#it was brief but it happened and gideon did her absolute best to take care of her too

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

so when harrow wakes up back in her own body. and she feels stronger and more flexible from the consistent exercise. and she's gained a little weight from the eating. and she's tired in the moment but feels, in a general sense, better rested than she has been in years (because you can tell, can't you, whether your tiredness is momentary or the result of extended sleep deprivation), and her hair has been washed recently and her clothes smell of laundry powder.

how do we think she's going to feel about that. harrow the control freak, harrow who always valued her autonomy, harrow who has spent her whole life trying to feel powerful and competent. harrow the neglected child. how do we think she's going to feel about the fact that her body has been in the absolute power of no less than five other people for the last six months, and they took better care of it than she ever did?

cause i'm gonna be honest, i don't think she'll be happy about it.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Riding the Lightning: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

The couple’s house hasn’t been treated well. It has so much graffiti and damage that the city had to put a chain-link fence around the place to keep trespassers away. However, if more came, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. The place is so badly damaged, you’re shocked it’s still standing. This place holds a lot of memories, and none of them are good.

This used to be a good house--you can see it. Years of ignored care left it in the state it’s in. The outside walls used to be bright white but now are a dirty color. The wood is falling apart at the base of the house. The windows are smashed and shattered, so to keep people out of the house, they board it up haphazardly.

“Jacob's workshop is out the back,” Derek says.

“I don’t know about this place, Derek. I have a really bad feeling,” you say with an uneasy feeling.

Derek leads you onto the property and towards the back. The closer you get to the place where his workshop used to be, the more the uneasy feeling comes back. All that’s left back there is just dirt, but you can clearly see the workshop as if it were standing right now. Everything is perfectly clear as to what used to be here.

“He claimed that Sarah Jean would lure the victims from mall parking lots. She'd invite them to smoke pot in her truck. They'd find Jacob but no pot. They’d bring them here.”

“This is where the workshop stood,” you state, looking around as if it were actually here.

“What do you see?”

“It’s a lot smaller than I thought it was going to be. It’s big enough to not warrant concerns from anyone else but small enough to hide away from the street’s view. It looks homey like a guest house, but not too scary to throw off any of the people who passed by the house on a daily basis. There are high cabinets with a ton of tools inside like a mechanic would have. There are some tools hanging on the far wall, a few desks around, and a big bench saw,” you whisper fearfully when you see what’s on it.

Right on the blade is red liquid, and you know it’s blood.

“The blade has a ton of blood on it. He used it to cut up his victims,” you say.

As you get out the last word, you see a mystified version of Jacob standing by the saw with one of his faceless victims on the table. She is squirming, but he cuts her up anyway. Sarah Jean is nowhere to be found, but you have a feeling that she didn’t know he did this to these poor girls. Killing, maybe, but killing them this way, absolutely not. Sarah Jean was a victim herself--and she still is.

“I can’t look at this anymore,” you whisper and look away from the crime scene that’s no longer there.

“We know that Jacob was abused as a child. What about Sarah Jean?” Derek asks.

“Her mother refused to give any testimony in her defense. She never talked to anybody,” you state.

When you look back at Derek, the workshop had disappeared. Your mind is focused on something else, so it doesn’t have the energy to conjure up what was, but instead, focuses on what is.

“Maybe she's willing to talk now. Let's go pay Sarah Jean's mother a visit.”

“Despite what happened, she doesn’t live far. It’s within walking distance.”

“I wonder why she didn’t move halfway around the world.”

“She’s a mother, Derek. A Mother doesn’t abandon her children,” you say with sadness.

“You say that like you know that. Do you have children?”

“No.”

You don’t say anything more on the matter, not like you would if you could. Your past promised to stay in the past, so there is no use in digging up things that have been locked away for almost a decade now. You two quickly head over to Sarah Jean’s mother’s house to see if she’ll talk to you now.

Her house is still standing, but it looks like there is a lot of work still left to be done. Its as if she wants to repaint and redo the house to give it a new start so she can somehow move on from all this. No matter how much work is done on the house, you can still sense the sadness within the foundations. Right by the door is ‘Rot in Hell Sarah Jean’ spray-painted loud for anyone who walks by. You ignore it and knock on the door, looking at Derek when she doesn’t answer.

“She’s sad, Derek--in more pain than anyone I’ve seen in a while,” you sigh.

“Hello? Anybody? Hello! Mrs. Mason?” Derek yells, knowing she is home.

The door opens and Sarah’s mother, Deborah Mason, stands there with a small teacup in her hands.

“Yeah?”

“Are you Sarah Jean Dawes’ mother?” you ask.

“Who the hell are you?”

“FBI. We are from the behavior analysis unit,” you state and flash her your badge.

“My daughter and her son of a bitch husband buried a thirteen-year-old girl under my floor. What more do you need to know?”

“Ma'am, Sarah Jean has agreed to meet with our colleges to talk about why they killed those girls. We'd like some background information if you don't mind,” Derek says gently.

She has nothing to lose by letting you two in and talking, so she just shrugs and lets the door open as she heads back inside. The inside looks the same as the outside, but with more work. Plastic covers virtually everything as she gets ready to repaint the house. There are some parts torn up from the floor, so you’re careful as you walk inside to where Deborah is in the kitchen. This is an open floor plan, and you can see into the dining room on the other end of the kitchen right through an arched entryway. Almost every doorway is an arch.

“Extensive remodeling. Jacob built the original extension?” you ask and point to the arch separating the kitchen and the dining room. “I see he liked arches.”

“Teenage girls, agent, that's what he liked.”

“How was Sarah Jean growing up?”

“Fine, until she met Jacob. She was shy, quiet, and also smart.”

She picks up a bottle of vodka and adds more to her small teacup, and you exchange silent glances with Derek.

“What about her relationship with her father?” you wonder. “Was Sarah ever abused?”

“He was strict. He was a military man. They didn't always see eye to eye. That's all history. He's dead. She's about to die,” she sighs and drinks from the cup.

“Mrs. Mason, if we better understand the dynamics of her relationships, we can get a better idea of why and what actually happened,” Derek says.

“Dynamics?” she scoffs and moves away from the kitchen to the living room where her purse is.

“Well, it might answer why Jacob never killed Sarah Jean. They shared something.”

“They shared pain.”

“How strict was your husband? How did he discipline Sarah Jean? Was he physical with her?” you pry.

“He was a mean bastard, but he only hurt me… never her.”

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“Because we had no place to go,” her voice falters as she takes another sip.

“An anonymous caller tipped the police off about Jacob, was it you?” you ask.

“No, but I know who it was,” she says and pulls out a letter from her purse. She hands it to you, and you take it gently from her hands. “This came this morning.”

You open the letter, and your mouth hangs open just a bit when you read exactly what it is.

“What does it say?” Derek asks.

“It’s a statement of innocence,” you reveal. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to call Gideon about this.”

You quickly head outside and dial Penelope so she can patch you through to the older agent.

“Garcia,” she says once she answers.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. I need Gideon please.”

“Yeah, I'll pass you through,” she puts you on a brief hold until she can get the older agent on the line for you.

“What?” Gideon mutters quietly.

“We're at the mother's house, and she gave me a letter. A statement of innocence. I want to read to you.”

“Read the letter, Y/N.”

“Mom, I know how difficult this must be. Things between us were never what they should be between a mother and a daughter. I want you to know that the best part of me, the most important part of me, is now in a better place than you and I will ever be. I'm responsible for the death of those girls. I neglected my duties as a woman and as a mother.”

There is more to it, but you can hear Sarah Jean get upset over the line. You don’t know what is happening, but you feel like you need to get over there right now. Screw prisons and your fear of them. You need to help this woman, and it sounds like you can, based on what you hear over the phone.

