button-up she was wearing, make some kind of raunchy remark about how good she looked wearing his clothes, but she stopped him. Instead, Madelyn nudged him to lay down, adjusting herself so she was strategically straddling his hips, avoiding his ever-increasing arousal.

He gripped her waist, keeping her steady as she bent over to pepper his face with tiny kisses, trailing down and away to his ear. He bit back a moan, glancing at the top of her blonde head. “Cruel, cruel mistress.”

Madelyn softly chuckled against his skin, the sound and feeling doing nothing to placate his state. “Have somewhere you need to be?”

“No,” he answered in a breath, shifting beneath her, holding back from rolling his hips upwards. He smirked to himself, knowing she was just as riled up. “Well, inside of you. If those travel plans can be arranged.”

Deacon felt her smile, more importantly, the shiver along her spine at his cheeky statement. “I’ll book you on a first-class flight.”

Despite their obvious arousal, and her equally bawdy response (that had him tightening his grip and practically growling), Madelyn slowed her movements, pulling away to look down at his face. Her expression was hard to read, even as she softly smiled at him in that small, secret way, a few fingers brushing over the lines of his face.

“Charmer?” he prompted, the worry from before suddenly worming its way back into his chest with an overwhelming sense of dread. Did she have the same doubts?

“Can I ask you something?” her voice was deadly quiet, just above a whisper and she was barely able to meet his gaze.

The open-ended question terrified him, and he had to admit that in that moment he was emotionally and physically vulnerable—what with being pinned beneath her body to the mattress. Even if he could easily toss her aside and run away, he’d still have to answer to her eventually. Unless he ran away for good—but that was not an option, not when he’d resigned himself to drown in her waters and die a sweet, sweet death.

So he answered, nodding once. “Yeah,” he squeezed her hip in a reassuring gesture. He bit the inside of his cheek as the next word came flying out without thought. “Anything.”

Even Madelyn seemed surprised, leaning further away until she was sitting up so she could trace the faint, ridged outline of a scar that ran along his chest towards his collarbone. Even though he’d given her permission, she was hesitant, teeth raking over her bottom lip as she studied the old injury. He recalled her lingering touch against it, and other marks along his skin as they fell asleep—it was bound to come up eventually.

Finally, her soft voice broke through the silence. “What happened?”

Deacon considered lying—it would’ve been very easy to make up some fantastical story about any one of his scars, but Madelyn always had been very astute at deciphering his wild tales and white lies. Most of the time she ignored it, let him have his fun, or added grandeur herself. Other times, especially as of late, she wanted the truth—and it likely had to do with their developing relationship. He owed her that much, and a part of him felt relieved at the decision.

“Normandy,” he started, Madelyn’s eyes widening in shock, a gasp on her lips. The assumption was there, that he had stormed the beaches on D-Day, but no. “I was fighting in Caen, in the city, with British Allies. German bastard got too close for comfort.”

“I don’t know why I should be surprised that you served,” Madelyn whispered, still focused on the scar. “Hard to imagine you fighting somebody else’s war.”

“Plenty of Railroad business overseas,” Deacon shrugged, catching her puzzled expression, eyebrow arched as she met his eyes. “Or at least what would eventually become the Railroad.”

Madelyn seemed to read between the lines, a slow, knowing smile creeping across her lips. “So, you’ve always been a spy.”

Deacon didn’t say anything, matching her grin instead. He knew it was harder to hide the deviousness of a non-answer without the help of his shades, but he was still going to try, if only to rile Madelyn up. She laughed, much to his delight, head tilting back and exposing her neck. He wanted to reach up and unbutton the shirt—his shirt—to expose more skin, wanted to kiss her, keep her there with him forever.

“I was sixteen in 1944…” Madelyn trailed, reaching down to thread her fingers through the hair along his temple. “Just how old are you, Deacon?”

