#for a man who has to constantly be on guard and look for leverage in every single interaction and aspect of his life

[guqin-and-flute]

Something about the fact that these shots are all grouped together, one after another, visually giving them equal weight just gets me. The narrative knows what's going to happen between JGY and Huaisang at this point, knows how it's going to treat JGY at the end of everything. And it still takes time to show Meng Yao instinctively and immediately going in front of Huaisang and Huaisang instinctively and immediately hiding behind him. It takes the time--literally, showed it in the background and focused on it with the same general amount of time as the other shots--to show that this act of protection and trust are just as real and true as Jiang Cheng defending his sister, as Wen Qing defending her younger brother.

Like, I dunno! There are other Nie juniors there! They have swords and shit! Huaisang could have gone and hid behind the wall, but he hid behind Meng Yao! And Meng Yao could have moved back with Huaisang, but he steps directly in front of him!

There's a lot CQL did to JGY's character and narrative that I don't like and that flatten or just straight up erase his full complexity. But I really appreciate the lengths that it went to in Episode 4 to explicitly tell us that he does not hesitate to protect Huaisang, even though at this point he does not have a sword and definitely does not have anywhere near the same cultivation power (if any) as any of the rest of the people in the room.

Right now, after being publicly humiliated, unarmed and definitely outclassed, he is brave. Along with the rest of the characters, he's allowed to be uncomplicatedly young and loyal and just as innocent as any of the other students there.

[idiotwithanipad]

Gore AU Amy (My OC)

Ft Silver @moonah-rose's OC

A lot like Gore AU Mary and Robin, Amy has some changes from her 'canon' self.

The first being that she can no longer talk; Her vocal chords are thrashed, her throat and lungs are full of Monster Energy Drink from when she choked to death. If she even opens her mouth, the fizzy liquid will pour from her mouth.

The second being her personality is a lot more fragile and fearful; One of her biggest defining traits is her foul mouth and sharp wit, so she's more than willing to dish it out if someone starts. She's the type of person who would finish an argument, not start it. But beyond her 'hard as nails' exterior she puts on, she is extremely sensitive and scared, using insults and threats as leverage so that others won't hurt her first (a cliché I know😂) But since her one weapon has now been taken away, she goes into her shell and never stands up for herself, fearing not being able to fight her own corner. If you take away a scared person's weapon, they just become even more scared.

Her connection to Humphrey has become almost like a bloodline bond rather than adoption and is borderline toxic; While she is still not related to Humphrey by blood, in my Gore Au, each ghost is trapped in a permanent loop of going through the emotions they felt moments before their death. For example: Humphrey was under attack from Royal Guards before he died, so in death, he is still in that mindset where he feels like the door will be broken down any minute, constantly. Along with this, he believes that Amy is the daughter he and Sophie could've actually produced, causing him to be extremely possessive and protective of her. Due to her inability to talk, he fears that she will be arrested by the Queen's Guards too and be interrogated. But since she can't talk, it will seem like she's refusing to cooperate, and she'll be executed. Obviously that won't happen, but Humphrey is stuck in that state of mind in this purgatory. Amy is practically kept under house arrest by Humphrey and hidden anywhere he can hide her, even if he has to stash her away under his cloak and carry her around on his back to hide her, he will.

Amy's emotional state is stunted as well; Amy had a tough upbringing with long periods of neglect and verbal abuse, so she fell depressed many times in her life. Unfortunately, one of those low times was during her stay at Button House and leading up to her death, so she is constantly low and very withdrawn.

Her lips and eyes are affected; Because of the lack of oxygen during her death, Amy's lips turned blue and visible veins can be seen around her mouth and eyelids. Her eyes are also constantly bloodshot and leaking blood, since during her death, she coughed so much that it dislodged her eyeballs causing them to bulge forward. This makes her look like her eyes are twice the size they naturally should be (like a bushbaby!) As well as her skin being twice as pale.

Friends: Amy has no friends inside the house, Humphrey distances her from the others as much as he can due to fearing that they are Royal Guards in disguise (again...he's trapped in that paranoid mentality), but her bond with Silver is near enough the same as the 'canon'. Although it's mostly one sided, for Silver does all the talking due to Amy being mute.

Amy only saw Mary and Robin from a distance until she met Silver; Unlike the canon, Gore Mary never moved on. Gradually after the two girls got to know each other, mostly involving one of them sneaking away from their 'parent' to go investigate, Mary began to get used to Amy and allow her to visit the woods as long as she never brought the 'insiders' to them. Robin, being more like Mary's second hand man, would begrudgingly chaperone them to make sure none of the 'insiders' tried to catch them

[eyes-onthehorizon]

The Old Guard Provide... Leverage

It's the 1800s, and Martha recently left the employ of Sir Archibald Graham for reasons she can't discuss. The Old Guard help her get revenge and closure with a healthy dose of found family on the side. A reworking of February is a Month Like Any Other because it desperately needed editing. An Old GuardxLeverage mashup. Rape is implied and the circumstances around it are discussed in detail; the violence itself is only alluded to.

One (ao3)

heist [haɪst]

Word forms: plural heists

countable noun [oft noun NOUN]

A heist is a robbery, especially one in which money, jewellery, or art is stolen.

(“Is it really a heist if we’re actually avenging a crime?”

“Psht, technicalities. Heists are about derring-do, and there’s plenty of it to be done.”)

Nicoló was going out of his mind. Not so much as a whiff of a clue had presented itself and the excuses for burrowing around Whitechapel Manor were fraying at the edges. His carriage, which had so artfully broken down in the snow, had finally been repaired and Nicoló had no choice but to depart the following morning.

Andy was desperate for him to get into the study at any cost; in a last-ditch attempt, he’d decided to write a few letters for his beloved who was waiting to commence their belated honeymoon. All my papers had been ruined in the snow, you see, he’d shrugged self-effacingly at the butler. Might I trouble the study for a few pages?

The same butler stood sentry at the doorway. He wasn’t a distrustful man, quite the opposite: Jennings had been the one to oversee his recovery after he’d taken that nasty fall off Sir Graham’s stallion. He’d become something of a mother hen to Nicoló, and constantly hovered nearby in case a bookshelf or candlestick might decide to commit murder.

It would have been sweet, really, if Nicoló hadn’t been in the midst of intelligence-gathering against one of Britain’s most powerful men. In his own home.

Without looking up from the desk, he spoke: “Jennings, would you be so kind as to fetch me some tea and scones? This is thirsty work.”

He saw Jennings hesitate from the corner of his eye, and kept his expression still. “There is nothing to worry about, old chap. The worst that can happen in here is a paper-cut and I think even I might survive such a calamity.”

“Ha, right you are, Sir. I’ll be back in a moment.” Thank goodness he had a sense of humour.

Nicoló moved as quickly as he could, rifling through drawers and boxes, returning them to their original state with a dexterity Andy had always admired.

(“It’s freaky. You’re a freak.”

“Andy, we don’t die. We are all freaks here.”)

It wasn’t until he could hear Jennings’ footsteps returning down the hallway that he found the hidden compartment in the desk. He made a show of walking around the room, deep in thought, turning only when he was spoken to.

“Your food, Sir.” Jennings said a little breathlessly. Had he rushed? The man was definitely pinker than when he'd left. Nicoló felt a pre-emptive flash of shame at what he was about to do.

“Ah, splendid. Thank you. Do you have any more of the marmalade from breakfast? And is there any chance Cook could rustle up a sandwich with those little tomatoes? I’m positively famished.” Nicoló knew the marmalade had run out because he’d heard the cook grumbling about it when he went down for hot milk the previous evening. It seems he’d eaten through quite the supply during his stay. And cherry tomatoes, at this time of year? It was more unlikely than one would think.

Jennings’ smile had reduced to something resembling a straight line – never a scowl, the man was much too professional for that – the longer Nicoló’s requests went on. Nevertheless, he was bound to do his duty. He bowed, a little, and departed once again.

Nicoló let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. This was the worst part of masquerading as a toff: the way he was expected to treat the servants.

He took another turn around the enormous desk to inspect the hidden compartment. It had been jammed hastily shut, with the key hanging conspicuously from a hook on the wall. Nicoló turned it, but the damn thing was stuck.

I’m so close.

He wiggled the drawer.

Jennings is coming.

He tried pushing from below.

What is he hiding?

He took out his pen-knife.

I’m going to get caught.

Tried to leverage it open.

Calm. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm-

He smacked at it in frustration, and this of all things was what finally did the trick. He emptied it, papers and all, into the wastebasket alongside all his crumpled up draft letters. Not wasting a second, he slid the drawer shut, turned the key and returned it to the hook as he kicked the basket over.

Jennings entered the room, bearing a full tray of food and a second pot of tea. The guilt washed over Nicoló again as they both realised he hadn’t touched the first pot that Jennings had gone running for, but the butler’s glance at the messy floor brought him back into the moment.

“Oh my. I’m so clumsy. I do apologise Jennings – would you mind setting up my tea in the blue sitting room?”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll tidy the mess after you’ve tucked in-”

“No need, my fine fellow. Truth be told, I’d rather these letters remain for my beloved’s eyes only. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge and all that, you know? I’ll get this tidied up in a jiffy.”

Torn between the need to do as he was told and allowing a gentleman to do a servant’s work, Jennings hesitated a moment before deciding to just take the easy way out, for once. Nicoló sent up a prayer of gratitude and began piling everything back into the wastebasket.

[big-bad-a-detective-story]

Chapter 08

“Will he… be alright?”

Sound. Murmured, but most certainly voices. The darkness still had a strong hold on me, feeling tight and clinging around me in its heavy velvet blanket. I groaned, only barely recognizing it as such, which seemed to cause the void to laugh.

“Oh, he’ll be fine, Ms. Meaiz. Look, the young man is coming to, already.” 

That name. I knew that name. It was at that moment I recalled I had eyes, and attempted to open them. I hissed as the light stung, instantly blinding me. I flinched away from its hold, back to the darkness. 

It was realizing I couldn’t move at all that jolted me awake.

“What… What happened?” I blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Attacked… I was attacked. To my left was the goat woman, still sitting in her seat, brows furrowed with worry. It was then, with a limp flop of my head, that I noticed another figure looming from the side. 

Even in my compromised state I knew who my attacker had been.

“YOU!”

HIM: the Crooked Man! Just as horrid looking as his name implied. He was hunched, leaning on a cane so as to throw his weight off a leg that looked like it had been broken every which way. He smirked, wrinkled lips cracked into a smug smile as he limped closer. I growled, baring my teeth.

“Alright, you maladjusted mangled miscreant-” I jerked, only then thinking to look down and noticed I had been tied to a chair. I put my focus back onto our captor. “What did you DO to me?”

The Crooked Man scoffed.

“Come now. You’re the master detective here, my boy. Surely you should know when you’ve had a run in with chloroform?”

Ah. Yes, of course. Not even someone such as I can stand up to the wonders of that solvent. I inwardly cursed myself for letting my guard down to such a drastic degree. It only took a few more fruitless tugs to realize I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

My only consolation being I didn’t see the kid. I had hopes she left safely. Perhaps she’d get help.

And perhaps she’d get distracted by something bright and shiny along the way. Kids: adorable, but not the most reliable.

“Alright, fine. Next question; why kidnap this little lady, hm? What’s she got to do with any of this? You’re not using her promised safety in return for Larry’s silence, are you?”

I didn’t know why I was asking, I already knew it to be true. But the man only gave a low chuckle.

“Oh, what good would that do? No, I simply borrowed the little miss in hopes of finding answers. How much Larry knows, what he plans on oversharing. I need to cover my bases, and well, I can’t very well ask him directly, now can I, Mr.Wolf?”

He gave me an unimpressed glare that told me I was being accused of something. The, putting Larry Lemonade behind bars, kind of something. 

“Oh, like it’s MY fault he decided to go from petty theft to kidnapping.” I turned as best as I could in the chair to throw a glare over at the other prisoner. “Really, lady, you sure know how to pick ‘em. What, planned on raising a couple thieves of your own?”

Ms. Meaiz blinked rapidly, looking between both men with shock on her features.

“Oh my, heavens no. Larry would never! He’s… He’s constantly teaching them right from wrong.”

HA! The woman was clearly delusional.

“I’m afraid Mr. LeMond doesn’t speak much about his work.” It was the Crooked Man who spoke up this time, shrugging some as he held onto his cane. “Talks over tea made that abundantly clear-- Ms. Meaiz has no knowledge of the criminal world outside of simply knowing it’s his profession. The plan had been to let her go come morning, showing her beloved the leverage we could pull should he fall out of line again.”

The crooked but pleased smile had fallen from his face, features growing dark as he shook his head with pity. Something told me I wouldn’t like where this was heading.

“Alas: you, sir, caused a complication. You’ve seen too much, and two sets of eyes can be a dreadful hindrance, indeed. More likely to mention what’s been seen.”

And it was at this moment the doors to the room opened-- in walked a startled pair of goons. This seemed to please the ringleader all the more, as he let his good eye land upon both the cat and mouse.

“Ah, Mr. Zig and Zag. Just in time. I’m afraid dinner plans must be put on hold. We have more important arrangements to make.” He limped forward, his underlings having already headed out the door from which they came. The Crooked Man stopped for a moment as he looked me in the eyes.

“We’ll leave you two a moment to say your prayers. I am not without some kindness. It will take a bit to set up the woodchipper, after all.” That good for nothing creep! I was fuming, and getting all the more worked up as he had the audacity to throw a pitied look at the woman next to me. “Terribly sorry for all this, my dear. I take no pleasure from this. Merely business.”

I practically expected her to tell the guy she understood and forgave him, but instead she closed her eyes and hung her head sadly. I could feel her Mother’s Disappointment radiating off of her from where I sat. Powerful stuff.

“You won’t get away with this!” I called out after him as he left and the door shut behind him. Tacky, cliche, overused, yes I know. But I had to say SOMETHING. Things weren’t looking very bright for the two of us, my unshakable determination and optimism had been both shaken and stirred.

The door creaked open slowly a moment later, my train of concentrated thought broken. What was left of my good mood shattered as I watched the little girl shuffle inside, quietly shutting the door behind her, glancing around the room with wide eyes.

She hadn’t gotten out. Now she was in grave danger, too. Fantastic.

“Daniya? Oh, sweetie, what are you doing here!” Ms. Meaiz sounded suitably worried, but the kid was all smiles as she sprinted across the room toward her lost and found mother.

“Momma!” Daniya threw her little arms around her mom in a hug she was unable to return. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you! I’m a stickyboot now, the detective said so!”

Stickyboot. Right. The kid stretched up as far as she could to whisper loudly to her mother. “Stickyboot is super secret code for detective.”

“Gumshoe.” I instantly corrected, refusing to humor the scene. I shifted in my seat, demonstrating the situation. “Look, Daniya, I’m going to need your help.” 

This got the kid’s attention. Good. I nodded towards my chest-- not an easy feat, you know.

“In my coat there’s a pocket knife.Upper inner pocket, near my chest. Do you think you can grab it to cut us free?”

I had to give it to the girl, her enthusiasm-- even in such a dire situation-- was infectious. Daniya gasped, pleased at the idea. She ran to my side of the table, and even with stretching myself as much as I could, it was evident that the kid just wasn’t tall enough.

“Climb.” I growled in a low voice, ear twitching as I tried to focus on any distant noise that would tell the whereabouts of our captors. I looked the kid in the eyes, her focus completely on me as I elaborated. “Climb into my lap. Hurry!”

Daniya didn’t need to be told twice, as her short boney limbs jabbed my thighs. I oofed as a knee came in contact with my stomach.

“Oh, do be careful, honey.” Ms. Meaiz told her daughter-- whether it was for me or so her daughter wouldn’t fall, as she dug a hand down my jacket… well. I suppose it didn’t much matter, did it? The kid flailed, desperately digging and patting about.

Having elbowed me in the jaw in the process.