“I’m coming over there. I’ll be there soon,” you say to whoever is listening before hanging up. Derek exits the house, and you put your phone away and hand him the letter. “I’m going back to prison. You’ll be okay here? I can send Elle to help you.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll see if I can’t get anything else out of Deborah.”

“Okay, stay safe.”

“And stay sane,” he quips back as you head to the car.

When you get to the prison, Gideon and Spencer are done talking to Sarah Jean. She didn’t know you would be reading her private letter, so she needed to clear her head before you go and talk to her. If she is truly innocent, then why is she fighting so hard to stay here? Why not fight to get out and separate herself fro Jacob? She is scared of something… or she’s trying to protect someone. You sent Elle to go to Derek when you arrived, and the team gathers where Penelope is to watch the tapes of the interviews to see if they can’t spot anything that they might have missed.

“They died as a result of my neglect,” Sarah Jean whispers regretfully.

“This letter suggests to me that an innocent woman is about to be executed for a crime she did not commit.”

“I could tell you right now, it's not enough to get a stay,” Sam Shapiro sighs.

“Well, facts. Reid,” Gideon says.

“Human sexuality is a complex dynamic of three components: biological, physiological, and emotional. Jacob's needs were informed by the emotional, sexual abuse that he received at the hand of his mother. Long term appetitive abuse informed the template of his love map. Something we refer to as a signature. Jacob was an only child, so he was alone when the abuse occurred. So, in order for him to fulfill his fantasy he has got to be alone with his victims.”

You look from the tape of Sarah Jean to the one with Jacob, and you just narrow our eyes in anger for him. He’s not a good person at all, and you refuse to even be in within sight of him. There is no way you’ll survive talking to him about anything.

“If I told you that what would I have left for myself?” Jacob says over the tape.

“He said ‘myself’. If Sarah Jean was present, it would have destroyed his fantasy,” you note.

“She confessed to killing her son,” the warden, Charles Diehl, states.

“Yes, true, but we are also convinced that she is the anonymous caller that made the phone call that nailed Jacob. In fact, I know she is.”

“Guilt-ridden and filled with remorse, she called the police. It's not the profile of a woman who would then kill a child,” Gideon sighs.

“What else do you need?” you ask the attorney.

“Evidence.”

“So, if we prove Jacob killed Riley, would that get a stay?”

“Absolutely.”

“She protects the painting, she protects the boy,” Gideon mutters.

“What?” you ask.

“Paintings are her statement. We need to figure out what they say.”

“Get me into her room, and I’ll find that out. I have to be alone though. I can’t have her influence on this.”

“You’ll get it,” Gideon confirms with a single nod.

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[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 16: Tatooine

ALT TITLE: Stardust, The Force and one big beautiful mess

A/N: at first I wanted to continue the sandcrawler scavenger reader I did (which I will do eventually with or without Mandoctober to guide me) but I went through some personal stuff so I more or less wanted to base this around family and where your roots are from rather than Tatooine itself, which in its essence is that one scene with Luke skywalker standing outside his home with the twin suns and later on down the line, his final resting place along with his twin sister Leia. 

Someone dear to me passed away almost ten years ago now. The anniversary is the day Season two comes out. Which is essentially why I’m so committed to this fandom now. But I also wanted to write something just to get the remaining grief out of my system. 

Mum, this one is for you.

Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum Buir.

Poe Dameron x reader, Nameless!Mother (or Mother Figure) x Din Djarin

(FOR CLARIFICATION DIN DJARIN IS THE READER’S FATHER IN THIS ONE)

also somehow I wrote 5K in two hours none stop...am I Alexander Hamilton? 

It had been so long since I had been home. It hurt to think of the place where I came from. Hatred had leaked into my very belief system, my culture...even my family. 

I felt like they hated me for leaving... but I was scared that they’d never miss me. That I had only been a ghost in their lives. There for 18 years and then poof! I was gone. 

My father, Din Djarin, the Mandalorian saved my mother from slavery when she was quite young. Around my age to be precise. He had no idea at the time because she had been living with an Ugnaught named Kuill. That’s why my middle name is Kuill. I owe that fateful Ugnaught my existence for freeing my own mother from slavery when she was barely even a woman. 

She had nowhere else to go...and instead of keeping her grounded and sheltered away from the rest of the world. He let her live. 

Growing up you hear stories of people dying all around you, neighbours, friends and yes, even pets. It hurts so much you can’t even comprehend it. You become numb and barren to the pains of the world.

It feels like you don’t care anymore.

It got to a point where I was making things up in my head out of anger. How I would’ve handled things differently, what I wanted to do with my life, where I wanted to go.

But my father had only one strict rule.

Once we set down roots...we can never leave.

I never questioned it after the first time he told me why. 

My mother...on the day I decided to leave, knew that something was wrong.

Lately I had been restless, agitated and easy to anger. 

At first she thought I had fallen pregnant. Something that had made us both laugh at the time. It was a hollow memory to me now. I had no idea if she was dead or alive. 

It hurt. The unknown. Death, life. It didn’t matter. 

What mattered was the fight to live. To help others thrive.

You were raised to be everything the First Order was against. 

So of course you wanted to join the resistance at the first chance you got.

---

“NO.”

“But-”

“No means no! Do you have any idea what your mother and I went through to bring you this life, so you could live in the peace that the universe scarcely gives? Do you have any idea how lucky you are?!”

“That’s exactly why I have to go! Don’t you understand that! I love living here. But some people aren’t as lucky. You know that more than anyone in this village buir. Mum knows it too.”

It went deadly quiet for a moment. 

“I did not bring you this life...risked everything with my culture, my creed, just so you could selfishly throw it away...I don’t want you to die like my parents did Ad’ika.”

I didn’t say it then but...that was another reason you needed to go. To make your ancestors and those Mandalorians who came before your father proud. 

It was the one time Din Djarin had let his guard down.

You crept away into the night, leaving only a kiss on your little (in size) brother’s brow and a note next to your mother’s tools.

It was the best way you could’ve said goodbye. 

“I am one with the force and the force is with me...This is the way.” 

---

Two whole weeks later I found yourself on a planet that was the polar opposite of what I was used to. So much technology that I didn’t know the names of, ships, speeders, weapons and people. 

It was strange how seeing so many people made you euphoric at the time. I was only a rookie, and I had never left home before. Of course I was nervous. 

There was so much to learn! Keeping up with the resistance is what scared you, what if they threw you out? You had trained under your mother’s mechanical know how just to get here but what if-

“Djarin! Y/N!”

“HERE!” You hadn’t realised how loud you had been until all the people turned to look at you funny. Whispers and giggles followed. Maker, this was embarrassing. 

“Good to know you’re here. I’m Poe Dameron by the way. Noticed you weren’t paying attention. You nervous?” Making eye contact with the most gorgeous man you had ever seen was the last thing you had expected. He was a hot shot pilot apparently. You heard a girl giggle behind your head as she winked at him. Oh, give me a break. 

“...A little.”

“Okay well don’t be. You recruited for a reason and according to where you’ve been registered you’re the best mechanic we’ve seen in a long while. Which is why you’ve been assigned to my X-Wing.” 

Jealousy dripped in ugly green buckets. You were quite fond of the colour, with it being the colour of your little brother’s skin. But...it hurt nonetheless. 

“Yes sir.” You whimpered pathetically.

You were doing this for them. Not for some pilot you had only just met. Well...him too. 

---

Crashing into General Leia Organa with heaps of your paperwork was not how you planned your first day ending.

“Kriffing Bantha fodder! Why don’t you watch where you’re-Oh my god you’re Princess Leia.” 

To say you had been absolutely obsessed with her when you were younger was an understatement. 