There was humor in her question, but it startled him all the same and he had to quickly remind himself of how bare he was, how easily she could read the subtle emotions on his face. Not that he’d forgotten his age or anything, but he’d suppressed so much of his past and youth that the truth was murky. Just like his war-scars, or his name (which she hadn’t spoken aloud since discovering, to his surprise), this subject was fair game. It was amusing really, how completely backwards they’d gone about forming a partnership—relationship. Then again, their courtship was anything from conventional.

“Old enough to remember prohibition,” he finally replied with a grin, chuckling at her visible confusion as she performed silent equations in her mind. She leaned forward, palms flat against his chest as she scrutinized his face with a wary look.

“You aren’t robbing the cradle with me, now are you?”

Deacon guffawed, one hand tickling at her side and prompting her to wiggle against him in the delightful way he wanted as she giggled. “Not that old, sweetheart. And you aren’t that young.”

“Hey,” she pouted, mocking offense as she pushed away from him once again. “My birthday isn’t for another month.”

That’s right. If he’d read her license correctly (because yes, Madelyn had been correct to assume he’d been snooping through some of her things), she was turning thirty on July 1st. Well, it was only fair since he knew her age, that she knew his. Birthday and astrological sign could come later, maybe over a bottle of brandy, or after a blood oath—just kidding.

“Forty-one and some change,” he said, watching her expression carefully. Instead of amusement or uncertainty, there was a calm sense of wonderment in her baby-blues, scanning over his face like she was seeing him for the first time.

She lowered herself close again, bracing herself against his chest as she brushed her fingers through his hair again, trailing her fingers down across his temple and jaw line before tracing the angle of his nose and the line of his lips. Madelyn regarded him with the tiniest of smiles as she moved, painting him with her brush—he was all too willing to be her canvas.

She kissed the corner of his mouth before slowly erupting into a fit of giggles. “How much change, old man?”

Deacon laughed with her but was more preoccupied by the way she angled her head as she lost herself to her amusement, exposing the soft skin of her neck. This time, he couldn’t hold back and bucked the weight of her body from his hips, hooking his arms around her waist before flipping them so her back was flush against the mattress and he was hovering above her, lips already kissing a teasing line from her chin to her ear.

“How long do I have you for today?” he asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“I don’t have anywhere to be but here, with you.”

Leave it to Madelyn to say something romantic, without a trace of lewdness. She sighed, softly moaning as he kissed along her neck and the collar of the shirt. Deacon slowed his movements, even before she spoke again, breathing out the words against the shell of his ear. “No need to rush.”

An affirmation, even as he was drowning in the deep end. Maybe it was time to come up for air, at least for a little while.

Deacon pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, holding her body to his as he rolled to his side. He nestled his head into the pillow, tightening his arm around her waist and smiling when she kissed him softly in return, tucking her arm around his middle. Slow—he could do slow. A nice, and wonderful change of pace to his wild and unpredictable, hectic life. He found comfort in the silence formed between them as they simply stared at one another, studying each other’s faces with quiet expressions.

“A secret for a secret,” Madelyn suddenly prompted, though Deacon was unsure of how much time had truly passed. As if she could tell that he didn’t understand, she continued. “I asked you something. You can ask me something, if you want.”

Tit for tat—Madelyn always was good about keeping things square. His mind swirled with the possibilities, and he very nearly responded with a hushed everything. She wanted the truth, right?

“A secret you haven’t learned about me yet?” she teased, tilting her head back so she could better see his face.

More questions floated through his head, but they all sounded too invasive, even for him, especially for where they were in their undefined relationship. Since she mentioned it, what was she like at sixteen? What were her parents like? Had she ever been overseas? She’d love Paris—or maybe Dublin, take her back to her roots. What did she look like on her wedding day? What was it like to be married to Nate, and…could she ever love again?

Yeah, those were all way too intrusive.

Deacon swallowed back the tightness in his throat. He needed to say something before his mood spiraled or he said something rash. “Can you help me get out of some parking tickets? Lawyers can do that, right?”