“Hey, watch the merchandise!” I hissed.

“Got it!” The little girl cried, holding up her prize with triumph. She plopped down onto her bottom, using my lap as a slide back to the floor. Oh… I was going to feel all those bruises in the morning.

If we even lived through this, that is.

“Okay,” I instructed, getting back my bearings. “Open the case. Good. Do you think you can come behind the chair and cut through the rope? WITHOUT cutting either of us, I mean.”

She stood up straight and gave an awkward but enthusiastic salute. “Detective Daniya is on the case, leave it to me!”

I couldn’t help but feel I was being mocked. Saluting isn’t even a thing detectives do! Ms. Maeiz’s little giggle only solidified the notion, but looking back on it now, at least it distracted me from the reality of a young child wielding a knife mere centimeters from my person. In fact, I was so distracted, the next thing I knew, my bonds were loosened, and I was able to wriggle myself free of my trappings.

The kid was alright.

“Nice work, kid! Keep working hard, and I see real sidekick potential in your future.”

Daniya gasped and smiled. Yeah, I’ve always been pretty handy with kids.

“Mr. Wolf?” I turned my attention to Ms. Maeiz. “He put your gun over there. In the top drawer, if you need it.” She tilted her head in the general direction of a crooked cabinet in the corner.

I nodded my thanks, as I was already heading towards it.

“Gumshoe, cut your mom free and get her out of here.” I pulled out my tranquilizer gun, pleased it didn’t look tampered with. I flashed a heroic grin at the ladies in the room. “I’ll take care of the Crooked Man.”

And with that I was gone, running from the room as quickly and quietly as I could. I needed to be focused, my thoughts couldn’t stray to what ifs and what’s whats. I would have to trust that the Meaizs would follow my instructions.

[erodasfishtacos]

Take a Hike

Prompt: When Harry and Y/N take the baby for a hike and end up being followed by fans.

word count: 2.2 k

contains: language, sexual content

Harry was furious. He just wanted to go on a hike  - like a normal family on a warm June day in a beautiful foreign country.

You were currently in Madrid - on Harry’s European leg of the tour.

While Harry had been doing press - you and Sasha had taken to the hotel pool where she could splash and enjoy the water all day.

It wasn’t without a eagle-eyed security guard who lurked in the background for shady characters and overzealous fans.

Fans - they wanted picture with you because you were Harry Styles’ wife. Not inherently famous on your own.

It was a bit odd, but you didn’t mind occasionally stopping to snap a pic with a excited fans. 

However, when you and Harry were out with the baby - it was completely off limits. Neither Harry nor you would stop for fans and paparazzi if you were toting around your little love.

She didn’t like the crowds and shouts that came along with swarms of people. She would slap her little hands over her ears, dig her face into her parent’s neck, and whimper.

Harry had always been protective of you when it came to these situations. One of the major downfalls of being so famous.

Harry had nearly gotten arrested when a clumsy pap had nearly push you over while you were eight months along. 

**

You and Harry had loaded up all the necessities for the five-mile hike on one of the trails right outside the city.

Sasha had a generous amount of sunscreen on and a little hat to protect her face. She refused to wear the sunglasses.

Harry had a pack for her - so you helped him load your two-year-old onto his back. He knew it was going to ache like a motherfucker but she was a bit too heavy for you. You opted for the backpack with everything in it.

The trail was semi-busy. Both of you donned sunglasses and hats to attempt to disguise yourselves a little bit.

Harry had even pulled on a hoodie - despite the heat - to cover his very recognizable tattoos.

You made it the two and a half miles in without any interruptions. 

Sasha falling asleep halfway through the trek with her cheek smushed against her father’s shoulder blade.

You snapped a few pictures in front of the waterfalls and beautiful rock structures. But you had decided not to wake your daughter from her nap.

You and Harry had taken an obligatory kissing selfie that would likely be your new Lock Screen. 

You both had made the mistake of taking off your sunglasses for the picture because you can hear muted whispers from other tourists.

“Is that fucking Harry Styles?”

“Yes. Oh my god! That’s his wife and baby!”

“Snap a video, Emilia!”

Harry’s noticeable tenses as he slides his sunglasses back onto his nose. Protective papa bear was in full-force around strangers who knew who he was.

The most important thing in Harry’s mind was his family’s safety.

“Let’s go, lovie,” Harry murmurs softly. His British accent surely giving him away if they heard it.

You nod anxiously - pointedly not making eye contact with the fans and small group that was gathering.

As you begin the journey back down the small mountain - you notice the group trailing behind you. Following you guys.

Jaw clenched, you want to scream at them to stop taking pictures of your sleeping baby. But you attempt to keep your cool.

It wasn’t more than ten teenage girls but it didn’t really matter who it was.

The girls are getting louder, more excited. When one of them squeals in joy of seeing her celebrity crush - who she had ticket for his concert tomorrow as did the rest of the group.

The noise startles the curly-haired baby on Harry’s back awake. She immediately starts crying - her hands coming to grip frantically in her fathers matching curls.

“Daddy,” Sasha sobs, grabbing at him as the girls keep snapping pictures and cooing.

Harry’s face is stone - attempting to keep his anger at bay. He was about to lose his shit and you couldn’t blame him.

He couldn’t always treat people with kindness.

“Down, want down,” she lisps, no longer wanting to be confined in her pack. It was also most likely time for a diaper change.

“Not right now, sweetheart. Please be good for mumma and I,” Harry rasps, reaching back to give her leg a comforting pat.

You look at your husband, “Please - let’s just try to make it out of here as soon as possible.”

Harry sighs, “I’m sorry, love.”

You brush his shoulder lightly, “it isn’t your fault people act this way. I just can’t stand when this happens around her.”

Harry’s slight smile from your reassurance turns into a glare when he realizes the nosy fans were trying to talk to his upset baby - who notably did not like strangers.

He’s quick to unstrap the toddler and shuffle her into your arms. You cradle her and turn you back away from the group. 

“Mumma, no cameras,” she whines, her words a little jumbled but you understood.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s going to take care of it,” you coo assuringly. Her fingers finding their way into her mouth to soothe her.

Harry slides her carrier off his shoulders and tosses it next to your feet. He’s trailing over to the jumpy, overly-excited fans.

“Listen,” he states firmly, speaking loudly over their giggles, “y’need to stop following us and takin’ pictures. You’re scaring our baby.”

They chatter a bit, begging from picture and then they promise they’ll leave us alone.

“Absolutely not,” Harry states, trying to stay level headed with these immature teens who adored him.

With that, he’s headed back to you guys. The girls shouting unflattering things at him like “asshole” and “douchebag.”

He decided to ignore it and quickly allows you to strap the baby back into her carrier. His eyes study your face to make sure you’re alright and you give him a calm smile, squeezing at his bicep.

—- 

The girls trailed off after a few more minutes of following us. Harry hummed and sang a few nursery rhymes to Sasha to keep her calm but she was still fussy.

Back the hotel, Sasha was freshly bathed and laid down for a nap in the second bedroom. A baby monitor sat on the bathroom countertop as you two showered off the sweat and dirt.

Harry was still upset about the incident so you decided upon a good cuddle in a warm shower. His cheek was rested in the top of you head and his arms holding you to his wet chest.

“Just want to be normal - for one fuckin’ day,” he huffs with frustration.

“We had a totally normal, fun hike. It wasn’t ruined, I promise. It’s our reality so they’re is no use in being upset about it.”

Harry loved how level-headed you were to balance out his irrational, impulsive feelings and actions.

“You’re t’good to me, I love you.”

“At the end of the day, I knew what I was signing up for when you and I got married. I also knew when we had Sasha that paparazzi would still hound you.”

“Didn’t sign up to be harassed constantly though. I just feel so bad about it sometimes. It scares Sasha and it makes me feel like a bad father.”

You knew he was about to throw himself into a downward spiral if you didn’t distract him. 

“You know what else I signed up for when I married you?” I murmur into his neck, letting my lips ghost over his hammering pulse.

“Wha’s that?” He asks genuinely, a little slow on the uptake because of how deep in thought he was.

“That you would fuck me whenever I wanted,” you nearly purr, landing a not-so-gentle nip to the vein protruding on his neck.

“Is tha’ right? Put a ring on your finger and now I gotta give you my cock whenever you please?” He grunts at your teeth pinching his sensitive skin.

It’s amazing how it takes little to no effort to get this man in the mood.

“Mmm, if you want to be a good, dutiful husband,” you taunt - knowing he’ll take the bait.

“Am I not a good husband, pet? I fuck you any chance you let me. Give it to you anytime time you wan’ it. You know that.”

His hand is tugging your thigh up roughly, making your centers align with delicious pressure as he slips right between your folds.

“Harry,” Y/N groans, your head falling down to watch where he’s teasingly grinding his cock against your entrance and clit.

“Want me t’put it in, love?” He drawls like he has all the time in the world. The water pelting on his back making him pink.

“Ple-please,” you choke out, nipples harden against his chest even in the warmth of the shower. Sensitive with every brush against his smooth pecs. 

“You know what else you signed up for when y’married me?” He asks, his voice as deep and smooth as honey.

“What?” I reply, whining each time he teases at pushing in.

“That when you beg for my prick - you’ll be a good girl and take it.” 

With that, he’s thrusting up into you with full force. His sharp hipbones meeting the plushy, soft skin of yours.

“Ooh, oh fuck,” Y/N gasps, wrapping an arm around his neck as he presses brushing marks into your thigh where he’s holding you for leverage.

“C’mon, you can take it,” your husband goads, relentlessly hitting the spot that send licks of flames of your spine.

Your legs are feeling weak with how hard he’s pounding into you. He is so intuned with your body that he moves his hands to you backside.

He lifts you up easily, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his presses you back into the cold tile wall. 

He was so fucking good. How’d you manage to marry him? Unexplainable. 

“Am I good husband? Fuck you well enough?” He hisses against your open mouth as you pant heavily.

“So so good, H. Best husband ever,” you whimper, welcoming the friction from his pelvis against your swollen bud.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs happily, “I think you deserve to come”

You throw your head back as he speeds up, fingers reaching to flick at your nerves - just on the right side of painful.

It’s just what you needed to climax. He always somehow knew what you needed. His fingers are consistent as he lets you ride it out.

It is only a few more rough thrusts before he’s cursing and coming as well. His hand grasping harshly at your jaw to bring you into a searing kiss.

“Never gonna get sick of watchin’ you come on my cock,” he chuckles, carefully placing your feet back on the ground but keeping a tight hold of your hips.

You lean in to give him a quick but meaningful kiss before going about cleaning your body again after the mess you two created. 

It takes a little longer than necessarily due to you constantly having to bat his wandering hands away from your body.

—-

It dark out now, the city of Madrid illuminated through the large windows of the high-rise hotel.

Sasha was exhausted after the hike and full day at the pool - despite napping twice. She was always out like a light around eight-thirty

You were tightly tucked into Harry’s side, head resting on his shoulder. Your eyes becoming bleary from drowsiness. 

Your toddler was sprawled out on Harry’s chest, fast asleep with one of your husband’s large hands resting on her back. 

Harry was scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he chuckle softly, handing you his mobile to see what was on the screen.

It was a video-recording of an Instagram Live. 

The video forwarded by Jeff. The volume low to not disturb your daughter.

It was a teenager girl who looks unpleasantly familiar.

“Um - yeah. So we saw him and we were hiking freaking out. ‘Cause like we’re going to his concert tomorrow.”

Then girls eyes flick to the commenters to answer questions.

“He had his baby. His wife was there too.”

“No, so he was so unfriendly! He flipped out because we wanted an autograph!”

The girl was mimicking Harry’s thick accent, “when we asked for a picture - he legit said ‘absolutely not.’”

I shake my head at the girl’s antics, “how dare you not take a photo. You’re such a dick.” You tease.

Harry smirks, taking the phone back and tossing it on the cushion. His hand rubbing gentle circles on his sleepy baby.

“None of tha’ matters,” Harry says softly, “I don’t care what anybody but you thinks ‘bout me. At the end of the day, as long as I have you and the bab - I’ll be happy.”

[liquid-geodes]

Okay so I wholeheartedly believe Circus Baby wasn't after Michael because of who he looked like, and it doesn't make sense for her to either.

See the thing is, William didn't actually kill Elizabeth, in fact he worked very hard to prevent her from dying. William NEVER let Elizabeth go near Circus Baby, because he knew what would happen to her if she was ever alone with her. Circus Baby was designed to kill a child once the child was alone, didn't matter who it was, just as long as they were alone.

But it mattered to William.

It mattered to him that the child Baby killed wouldn't he his own daughter, he loved his children, he didn't want them to get hurt. And judging by Elizabeth's tone in Sister Location, she's been pestering her father for a chance to see Circus Baby for a long time, and each time William hasn't budged in the slightest. Elizabeth only got hurt because she went against what her father said, it was an accident.

William never wanted it to be Elizabeth, he did not and would not have killed her. If he wanted to he would have already done it, he would have let her join the other children during Circus Baby's performances, he wouldn't have stopped her.

I think her biggest driving factor in killing Michael was simply opportunity. She didn't know who he was, just that he was the knew nightly security guard, which meant she'd be seeing him every single night. That gave her as much time as she needed to earn his trust, get him where she needed him to be, and escape. Because in the end, that's all she wanted. When everything was said and done, she just wanted to get out. Elizabeth was just a kid, like all the other lost souls, she was scared and confused and knew that what happened to her wasn't fair. She wasn't supposed to be there, she was supposed to be out there living her life.

But of course her goal changes with the introduction of Springtrap to Pizzeria Sim and he yknow, isn't stupid. He knows that's his daughter, he knows he can manipulate her into listening this time. And now she just wants to make him proud. So now maybe she's trying to kill Michael because of who he is, but she probably doesn't want to kill him. She just wants to make William proud of her, which absolutely implies he used her death as leverage. He most likely got her to go along with his scheme by pointing out what happened to her last time she didn't listen to him, and how if she wanted to avoid the same thing happening again she would listen to her father. And she does.

But anyway, my point is, it doesn't make sense for Michael's appearance to be her motivating factor. William did not kill her, and actively tried to avoid it.

I genuinely believe William Afton loved his children, and I think it was the death of his two youngest children that really sent him spiraling over the edge. Because I mean, he built Circus Baby JUST for Elizabeth. If he didn't care about his children he would go out of his way to create something so complex JUST for his daughter. And look at Foxy, arguably Michael's favorite growing up right? Foxy is CONSTANTLY breaking down and has proven to be more trouble than he's worth from a company standpoint. Why bother constantly spending time and money fixing something so prone to breaking down? Probably because he was Michael's favorite! And William knew that! THAT'S why he'd spend so much time trying to keep the original in working order instead of scrapping it and starting over.

Look man I just have THOUGHTS

[votederpycausemufins]

All my knowledge is of hermitcraft and the stuff people have written for the Hermit!Tommy Au but I kept having this idea and needed to write it. I also think i got a bit out of character halfway through because it was supposed to be short, but i vibed with it too much so now it’s long and maybe not 100% accurate but it’s still angst followed by fluff.

also @petrichormeraki wanted me to tag them when i posted this.

Tommy had been with the Hermits for a while now. He hadn’t really kept track of when he first arrived, but it had at least been a few months. Otherwise, time was a mess. The Hermits has all but legally adopted him and all the joy that came from them caring for him made time seem to fly by.

Doc was fun to be around because while Tommy was perfectly fine never going back to the SMP, the way the man acted gave Tommy a small bit of familiarity in a good way to his past life.

He likes hanging out with False, mainly for sparring. Never anything deadly, but even if there wasn’t a need for Tommy to constantly look over his shoulder, it was good to keep from getting too rusty.

He doesn’t really hang out with Zedaph as much as Zedaph hangs out with him. Normally the Hermit would come out of the blue with something new for Tommy to try. Flicking levers over and over for something that would normally be as simple as using a furnace just became fun for Tommy, especially if he had energy pent up.