She reminded you of your mother in so many ways it hurt to look at her.

Which is why you were so confused when she touched your cheek only to find yourself crying at just the sight of her. 

---

“So...you left on bad terms with not only your father, but your family in general. Even if your mother never found out?”

“I’m worried that it’ll put a strain on my parents relationship with each other more than anything...I can’t contact them or write. It’s too risky.”

“Your father taught you well.” 

“Wait...you know who my father is?”

“Many people have heard of the Mandalorian that killed Moff Gideon with the dark saber. Some have speculated that it was a myth...now I can see that it wasn’t since you are living proof of what Mandalorians can create.”

“My mother was never a Mandalorian. She was a Mechanic through and through...she just happened to be thrown into motherhood twice along the way.” you joked bitterly.

Your parents had told you the tales of Moff Gideon. It was a fairytale that had been shrouded in mystery. Something you weren’t expecting to hear from the two people you admired the most. 

“I love my family. That’s all Mandalorians care about. Their clan and their people as a whole. I’ve neglected that part of myself for far too long. We had to hide to be safe. It made me angry. I told my dad I was going to leave the night before I did. He said no...I went anyway. It doesn’t matter what he thinks...not right now. I have to put what matters to me in this universe first.”

“Hmm...you sound a lot like a young jedi knight i used to know.” 

“Are you talking about Master Luke Skywalker?” You were getting excited now. 

“No...one of his students he took for a very brief period. You see the child was the same species as Master Yoda but he was already fifty years old. A relationship where a padawan is already older than their teacher? That...now that is strange.” Leia giggled to herself. 

Everytime you glanced at her all you could see were fragments of your own mother. You understood why everyone here adored her. Why she was in command whilst others who thought they deserved it, weren’t.

She was a mother through and through. Whether to her own child or not, you knew she didn’t realise this one fact alone. 

“You remind me of my buir. She has many similar features...not the same just, similar.” 

“I’m honoured you think of me that way Djarin. But I believe that there is an anxious pilot waiting for you in the hangar.” 

“Kriff! Thank you for the Caff General. It's a lot different to what I’m used to but it’s a welcome change.” Getting this out in one breath you bowed somewhat awkwardly before running out of the canteen. 

---

“Y’know you’re strange right?”

“Kriff!” Banging your head on the bottom of Poe’s X-Wing was not how you wanted this to pan out. 

“You’re annoying, did you know that?”

Watching his face was like observing a painting, depending on your interpretation and the angle the motions you saw were just-

“Mesh’la.”

“What...is that some weird curse word or somethin’?” 

“Uh! No, I mean, yes! I mean...maybe.” scratching the back of your neck, you attempted to soothe the bump that was forming there. That was going to be a little ray of sunshine to wake up to tomorrow morning. 

“Hey, let me take a look at that.” Turning around somewhat hesitantly. You let Poe take a look at your ‘wound’. 

“Yikes, looks like a lot of blood.” 

“What!” 

“I’m kidding. It was a joke to get you less stressed out...obviously it didn’t work.”

“Sorry...I’m just anxious, I guess.” 

“Wanna talk about it? My X-wing is in great shape right now by the way, my old mech checked her out before you shipped in. He was a great guy but...he was one of a handful we lost.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Hey it’s okay. Death is a part of life, unfortunately I learnt that at a tender young age.”

“What happened? ...if you don’t  mind me asking that is.” 

“...My mother, she was a pilot just like me. She fought for what she believed in and yet, she died anyway. It hurts but...I fight because of what my parents did.”

“No way! Me too! My parents took a back seat compared to what the resistance did back in the day but my Dad was a total badass and my mum...well, my mum was a slave.” 

The look of shock you saw on Poe’s face was something you mistook for awkwardness. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped Captain Dameron.” 

“Nah, you did the complete opposite actually...we’re gonna spend a lot of time together for god knows how long so it’s good that we get the emotional baggage out of the way first.”

The smile he gave you made your knees turn to jelly. 

You didn’t know then how taken Poe already was with you, He thought you were cute, but he underestimated how much of a badass you really were. The knowledge of your parents though...he tucked that away for safe keeping right next to the ring that sat against his heart. 

Little did he know then how much emotional baggage you really had...

---

-3 YEARS LATER-

“DJARIN WE NEED YOU IN MEDICAL STAT!” 

“DON’T YELL AT ME LIKE I’M ONE OF YOUR NURSES MCLAGGEN! I CAN HANDLE IT!”

“I KNOW THAT, THAT’S WHY WE NEED YOU!”

Although you admired your crew mates sometimes you wanted to rip off their kriffin’ heads. 

Everyone was stressed lately. All three of the golden trio had vanished, out of sight, out of mind. And to make matters worse, Leia was just as worried as you were. 

“Commander Djarin!”

“Poe!” Running to your best friend in the whole freaking universe, you wrapped him in the biggest hug you could muster. You had been so worried about him. 

“I missed you! I was so worried...I didn’t know what to think…” Shame and guilt crept into your very being as Poe stood before you, he was carrying a very solemn aura. Something bad had just happened. You could feel it all around you now. People were sobbing in the courtyard. 

Everyone was upset...but that could only mean-

“No...No, don’t you dare tell me she’s gone.”

“Y/N I’m sorry.” Poe was a mess, just like you.

He held you in his arms as you screamed in agony until nightfall. 

---

“I’m never gonna be good enough for this. Not like she was.” 

Hearing Poe go through the worst thing he had ever faced once again broke your heart tenfold. More than yours was breaking already. 

“Poe Dameron, you listen to me and listen well okay?” 

Every part of his being was hyper focused on you as you said these next words, it’s like you were commanding them into his brain. 

“Leia loved you. She may have never said it out loud but she said it in the ways any mother would. She was the mother of the resistance sure but she had a real soft spot for you after everything with...Ben.”

Comparing Poe to Kylo Ren was a painful business but everything about grief was painful, it made you focus on the good and the bad. 

“Family is more than blood. That’s what my father’s creed taught me. I will never forget it as long as I live. When this is all over and he’s not going to put a knife through my chest just for leaving I’ll introduce you. Hell, I’d drag you back to my home planet right now if i could...you would love it.” 

“I’m sure I would...Mesh’la.”

“...What did you just call me?”

“I got that right didn’t I? It’s not an insult, it’s a compliment? I thought it meant beautiful I was just guessing off interpretation I didn’t read any mmph-”

You had cut him off by slamming your lips onto his. Sure, it was inappropriate to make out in front of both your mother figure’s corpse but...you knew by now that many times she had told you to tell him how you truly felt when it came to war?

It was now or never. 

She had that with Han Solo and in the blink of an eye he had left. 

But Poe? Poe had been your constant throughout all of this, he loved you in ways you could only imagine and you loved him. Even if the kiss ended up not meaning anything...you knew you would never regret it as long as you live. 

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum Poe Dameron.”

“WHA- what, um, ahem, does uh, that mean?” You had flustered him, you felt pride in your very soul for doing that. 

But Damn if his tousled hair didn’t like so fine? Maybe it was the fact you had just clawed your fingers through it like the world was ending...but in a way it kind of was. 

“I will keep you in my heart forever...that’s the Mandalorian way of saying I love you Poe Dameron.” 

“Oh...MANDO’A!” 

You leapt back at this, not the reaction you were hoping for. But it was so ardently Poe you couldn’t help the grin on your face. 

“What about it?”

“That’s your culture! Your language! That’s why you told me your father is such a bad-...ass”

“There a reason you’re just saying ‘ass’ to yourself, General?”

“Oh bantha fodder...I’m gonna have to ask for your father’s blessing to marry you by talking to a Mandalorian?” 

An audible gasp snapped him out of his stupor.