Madelyn flashed him a curious look, the faintest hint of disappointment at his deflection of humor before softly laughing. She’d expected him to ask something more personal, just as she’d done, and he’d goofed.

“When they aren’t providing legal advice to grisly detectives or being shot up at city hall, I suppose,” Madelyn spoke, with enough mirth in her tone to relax him, make him feel like he hadn’t offended her. “Which reminds me. I need more clothes from my apartment. I can’t walk around in dirty, blood stained dresses all weekend.”

“I’m sure I saw it as the latest fashion trend in Vogue,” Deacon joked in reply. “At this rate, Nick owes you a stipend. Or a shopping spree at Bergdorf Goodman.”

She grinned, obviously delighted by the idea. “You know, Nick doesn’t pay me. The city does. But I won’t pass up a trip to Fifth Avenue, if you’re offering.”

A day trip to Manhattan didn’t sound too bad, when she put it that way. He mirrored her smile, sliding his hand over her side. “You’re already the best dressed lawyer in Massachusetts.”

“Flatterer,” she said, a wistfully. “Save the designer labels for when I’m back in court.”

Deacon thought about that, and her time spent away from the District Attorney’s office as Nick’s legal aid. “Ever thought about opening your own practice?”

Madelyn’s eyes shined with a different kind of excitement, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. And if it had, she hadn’t given it much serious thought. Which was really all just a shame, all things considered. Her nervous silence didn’t deter Deacon.

“You belong with the big-wigs down at city hall, Charmer,” he encouraged, watching the corner of her mouth twitch up in a smile—good. “You’d even have a shot at becoming state attorney if you wanted.”

She breathed a laugh, but it wasn’t out of disbelief. Her cheeks were dusted with the lightest blush and he wondered if he was the first person to ever tell her something like that. But why not? Madelyn deserved good things, great things, and he would move heaven and earth to give it to her, if it was what she wanted.

“Big dreams for the future,” she responded. A non-answer, but he didn’t need one, based off of her bright expression. “What do you want?”

The question was a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from him. His heart seized for a moment before continuing, racing in his chest. Deacon knew Madelyn could sense the rapid pace of his pulse, and the anxiety etched into his features. For a long time he’d resigned himself to a life of subterfuge, to a life of lies and deception. After Barbara, he was married to his life as a spy and his life in the Railroad. There was nothing else—there could be nothing else. Until now.

Now he was shifting, suddenly dusting off cobwebs and morphing his life in ways he never thought possible to make room for somebody else. Somebody he wanted, somebody he needed. Somebody to share his life with. Terrifying, thrilling and mesmerizing all the same. He spoke the truth.

“Someplace to rest my head.”

“Hmm,” Madelyn sighed, softly smiling in agreement as she reached up to comb her fingers through his hair. He was beginning to think that she liked seeing him without the pompadour wig and preferred the auburn waves. “Well deserved.”

“Where have you been all my life?” he asked, well before he could hold back from saying it, tightening his jaw and inhaling sharply at the shock of his own words. At least Madelyn interpreted it as flirtatious banter rather than anything too serious, flashing him a cheeky grin as she closed the distance between them to kiss him sweetly, lingering there against his mouth.

“Boston,” she whispered. Before he could continue the kiss or bring her any closer she rolled away, onto her back, turning her head to look at him. She prompted him, beckoning him to snuggle against her side. “Come here.”

Deacon was considerably bigger than her, but she didn’t seem to mind the weight of his body laying halfway atop her, his head resting against her shoulder with her arm wrapped across his shoulder, their legs tangled together across the blankets. It was different, but a good kind of different—exactly what he needed.

“Just stay here a little while, like this?” she asked, quietly.

He didn’t mind staying like that forever. “Anything you want, Charmer.”

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #deacon #madelyn hardy #noir au side stories #this is the domestic fluff you're looking for #fallout fanfic #LOOK I wrote something

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