Xisuma is someone Tommy doesn’t run into much, but the fact that he doesn’t is something Tommy finds comfort in. Even as the server admin, the man is very down to Earth. Nothing like Dream ever was.

And then there’s Grian. Tommy got along with all the Hermits fine and of course there were some he preferred over others, but Grian took the cake for him. When he first showed up, Grian was the one to give him a place to stay at his old hobbit hole. Professor Beaks had been left there and still used to the SMP and scared for his life, Tommy hid the pet bird as leverage for his own safety. When Grian found out, he mostly shrugged it off, but the tens of chickens in the hobbit hole the next day was proof of retaliation.

Tommy didn’t understand the underwhelming response at first, but responded in kind, using the eggs from the chickens Grian had left to egg the Hermit’s base. When the builder nearly broke the door to the hobbit hole, Tommy grabbed his axe, ready to fight for his life, but was taken aback by the cheerful look on Grian’s face.

After that, Grian had practically taken Tommy under his wing. He showed Tommy how to build more effectively with cobble, eventually managing to get the teen to have some variety. Grian also brought Tommy along on his various chaotic endeavors, leaving behind chickens, mycelium, and possibly some missing doors.

The two chaotic red wearing Brits got along so well that they sometimes spent entire weeks together. Because of that, Tommy was all too aware that the Hermits participated in MCC as well.

It made sense. A few of the Hermits vaguely recognised him when he showed up in Hermitcraft and a few of them looked familiar to Tommy. That had made him feel a little safer since now these people weren’t complete strangers, but it did complicate things. Every so often, the portal to MCC would open and the Hermits participating would go through. The closest Tommy would get to the portal was just before the Hermits left, occasionally giving a ‘Good luck Grine!’ or something similar to Grian as he went through. But after that Tommy stayed as far away as he could manage.

The portal there led to MCC. And from there, there was a portal that led to the SMP. If Tommy could get to Hermitcraft, others could too. And that idea was terrifying, no matter who it was. Dream was a worst case scenario, but even if it was Tubbo. Tubbo had exiled him, and even if they were still on good terms after that, Tommy could have visited at some other MCC, but he didn’t, and that idea likely wouldn’t go over well, especially since otherwise, people probably thought he was dead and Tommy didn’t care to correct them.

But compared to all those other times, today was very different. Today Tommy wasn’t at the sidelines to help send off the other Hermits, he was one of the ones being sent off. They had taken every precaution. Mumbo had rebuilt his Spookification chamber for Tommy with some alterations, specifically removing the firework method of alteration. The teen was also dressed for being on a team with Grian as the Cyan Creepers, so his familiar red and white shirt was missing. But under Tommy’s costume, he still kept the chain necklace holding his compass. He refused to part with it, though made sure he would be hard to access to keep from glancing, knowing at the championships, it wouldn’t be spinning wildly anymore.

With a comforting pat on the back from Grian, he and the other Hermits walked through the portal. The crowd of people that were on the side almost immediately overwhelmed Tommy, making him think that it was a bad idea all over again, but the sight of the two other team members for the Cyan Creepers reassured them, especially as they lined up for the cameras for some fun and silly times. Then once the games began, he was too focused on winning to think of much else.

Before long, the championships were over. They had come in fifth, which was a bit disappointing at first, but on the other hand, it was still pretty good and kept the spotlight off of him. When dodgebolt began, Tommy stood next to Grian, but with a crowd of people, a good game, and no perfect place to sit, the both of them wandered for a better vantage point.

At one point, Tommy managed to push his way right up to the edge of the viewing ledge. It was the perfect place for a while until the action moved, causing everyone to decide it was the perfect place. Enough people moved nearby that Tommy was worried about falling into the pit below, and he almost did before someone pulled him back.

Tommy was ready to thank whichever Hermit or even other player helped him but the words died in his throat when he faced the person who grabbed him. He knew that mask and neon green color. And there was no reason for him to help Tommy unless-

“I finally found you!” Dream spoke. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but not too much to draw the attention of others. Tommy froze as he definitely heard the words. But there was no way for Dream to know, he didn’t look at all like normal.

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy tried not to stutter, hoping just the situation of being grabbed would excuse it. “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for. I’m new here. Unless you’re greeting me for being new.” It was something he prepared before in his mind after Grian brought up the possibility, but it felt sloppy putting it to use.

“Oh don’t lie Tommy. I know it’s you. I guess you got lost, but it’s okay, you can come back now. I got rid of the exile for you. Aren’t you glad?”

Tommy was glad for the mask that covered Dream’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dream’s actual expression. “How did you-” He started to speak, but Dream cut him off, poking Tommy’s chest, right where the compass was.

“Weren’t you paying attention to the teams? Tubbo got put with me. And between games he just happened to glance at his own compass. And wouldn’t you know it, it led me right here.” Dream held up the compass that belonged to Tubbo. It looked damaged, and it was recent. Tubbo likely didn’t want to give the tyrant admin the compass, but lost it to Dream anyway.

“Give that back to Tubbo!” Tommy shouted at Dream, trying to snatch it from him.

“Feisty now, aren’t you? We can take care of that when you come back. I’ll also give it back to him if you come with me.”

Tommy froze. There was no way he was going back, but what could he do? Everyone was focused on dodgebolt, and he didn’t want his appearance to have caused more trouble for Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at the crowd one last time before reluctantly nodding. Dream grabbed his hand in a painful clench and dragged him out of the crowd towards the SMP’s portal to leave. However, just before reaching it, Dream stopped. Tommy, who had been looking back at the crowd, hoping someone would see what was going on, turned towards the portal to see Grian standing in front of it.

“Heya, where do you think you’re going. MCC isn’t over yet. Dodgebolt it still going on.”

Tommy expected Dream to just push past Grian or even give some sort of retort, but the actual reply was shocking. “Uh, n-no, just… have to head back early. Th-the game delays made things run over. A-and we’ve got to get b-back for… something else. Don’t w-want to be late for that.”

Dream’s words made Tommy so shocked he forgot to breathe. Dream was scared, no he was terrified. And he was terrified… of Grian. Tommy looked back at the Hermit who stood unflinching in front of them.

“Really? I could have sworn that you were here when I arrived, and that kid wasn’t. And he definitely came from a different portal. I know since I was keeping my eye out for my teammates. So why’s he going with you?”

“I uh…” Dream struggled, struggled, to give an answer, letting Grian continue. “That’s what I thought. C’mon kid, let’s go back to the crowd. You can stay with me until it’s over then I’ll help you find your portal back.”

And Grian took Tommy away without any retaliation from Dream. Tommy was left in awe. Grian wasn’t even an admin in Hermitcraft but Dream was terrified of him. It was amazing! But at the same time, it made Tommy spiral a bit.

When everyone returned, Grian had made sure Dream left before the Hermits and Tommy did so Dream couldn’t watch Tommy leave. Tommy stuck to False’s side as they walked through the portal, Grian being the last to come through as he continued to act as a guard. When he tried to comfort Tommy after his run-in with Dream, he understood when the teen responded he just wanted to go home. The championships were exhausting enough without a scare like that.

The next day, Tommy hung out with False. And then Zedaph, and then Doc. Grian noticed immediately, but didn’t pay much mind to it. He noticed since Tommy had spent a full week only hanging out with him, so the sudden absence of the boy was noticeable, but it made sense that he would want to hang out with the others.

After that, Grian didn’t pay too much attention to the lack of Tommy until he ran into him while stocking the barge. Tommy had been buying something at the store when Grian flew in. He nearly dropped his diamonds in trying to leave in such a hurry that it finally concerned Grian. The builder started visiting other Hermits Tommy tended to visit and ask about him. No one really noticed much other than Tommy dodging any questions about him possibly going to hang out with Grian.

Grian decided to leave it alone, and he was definitely going to, but after another run in with Tommy, he threw that decision out the window. Grian normally wouldn’t have done this, but after trying multiple times to just talk to Tommy and being unsuccessful, the builder had to essentially corner the teen.

Immediately, Grian regretted it. Tommy was trembling, obviously scared, holding a sword in his hand. He carefully tried to point out that Tommy didn’t need to have his sword out, but instead of just putting it away, Tommy just threw it on the ground, also throwing down his other gear. Grian had heard of Tommy doing this before with the other Hermits, so he immediately recognised what was going on and dived to grab the gear. It scared Tommy more, but Grian wanted to make sure nothing ended up destroyed.

“Tommy, calm down, I just want to talk. Did I do something wrong? I mean, obviously I must have, you look scared out of your mind every time I’m around you. But I can’t think or anything I did and I don’t want this to keep happening. So can I know what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a while. He just looked defeated and terrified. Grian called in some of the other Hermits to come help Tommy calm down, though at first it didn’t help. But over time, Tommy finally did stop looking so terrified and they moved to somewhere he would feel less cornered. It took more coaxing after that, but finally, Tommy explained himself.

“He’s scared of you. Dream is… actually scared of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed him once or twice. Plus my full name is Lord Grian Dreamslayer, so it’s kind of in the name.” The builder tried to say it as a joke, but it didn’t seem to lighten the mood.”

“He’s the admin and he’s scared of you. And you… I’ve been hanging out with you.”

Grian nodded. “Well yeah, we do fit together well. ...Did he say something at MCC to make you think I didn’t like you?”

Tommy shook his head. “N-No. You’re right, you’re fun to be around. But dream likes… liked messing with me. And tried to train me. And I hang out with you more than I had with him, and I’m more like you. I-If you’re somehow more powerful than him-!” The rest of the words stopped in Tommy’s throat, choking him up. Stress was nearby and gave Tommy a careful hug for comfort, which helped him a little.

Grian waited a little bit for the tension to calm slightly before he spoke. “I don’t know exactly what Dream has done to you. You’ve told us a lot, but you obviously haven’t told us everything, and telling us isn’t the same as experiencing it. But let me tell you that I’m not going to do what he’s done to you. I remember how you were the first day we found you. And I see how you are now- well, how you were a few weeks ago- and I’m happy. Happy because you’ve been happy. You’ve been safe and cared for here and it shows. I don’t want to force you to be anything, I want you to be you. Sure, I’m powerful enough to kill Dream, but I’m not going to use that power on you. I’m only going to use it around you if it’s to keep him away from you.

“And! And! It’s just because of how your server is. Here we can go to the end. We don’t have a set amount of lives. We build massive structures and sell totems for a single diamond each. We fight Withers for fun and make farms with them. We farm just about anything you can think of. And Tommy.” Grian paused, making sure Tommy was paying attention. “You may be from somewhere far off that none of us old Hermits have seen, but now you’re here. And new home or not, that makes you a Hermit too. Sure you can be like me. Or you can be like False or Doc or Scar or Mumbo. But so far, you’ve been pretty you. And that you is a Hermit.”

Tommy took a few moments to process it, but the message seemed to get through to him. With that, Grian stood up with a smile. “Now I get that you probably don’t want to hang around me much right now. It makes sense. Maybe hang out with some other Hermits and learn some new stuff to get your mind off of things. Plus, I also did some talking around looking for you, and got you this.”

Tommy’s eyes practically sparkled as Grian placed down some music discs. He greedily grabbed the treasures and stuffed them in his inventory, looking up just to see Grian flying off. Taking on Grian’s idea, Tommy decided to go with Cleo and try to wrap his head around those armor stands again. While he wasn’t a pro, he did manage to make one scene of the hermits all holding weapons and surrounding an armor stand in lime leather armor. Grian was right. He was a Hermit. And he wasn’t going back. At least, not permanently, he thought, clutching his compass. Maybe, there would even be another Hermit like him.

[sadviper]

Woo Do Hwan: Interview with Kankoku TV Drama vol. 97 (Aug 2020)

Once again, much thanks to @staidwaters​ for graciously reviewing and correcting!!! This was a really hefty interview, hope you enjoy~

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

Woo Do Hwan

Sword, bow, and horseback riding for the first time

A “Monstrous Newcomer” in a career-making, historical drama debut

In 2016, in the movie “Master”, Woo Do Hwan played the role of Lee Byung Hyun’s subordinate. Even though he appeared onscreen for just three minutes, he left a strong impression, attracting attention. Since then, he starred in “Save Me” (2017 OCN), taking on the nickname of “Monstrous Newcomer” and setting out on a brilliant career path. The next step he takes will be his first historical drama “My Country” (2019 JTBC).

Tackling a historical drama is an ideal chance for young and promising actors to grow; they have a rare chance to study in depth with multiple superb veteran actors over the long filming period. Woo Do Hwan did not miss this opportunity. His new work “The King: Eternal Monarch” (2020 SBS) leverages 120% of what he learned from “My Country”, and his popularity is surging.

Struck by a midwinter waterfall, the most dreadful and frigid opportunity to showcase yourself

--What kind of work is ”My Country”?

WDH: Each of the characters clash with the others for the sake of their personal convictions. This drama depicts their love and friendships. The country they are each reaching for … in a way, you could say they seek the same goal. Everyone wants a country in which they can live happily, but each person has a different path to that goal. This work skillfully depicts the conflicts that arise in the midst of this.

--Please introduce the role that you play.

WDH: Nam Seon-ho is an illegitimate child born to a family of nobles (yanban), and he has suffered greatly because of his birth. The poor guy is only able to relax his guard and laugh when he is with Seo Hwi (played by Yang Se Jong) and his younger sister Yeon (played by Jo Yi Hyun). However, even under such circumstances, he holds onto his ambitions. He doesn’t want other people to experience the same kind of pain that he has endured, so he strives to become the right-hand man of Yi Seong-gye (played by Kim Young-cheol), the future founder and king of the Joseon Dynasty. However, it doesn’t go as expected and I end up in opposition to Hwi, my dearest friend.

--What things did you pay attention to when creating the role?

WDH: Since it’s a period drama, it was difficult to get used to the way of speaking and tone of voice. It took me a while to get the hang of it. Now  I have the opposite problem, I’m doing my best to shake off the historical tone (laughs).

--The gorgeous hairstyles and clothing were a sight to behold.

WDH: Honestly, at first I thought “Long hair probably won’t suit me…” (laugh). So early on, I participated in many concept meetings and tried out different hairstyles. Even with long hair, there are many different hairstyles that can be made, such as wearing with armor or tying it up. I collaborated with the director to choose the most suitable style according to the situation in the drama. I was able to try on as many outfits as hairstyles, but I really enjoyed being  able to wear the special costumes such as the armor and the inspector’s garments; things we normally don’t get the chance to wear.

--How did you practice horseback riding, swordsmanship, and archery?

WDH: Before filming started, I studied martial arts for about two months. Filming lasted nine months, so in total I was focused on this work for a whole year. While filming action, it’s important to skillfully capture the scene, but the most essential thing is to not to get hurt. For that reason, the cinematographer, my co-stars, and I always had to be in perfect sync. It took time to match movements for the sword fights.

--You became the topic of much discussion when you revealed your magnificent physique in a waterfall during the opening of the drama. What are your secrets for managing your fitness?

WDH: I train on a regular basis. If I only started working out when I knew there were going to be scenes with skin showing, it’d be stressful trying to build up my body in a short period of time for shooting. After all, I don’t know when or where I will have to strip down for a scene! (laugh) Usually I play a lot of soccer, and I’ll go to the gym to train if I have time. If I take care of myself properly as a habit, then I don’t need to worry if my body looks good or if I should put in more effort during acting; I can just concentrate on my performance.

--Was the director’s reaction a good one?

WDH: He was extremely happy, hahaha. They keep trying to make me take my clothes off, so I was like, “Come on, give me a break!” The road to the filming location for the waterfall scene was rugged and steep and it was incredibly cold; it was the most difficult scene. Se-jong even said “I never want to go into water that cold again”.

--A lot of viewers said that “Nam Seon-ho is the most pitiful man in the world.” How do you personally feel?