“You...you were gonna propose?”

“Of course.”

The painting had returned. The painting you kept in your heart and sang to every day. The one you comforted when he had nightmares, no matter how close to your body he was, you knew by that point your friendship was long gone. 

You had never put a label on it...but in a way, you had always been each other’s ‘one’.

And now...He was asking you to be his riduur?

“Leia convinced me. She said if I didn’t buckle up and saw what was right in front of me throughout this whole war. I would've killed myself over my love for you.” Confirming that he was in fact, in love with you, was a breath of fresh air. 

Even if the jungle you had been camped out in for months on end had changed your temperament you couldn’t help the tears welling up in not just your eyes but Poe’s as well. 

“Y/N Kuill Djarin. I love you so damn much it hurts to leave you every time I ran to that hangar. I knew everytime I left it could’ve been the last time and it scared me. Because who was I going to be if I never found my forever girl? My mom told me that much before she passed…” 

Shara Bey’s ring. The fact that he had carried the ring of his deceased mother around for years on end just to be close to her made your heart simultaneously sing and cry. 

Not only because the ring was now yours to keep. 

But so was the man who gave it to you. 

That night, before the final battle, your hearts beat as one.

---

You had won.

Everyone had celebrated, you both drank so much that when you woke up in bed together the next day, despite the crippling twin headaches, all the two of you could do was laugh. 

“I mean...if we think about logically it was only a matter of time before one of us pounced on the other?” You offered into the awkward harmony you had both fallen into. 

“Yeah but I just really wanna know...I didn’t hurt you right?” 

You had never told him, but Poe knew just by the way you had gotten up to get some water, despite the fact he was ready for round two almost instantly due to how the sheets bunched and fell from your figure, that you were a virgin. 

But just from the simple process of illumination of what little you had told him of your life before the Resistance or BP he liked to call it (before Poe), you preferred BB (before Beeps), he knew you had never been in a relationship. Not properly anyway. 

Not with him. 

In a way the thought of being your first filled him with joy...but every time he had imagined it he had expected to be a gentleman, rose petals, lilies, gods, any flowers he could’ve found in that blasted rainforest would’ve been perfect! 

What he didn’t understand was how the drink had addled his brain so drastically that he had just pounced like a feral animal on his precious girl. He wanted to take your innocence on your wedding night (Your engagement hadn’t yet been announced to the Resistance as you both wanted to wait for the onslaught of weddings to die down before the wedding of the century was even announced so in a way, your relationship as fiance’s technically still didn't exist). 

And yet...you realised something during the haze and the blur of everything Poe and you last night. 

You had made a new home here, a life for yourself...and it was good. 

You had done exactly what your parents did and more.

So of course you were emotional. I mean, you two hadn’t even used protection!

Although...you didn’t share this with Poe the thought of a little version of you and him growing within you? It set your heart on fire. So when you kissed him with the passion of a thousand thunderstorms, you didn’t hesitate to return the favour of last night...and then some. 

---

Shuffling into the cantina had never felt so awkward in all of your three years here. You were 21 years of age now. People hooked up all the time and it’s not like you broadcasted your virginity to anyone here.

That was until the green bundle of joy himself practically flew into your arms. 

“Ad’ika?!” Your exclamation panicked Poe, his hand immediately going to your waist as he inspected the creature wrapped around your neck. BB8 whirled in Ad’ika’s wake, circling the figure of 8’s around the both of you. 

“What, they did?” Ad’ika looked up at you like you had grown three heads. Sure, he looked like a kid. But he was now roughly 90 years old. He was a fully grown child now. You still blushed like a little girl apparently as he continuously giggled into your neck.

“Not important right now buddy. Where are our buirs?” You muttered tearfully. Today had turned into a whole other kind of day. 

“C’MON GUYS HURRY UP I’VE NEVER SEEN A REAL LIFE MANDALORIAN BEFORE!!” Seeing friends of yours running past only to be met with the vision of your buirs brought you the relief that no bacta patch (or in this one specific case casual sex???) could ever give. 

Your mother was vision as always and Poe confirmed it.

“Y/N...I knew the day I first met you that you were beautiful but the fact that your mother looks almost exactly like you right now scares me.” 

“Poe, whatever you do don’t say anything inappropriate around my Da, he won’t appreciate it, at all.” 

Even though you were smiling like crazy, Poe knew you were being deadly serious. You didn’t want anything to ruin today. 

Besides, there was only one reason your buirs were wearing their armor once more. Your father was wearing all of his Mandalorian armor, scuffed and slightly dusty with age (he had clearly left in a hurry) but your mother was wearing her long forgotten robes. Once she was planning on giving to you one day. You realised she looks a lot like Rey right now. 

The dark saber she carried at her side confirmed it. 

But her eyes meeting yours from across the room as she spotted her daughter reunited with your son, caused both you and Poe to tear up once more as she grabbed her Riduur’s hand. 

“Excuse us.” Polite as always, she waited for no one as she made her way to you and only you as she almost tripped over poor Beeps in the process. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You both laughed a similar laugh that any one around would recognise. It was like Leia had come home but you all knew she was gone...she was never truly gone. She lived on through each and everything the resistance had touched. 

Including you...and Poe.

Din and your mother.

Ad’ika...and Luke Skywalker.

Your mother the day she killed Moff Gideon with a light saber that she did not know she had the untaught skills to possess.

It was like strings were tangling and wrapping and strangling…

Except it was beautiful.

“We missed you so much Ad’ika.”

Looking into the eyes of your buir, his scarred and worn face now riddled with crow’s feet from the happiness you had placed there. 

It was home. 

---

Drums beating. Heart pounding. Numerous friends and family to you and to Poe squabbling over what hairstyle you would wear. 

Today was the big day. Surprisingly you had announced it a week ago. 

After everything that had happened, when your father showed up, Poe asked right on the spot if he could marry you. Not caring that he had to prove himself in the trials of Mandalore. 

In his heart he had become one with your clan. He had become a son in your father’s eyes, another foundling that had just found his way here. 

“I know men aren’t technically allowed to be in the chamber, but I just had to meet my future daughter-in-law before the big day.” Your breath catching in your throat, your eyes met those of a man you recognised.

Although you had never met it’s like you had a scrapbook in your mind or all the stories, all the little details of what Poe’s Dad looked like. 

He was more handsome than you originally thought, but that was a given seeing as it was the exact same as when you met Poe himself. 

“Nervous?”

“Surprisingly...not at all.”

“Poe...wanted me to give you this.”

A glance of the ring gave you a flicker of a moment of self-doubt. He would never have his own Dad break things off...would he? 

“Don’t worry. It’s a family thing you know, for father’s to give away their daughter’s. I asked your mother but I had no idea that she was from the tribe of many mothers.” Giggling to yourself at that line, you realised where you had got your spirit from. 

Leia was here with her own family today, you could feel it in your bones.

“It’s sweet of you to ask at all when we have never even properly met.” 

“Ah, you’re wrong there, in a way we have. Poe told me so much about you I began to cry before the wedding even started. Good thing he told me at the bachelor party.” 

Raising an incredulous brow at him, you wondered a silent question. 

“It was just me and him for most of the night before drinks with his friends. Don’t worry, Poe’s not that kind of man.” Smiling to yourself, you knew he was right. You also knew this meant Poe had a terrible influence of friends. You loved them all. Of course Poe asked Finn to be his best man and you asked Rey to be your maid of honour.

They wanted everything to be perfect. 

Although a week made everyone go a bit stir crazy. Someone even came up with the rule that as long as we were all staying on this damn jungle planet. We might as well have a week in between each one to plan. 

You can’t remember how many bridezillas had attacked you over Poe Dameron in your dreams. 

In reality everyone was happy for you, in their minds, if they thought about it you were the perfect match for Poe in each and every way. 

Wait ‘til they found out how short the actual ceremony was. 

“Anyway, Shara, god's rest her soul, would’ve given you this if she were here, but I’m here to tell the tale so I’m giving it to you to wear on the chain she gave him when he was little.”

Feeling tears well up in sympathy for the father and son duo, you couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m getting married so I need to know. How did you ever learn to cope with the pain of losing someone that close to you?”

“Simple...I didn’t. Poe was angry for years. Not just at the world but at the system. It’s why he felt he had no choice but to become a spice runner. The system wouldn’t let him win and he was exhausted from the guilt and the grief. I couldn’t bring myself to reprimand him.” 

Remembering something your mother said to you long ago...you knew you had to tell your future father in law something that had been on the backburner for the last few days of preparation. 

“There’s one small detail in all of this that you should know Kes.”

“What’s that…”

“...I’m pregnant.”

“Goodness! How? Wait no, I know how what I meant was when?”

“About a month ago now?” It was before my parents' surprise visit and Poe dropped the bomb on everyone that he intended to marry me. 

“Let me guess, he asked for your Dad’s blessing?”

“Well...yeah.”

“Think of them as an early wedding present.”

“Thanks. Although at least this means I can get out of consummating the marriage.” Laughing nervously, Kes was about to say something else when the door creaked open once more. 

“...Wow.” 

“Hi Dad.” 

“Um..sorry but I’m guessing your Poe’s father Kes?” 

“Yeah, Heard a lot 'bout you and your daughter over the years.” 

Smiling to yourself, you let them chat as your Mother crept from behind your father’s ceremonial cape (It had a red inner lining and fur lining the top, don’t ask) She looked just as radiant as you did. 

“My daughter.” 

“Hi Mum.” 

“Did none of your friends fix up your hair?”

“We couldn’t decide on a style…”

Sadly you knew your time to prepare was drawing to a close, you needed to be as ready as you were when repairing the X-Wings.

“How about...I do your hair like my mother did for me?” 

Tearing up at the mention of your grandmother, god's rest her soul, you wished she were here to see this. 

“Please.” ---

Poe was nervous. No doubt. Finn was panicking and Rey wasn’t helping with all the screaming and waving around the chairs and tables she was doing by abusing the force just to get things done quickly. 

Today...was a mess.

But it was the best kind of mess. 

Jokingly, Finn had put a bow tie made for large Loth Cat’s around Beep’s neck. Poe had agreed that he had never looked so dapper. What they didn’t expect was your Dad’s distaste for droids and his dry humor. 

Poe knew why though, so he didn’t get angry or throw a fit like the first time you met BB8 and was scared to shit. 

It was strange that you had never met a proper droid before that day. 

And wow, now he was marrying you. Time flew, so quickly. 

To break the ice Poe had asked Din the story behind Ad’ika. In a quick attempt to get to his daughter before the ceremony took place, people filing in as he talked and avidly listening, he told the story of how he had come across the beauty that was/is your mother, how he met Ad’ika, how he had saved his life. Why Poe had discovered the secret tattoo of a mudhorn on your back. One that you had received from your Auntie Cara Dune you added fondly. 

Who he would be meeting for the first time today. 

The jungle had never looked so beautiful. You had both decided that the wedding would take place around dusk on the last night of summer, when it was not too humid and yet hot enough that the ceremonial wear had to be adapted to the heat. 

Din had graciously warned Poe about Mandolorian traditional wedding dresses and how your mother had worked night and day to make your dress perfect. Poe quickly learned that your mother was a jack of all trades. 

This was his family now. Forever and always. 

A crescendo began as the miscellaneous Mandalorians dotted around the room beat the traditional drums to a high and demanding tune, light glinting off their multi-coloured helms dancing in the setting sunlight. With the Fur pressing against Poe’s throat he had jokingly said he looked like a king. 

When Din answered back saying since he was a clan leader he technically was choked on his own spit. 

Her fiance, the love of his life, had been a princess in disguise this whole freaking time. 

It stuck in the back of his mind as the music grew too demanding, but as gasps filled the room he couldn’t help looking up. 

Your mother was walking you down the aisle, your dresses looking not so similar yet similar enough that anyone and everyone knew you were one and the same, yet different. 

But you, Gods above, you. 

You looked like a princess. 

Beskar cladded your upper arms, two feathers decorated your hair, matching braids flowing down your neck as your squeezed your mother’s arm in excitement upon spotting your future Riduur. 

You had both made it out alive. And happy. 

Not everyone had been so lucky, but you were doing this for them. To keep their memory alive. 

And as Poe attempted to make love to you that night and you jokingly told him that traditionally you can’t touch the bride for another week if she has already fallen pregnant.

Let’s just say he got a matching bruise on his head from the first time you met.

Yeah, it was a mess.

But you were both finally home.

[youngdumbamericanteen]

Mabel bad?

Oof sorry for never answering you nonnie! I’ve been pretty busy lately haha. But the post you’re responding to is a bit...old. I now understand Mabel a bit more now as a person, however I do still dislike her as a character because her flaws I was talking about in that post are never meaningfully addressed. 

This might get a wee bit long, oops. Click for a big Gravity Falls writing analysis/essay/thingy.

It’s good for characters to have flaws. Flaws that actually affect them and have consequences. Otherwise you have something of a Mary Sue that isn’t relatable and has a story that’s too easy and boring for the audience. The narrative punishes or addresses those flaws and they present a challenge for the character.

But at the opposite end, you have characters who have flaws that the narrative never addresses, which means the characters never have to grow. There’s two reasons this is bad. One, that you can have the same issue where they don’t face any struggle or grow as characters and it’s a boring story, or two, people don’t generally like to root for characters who they’d want to punch if they ever met them irl. You can have a story with main characters who are bad people, but you have to either make the character likable in other ways, present the situation so that the audience can gather that they’re in the wrong and either be rooting for their downfall or their growth, or have their actual story be compelling enough that the need to know what happens next outweighs dislike for the character. (And all of these things often require the story to be told from said bad character’s point of view.) Gravity Falls doesn't really do any of these things. Or rather, it tries but is ineffective for around 50% of the viewers.

Mabel is often presented as a pure soul, good of heart and just overall a good person. But she’s got flaws. She’s selfish and a bit inconsiderate, which is normal and not an unforgivably terrible thing, especially for a 13 year old girl figuring out her place in the world. All the Pines are a bit selfish, I think it runs in their genes. But the thing is, the show will treat her selfishness as perfectly fair and normal, with anyone her selfishness affects being shown as in the wrong. She often guilts people, mainly Dipper, into sacrificing things for her while rarely making any sacrifices of her own. She does it to other characters as well, but here’s a brief list of times Dipper has sacrificed something for Mabel (which I compiled with the help of this post on Quora):

 Tourist Trapped: Dipper spends almost the entire time worried about Mabel’s safety and trying to protect her, while she just brushes him off and laughs at him.

The Hand that Rocks the Mabel: Dipper agrees to break up with Gideon for her.

Time Traveler’s Pig: Mabel insists that Dipper give up the reality that doesn't break his heart so that she can adopt Waddles, and when he initially refuses she purposely endangers the space-time continuum as retaliation. 

Little Dipper: Mabel is very angry about Dipper making himself taller, even though Dipper would not have resorted to it if now for her teasing. She immediately demands and fights for the magic flashlight, causing it to fall into Gideon’s hands.

Summerween: Mabel drags Dipper out to go trick-or-treating in a costume he dislikes because she’d planned on them having a duo costume.

Boss Mabel: I shouldn’t even really have to explain this one, the whole episode is about her going on a power trip.