WDH: I wanted to present Seon-ho as a tragic figure, so I was glad that the audience saw him the same way; it encouraged me to put in even more effort and I worked hard to build up his character. Seon-ho constantly stands on the boundary between life and death, living a life where he might die at any moment. He never manages to accomplish any of his dreams, and it is only at the very end that he realizes what is most precious to him. However, even though Seon-ho is a tragic character, if we just focused on the sadness the drama would be hard to watch and it wouldn’t be interesting at all. Therefore I wanted to show many things with him, such as him being a powerful figure, and the loneliness his power hides.

He was able to finish the drama because he was with Se-jong, his co-star of the same age.

--At what points did you sympathize with Seon-ho?

WDH: There is always a conflict in Seon-ho’s life in that he always has to sacrifice something in order to get something he wants. Seon-ho’s situation is an extreme case, of course, but I think that in our lives there are many moments like his, even if they are small and trivial. Moments when we desire what we can’t have, or throw away things we shouldn’t throw away. There are also moments when we all have to give something up for the sake of a goal that we are reaching for.  In the midst of that, I worried about the things that I should protect, so I deeply sympathized with Seon-ho, whose ideals and emotions were in conflict with each other.

--Your portrayal of the character’s emotions was well-received. When was Seon-ho the most emotional?

WDH: It would be when he heard that Seo Hwi was alive. I had a deep rapport with Se-jong in all my scenes with him. From a certain point onwards, the events in the drama truly felt real, and I fell more and more in love with Se-jong (laugh). I deeply empathized with Seon-ho’s emotions, which made me want to perform even more intensely in this work.

--Concerning expressing emotions, are you the type to do a lot of preparation beforehand? Or are you the type to perform what you feel on the spot?

WDH: I think I am half-and-half. Beforehand, I’ll think, “So we’re filming this kind of scene today”,  why is this happening, and what was the situation before this scene? However, it’s difficult to continuously hold onto emotions because there are rehearsals and blocking out our positions with the director. So I will concentrate on creating the emotion in the moment when acting.

--And what about your mutually dependent relationship with Yang Se-jong, who played the role of Seo Hwi?

WDH: I believe it would have been very difficult if Se-jong hadn’t been there. I relied on him a lot. The make-up room was set up in a large van onsite, and while our hair was being done, we would go over our lines. If one person said their lines, then the other person would just naturally respond with their own lines. We are the same age, not just in the drama but also in real life, so in both the Goryeo and modern eras, we were always communicating well, back and forth.

Se-jong always helped me, and even though we were together on location for very long periods of time, not once did we fight or have a conflict of opinion. We spent our time together as good friends, always being considerate of each other.

--There were many scenes of Seon-ho and Hwi’s friendship that brought out tears, but was there a particular scene where you especially felt the friendship between the two?

WDH: All those scenes where we rescued each other. Especially that scene in the latter half, where Hwi took Seon-ho out of Yi Bang-won’s (played by Jang Hyuk) house; that was memorable. Then in the first half, during the massacre of the Liaodong Punitive Expedition advance party, there’s a scene where we cross swords in the midst of combat and I recognize my dear friend Hwi. That scene was very good and had a big impact.

--What is your impression of Seolhyun (AOA) as Han Hee-jae?

WDH: Seolhyun was truly a “celebrity” to me (laugh). She is one of Korea’s top idols; I’ve seen her movies. When I heard that she would be co-starring with me, I was very much looking forward to it. Once we were actually performing together, I was amazed that her acting was even better than I expected. Seolhyun was the youngest on location, but she had a very mature attitude during filming. In front of a large crowd of her seniors, she played a bold and strong woman. I was impressed.

--The antagonism between Seon-ho and his father was one of the highlights of the drama. How was it like to co-star with Ahn Nae-sang, who played the role of your father?

WDH: Ahn Nae-sang sunbae was like a real father, a very interesting person. Although he’d say “Seon-ho is an impertinent son” (laugh), he worked well with me, and did a lot for me. During breaks, he tells jokes and lightens the atmosphere on set, but once filming starts, his gaze radically changes and he becomes a terrifying father. He’s not someone who hands out advice left and right to juniors, rather, he is a person who reacts kindly and looks after us. 

Extremely jealous of Se-jong’s Japanese fanmeet

--What are your thoughts on successfully wrapping up your first historical drama?

WDH: I wore hanbok, long wigs, and armor--I got to experience all of these things for the first time. I’ve also never done things like swordsmanship, archery, or horseback riding, so each one of those was a new challenge. Because I have never lived in that time period, I worried about how I should portray it. Despite that, I enjoyed everything. The remote locations that I visited were very beautiful, and during breaks it was a wonderful experience to enjoy the scenery and watch the seasons change instead of sitting in the dressing room. I’ve heard from my seniors that once you’ve done one historical drama, you’ll want to do another, and now I know what that feeling is like for myself.

--What was the most memorable location?

WDH: In the opening scenes, I often went to the countryside, but first I filmed the waterfall scene and the cliff scene. That cliff scene was absolutely terrifying. I scaled the cliff and did the action scene, but I thought...I might actually die if I fall (strained laugh).

--Watching the behind-the-scenes footage, you seem the quiet type but at the Japanese fanmeeting, I feel that you were skilled at speaking onstage. What is your actual personality?

WDH: Do I look like someone who doesn’t say much? I’m definitely not the talkative type, though. Hahaha. I talk a lot when I’m with Se-jong, but the interesting thing is, how much Se-jong and I will say changes depending on the day. On some days Se-jong speaks more than I do, and on other days I won’t shut up (laugh).

--Since filming continued for about a year, was it difficult to break free from the role of Seon-ho?

WDH: Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought about Seon-ho without today’s interview. However, Seon-ho’s sword is in my living room, so whenever I see it, I’m going to remember (laugh). But because I can’t use historical speech in the drama that I’m currently filming, I try to forget as much as possible.

--Currently you’re in the middle of filming the drama “The King”, right?

WDH: In “The King”, one person plays two different roles. The show depicts parallel worlds. In one world, Lee Min-ho sunbae plays the emperor and my character, Jo Yeong, has been by the emperor’s side since childhood and is the captain of the Royal Guard. In the other world, I am Jo Eun-seop, a social service worker whose personality is the complete opposite to Yeong’s. I’m having a lot of fun filming this, so please look forward to it.

--What does “my country” mean to you?

WDH: I believe it’s the people around me. I have family, I have friends, and I also have colleagues. A life where I can live happily with all of them, that is my dream country, I guess. No one goes on without desire, so I want to live together while caring for each other.

--You’ve been called the “Monstrous Newcomer”. With this kind of recognition, do you feel pressured?

WDH: I’m always under pressure. However, I tell myself I can’t lose to it, I have to work harder to overcome it.

--Finally, a message to your Japanese fans.

WDH: 2020 was the year I definitely wanted to meet all my Japanese fans, but filming for “The King” started earlier than expected and hasn’t finished yet. I was incredibly jealous when I heard that Se-jong held a Japanese fan meeting at the end of 2019. When “The King” finishes, I would like to meet you all. Until then, please take care of yourself and be happy. I will do my best to finish my work and greet you in good form. If you haven’t seen “My Country” yet, I definitely invite you to watch it.  I also hope you look forward to “The King”.

You can direct fan mail to:

KEYEAST / 30, 11-Gil, Hakdong-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul 06042 Korea

[luki-fanfic]

Helluva Boss 5: The Harvest Moon Festival

Huh, Helluva Boss usually drops by mid month. Wonder why this episode is taking so long to put toget-

*Episode airs*

0_0

Oh. That’s why.

I’ll admit it, my interest in HB was waning. Episode 3 and 4 honestly didn’t do much to keep me interested. Spring Broken had a lot of plot and writing issues, and I felt the concept could have been better executed. C.H.E.R.U.B was more solid, but did have some issues, and just wasn’t that fun to watch.

Harvest Moon on the other hand? Oh boy, now there’s an episode. I am, if you’ll pardon the pun, back on this horse. World building, the action scenes, incredible animation, relationship development of the bad kind, more worlds, interesting characters! It gives us so much to work with.

Spoilers abound, so read carefully.

That said, I will start this with my biggest complaint – and it’s one I’ve had for several episodes, but this one really rammed it home due to the ‘sneak peak’ clip we had of the opening. In the black and white boards, the swearing was limited, and honestly the writing was pretty witty. Then we got the finished product – certain lines were missing, and several words had been replaced with random swearing. Considering what the scene was, it felt like the finished product was a step down – I really wish the scriptwriters would realise random swearing isn’t always funny, and they’ve given proof that their writing is snappy as is.

Anyway...onto the actual episode. We learn that I.M.P seems to be building up their business as Blitzø has 15 clients looking for a kill. Considering he had to do a sale to get a multiple kill, and the other episodes show him basically going out straight after getting the job, they’re clearly building up a name for themselves.

This is further shown with the arrival of Striker, who compliments his decision to go into business for himself, since most Imps don’t. This is new information, since we’ve seen Wally attempt to start his own business – although clearly it wasn’t going well – but if Striker is to be believed, most companies in Hell, even Imp City, don’t have Imps as the owners. Maybe it’s a financial capital thing, maybe it’s partially Hell’s racism, or maybe Imps just generally prefer to follow, which Striker seems to allude later. It’s hard to say with the information we’ve got at this point, but it does put I.M.P in a slightly different light – and probably explains why Blitzø is fairly incompetent when it comes to running the whole thing. He has literally no one to ask or use as an example, and the society he lives in generally assumes he’s going to fail by the nature of him being an Imp.

In fact, even though Blitzø owns I.M.P, he is still completely dependent on Stolas and his Grimoire. Without it, I.M.P is screwed – the reason they’re even at the Harvest Festival is because they can’t work. And that’s what Striker tells him in the final act. Their society has made sure that he can never truly be successful on his own merit, no matter how hard he tries.

I’ve seen some debate on whether what Striker told Blitzø was true or just an attempt to let his guard down. It’s hard to say, because Striker says and does some very conflicting things, but I’m going to believe it was genuine. Why?

He lets Millie and Moxxie live to have leverage over him. He does insult Blitzø to their faces, but why would he need leverage once his job was done?

When Moxxie learns the truth, he doesn’t even try to talk him round, just kill him. Millie is also tossed to the side – possibly because neither of them are ‘superior.' Blitzø gets a full on speech about their superiority and how much he respects him, even if he’s hiding a knife in his tail for if he can’t talk him round.

When he has Blitzø on the ground at his mercy, he doesn’t mock him. Instead, he tells him he genuinely thought they’d be a good team. He had the advantage, but doesn’t take the chance to continue the insult.

Like most Imps, Striker seems to dislike the demon royalty, but at the end of the day, is also working for one (and can I say that twist was brilliantly well done? It made SO much sense but I honestly didn’t see it coming). What is his end goal? Is he envious that Blitzø has some kind of power of Stolas while he has to be obedient? Is he aiming to kill Stella once Stolas is down? Maybe opening an assassination business to take out anything Overlord and above? We just don’t know.

And with that, we’ll step off this train of thought to speak about something else very important in this episode. Stolas. Specifically his relationship with Blitzø, and precisely how wrong it is.

I admit it, I future-shipped them, especially thanks to the Instagram (which become a bit of a bait and switch when the insta-accounts were declared ‘non-canon’). I acknowledged that the relationship was problematic and needed some serious work on both sides before it could really be a functioning relationship, but this episode hammered home exactly how much needs to happen in a way the other episodes didn’t. The pilot and Murder Family treated Stolas as a gag, and then Loo Loo Land made us all care about him and his actions. But Harvest Moon showed the other side of it, and I'm not sure the ship can realistically recover.

Stolas considers Imps as inferior, to a ridiculous degree, and Blitzø is no exception. He has absolutely no respect for Blitzø, and holds all the power in the relationship. We saw this a little in the previous episodes, but they were either alone, or Blitzø was working for him, and surrounded by people aware of the relationship. His actions could be somewhat explained away.

In Harvest Moon, Stolas proves he treats Blitzø this way even in public. Blitzø has very obvious issues regarding his name, so Stolas persistently using a nickname and treating him the way he does around people who aren’t aware, says a lot about how much Stolas doesn’t care about Blitzø’s opinions. Even if Blitzø does have some feelings for him – which I do suspect due to his panicked attempt to explain it as transactional. If he didn’t care, he would probably find it easier to explain. At the same time though, he’d be happier if he could get the book without the monthly visits, because what he has with Stolas isn’t a relationship, no matter what Stolas tries to pretend. Any feelings Blitzø develops puts him even further under his control.

Part of me wonders if the relationship evolved between the pilot and the first episode in planning, and that’s why we have such a disconnect between the Insta relationship and the canon one. I’m really hoping the series addresses it in the future.

Finally, lets talk about that final reveal. Stella has hired a hitman to kill Stolas – even armed him with two angel-tech guns.

(Which, also finally gives us confirmation that Imps/Hellhounds/Succubi can die from conventional weapons, but the higher ranked native demons need angel weaponry to off them).

Stella is also confident enough to scream it over the dinner table. Stolas either doesn’t care, or isn’t paying attention – if he doesn’t care, if definitely puts his motives regarding the original invite up in the air, but if he isn’t paying attention? Then it’s another point in the anti-Stolas tab.

That said, this scenario does ask a question. Why don’t these two divorce? Stolas is clearly not in love any more, and living together clearly isn’t doing Octavia’s mental health any favours if she’s literally hiding behind her music rather than interact with her parents. He should be the first to offer a divorce, but he hasn’t brought it up. And if he hasn’t, maybe the reason Stella hasn’t is because they can’t?

It’s generally assumed that the two of them have an arranged marriage, and that Stella’s anger at his relationship with Blitzø is due to his status more than the cheating. But then wouldn’t it make more sense to hire a hitman to kill Blitzø rather than Stolas? Choosing to kill Stolas, even if it would hurt Octavia, suggests it’s the only option left to her.

I’m guessing we’ll (finally) get some Stella development next time Striker appears, and get an idea of what makes her tick. But for now, I suspect the two of them regularly had lovers on the side, but kept it discreet until this point. Stolas refusing to keep his relationship with Blitzø quiet is causing untold damage to their name and status. Stella wants rid of a man who not only doesn’t love her (if he ever did), but is constantly humiliating her for not hiding his much lower class lover (which we know by this episode he doesn’t even attempt), and since the rules of Hell for demons of their status doesn’t allow divorce (or perhaps their arrangement doesn’t), assassination it is.

Hell, maybe the plan was to kill Stolas, and frame Blitzø for it. Striker clearly knew about their relationship before they met (which should have been a red flag now that I thing about it), so Stella probably mentioned him. It would also put the recruiting on another level, if Striker actually did get Blitzø involved at the final moment and teamed up.

Oh, and as a final amendment? If that angel-gun that Striker left behind is not now in the hands of I.M.P and becomes a key piece when Asmodeus, Mammon and the real Fizzarolli show up? I will be very disappointed.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Seven

A/N: This part has a lot of bits that I have been excited to share. There are a lot of pieces of my own HCs in here, as well as a few plot hint crumbs that I’ve had fun developing, so I hope you guys enjoy this one! (Also sorry it was late- we got power back late last night and I was too lazy to post after making dinner. oops. Don’t worry, I already formatted eight so this won’t happen again next week) Also, also... Fennec and Boba are fun to write :) 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Summary: The Mandalorian makes the journey back to Tatooine to take care of some things back at the covert after his run in with Navina on Nevarro. More is revealed about the goings on in the upper levels of Boba Fett’s complex, we learn what he and Fennec are up to, as well as a little more about how things are run below. And we finally hear what Bo-Katan has been itching to tell him. 

Warnings: descriptions of violence, death, talk of manipulating kids (if you’re unsure feel free to ask) 

Word Count: 5.6k

Tatooine. 