The Deep End: Mabel embarks on a rescue mission for Mermando, doing and using things that would lead to Dipper being fired from the pool job he loves, without consulting him at all. She hears his concerns and instead of just explaining she’s saving Mermando the first time, she completely ignores him and speeds off, destroying more pool property and ensuring he’ll be fired.

Carpet Diem: Dipper informs her of the the issues he has with her roommate habits, and she completely denies any fault, even though she and her friends had legitimately destroyed the room and the mini-golf course the twins had built. The two of them both overreact, and act selfishly throughout the entire episode, but she absolutely refuses to listen to him.

Boyz Crazy: This one isn’t Dipper but I still wanted to mention it because she is so ridiculously selfish throughout the whole episode, to the point where it’s to her and the people she loves’ detriment.

Dreamscapers: Again not Dipper or a sacrifice, but her worst nightmare is apparently losing her cuteness and becoming ugly. I dunno if that’s exactly selfish or anything but God did it make me wrinkle my nose in distaste.

Sock Opera: After promising to help Dipper with the laptop, she almost immediately abandons him for her crush of the week, then proceeds to ignore him for, and inconvenience him with, her puppet show, taking his things without asking and expecting him to be completely cool with all her actions. Bill literally mentions her selfishness to manipulate Dipper and it completely works.

The Love God: Dipper leaves Wendy and her friends in chaos to help fix Mabel’s mess.

Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons: Mabel, her friends, and Stan all make fun of Dipper and Ford and insist they should have full use of the living room.

Dipper and Mable vs the Future: This is one of the big ones that people talk about. Mable finds out that Dipper might want to stay as Ford’s apprentice and becomes incredibly upset because she dreamed of the two of them having fun in high school together. She sees Dipper and immediately makes it about her and her feelings, treating something he’d been dreaming of all summer (being The Author’s apprentice) as some direct attack on her happiness. She proceeds to literally give Bill the ability to start the apocalypse to avoid being separated from Dipper, all without having any sort of meaningful conversation with Dipper or considering his feelings.

Weirdmageddon Part 2: Escape From Reality: Out of all of these, this might be the one that gets to me the most. Mabel, seemingly knowing full well that she’s trapped by Bill, creates an imaginary fantasy land and refuses to leave just to spite Dipper for considering taking the apprenticeship. And despite doing all this, and attempting to convince him to stay with her, she creates an alternate “better” version of Dipper who’s “cool” and supportive and very, very, different from the real Dipper.

And this isn’t even mentioning all the times she just assumed she was completely in the right about something or had the moral high ground. Mabel frequently makes rush decisions because she thinks everything should be her way or how she thinks is right. 

And I want to say again, none of these things are unforgivable. Honestly, a lot of the things on the list are pretty standard sibling things, and like she isn’t even always in the wrong. The issue is that I’m naming at least 15 times where Mabel has been selfish or forced someone to give something up for her, and she almost never learns her lesson or is punished by the narrative. There are also only 2 or 3 times I can think of where Mabel sacrificed anything for Dipper, and they were all times he was in actual danger or someone had to talk to her and say she messed up and needed to fix her mistake. 

Dipper, on the other hand, sacrifices things for Mabel, faces consequences for his mistakes and his flaws, learns substantial lessons, apologizes, and rarely, if ever, repeats said mistakes. Now, this doesn’t mean that Mabel is awful and Dipper isn’t. I mean, Dipper does some pretty crumby things and has to be told he’s in the wrong or to apologize. And Mabel isn’t a bad person. Like legitimately, that is not what I want anyone to take away from this. She does genuinely love her brother and care about his wellbeing. She’s just a little selfish and unthinking sometimes, like anyone else.

Like I said, my issue is that it goes unpunished, and she repeats the same type of offense wayyy more than any other character. She’ll disappoint Dipper enough that he’d make a deal with Bill and then everyone will still say she’s the best and most caring person ever. That’s just annoying, honestly, or it is to me at least.

This isn’t dunking on her, this is dunking on the writers. And they aren’t unforgivable either, I mean Gravity Falls was a masterful web of foreshadowing, character building, lore, plot work, and incredibly intelligent humor mixed with jokes kids would love too. I don’t blame them for dropping the ball on Mabel, and I don’t hate her or the show or anything because of it. I just want us to acknowledge this flaw of the show, and also have people get it when Mabel gets on my nerves a little bit.

[singledarkshade]

The Lost Ones

Part One  - Losing Everything

Rip Hunter spent his life trying to protect time and the people he loved but has lost absolutely everything because of it. No family, imprisoned by the organisation he created to replace the one which betrayed him and shunned by the team he brought together. When Gideon, the only one he has left, is lost to him too Rip turns his back on the world and disappears. While a man called Michael tries to hide from his past, a woman with no memory of hers is found by the DEO on an alternate Earth looking for someone she can't remember.

Sara never thought she’d be relieved to have the Time Bureau open a portal onto the bridge but as another console exploded next to her they were welcome.

“Jax,” Rip’s voice made her turn in surprise to see him running through the portal, he was wearing the dark jeans, T-shirt and denim jacket he’d favoured when with them, “What happened?”

“We were hit by some kind of missile,” the younger man called from beneath the main console.

Rip grimaced before calling, “Gideon?”

“Cap...Hunt...” she stuttered.

Pain covered his face at the fact she couldn’t answer him and he rested his hand briefly on the table, “I’m going to fix this. We’ll try to do what we did last time.”

“Ye...Ca...”

Sara watched him bounce around checking several things, feeling another presence she turned to see Agent Ava Sharpe standing there looking grim.

“I didn’t think they’d send Rip,” Sara said softly.

Sharpe took a quick breath, “Despite the fact he’s still under arrest, Rip is the person who knows these systems best. Almost everything within the Bureau use was partially designed by him.”

Surprise covered Sara’s face but she didn’t get a chance to ask as Rip suddenly started battering at the wall.

  After checking what was happening to the systems Rip moved to one side of the parlour and pulled off the panel to gain access to the main systems. He then pulled at the one below it, letting out an annoyed cry when it didn’t move he kicked it several times. Now loose he yanked the panel away and began to crawl inside.

“Rip, what are you doing?” Jax called.

Ignoring the younger man, Rip forced himself deeper into the crawlspace.

“Tell us, Rip?” Sara demanded.

With an annoyed huff he yelled back, “I can explain what I’m doing and waste time or I can actually do it and hopefully save Gideon.”

Silence answered him but Rip was already ignoring them. He found what he was looking for and just had to ensure she was downloaded fully then disconnect her. Another explosion sounded and sparks surrounded him, Rip automatically threw up his hands to protect his face. Pain tore through them but he ignored it scrambling close again trying desperately to fix the connections but before he could something else exploded.

This time someone grabbed his legs and yanked him out of the crawlspace just before fire filled it. He glanced up to see Mick Rory standing above him. The former bounty hunter tossed him a small extinguisher and Rip forced himself back inside smothering the fire. Reaching his goal he stopped defeated when he saw the light was gone and all that was left was a blackened cube. Slowly he disconnected it sliding back out holding the cube tightly, this was all that was left of her.

“What happened?” Sara demanded.

“She’s gone,” he stated, his voice a monotone as he closed his eyes.

“What is that?” Sara asked.

Jax answered for him, “Gideon’s back-up CPU. It was our one chance to save her.”

“It’s not your fault, Jax,” Sara said consolingly.

“Then whose is it?” Rip snapped, marching off the bridge pausing briefly to take the bottle of beer Mick held out to him.

  Sara dropped into a seat trying to get her head around the fact Gideon was no more. She remembered suddenly that they had a visitor and looked over at where Ava Sharpe stood grimacing when Rip walked away.

“I’m not supposed to let him out of my sight,” she noted softly looking uncomfortable.

“As long as he doesn’t have his Time Courier he can’t leave the ship,” Sara sighed before adding, “Thank you for coming to help us.”

Ava shrugged, “If your ship explodes and completely destroys time then we’ll be out of a job.”

“Very true,” Sara rubbed her eyes, “I think we might require some help getting back.”

Ava nodded, “I’ll contact the Bureau and we’ll get a rescue ship here.”

“Someone should check on Rip,” Ray spoke up suddenly, “He didn’t look good.”

They looked at one another, all eyes landing on Sara who shook her head, “Rip and I are not on the best of terms right now. I doubt I’m someone he wants to talk to.”

“Jax?” Ray suggested, “You always had an affinity with Gideon.”

Jax winced slightly, “Possibly not a good idea since I was the one who couldn’t save her. Besides you know how he is. I say let him be until the Time Bureau arrive.”

“Let me know when the Time Morons get here,” Mick said walking off the bridge.

Sara winced before turning to Agent Sharpe, “We’re very grateful for your help and the fact you’re getting us home.”

Sharpe nodded, “I’ll contact the Bureau and then I need to rejoin Rip. As I said he is still under arrest.”

  Rip gripped the bottle of beer he’d taken from Mick as he walked through the corridors of the ship, his ship, his home except it wasn’t. Not anymore. Now that Gideon was...

A flare of anger hit him and he hurled the bottle against the wall watching it shatter with brief satisfaction. Leaving it for one of the others to clean up Rip made his way to medical bay to fix the cuts on his hands, Gideon would want him to do that and he couldn’t disappoint her especially now.

He didn’t need Gideon to fix the injuries to his hands, it was simple to program in but Gideon preferred to do all medical procedures. She always claimed he couldn’t be trusted to do it properly but he suspected she just wanted to make sure he was healthy.

Gideon’s first protocol was to protect him and she had always taken that very seriously. She’d kept his marriage to Miranda a secret because she decided that having someone to come home to meant he took more care during missions.

Tears filled his eyes as the fact he’d lost the final member of his family and was completely alone sank in.

“Your keeper’s looking for you,” Mick noted when he walked in before handing over a bottle of scotch, “Thought this might be more your style.”

Slowly Rip took the bottle, “Is my room still available or did someone take over it?”

Mick shrugged, “None of us wanted it.”

“Then tell Agent Sharpe I’ll be in there,” Rip told him holding up the bottle, “Toasting Gideon.”

To his surprise, Mick nodded and left him alone. Looking at the bottle in his hand Rip knew it would be easy for him to drink himself into oblivion, where he would wake up back at the Bureau in the prison they had him in for trying to protect everyone from a threat they wouldn’t acknowledge.

But not this time, he was done with all of it.

He reached his room finding Ava standing at the door waiting for him.

“I will be in here,” he snapped, “Since it will take some time before a rescue ship gets here and opening a portal is too much of a risk.”

She didn’t say anything and Rip rolled his eyes, entering his room Rip closed the door locking it then dropped the bottle of scotch on the bed. Placing the blackened cube safely on the desk Rip took a deep breath before he yanked the bookcase from the wall letting it fall to the floor with a crash. Slamming his elbow into the panel he found the set of tools along with the weapon he kept hidden within the secret compartment for emergencies.

With ease he removed the tracker the Bureau had taken up time putting on him, time which he could have used to save Gideon before tossing it to join the scotch on the bed. As far as they knew he would still be on the ship.

Rip sometimes wondered what the Legends thought he’d done over the fifteen years he’d been alone on this ship because they always seemed to be amazed when he actually did something technical or knew something that was one of their specialities. It was like they forgot he had actual abilities but they were about to find out exactly what he could do and how smart he was.

Placing the cube carefully in the small bag that had been in the compartment along with the tools Rip pulled himself up and into the ducts that ran through the ship. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to sneak through the ship, though those times he’d had Gideon to guide and let him know where his enemies were. He accessed the back-up computer checking everyone’s whereabouts and learning how long till the Bureau would arrive.

Rip made his way to the Jumpship bypassing the systems easily, taking off and sending back false data so they wouldn’t be aware until they physically needed to check the ship.

Taking one final glance at the Waverider he entered a course knowing that it was time for Rip Hunter to die.

                          *********************************************

  Pain ripped through her.

Every part of her being felt like it was being shredded as she fell through the emptiness.

Finally she stopped falling and voices surrounded her. She tried to focus but her mind was filled with fog.

She searched for one voice amongst them all, the one voice that represented safety and comfort. She didn’t know who the voice belonged to only that it was the one she needed to hear.

But it wasn’t there.

Her world descended into darkness and she lost consciousness.

Part Two - Michael

[brywrites]

The Political Abyss

[1st | 2nd ]

Author’s Note: A number of people have messaged/commented about the political AU! You can read it here on FFN, but if that’s not your jam, I figured I may as well post it here. Be warned it is a WIP and with my schedule, I can’t make any promises about when it’ll be updated, but I’ll give you what I’ve got so far!

Number One Observatory Circle, Washington DC May 3rd, 3:01 AM

Aaron Hotchner was not unfamiliar with phone calls at odd hours of the night. It's just that he usually had an inkling that they would be coming. This one was wholly unexpected.

"Mr. Vice President, I'm sorry to wake you." It was the voice of Grant Anderson, one of the heads of secret-service. "But there's something you need to see, and it's urgent. I'll be outside the house to escort you to the Situation Room in five minutes." This wasn't a suggestion or a request, but a non-negotiable order. He had five minutes to throw on some appropriate clothing and gather his things, bracing himself all the while for whatever might be waiting for him.

Gideon preferred to use the Situation Room sparingly, even in the state of paranoia he suffered after the bombing in Boston. It took a truly clandestine crisis to receive such a summons. The last time he remembered being called there was for a briefing after Frank Brietkopf had resurfaced in the DC area. Hotch shuddered at the thought.

That was a night he never wanted to relive.

In the room, he found the Cabinet all waiting, looking expectantly at him, evidently the last to arrive. Jennifer Jareau was at the head of the room, managing the others as any good Chief of Staff knows how to do. Correction – perhaps he wasn't the last to arrive. The President's chair was open. And yet, the doors were being closed. What was happening?

JJ cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm afraid we have a crisis. Late last night, a letter was discovered in the Library. A letter from President Gideon stating that he felt he could no longer perform his duties as President of the United States, and has henceforth resigned." Gasps of disbelief and anxious chatter flooded the room, which JJ quickly shut down, commanding attention once more. "Upon examining the Oval Office, we found two additional letters, formal resignations to be delivered to both the Speaker of the House and the president pro tempore, as called for by official procedure. Gideon however, has vanished."

The cacophony of sound rose again, this time louder and more panicked. Hotch sat there in the midst of it all, trying to process exactly what this meant. "Who found this letter?" he asked.

"That would Secretary Reid," answered JJ. The young, awkward Secretary meekly raised his hand.

"And how did you find it?"

Reid swallowed hard, the picture of uncertainty. Despite his youth, the man was brilliant, Hotch knew that. He'd been a mentor to the Secretary, tried to impart what wisdom he could; but now was not the time for niceties. It was a matter of national safety.

"I was looking for the President. He hadn't been around all day, and we were going to meet and review suggested policies over a game of chess, but he never showed up. I thought he might be in the library, and when I went there… well, I found it. It had my name on it," he added, his voice a little quieter. "It said he knew I would be the one to find it."

For a brief second, Hotch felt something akin to jealousy, that the youngest member of the administration should be the one Gideon chose to address; but then he reminded himself it made the most sense. Despite having worked with Gideon for years, he shared a special with Reid. He was father and mentor and friend at once, and while Hotch had long since learned to see the flaws in the President's ways, Reid practically worshipped the man. Besides, Hotch had a wife and a son to go home to at the end of the day, a life of his own. Reid had no friends outside of work and no family of his own.