  The suns were sinking into the Dune Sea by the time he pulled Peli’s rental speeder into one of the hidden bays at the rocky base of Fett’s palace complex. There were three other occupied spaces, leaving just the one to his left empty. A quick scan of the vehicles that were there told him immediately who wasn’t. Fennec. Hers was the easiest to recognize. She had painted it a heavy matte black, accented with a weblike design of crisscrossing red lines. It wasn’t inconspicuous but she didn’t want or need it to be. If one of her targets saw her speeder and made the connection, it was already too late for them to turn and run. She liked knowing that they felt some modicum of fear or at the very least panic in the seconds before she struck, and he couldn’t blame her. They had it coming. 

For too long the scum that she and Boba were after had run nefarious crime rings that preyed on scared, young kids with nowhere else in the galaxy to turn. It was how they’d both ended up in their line of work, Boba swept into a life of violent instability in the aftermath of his father’s death, and Fennec developing a kind of admiration and a misplaced feeling of owing her employers for rescuing her from being sold to a brothel as a child. The slime had wasted no time in manipulating her, taking that gratitude and twisting it into something ugly and sinister, crafting her into a sniper, a trained, leashed killer, trading one horrible outcome for another. By the time she realized how trapped she truly was, the price on her own head had climbed so high it had very nearly gotten her killed. 

He winced thinking back to when he’d found her crumpled form in the sand. His thoughts had flashed so quickly to Grogu, to getting back to where he was and ensuring his safety, that he had only given Fennec a cursory check for any signs of life. Had Fett not been tracking the Mandalorian in search of his father’s armor, the woman would have died there in the desert. But the grizzled wanderer had found her, and saving the assassin from the brink of oblivion had given both of them a second chance. Fennec had been freed from the things that held her feet to the flames, and Boba had been given a reason to care for someone other than himself. He may have never been in any real peril on Tatooine- Not even in that pit if how I’ve seen him fight is any indication of how he handled that Sarlacc- but two souls were saved that day regardless. Though they worked as a pair and while Fennec deferred to Fett at first, she gave him her loyalty because she chose to, not because she was made to, and he gave her his respect because she had proven herself to be just as resilient as he was.  

Now, having taken the palace from the Hutt crime family and rooted out their presence on the planet, the two child killers turned vigilantes had started working on the galaxy’s other crime rings. Their sights were currently set on the Black Sun syndicate, and they had been working on picking away at one of their strongholds in Ord Mantell City, dispatching those who gave them no new information immediately, and freezing and bringing anyone who might have something useful to share back to the complex on Tatooine. Karga and the Bounty Hunter’s Guild on Nevarro had even been helping them, and more than a handful of the Mandalorians from the new covert had offered their assistance as a way to repay Boba and Fennec for providing them the space. Yes, they were taking the law into their own hands, but he had seen time and again how easily the New Republic could be made to look the other way, so he had no personal or moral objections to what they were doing. 

And so far they had brought three children under the age of thirteen back to the covert. The kids were being held captive as leverage so that the Black Sun leaders could keep control over their parents, often threatening them with things unspeakable should they refuse to do what their bosses required of them. The youngest was no more than five. After they’d been fed and tended to by the Healer and given a place to rest in the tunnels below, Woves one of the Mandalorians he’d first met on Trask, had set out to get in touch with the guardians of the rescued children. Since joining the cause to unite the clans, Axe had become increasingly interested in participating in educating and caring for the covert’s children, even assisting the Instructor in teaching new sparring techniques or sharing the perspective of someone who had grown up on Mandalore when it came to more cultural or historical lessons. Though he’d tried to make contact multiple times using the information that he had on the children- only their names and home planets- just the two older boys had been claimed by living relatives. 

The smallest, a girl barely reaching the top of Woves’ boot, didn’t seem to have anyone anywhere. Though he continued to try to locate the child’s kin, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the Armorer was presiding over the gai bal manda, the man who had once been one of Bo-Katan’s most feared fighters kneeling in front of the entire Tribe and swearing to protect and raise the child as a warrior, as a member of his clan. As his own. 

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad. I know your name as my child. Grogu. 

He felt a tug in his chest, just behind his rib cage as he dismounted the speeder, those big round eyes blinking at him from beneath that wrinkled green forehead and those over large ears filling his thoughts before he could guard himself. With a sigh, he wished for what could have been the hundredth time that he had been given the chance to take that vow, swear those words… Raise my son. 

Slinging his bag across his body and ensuring that the Darksaber’s hilt was clipped firmly to his belt with one hand, the other went to one of the leather pouches at his waist. Without needing to look, he pulled the small silver ball from its designated spot, spinning it twice between his thumb, index and middle fingers. We’ll see each other again. I promise. The metal sphere slipped smoothly in his gloved grasp, the object giving him comfort. It was something tangible, a link to the thing he carried in his heart for the child that had upended his entire world. Bo-Katan might understand Woves’ choice if she… He let out another breath and tucked the ball away. But all she can see is Mandalore. 

The sharp-eyed, orange- haired heiress was not too keen on her former companion’s sudden calling towards child rearing, but swearing an adoption vow, promising to care for a foundling, was such an integral part of Mandalorian beliefs, of The Way, that she knew better than to try to talk him out of it. She would lose any credibility that she had as a leader if any of the others caught wind of that. She still had Reeves, and Hast,  one of the few that had made it off of Nevarro, had also volunteered to help her search for other hidden coverts and lone stragglers in the far reaches of the Outer Rim, on the quiet, often overlooked planets in the Mid Rim, in the corrupt and crowded cities of the Core Worlds. And if she wanted more help I’m sure there are others who would go. 

He cringed, tilting his chin down to glance at the innocuous looking object knocking against the beskar tasset covering his left thigh with every step towards the tunnels he took. If she wanted, I could… He reached across his body to wrap his hand around the sword's grip. It still felt strange. Unnatural. I could order others to join her mission. Dropping it as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it hit the beskar beneath it with a loud clang that echoed in the dark passages that connected the speeder bay to the main hall. Leadership in a fight, in a battle, in negotiations, while all still outside of what he would have chosen for himself, were things that he could get his head around. But making demands? Setting punishments and enforcing laws? It was the things that ran in that vein of what it meant to be the Mand’alor that gave him the most pause now that the Armorer had assuaged some of his other doubts regarding the title that had been thrust upon him, unwanted. 

Thing after thing. Loss after loss. Responsibility after responsibility. That had been his life for nearly four decades, and it didn’t seem like his burdens would be getting lighter any time soon. For the first time since he left Nevarro two days before, he thought of the woman he’d run into there, whose stolen vambraces he was bringing back to be reforged. Navina. Though he’d only spent a few hours with her he had picked up the impression that difficult trials and heavy hardships followed her wherever she went, too. He wondered if that was uniquely Mandalorian, or if there were others who understood the same level of loneliness that sometimes came when such strength was constantly required of a being. She had spoken of her clan; of losing her mother and being separated from her father and the foundling that her family had taken in, not knowing after all that time if they were still alive. He knew the odds and she seemed clever enough to know them, too, and though he had sympathy for her, it also made him feel less like he was alone in struggling to carry an ungainly load. I have to remember to ask the others about her father… Harsa. That was the name.  

There were several things he had to do on this trip, asking about Navina’s family name just the latest addition to the list. After promising the Armorer on his last visit that he would begin training with the Darksaber, he knew that he would be spending at least two sessions with the Weapons Master, learning how to wield the legendary black blade. We’ll start with the beskad, though. He was firm in that and he knew that no one would argue with him. He wanted to check in with Fett, make sure that the arrangement was still working and that the man didn’t need anything from him. He had no doubt though, that if the man running things topside had any issues, he wouldn’t hold them back, not hesitating to contact the Mandalorian directly to launch his complaints. His directness was one of the things that he liked most about Boba, and one of the reasons that he had been so quick to trust him. I hope he’s free now. I’d rather start there then…

The last thing that he absolutely could not leave the planet without doing, was meeting with Bo-Katan for a debrief on the recruiting efforts and to begin discussing tactics for reclaiming their ancestral homeland. Hers, anyway. She wasn’t happy that he had put it off for as long as he had, but again, he knew that she wouldn’t voice her displeasure for fear of the optics of disagreeing with the Mand’alor. Politics. His top lip curled at the thought that he would have to get good at knowing how to keep people on his side, even when he knew that their endgames were slightly out of alignment with his. Maybe she’s in the sparring hall now. He knew that she spent hours training with Reeves and Hast whenever she came back to the covert, and he hoped that was where she was now. 

If he was being entirely honest, something about her still didn’t sit well with him, but he knew that he didn’t have to like everyone to work with them. 

Striding the last few steps through the winding passage, he finally reached the plain stone archway, a circular splotch of light from one of the torches visible on the other side of it. Two helmeted Mandalorians stood guard, but moved aside as soon as they saw the signet on his shoulder and the Darksaber on his belt. 

“Olarom yaim, Mand’alor.” The shorter of the two spoke with a nod, welcoming him home in a voice that cracked too adolescently for the modulator in the newly sworn fighter’s helmet to hide. A kid. He recalled the first few years after he’d finished his required training in the Fighting Corps, the cockiness, the harsh lessons that no amount of studying or practicing in the sparring hall could prepare him for. He’s just a kid. 

It was different though, the way that Mandalorians allowed Tribe members to swear additional oaths inducting them into the elite group of warriors at seventeen, than what the syndicates did, how they inducted their young members. We learn and train our whole lives for it. Understand what we’re agreeing to. Not like… He swallowed a sudden spike of rage at the thought that the quiet, innocent child that was likely still latched to Woves’ right leg would have otherwise ended up raised to be a mercenary -or worse- for the Black Sun. But she won’t now. 

“Thank you,” he responded to the young guard cursing himself for forgetting the Mando’a translation. I need to do better with that. Again he felt his thoughts backtracking to Navina and the way that he’d heard several Mando’a words roll easily off of her tongue. Maybe she can… when we meet again in a few weeks, maybe she can help me with… He sighed. There was a long list of things he needed to talk to her about when he saw her next, just like the list of things that awaited him at the top of the staircase he was currently climbing. He wanted to know more about her pendant, about the seam they had found in the metal that hinted at a modification that was made well after the piece had been crafted that would allow the Mythosaur to hold the peculiar stone that shone purple. He wanted to know more about what had prompted her family to leave Concordia, why they were running and why they’d had to separate. He wanted to know anything that he could from her and any other Mandalorians he encountered that might help him be the Mand’alor that the young guardsman and everyone else in the covert seemed to think that he was. 

As soon as he ascended the last few steps though, his thoughts were interrupted by a heavy arm falling around his shoulder. “Still in one piece then, Mand’alor?” 

Boba Fett’s gruff, gravely voice was oddly comforting, and he knew that he was likely one of maybe two people who thought that. He returned the one armed thunk that he supposed the other man took for a hug. “Seems that way.” The man’s heavily scarred face pulled up into a jagged looking grin, the expression almost jarring on such a serious visage, but then a rumbling chuckle came out and took the smile with it, leaving his features in their natural scowl. “Everything alright here?” 

The Mandalorian followed Fett through the large main hall, past the stone slab throne that he only occupied when passing judgement on those that he and Fennec brought back once any useful information could be wrung from them, and through to the long table that had been brought in for strategy meetings and sharing information with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild and others who agreed to offer help. “Everything’s fine,” he said with a grunt, gesturing flippantly with one hand, pulling a chair out from the table with the other. “The Princess wasn’t too thrilled when she found out she’d have to wait for you, but tell me, Mandalorian, is that woman ever truly happy about anything?” 

He had never so much as seen her smile. Pulling out a chair of his own, he simply shrugged. It seemed unlikely. “I’ll meet with her as soon as we’re through here.” Fett nodded. “I had… urgent business on Nevarro.” 

“Urgent?” One eyebrow rose on the man’s forehead. 

“Yes, I met another Mandalorian, only she was,” he tilted his head to the side as the image of Navina’s silver-gray eyes staring at him through her shattered visor flashed in his mind. “Different.” 

Boba answered with another gruff chuckle as he reached for the jug of spotchka that was never too far away. “Different, was she?” He took a long pull, the remnants of his teasing laugh still there when he lowered the jug and swiped the back of his free hand across his mouth. 

What? No, that’s- He leaned forward, elbows on the stone surface as he made a quick slicing motion with one hand. “No. That’s not what I meant.” 

It wasn’t. But as he dropped his palms back to the tabletop, he could recall the way it felt when he’d gripped her biceps, shaking her from her dreams. He had been concerned that she would hurt herself or more inconveniently, break one of the controls in the cockpit with the way she was thrashing in her sleep. But what he remembered now, hands flat before him, was how it felt to make contact with her skin, even if it was just through the thick padding of his gloves. He pressed his thumb down hard on the table like he had pressed it into the crease of her bent arm, squeezing the muscle there to get her attention. She felt strong and warm and solid and he almost held onto her for too long, caught up in the feel of another body beneath his hands. That isn’t what I meant. 

He cleared his throat and went on. “She hasn’t sworn the Creed, but she carries out the traditions, she can fight, knows things about Mandalorian history-“ he looked up at the man across from him, Fett abandoning his ribbing to regard the Mandalorian seriously. “She had a helmet and a dagger made of pure beskar.” 

“And you’re sure she’s not a thief?” 

Technically she is. But she didn’t steal the helmet or the kal. She didn’t steal the pendant. “They belonged to her parents.” He explained what the woman had told him about how her family had been split up- how she had known for a fact that her mother had been killed, but that since it had been years since she’d seen her father or the other child in her family, she had no way of knowing if they were still alive. “She… she asked me to spread word here at the covert, in case anyone knows where to find her father. Harsa. His name is Gavil Harsa.” 

Boba shrugged. “Don’t know any Harsa. But then, I’m no Mandalorian either. Your different girl and I have that in common.” 

She’s not my-

But before he could protest what had just been said, voices from the same entrance he had come through caught his and Boba’s attention, the other man standing as Fennec’s dry, smirking tone could be heard greeting the guard at the door. “You’re back.” He stated, opening his arms wide, his voice booming across the otherwise empty space. “What took so long?” He dropped his arms as Fennec maneuvered a carbonite block through the doorway. 

She cocked her head in the direction of the hardened, frozen slab containing what could have been any number of humanoid species, their features completely indiscernible but clearly contorted in terror. “Ixon here didn’t want to come quietly.” She turned to pull the block the rest of the way through, the unit hovering weightless and only needing her guidance for direction. “It was actually quite a workout.” She grinned. “For him.” Fett let out another gravelly laugh as Fennec turned her attention to the Mandalorian. “Mando,” she smiled and used one hand to push her long black braid behind her. “Good to see you.” 

“Fennec,” he nodded a greeting. “You’ve been busy, I see.” 

“Nothing for the Mand’alor to worry about,” she winked, shoving the block containing Ixon more roughly than necessary. “Just dealing with the trash.” She winked as she walked through, waving off Boba when he tried to assist her. “I’ll handle this one on my own.” She patted the side of the unit with an almost malicious gleam in her dark eyes. “It’s personal.” 

“I’d pity him if he weren’t walking slime,” Boba offered her the spotchka jug but she declined with a flick of her wrist. 

“He might not be walking when I’m done.” She gave the block another shove towards a door on the other side of the large room, her lips lifting in a quick snarl. “See you around, Mando,” she called over her shoulder, disappearing with Ixon, not waiting for a response.

“They say if you love your job you never work a day in your life,” he clapped a large meaty palm on the Mandalorian’s arm. “And Shand loves her new job.” That much is obvious. “Speaking of jobs, Mand’alor,” he gestured with his jug towards another set of stairs that led to the tunnels that the covert was using, the blue liquid sloshing gently as he did. “I’m sure yours is calling.” 

He stiffened. “Yes.” 

The man, gnarled by life and the things that had tried to drag him from it, set the jug down then. “Taking that planet back… well, you know what I think there.” I do. From first mention, he had not held back his opinion of the mission. “But bringing this many Mandalorians together under one roof? And they haven’t killed each other yet? I know you didn’t ask for this but,” he narrowed his eyes. “That’s no small feat.” 

It was as close to true praise as Boba Fett had likely ever bestowed upon anyone, and he knew that. It was also the truth. He thanked the man and crossed the room to yet another doorway that led to a different set of stairs. This time though, as he shifted the bag on his shoulder, the metal pieces inside clanging together, he did not stop on the landing and wait to pass off the reclaimed beskar to a middleman. This time, he continued down the second set that brought him to the forge. 

It was quiet, the Armorer taking a rare break from her unending task of providing the best protection and defenses that she could for her people. As a child it was easy for him to forget that there was a human beneath that pointed gold helmet. Her understated power, the sparks that flew frantically from her hammer, the ability she possessed to craft such stunning objects all contributed to the almost mythological status that he and the other small children regarded her with. He still admired and respected her and held her in higher esteem than anyone else in the covert, he knew that even the Armorer needed to eat, needed rest, needed to give her own ears a reprieve from the ringing of her tools battering hot metal. 

Entering the room for the first time since the covert relocated to Tatooine, he gave himself time to take the space in. Slowly turning his head he scanned over the work table, all of the tools neatly arrayed, each one clean and sharp and shining, each one a weapon in its own right. The forge itself was unlit, the mouth that usually spat fire simply open in a gaping yawn, but as he ran his hand over it he felt the residual heat that never completely faded. He wondered if what was left of the forge back on Nevarro still retained any warmth. 

Drawing his hand back, he stepped over to the small table that the Armorer used for meeting with the recipients of her work. Reaching into his bag, he took the vambraces that Navina had surrendered and set them on the surface between the two empty stools, leaving them for when the Armorer returned to her duty. She’ll know what to do. And where they came from. He would return to the forge the next morning to speak with her in more detail about the items’ provenance, and also to spread Navina’s family name to the member of the Tribe who was most likely to know it. He gave the room one last scan, slowly turning his head so that he could see it all through the eyeline of his visor, then left, continuing on with his own list of responsibilities. 

A handful of the covert’s children, some in the second hand helmets of the older ones, others belonging to clans that didn’t cover their faces at all times displaying smudges of dirt across round cheeks, were gathered in the widest portion of the hall. Engaged in some game that he likely played himself at that age, they shrieked and laughed and jumped. The kid would love it here. He could easily picture Grogu waddling into the group of young Mandalorians and fitting in without a problem, and he hoped that he had other children to be a child with while he underwent his Jedi training.

Continuing on and following the fork to the left, he headed next for the sparring hall. Unlike the forge, it was not empty. He could already hear the sound of practice staffs clashing, and the Instructor’s voice calling out advice to his trainees. One of the fighters grunted as they lunged or swung, and he knew right away from the sound that it was Bo-Katan, the heavy footsteps he heard suggesting that she was training with Hast. 

Since she was occupied at present, he stopped at the door beside the entrance to the sparring hall to arrange sessions with the Weapons Master. The man seemed pleased that the Mand’alor was ready to start working with the beskad in preparation for the Darksaber, and gave him his choice of available times for one on one training. Slating himself for three instead of the two he had planned on, he thanked the man and, with nothing left to do to push it off any longer, he entered the sparring hall and prepared to speak with Bo-Katan. 

She was still locked in a battle with Hast, the hulking man nearly twice her size but incredibly nimble for his weight and width. Blocking a swing of her opponent’s staff, the helmetless woman gritted her teeth and gripped her own weapon, holding it horizontally in front of her chest to take the force of the blow. Her feet slid back but she dug them in and gave a strong shove. Staffs still connected, the push set Hast off his balance just enough for her to turn the staff and whip it down and behind the man as he tried to regain his footing. In a sweeping blur she used it to take his legs out from under him, and he fell hard to the ground. Following all the way through to the finishing position, Bo-Katan flipped her staff around, jabbing it a few inches from Hast’s helmet, signifying her victory. 

It was impressive, but the Mandalorian knew that she was a skilled fighter, having seen her in live battle. She extended a hand to help Hast up, then turned towards the entrance. “You’re here.” It sounded almost skeptical, and he noticed the tiny twitch of her brow, hardly any sweat beading there after her workout. “Back from your,” she passed the staff behind her to Hast who took both of them back to the wall, the Instructor stowing them on their pegs. “From your urgent business?” 

He’d been expecting her to be upset, so the bite in her tone wasn’t a shock. “Yes.” He answered simply, not willing to allow her annoyance to spark his own. “I’m ready to discuss plans with you.” 

Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line as though that was the only thing keeping her frustration in. She swallowed, then let out a short breath and gestured toward the door. “Shall we, then?” 

The Mandalorian nodded and once she’d thanked the Instructor and Hast for the session, she followed him out into the hallway, the two heading for one of the smaller halls that had been designated for closed door meetings. “Thank you, for your patience.” He knew that she hadn’t been patient, but that she wanted it to seem like she had. “I had things to tend to, but I’ll be here for about two weeks, and I,” he opened the door to the room, letting her in before him and then closing it after he entered. Letting out a small sigh that he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear, he continued. “Aside from training with the Weapons Master I can spend as much time as necessary working with you.” 

Her cheek jumped as she gave a quick smile that was more of a forced smirk. “Well, that’s great news.” Pulling out a chair, she gestured for him to do the same, which he did. “Because we have a lot to discuss.” 

She went on to tell him that she, Hast and Koska Reeves had come back with ten adult Mandalorians from a covert located in the Mid Rim, and four children that had been part of their clans. There were a few that had chosen not to come back to Tatooine, but he and the others had all agreed that no one would be forced into joining them, that it was a decision only they could make for themselves. Still, adding fourteen to the Tribe in just one trip was something of note. For most of his life he had thought that his kind were far closer to extinction than they were. It was encouraging to see their numbers grow after so much time spent thinking that they were alone, and he hoped it gave the others that joined them there that same feeling of hope. That even if the quest to take back Mandalore were to fail, they would still have a safe place there where they didn’t have to hide in the shadows and only gather in groups of twenty or fewer. At least they were united now. At least they had a home.    

She went on to tell him about the old rebel base they had heard about on the remains of Concord Dawn, a planet in the Mandalore System that had all but been destroyed in the centuries of warfare that plagued that portion of the galaxy. Largely uninhabitable, and missing nearly a third of its mass, the planet had been abandoned ages ago. But it’s proximity to Mandalore made it a good candidate to set up a base of their own once the battle for their planet began. She outlined what would be needed in terms of weapons, fortifications and troops, and stated that once they had acquired and allotted the required supplies, she would like to accompany him on a trip to Concord Dawn so that he could see it for himself before the base was established. 

Agreeing to all of this, he listened as she laid out her plans for obtaining what was needed, giving her another two hours of his time before exhaustion started setting in so heavily that he wouldn’t have been able to listen to much more even if it was the most interesting topic in the universe. Assuring her that they could pick up where they left off the next morning, he excused himself from the small room and headed for the chamber that he always slept in when he was at the covert. 

He didn’t know why, but as he removed his helmet he thought again of the woman he met on Nevarro, and how he was about to begin a war to take back her home planet. Unbuckling the rest of his armor piece by piece and laying it out to be polished and cleaned, he wondered if she would ever go back to the place she was born once they had won it back, or if their own traditions would make her feel unwelcome there. Frowning, he hoped that wouldn’t be the case, that he would help build the kind of society that welcomed anyone who was an ally, whether or not they swore an oath. Would she take the creed? Pulling the breastplate cuirass over his head, he wondered if it was even something she would want to do. She said she wasn’t given the chance… what if she was? 

Shaking his head to clear her from his thoughts, he finished taking care of his armor for the evening, focusing on the lightness in his limbs that came from removing all that weight, and sunk into the mattress, finding sleep as soon as his eyes closed. 

But the head shake hadn’t cleared her completely, his dreams tinged with purple light and the echo of her name.

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Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor​​​​​​​ @alraedesigns​​​​​​​ @pheedraws​​​​​​​ @valkblue​​​​​​​ @malionnes​​​​​​​ @gollyderek​

[convenient-plot-device]

IIIIIIIT'S MIRROR TRAVIS TIME!!!

this is. Very long so I'm going to put a cut after one paragraph

So. Mirror Hoshi becomes Empress and Travis is her weird little concubine/mortal enemy and they try to kill each other weekly. This is because he resents her for not sharing her power after he helped her take the Defiant and he has blackmail on her that could ruin her. So they constantly try to murder each other,, but they are also very much Enemies With Benefits. Hoshi's always one step ahead of Travis, it seems, and it infuriates him. This is because she is a master of manipulation and knows exactly how to leverage her power and play people in lower positions because she got here from the bottom and survived through intimate knowledge of the system.

Eventually, after years, he finally beats her. He poisons her with red wine (I'm a sucker for narrative symmetry and red wine = symbolic blood & opulence) but to his dismay, she dies with a knowing smile and one last word: "Poetic."

It's important to know that she did not let him kill her, he did catch her off-guard, but she wasn't surprised, she wasn't upset, she was just impressed and smug.

He quickly takes the throne, but the idea that Hoshi let him kill her eats at him.

He's spent his entire life in someone's shadow, being someone else's pawn. He was a foot soldier for the Empire, he was Hoshi's pawn to take the Defiant, he was her concubine, and he's done being someone else's to control. He desperately wants to get out from under Hoshi's shadow, so he completely rehauls the aesthetics of the Empire. (Look at his earring and tell me he isn't a fashionista)

He was the progenitor of the DISCO Terran uniforms. Georgiou made her own tweaks. He also named everything that Hoshi had named after herself after himself, rewrote her in the history books, and started building a huge and elaborate palace.

Hoshi had a very internally focused, tightly controlled, manipulation and propaganda filled rule that concentrated on maintaining control over already conquered planets and slowly gaining footholds in new ones by sowing war and discord to weaken them in preparation for invasion.

Travis did not take this approach, wanting to distance himself from her as much as possible. He focused on capturing resource-rich planets through quick but devastating attacks and unconventional warfare, forcing the planets to surrender quickly without destroying too much of whatever he wanted on them. He created lots of new buildings, weapons, armor, etc

He dealt with rebellion through an atmosphere of pure fear. He built himself up as a godlike figure, akin to Darth Vader, by wearing elaborate clothes that concealed weapons and contained escape hatches, armor and other nifty tricks in the fabric. He also built secret tunnels, chambers, and escape routes into all his buildings, and was notoriously paranoid. He made sure that he was put on an extremely high pedestal, and that listening devices were built everywhere that they could be built. He made his subordinates feel that there was no escape, so they may as well obey.

Due to this, he was also incredibly lonely. He rejected concubines and close servants, considering the last Emperor was killed by one. He dealt with incredible insecurity and the terror that Hoshi would always loom larger than life over him, that he would forever be caught in a web beyond his comprehension or control. He entrusted nobody else to the rule of the Empire except those kept far away from him and under extreme security, and the Empire became harder to control under him. While Hoshi's regime had slowed expansion and increased control, his quickened expansion at the expense of control.

Just. This deeply lonely, insecure, and scared man trying to scrawl his legacy into the stars and make sure that he is insulated and protected, desperately lonely yet terrified of people and emotional intimacy, whose only real connection was an enemy with benefits who he was only close to because she knew everything about him whether he wanted her to or not....

Trying to find meaning in being all-powerful, being beyond human, beyond needing human contact, and yet caught in the inescapable web he always feared- the web he himself spun....

[eyes-onthehorizon]

The Old Guard Provide... Leverage

(otherwise titled Pan Finally Found The Time To Rework ‘February is a Month like Any Other’)

One:

heist [haɪst]

Word forms: plural heists

countable noun [oft noun NOUN]

A heist is a robbery, especially one in which money, jewellery, or art is stolen.

(“Is it really a heist if we’re actually avenging a crime?”

“Psht, technicalities. Heists are about derring-do, and there’s plenty of it to be done.”)

Nicoló was going out of his mind. Not so much as a whiff of a clue had presented itself and the excuses for burrowing around Whitechapel Manor were fraying at the edges. His carriage, which had so artfully broken down in the snow, had finally been repaired and Nicoló had no choice but to depart the following morning.

Andy was desperate to get into the study at any cost; in a last-ditch attempt, he’d decided to write a few letters for his beloved who was waiting to commence their belated honeymoon. All my papers had been ruined in the snow, you see, he’d shrugged self-effacingly at the butler. Might I trouble the study for a few pages?

The same butler stood sentry at the doorway. He wasn’t a distrustful man, quite the opposite: Jennings had been the one to oversee his recovery after he’d taken that nasty fall off Sir Graham’s stallion. He’d become something of a mother hen to Nicoló, and constantly hovered nearby in case a bookshelf or candlestick might decide to commit murder.

It would have been sweet, really, if Nicoló hadn’t been in the midst of intelligence-gathering against one of Britain’s most powerful men. In his own home.

Without looking up from the desk, he spoke: “Jennings, would you be so kind as to fetch me some tea and scones? This is thirsty work.”

He saw Jennings hesitate from the corner of his eye, and kept his expression still. “There is nothing to worry about, old chap. The worst that can happen in here is a paper-cut and I think even I might survive such a calamity.”

“Ha, right you are, Sir. I’ll be back in a moment.” Thank goodness he had a sense of humour.

Nicoló moved as quickly as he could, rifling through drawers and boxes, returning them to their original state with a dexterity Andy had always admired.

(“It’s freaky. You’re a freak.”

“Andy, we don’t die. We are all freaks here.”)

It wasn’t until he could hear Jennings’ footsteps returning down the hallway that he found the hidden compartment in the desk. He made a show of walking around the room, deep in thought, turning only when he was spoken to.

“Your food, Sir.” Jennings said a little breathlessly. Had he rushed? The man was definitely pinker than when he'd left. Nicoló felt a pre-emptive flash of shame at what he was about to do.

“Ah, splendid. Thank you. Do you have any more of the marmalade from breakfast? And is there any chance Cook could rustle up a sandwich with those little tomatoes? I’m positively famished.” Nicoló knew the marmalade had run out because he’d heard the cook grumbling about it when he went down for hot milk the previous evening. It seems he’d eaten through quite the supply during his stay. And cherry tomatoes, at this time of year? It was more unlikely than one would think.

Jennings’ smile had reduced to something resembling a straight line – never a scowl, the man was much too professional for that – the longer Nicoló’s requests went on. Nevertheless, he was bound to do his duty. He bowed, a little, and departed once again.

Nicoló let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. This was the worst part of masquerading as a toff: the way he was expected to treat the servants.

He took another turn around the enormous desk to inspect the hidden compartment. It had been jammed hastily shut, with the key hanging conspicuously from a hook on the wall. Nicoló turned it, but the damn thing was stuck.

I’m so close.

He wiggled the drawer.

Jennings is coming.

He tried pushing from below.

What is he hiding?

He took out his pen-knife.

I’m going to get caught.

Tried to leverage it open.

Calm. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm-

He smacked at it in frustration, and this of all things was what finally did the trick. He emptied it, papers and all, into the wastebasket alongside all his crumpled up draft letters. Not wasting a second, he slid the drawer shut, turned the key and returned it to the hook as he kicked the basket over.

Jennings entered the room, bearing a full tray of food and a second pot of tea. The guilt washed over Nicoló again as they both realised he hadn’t touched the first pot that Jennings had gone running for, but the butler’s glance at the messy floor brought him back into the moment.

“Oh my. I’m so clumsy. I do apologise Jennings – would you mind setting up my tea in the blue sitting room?”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll tidy the mess after you’ve tucked in-”

“No need, my fine fellow. Truth be told, I’d rather these letters remain for my beloved’s eyes only. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge and all that, you know? I’ll get this tidied up in a jiffy.”

Torn between the need to do as he was told and allowing a gentleman to do a servant’s work, Jennings hesitated a moment before deciding to just take the easy way out, for once. Nicoló sent up a prayer of gratitude and began piling everything back into the wastebasket.

 ao3

[letsunity]

Not Afraid - Chapter 3

Summery -  

The Bad Batch go to Tatooine to resupply and avoid the Empire. As per the usual, Omega gets separated from the group. Fortunately for her, Krayt's Claw just so happens to be nearby. Bossk and Embo guide her to Boba Fett, who takes interest in why the Kaminoans want her. It's a reluctant partnership, with the Bad Batch having to rely on Krayt's Claw to navigate non-military life.

When it came to hunting, it's good to start small and work your way up. This lot were soldiers, so at least they already had training. Omega didn't, so they'd have to work on that. Being a usual child, she'd get into trouble, so she needs to learn how to protect herself.

A relatively safe place is Lothal, a minor planet nobody cared for. Because no one cared for it, it was a good spot for hunters to refuel and get some supplies. The kid gets to look around, too, which was a bonus. She couldn't be dad's clone, so he wanted to know who her template was.

There's also a connection; he could feel her more than most people. It was a sixth sense kind of thing, knowing people's feelings and such. He didn't talk about it, given that it gave him an advantage over adversaries. It also told him when to be wary around his comrades, as the concept of loyalty is very different in the hunting world.

Whatever it was, he knew that his father had it too. Dad could feel things and react to them, to the point where Boba didn't need to talk sometimes.

There was the possibility of Arla.

Jango had a sister in his original family but assumed her dead. If they had a sliver of her DNA, then that could've been used to make Omega. It was only a theory, but ignoring any possibility was stupid. For all he knew, she's a combination; the Kaminoans can certainly do it.

"Embo, you're babysitting."

Knowing how Dengar could get, the Kyuzo wasn't going to argue. The man had a habit of causing unmitigated chaos when left unsupervised. It was useful, but when not working, it was a pain. Marrok snarled at Dengar, shaking his head at the man's poor smell.

"Out of all planets, what's with this one?" Hunter inquired, noticing a settlement a mile away.

"In communities like this, there's always trouble. Where there's trouble, someone is willing to pay for it to disappear," Bossk answered, attaching his blaster to his back. "You're good with droids, but how're you with people?"

In the clone wars, they fought droids. They were trained to be ruthless with droids. When it came to people, however, they didn't have as much experience. People aren't as durable as droids, so they could seriously hurt someone without meaning to. Knowing how to restrain themselves was important.

"Highslinger can guard the ships; he isn't overly fond of crowds. One of your guys can go with Embo and Dengar to get food, the rest with us."

"I get to come?" Omega beamed, to which the Trandoshan grinned. Boba tossed his helmet to her, watching her investigate the design. "What's this for?"

"You've got a bounty, and people have eyes everywhere. That'll keep your identity hidden, and it's durable enough to take a blaster rifle. Stick with us, and it'll be fine," Boba said, feeling disapproval from the Batch. "Sheltering her is only going to make it easier to catch her. She's going to learn somehow, better early than later."

While Hunter didn't want Omega in danger, she had a habit of getting in trouble anyway. The helmet was a little big on her, but she was certainly obscured.

She could see clearly with the helmet, and it sealed around her neck, making it airtight. It filtered the air, keeping it fresh and safe. She couldn't smell anything, but Omega was ok with that. She could tag along and help instead of getting in the way.

Wrecker complimented her, calling her a little soldier.

"You're confident she'll be fine," Echo noted, disliking the look he got from the teenager. "What? What're you staring at?"

"I thought you were familiar. Everyone's heard about the 'Hero of Anaxes'. The one that escaped the Techno Union and used their own bullshit against them. It won't help much, but I doubt a traitor would do that."

As expected, the pale clone was heavily disturbed. Boba knew that he felt guilty over it, even though that didn't make much sense. It's like blaming a blaster for shooting somebody.

"We did that too!" Wrecker cheered, punching Bossk's shoulder. "We blew shit u-AH!"

Bossk punched him back, harder than he intended.

A thing many people forget is that Trandoshans and Wookies are natural enemies. Trandoshans are capable of being in a fistfight with a Wookie and potentially win. Puny clone trooper armour isn't going to protect against something like that. It made Wrecker excited, knowing he can brawl with someone without restraining himself.

Hunter didn't want them to get attached to this lot; it was a reluctant partnership. Walking with them made him constantly anxious, given how they aren't the honourable sort. The moment they deemed it necessary, they'd turn on Hunter in a second.

Their boss was Hunter's age, though he aged slower. The Bad Batch had been in the field for nearly four years; he's been out here his whole life. The only thing making them allies was the blonde question mark. As soon as Boba got his answers, there was no telling what he'd do.

He has leverage regarding the underworld, but Hunter has something to make the teen need him. If the hunters needed them, then they won't consider betraying them.

"What do you know about Order 66?" Hunter inquired, expecting the boy not to know.

As he did with Echo, the teen looked through him, like he was peering into Hunter's soul. He appeared amused, although Hunter couldn't imagine what he found so funny.

"No point being shy about it, Sarge. What've you got that I'd be interested in?"

So much for being sneaky about it. He'll figure this kid out, preferably sooner than later.

"Inside of every clone is a chip. Once activated, it makes you follow orders, regardless of loyalties. It's why the clone troopers turned on the Jedi," he stated, watching Omega skip around the grass.

Bossk and Wrecker were casually wrestling around, getting filthy and messing about. Echo was keeping Omega away from their frolicking, and Boba wasn't fazed by it. He was more interested in Hunter's revelation.

"Fuck that. Nobody's in charge of me except for me. The girl has one as well?"

He hadn't even considered that possibility. Sure, it was entirely likely that she had her own inhibitor chip, maybe with a different code. Once again, more questions that'll be dangerous to answer.

"Probably. We haven't been affected because of our mutations, and you're already aware of Echo. We had someone else with us, but his chip worked."

"Whose to say that they aren't? It could be acting slower for you."

"Which is why we're trying to deactivate them. When we do ours, we can save our friend, maybe save all of the troopers."

"And the ones that side with the Empire anyway?"

"We'll blow up that bridge when we come to it."

"Already talking like a Bounty Hunter, Sarge."

Alright, maybe the kid wasn't so bad after all.

"You don't have to call me Sarge."

"Listen, Jungle Ramclone; I do what I want. If I want to acknowledge your rank, I will. If you earn a title, you keep the damn thing."

That was the first time someone threateningly called him a Sergeant.

It didn't take too long to arrive at the settlement, a small town. People lived peacefully in a bustling market, trading goods and leading mundane but comfortable lives. Cut used to have a life like this before the Empire ruined it, and it was only a matter of time before the same happened here.

While Hunter wanted it for Omega, it wasn't the life she wanted. She wanted to stay with them, to be a part of their team. Learning how to look after herself would make matters easier. The more experience she had, the less that Hunter had to worry. He'd always worry, but at least he'd be comforted knowing that she could manage alone.

Running into Krayt's Claw could've been the best thing to happen to her. They had connections now, guides who can give them a footing in the galaxy. The dark secrets that the Republic fought to uncover was readily available for them. He didn't intend for this to last, but it provided options.

Maybe becoming a group of hunters was their best option, considering that civilian life doesn't suit them. They're warriors to the bone; combat was engineered in them. Becoming mercenaries with a strict moral code was something to look into.

While observing the various stalls, Hunter took notice of a Sakiyan causing trouble. Duty-bound, the Sergeant stepped in, getting between the man and the young woman. She had an infant in her arms, only a day or so old. The Sakiyan wasn't intimidated until Wrecker walked up behind him, glaring through his helmet.

His presence was enough to send the thief running, not wanting to be on the clone's anger. Hunter helped the woman stand, being careful of her infant child.

"Thank you, kind sirs," she smiled, looking over her baby. He had a small tuft of black hair reminiscent of stubble. "How may I repay you?"

"No problem. Just keep that little one alright, and it's all good," Wrecker smiled, forgetting that she couldn't see it. "If anyone needs a hand, we're gonna give it!"

The baby squirmed at the loud noise, opening a pair of lavender-blue eyes. He looked to hunter, gurgling slightly. Unsure of what to do, Hunter gave a short wave, not used to infants.

"Ezra likes you," she smiled, kissing her baby's forehead. "My name is Mira. If you need some help, come and find me. You're more than welcome in the Bridger home."

And like that, they made an ally. Wrecker felt good, and Hunter had a hunch that the kid would grow into someone special. It was just a feeling; he had something similar about Omega.

Said girl was with Echo, exploring the market with Bossk watching like a hawk. The Trandoshan bought her some fruit, slightly overpaying for it. Hunter started to decipher the reason for this behaviour.

By proving themselves to be generous and kind, the people would be more cooperative. They'd enjoy engaging with such 'honourable' gentlemen, even though they were violent by profession. Boba alone decimated a Star Destroyer at Omega's age, which could be why he had so much faith in her.

Hunter should have more faith in her, too. She was inexperienced, not a fragile piece of glass.

"Build a relationship, provide a financial reward, and you've got yourself a spy," Boba smirked, chewing on some dried meat.

That's what he meant by eyes everywhere. Hunter assumed droids or cameras, but no, he meant average citizens. Anyone was a potential spy for a bounty hunter, the variety ensuring their secrecy. The entire town could be spies for anyone, even the likes of Fennec.

Omega needs to keep that helmet on until she gets her own. Keeping themselves obscure would be wise, too. Their armour is easily recognisable; they can't disappear if everyone knows what they look like.

The teenager nodded as he tossed some to Wrecker, who practically inhaled the meat.

"You're starting to get it."

While it was creepy how the kid knew his feelings, it also made things easier. Boba could feel his intentions, possibly explaining why he was helping. He threw a piece to Hunter, casually re-joining Bossk, Echo and Omega as the girl held a fuzzy loth-cat toy. Bossk repeated the action from before, complimenting the Rodian working there.

He was manipulating the woman. By appearing so sweet with a kid, it'd make her reluctant to tattle.

There was a lot more to this profession than even the Senate could ever realise. He wanted to know more about it.

[tekkai]

🅿 Here's your official pass to gush about headcanons for CP-9 (ft. your insert as well if you want)! Go wild!

Thank you Anon I love you for asking. I wasn’t able to go in depth for everyone so I focussed on the few my S/I is closest with. ;^; 

Lucci 

Lucci is an impossibly light sleeper and grows irritable due to his disrupted sleep schedule. He’s seldom able to sleep soundly through the night and attempts to recover by napping throughout the day. 

With the extremely specific and conscious exception of chicken, he is offended if you try to serve him any kind of fowl/poultry. He has a strong preference towards ‘red’ meats such as beef, lamb, and even game such as venison.

Obsession by Calvin Klein, or the closest in-universe alternative. In addition to bathing in Civetone, he carries the scent of brandy and sawdust. 

Hattori is more than a mascot, he is Lucci’s service animal. Most of his task serve to mitigate Lucci’s psychological needs. Among other tasks, ventriloquism is part of his work, as it allows Lucci to interact with new people in a roundabout way. Hattori can also ‘sweep’ rooms, alerting him to be certain a space is empty and easing his hypervigilance. Disrupting night terrors and providing sensory stimuli when his feeling overloaded. 

In canon we know they’ve been a team for at least 24 years. I would like to believe they’ve been together longer, prior to his arrival. I’ve thought a lot about a possible backstory for him, but we’ve been given so little in canon for me to work with it’s purely speculation. 

His father had been a no-name pirate. He left shortly after conception and the two never had any kind of relationship save for their genetics. Ironically he’d be killed by his son later in life. 

His mother was a lesser noble with a daughter from a previous marriage. As a baby he was close to his-sister,but he was so young when they died their memories are distorted. He blames the death of his family on the cowdarce of their appointed guard when their city was besieged. This is the root of his philosophy. 

Racing pigeons were an important culturally and Hattori is a descendant from his mother’s line of birds. 

Lucci is nearly legally blind. He is completely dependent on his contacts to get through the day. Caught without them however, not many people would be able to tell how much he struggles. He’s practiced in hiding his vulnerabilities and can get by without assistance by leveraging his other instincts, but he does struggle. The fact that his eye color changes significantly every time he appears is due to his colored lenses.  

Lucci was given the epithet of Massacre Weapon and conditioned to see himself as a tool. He holds himself to an impossible standard and values his worth based solely on his objective usefulness. 

He would never admit it to anyone, but he identifies with the local stray cats. Wherever he locates he makes a point to feed and look after the ferals in the area. He’s absolutely blown his cover once or twice confronting anyone stupid enough to harass a colony he’d been overlooking. 

Lucci honestly believes he’s working towards a more peaceful world. He does have a ravenous bloodlust, but if that was his only need, he’s strong enough to go rogue.  Lucci does not need his license to kill. The only reason he’s remained complaint to the WG’s needs is because they align with his own vision. 

Kaku

Kaku and Usopp both originated in the East Blue, have a natural affinity for working ships and are canonically mistaken for one another. I’m not about to claim a direct relation but I don’t think distant cousins would be out of the question or improbable. Kaku was an orphan taken in by WG and underwent intense programing to model him into the agent he is today. It would be reasonable to assume any record of his life before the government got a hold of him would be purged. I don’t think it’ll ever be a plot point but I just like this theory. 

Kaku may be the next young prodigy of the group, but he is also the designated baby/baby brother. As an unit it’s just universally accepted that he get’s a ‘pass’, especially in regards to Lucci. 

Ussop was able to antagonize Lucci twice after the the Leopard Man had brutalized others for less. It’s a subconscious reaction adn Lucci probably doesn’t even realize why his first instinct wasn’t to kill this pirate the moment he drew his weapon. 

He’s an effective agent but he get’s emotionally attached to places and people. Unlike Lucci who finds ideological satisfaction in his work, Kaku is loyal to CP9 due to his relationship with his colleagues. For this reason he’s a more efficient spy. 

Kaku has an aversion to alcohol. He’ll drink socially but only if it’s pushed on him.

An avid outdoorsmen. Kaku would spend everyday in the wilderness if he could get away with it. He has a secret cabin he escapes to and uses to decompress after an excessively stressful mision. 

Horses love him. Every since he was a child he’s been a natural with horses and no one can figure out why. They just instinctively adore him.

Jabra

Incredibly sensitive to chemical scents. He refuses to enter the laboratory for this very reason. 

I’ve touched on Zoan’s influencing their users in regards to Lucci before, and Jabra is no exception. Unlike Lucci however he’s happy to lean into his instincts and takes great pride in being a wolf. 

Makes really terrible dog puns. 

He prideful and arrogantly confident, but once his audience has left he’s painfully lonely. He craves a ‘pack’ and is hopeless romantic at heart. Has bounced from one failed relationship to another near constantly. 

He cares deeply about his fellow agents and views them as a kind of family.

He’s the first to throw insult or a playful jab, but the moment something is wrong he can tell. Jabra can be a jerk but he’s the best person to talk to if someone needs to vent or be comforted by. 

Claims it’s nonsense but he’s extremely superstitious. If Kalifa makes a comment about the stars aligning he makes note. 

Angel’s self proclaimed older brother.

He’s competitive to a fault. It doesn’t matter what the challenge is he needs to be the best. 

Found his Rooster as an abandoned chick and has been raising it ever since. He’s a proud father and carries photos of the bird when it can’t accompany him specifically so he can show his son off. This tactic has never once worked while he was trying to flirt with someone. 

Kalifa

She’s mildly allergic to animal fur. It’s nothing significant but she’s forced to carry allergy pills when she’s working with her Zoan colleagues. Her new abilities, however, have been a godsend in keeping the annoying fur at bay.  

More so than any of the other agents she struggles with feeling ‘good enough’. Having been born into her role she feels an immense pressure to live up to the expectation that were set for her.

Her mother was also a government agent at one point.

Collects ‘lamb’ themed objects. She doesn’t love having to be around actual farm animals (and despises Jabra’s rooster) but she finds the artistic representations of lambs aesthetically pleasing. 

Is secretly really into astrology. She’s complied full birth charts on her co-workers using what little information is available and reasonable estimating the unknowns. 

She is extensively musical trained and is by far the most talented agent in that regard. 

Angel

Not a Ciphor Pol agent. Not a government agent. Not even a marine. But since you were kind enough to include her, she’ll get a guest feature.

Angel was blessed with a powerful fruit but cursed with the lack of willpower to use it properly.

She can be friendly but it takes a long time before she can fully trust someone. 

Used the name Lucifer before settling down and trying to start a new life for herself.

She descended from the upper vearths and is confused when people down here talk about religion. To her “God” is an epithet you can earn and a position of power in the sky islands. She’d interacted with Enel and caught wind that he’d ascended and is thoroughly confused every time someone makes an offhand religious comment or sees an act of devotion, ‘cause god is kind of prick?’. She’s never commented on her confusion. When her wedding was planned to take place in a chapel she was horrified for reasons that weren’t clear to anyone else present.

Since that was the only part she had an objection to the planner in charge caved and re-scheduled the event to an outdoor venue.  

Terribly pyrophobic. Ironically the devil is not okay around an open flame. 

[liafics]

vibrations

prompt: requested #13 “stop turning the wireless vibrator up every time someone walks by, you’re gonna get us kicked out” and #26 “you’re so fucking bad, you deserve to be punished” from here

pairing: requested dom x adam

warning: (gay) smut, unprotected sex, sex toy

dom has been shivering the entire night. his torso trembles as he tries to stay still, his hips exploding with intensity. they were at an award show, an environment filled with other people who can easily impact their careers. but no, adam decided that it would be a great idea to make the show a little but more exciting. he loves watching dom struggle and not expose their scandalous adventure.

“stop turning the wireless vibrator up every time someone walks by, you’re gonna get us kicked out” dom mumbled to adam, who is adoring this new type of control.

adam simply ignored dom’s impolite request, and kept reaching the vibrator’s maximum setting, by discreetly scrolling on the app in his phone. dom’s breath hitched, he’s so frustrated at adam, but he cannot deny the tightness that is forming in his trousers. the throbbing sensation is overwhelming and seemingly neverending, not even an hour has passed yet. adam is interacting with people, keeping it cool and collected, and occasionally fiddling with his phone. no one could tell what the consequences of those actions truly were.

but dom could feel them, literally. his fist tightened as he attempted to make small talk with a few people, in hopes to blend in and get it all over with, but adam is absolutely loving this and is constantly fucking with the vibrator’s settings. dominic’s cheeks are permanently red by now, furious at how adam has the nerve to not speak to him whilst he’s doing such filthy things, right in front of everyone.

the event has properly started by now, and everyone took their seat. adam didn’t even sit next to dominic. his intentions were quite clear, even to dominic. adam wanted to completely surprise dom with the changes in speed, throughout the whole night. dom’s legs kept bouncing, his hands tightly grasping both knees, in hopes to decrease any excessive motion that looks suspicious. after what felt like a lifetime, it was finally time to go home.

at home, adam and dom waited for the rest to get to bed. in the meantime, neither of them has muttered a single word. the vibrator was still inside dom, who almost forgot about it, since adam stopped playing around with it by the time they were returning back home. so naturally, when adam was about to take his phone out of his pocket again, dominic immediately reacted and caught adam totally off guard.

“you’re so fucking bad, you deserve to be punished.” adam couldn’t believe that those words could ever possibly come out of dom’s mouth. dom never complained, he typically simply obeyed adam. with that, dominic pushed adam against the wall and smashed his lips into him. adam held dom’s face and deepened the kiss. as things got heated, dominic pulled adam to the sofa from his tie.

“really, right here?” adam muttered, suddenly unable to speak confidently.

“you don’t get to fuck with me in front of everyone all night, ignore me, and then expect to get away with it.” within seconds, dominic is unbuttoning adam’s trousers and pulling them down to his knees. adam is now bent over the sofa, his heart is thumping through his chest. dominic wasn’t usually like this, and adam isn’t going to let him be in control that easily.

dom eagerly placed himself behind adam, his cock pushing into the bent over man. he was enjoying this new sense of power and confidence, his hands travelled from the back of adam’s hips up to his spine, teasingly slow in order to give adam a taste of his own medicine. without uttering a single word, dom rammed into adam, holding onto his shoulders for leverage. adam eyes widened and his jaw dropped, unable to form a coherent phrase. its been too long since adam bottomed, and he couldn’t believe that dom selfishly stretched him out so suddenly without even any warning.

what a horny fuck desperate for control. dominic hasn’t stopped thrusting relentlessly into adam, biting into his lips to quiet his moans. adam wanted to remind dom who’s really in control. unbeknownst to dominic, adam reached for his phone, swiftly regaining his dominance back again by utilising the vibrating toy to its full potential and immediately setting it on its maximum. dominic almost forgot that the little powerful device was still inside him. he jolts up, stopping in his own tracks as the sudden heightened pleasure became overwhelming. dom’s cock was still buried in adam, his legs shaking due to the intense foreign vibrations, and his grip on adam tightened even more. realising that dom is suddenly too sensitive to even attempt moving, adam started rocking back and forth, fucking himself with dom’s cock.

the message came across rather clearly, adam always takes charge.

[enfpguy]

BioShock Infinite MBTI and Enneagram — Booker DeWitt Booker DeWitt is the Main Protagonist of BioShock Infinite and the Secondary Protagonist of BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea. He’s part of two multi-verses so we’ll be segmenting this analysis into 2 parts. BioShock Infinite: The Main Story. Burial at Sea Booker: This takes place after the events of Bioshock Infinite with an alternate version of Booker. Dominant Function: Introverted Thinking BioShock Infinite: Booker Booker DeWitt is a prime example of an individual that’s driven by situational logic. His views throughout the entire game change drastically. At first, he’s introduced as a very cautious character who doesn’t trust his environment, but he immediately adapts to it. His main goal is to pay off his debt and to achieve that goal he must find Elizabeth and bring her to New York. As he embarks on his adventure, he ends up being caught in unique situations. Such as unknowingly entering the Pilgrim’s Rocket and being transported to a new society that exists within the sky. This alone would cause most people to freak-out and have a panic attack, but not Booker. Instead, he casually moved on as if nothing happened. He immediately then ran into another problem he needed to get baptized by Preaching Witting. He was unwilling but did it anyway because that was the only way into the city. After practically being drowned Booker runs into his first challenge and this is where we first see his TI function in action. He needs to get passed a locked gate to proceed on his quest. He solves this by trying a possession vigor that a hawker is offering free samples of. Booker quickly figures out he can use it on machines and uses it on the automaton guarding the door, therefore unlocking it. He then ends up accidentally entering a raffle and being forced to use yet another piece of unknown technology, the Sky-hook to protect himself from the officers who are trying to harm him. This adaptive style of learning is present throughout everything Booker does in Columbia, from trying new vigors to instructing Elizabeth where to best open “tears” so they can live another day. But that’s not all Booker also has other Introverted Thinking indicators. Such as suppressing his emotions, not because he’s unemotional but because he would rather stay level headed at all times to solve situations, this causes strain on his relationships with other people since FE is his lowest function. This especially affects Elizabeth, who’s quite a sensitive individual, and because of this they often butt heads. We have a lovely example of one of these situations. After rescuing Elizabeth from her prison, Booker lies and promises to bring her to Paris by stealing the First Lady Airship. Before they can do that they must go through the ticket station that leads to Soldier’s Field, this is where things get ugly, the receptionist stabs his hand forcing him to become violent which ends in the death of his assaulters. Elizabeth, experiencing death for the first time, becomes horrified and tries to run away. Booker catches up to a defensive Elizabeth and uses logic to reason with her. He explains that she’s an investment and that those men won’t stop coming after her so she has no choice but to leave Columbia. As the game progresses Booker becomes more comfortable with his surroundings thus starts asking Elizabeth more questions. Such as how do you make these “tears” or why does the Songbird always appear when he hears a specific melody. Before we get to the Burial at sea segment, I want to contest Booker being an SI-TE function user. The first indicator of not having SI can be seen in Booker’s poor attention to detail and memory, this occurs often he forgets about the actions he takes. For instance, the time he forgot he helped interracial couple at the start of the game or the time he forgot about Chen Lin’s tools and machines or the fact that he cares nothing for tradition, duty, or his experiences. Instead, he rather live in the moment. If Booker was a TE user, he’d share similarities to Elizabeth such as her love for facts, systems and seeing things in black and white. However, Booker sees the world in shades of grey, prefers to remain flexible, and follows his own internal logical framework. Although I can recognize why people would perceive Booker as a TE user and that’s because of his cautious and aggressive nature which makes him seem more rigid than he is. Next up we’ll be looking into his TI functional traits and examples within the Burial at Sea DLC. Burial at Sea Booker: We get to meet a unique version of Booker who uses the mentioned TI functional traits much more effectively here. Unlike in Columbia, this Booker doesn’t have a debt to pay nor is he constantly stressed by life or death situations we can see a more accurate representation of his personality. Even in a different environment, his core traits remain the same, and if anything they’re enhanced. Let’s look at some examples. During their adventures in Rapture, Booker becomes acquainted with Elizabeth and notices logical inconsistencies within her actions and speech. This causes him to question her intentions and ask about how she isn’t aware of Rapture's structural system. Such as the time she asks about Little Sisters or what are Splicers. This is common knowledge in Rapture and Booker knows this and calls her out for being a fraud. Elizabeth knows how Booker’s personality functions and evades his questions and manipulates him by using Sally as her leverage against him. Elizabeth also has many questions on why people take certain actions, and Booker always answers with situational logic. An excellent example of that occurs when retrieving the Shock Jockey plasmid. Elizabeth asks why Andrew Ryan imprisoned Fontane's men if he was all about the free market? Booker responds with “All those ideas lose their luster when the quarterly earnings come in and you find the other guy’s eating your lunch” Auxiliary Function: Extroverted Sensing Extroverted Sensing function is often associated with the one-man army trope or within over the top action heroes, and Booker falls directly into both those categories. He’s a man driven by action and can always adapt to every situation that comes his way. From learning how to use unfamiliar weapons and tools with ease. To blowing up blimps and escaping from a gigantic angry robotic bird. Booker definitely sees a lot of action. But the Se function is more than just action. It’s directly related to receiving information from the 5 senses accurately while other functions process that information at slower a slower pace. That makes Extroverted Sensing dominant and auxiliary users quite versatile with physical tasks, such as sports or surviving in a city full of religious fanatics who want to kill you. There are downsides, however, and we can spot many of these within our protagonist. SE users have a hard time with possibilities, unique ideas, or scenarios. Booker thinks the Luteces are absolutely insane and criticizes them for not living within the present but rather within the idea of possibilities. We can see this as fear when Booker discovers that Elizabeth could create “tears” which shouldn’t be physically possible, but as time moves on Booker becomes comfortable and curious with the idea of “tears” since he can interact with them. This makes Booker appear closed-minded, but that’s only because reacting to possibilities he never thought were possible. Another weakness of SE is taking information at face value. Booker doesn’t search for hidden meanings or symbolism within objects, people, or information like Elizabeth. Instead, he would rather be direct and pragmatic. Speaking of his pragmatic and direct nature, Booker often solves problems by doing he’s a kinesthetic learner. This is how he’s able to learn how to use the Sky-hook so quickly. The last example of Booker’s SE function will be an unhealthy one. Booker has three problems, he’s addicted to physical forms of risk-taking, pleasure, and escapism. This is how he got himself stuck in this situation in the first place. He was a well-known drinker and gambler before the events of BioShock Infinite. The reasons differ but, In Columbia’s universe, he drank and gambled to deal with the passing of his wife. In the Rapture universe, he just drank and gambled himself into debt for the pleasure which caused him to lose his adapted daughter Sally. Regardless of the universe, Booker will always drink and gamble. Time for a fun fact before we move on to Booker’s Tertiary function. The detective agency Booker DeWitt worked for is real and still exists today! It’s called the Pinkerton National Detective Agency and was established in 1850 by Allan Pinkerton. They were best known for foiling a plot to assassinate President Abraham Lincoln, working as his personal security during the Civil War and hiring the first female detective in America. However, fame soon turned into infamy during the labor strikes in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The efficiency of the Pinkertons prompted businessmen to hire them to infiltrate unions to keep strikers and unionists out of factories. To make matters worse, they hired goon squads to intimidate workers to prevent them from striking. Today the Pinkertons are known as the Pinkerton Consulting & Investigations, Inc and they’re of the oldest and most influential detective agencies in the world. Tertiary Function: Introverted Intuition Booker DeWitt’s use of Introverted Intuition is interesting, he often represses it to the point of it being an unconscious function because he doesn’t enjoy thinking too far into the future and prefers living in here and now. Yet somehow he’s constantly foreshadowing future events! Such as his dream of New York burning or Foreshadowing Elizabeth’s torture device that would brainwash her after she asked Booker why Comstock imprisoned her. Or the time Booker leaves Cornelius Slate alive and then claims that leaving him alive wasn’t mercy, Comstock’s men will capture and torture him. This ends up being true and Cornelius can be found mentally broken in an interrogation room in Fink’s jailhouse. Booker is either a brilliant detective who can deduce situations so fast that it looks like he’s predicting the future or his NI function usage is exceptional. Our last example takes place in Rapture after Booker collects the Old Man Winter plasmid. He stops Elizabeth after suspecting her of being a fraud and demands answers; She scoffs at him and lies. This causes him to predict that he’s being set up. Turns out he was right. Inferior Function: Extroverted Feeling Booker starts with an unhealthy usage of the FE function and slowly develops it throughout the title. At the start of his quest in Columbia, Booker remains disconnected from his emotions and closed off because he sees no reason to express them. We can especially see in Battleship Bay when Booker is trying to get Elizabeth's attention while she's dancing. He wants to leave Columbia so he can complete his mission, but first needs to stop her from dancing. At first he tries to be polite, then he tries using a more aggressive tone and finally he manipulates her by mentioning the First Lady Airship and how it can bring her to Paris. It’s an effective use of the FE function but used unhealthily. Booker lies to her for the first half of the game, telling her he’ll bring her to Paris, with the actual intention of bringing her to New York to pay off his debts. Or how he wasn’t able to empathize with Mrs. Lin at the loss of her husband instead he kept asking questions hoping she could give him an answer that would help track down her husband. As the game progresses, we can observe Booker loosening up and expressing his emotions in healthier ways by showing worry and care for Elizabeth during hardships. Such as the time where she killed Daisy Fitzroy. Booker recognized the look of horror in Elizabeth’s eyes, chased her down. He immediately attempted to comfort her by asking if she was okay and tried to relate to her feelings so she would feel better. Another example occurs after Elizabeth finds out her mother and the Luteces were killed by Comstock. She then says she’s just a specimen to be poked and prodded. Booker comforts her by letting her know she doesn’t deserve the stuffing she’s been through. Before we complete this segment, I’ll be mentioning 2 extra examples. The first one relates to FE grip that occurs when Booker realizes he’s Elizabeth’s father, he goes through a complete mental breakdown and irrationally wants to end it all. The second example is a moral example of FE. During the second half of the game Elizabeth and Booker run into a locked door that requires Lady Comstock’s finger print to enter. Elizabeth impulsively decides she will take it from her mothers corpse, Booker tries to stop her and suggests that it’s morally incorrect. But her decision is already made, Booker decides he will remove the finger for her. Our last FE indicator can be seen at the end of the game. Booker sacrifices himself to Elizabeth. He does this to stop Comstock from ever being born, Elizabeth takes him to Comstock's birthplace and Booker immediately realizes he’s both Booker DeWitt and Zachery Hale Comstock. He then allows the Elizabeths to drown him so she may break the circle. https://youtu.be/Dbjql-8coDw