Of course he would go looking for Gideon, late after hours. Of course he would be the one to find the letter. It was nothing personal. Merely Gideon running the odds and predicting which one of them would be most likely to be in a particular place at a particular time.

"So where do we go from here?" Hotch wasted no time on other questions, just got to work.

"The President left very specific instructions. He doesn't want to be disturbed or found. We're to tell the country he's dead."

His eyebrows knit together in confusion at JJ's words. "That would mean holding a funeral. A televised one. Not to mention notifying Stephen and-"

"I'll take care of it, Hotch." Blue eyes stared into him, unwavering. The Chief of Staff has never faltered in her promises. Work that was done with the utmost precision and perfection, that is what he'd come to expect from her. "All you need to worry about right now is fulfilling your duty as President of the United States. The inauguration will take place as soon as possible."

There were a million things weighing on his mind after the Cabinet was dismissed. What would he say to the country? How would he choose a new administration? Who would be his Vice President? Hundreds of choices to be made.

The very first of which was deciding what to do next. Hotch instructed Anderson to take him back to Observatory Circle, to the old, white Victorian house that was designated as the official residence of the VP. Walked up one flight of stairs and into the bedroom where he gently woke Haley.

"Aaron? What time is it?"

"5 AM." That seemed to shake most of the sleepiness from her senses, and she sat upright.

"What is it? What's happened?"

"It's Gideon," he told her. Paused. Then said, "He's dead." The truth was strictly need-to-know, and Haley didn't need to know. Every day things happened that he had to lie to her about, because the truth was too dangerous. Or was absolutely confidential. So he lied, no matter how much he wished he could tell her. At times he wondered whether or not she could tell that the information he gave was false. Did she know, instinctively, that he knew more than he was allowed to say?

This was one of those times, when her eyes searched his face before she murmured, "Oh, God. Aaron. That means…" Things had been tense between them lately, but she held him close, arms flung tight around his neck. "Our life is never going to be the same, is it?"

This time, he didn't have to lie. He simply returned his wife's embrace "No. No it won't."

The White House Cabinet Room, Washington DC May 3rd, 11:30 AM

Only eight hours later, an inauguration was put together. Eight hours wasn't enough time to process it all. Derek Morgan went to sleep the previous night sure of his status and his job, knowing that the President was a little unsteady (but then, he'd been before, and had come out of it mostly intact), and believing that Jason Gideon would be president for another two and a half years. When he was awoken that morning, the world was turned upside down, like a junk drawer, all of its contents shook loose and spilled out on the floor.

A mess, that's what it was. They were all just trying to make sense of things. The Cabinet had been through so many changes already. Not even a year ago had Emily Prentiss replaced Elle Greenaway as Secretary of State, after Elle suffered a nervous breakdown and resigned. Now Gideon was gone, too.

There were four members of the Cabinet who were exceptionally close, both with each other and with the President and Vice President. Emily, Reid, JJ, and Morgan. Along with the Director of the Office of Public Engagement, Penelope Garcia, they had a close-knit group that supported each other in the daily challenges of government work. Now Gideon was missing-in-action and Hotch was the President. That left Morgan feeling uncertain about the future, as he stood and watched the swearing in ceremony. It had been thrown together as soon as possible, almost immediately after announcing to the press that the President had passed away.

Chief Justice Jack Garrett recited the oath of office, which Hotch faithfully repeated. "I, Aaron Hotchner, do solemnly swear that will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States." Haley stood by his side, their two year old son, Jack, sleeping in her arms.

The new VP was to be an old associate of both Gideon and Hotch, the former Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee, David Rossi. Rossi was a bit of a bureaucratic legend, having authored several books since his days in the Senate, and wasn't known for being a team player. If Hotch trusted him though, they all had to trust him.

"Reid, what do you think about this guy?"

Reid barely glanced away from the scene at the front of the room, where Hotch was now speaking intently with the new VP. "Well, Rossi has decades of experience to offer. He changed the game in the Senate during his time in Congress, and was instrumental in putting through crucial legislation. He's respected, but I don't know if he's well-liked."

"You don't get to be where he is by being well-liked," he said.

"Does anybody get anywhere in this field by being well-liked?" Emily asked, leaning in to speak lowly. "I mean, we're politicians for god's sake." Before Morgan could respond, Hotch cleared his throat at the front of the room, and all eyes turned his way.

"I'd like to thank you all for being here," he said, his voice measured and steady. "I realize, circumstances being what they are, that things are going to be chaotic. This won't be an easy transition, and I'm going to need each of you to be at your best. With Gideon gone, there's bound to be media scrutiny and speculation. We've got to present a united front to the country right now, and show them that we're capable. If you wish to leave your post, I ask that you submit your resignation immediately. I have no plans to fire anyone currently in the Cabinet. However, there are a few open positions that will need filling. Things are changing, and this is a difficult time, but I assure you that together we'll get through it."

Morgan could only hope as much. There were so many unanswered questions. Where did Gideon go? Would the press buy their story? Would the funeral go off without any problems? How was this going to work? Hotch had always acted as a de facto leader to the team, as Gideon had a history of going off on his own and overlooking the people who made things happen. It was natural to have him in a position of power, but that didn't mean everyone would accept it.

That evening, a private dinner was held with the closest members of Hotch's Cabinet. After the main course had been served and conversation drew to a lull, Morgan stood with Reid and Emily outside the door, gossiping about David Rossi.

"He's a loner," Morgan said, tossing back a glass of whiskey. "Definitely not the kind to make friends in his work. He's focused on one thing and one thing only. Which means he has to have some sort of motive for accepting the position."

"Yeah, it's called power, and anyone in this swamp would say yes. Even those who say they'd never want the job would say yes," Emily retorted.

Reid shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "He's a successful politician whose books have sold over a million copies."

"Yeah, so there's a million reasons not to come back, if you know what I'm saying," Morgan said. "He's rich, he's famous, he appears on plenty of talk shows and news programs. The guy could do anything, and he swore off politics when he retired. Gideon disappears and he changes his mind? Seems strange to me."

Morgan wasn't the only member of the Cabinet prone to overanalyzing people and situations. They all did. Politicians had to be good at reading people, their jobs demanded it. He could tell what a person wanted and what they needed to hear after only a few minutes of conversation, and he could determine their background based on their habits and behavior. Who had money, who didn't, who was trying too hard to fake it? Who was there for the right reasons and who was just concerned about reelection? It was all about playing the game, and Derek Morgan was good at playing the game.

"Reid, you've read all his books, right? What do you know about him other than his political record?" The Secretary of the Treasury was brilliant, and his eidetic memory made him one of the most accurate fact-checkers in Washington. On the job, he could calculate just about anything, memorize important documents, and keep facts straight; more often than not though he was utilized as a party trick at government functions.

"I don't feel comfortable speculating on the personal life of the Vice President."

"Come on, Reid," Emily urged, elbowing him. "Give us something."

Reid sighed. "He's from an old Italian family, he's been married and divorced three times, served in the Marine Corps-"

"Okay," Emily interjected. "Italian, so he's probably had strict Catholic upbringing. That coupled with the Marine Corps could make him a bit of a hardass, He's likely to be distant, emotionally detached, perhaps even lonely."

"Which fits with his inability to maintain meaningful relationships," Morgan added. "He's not a team player, and he tends to do things his way. Despite that, he probably has a moral code, being Catholic. Probably believes in redemption."

"Oh, I believe in a lot of things." The three of them turned around, horrified, to see Rossi standing behind them, looking vaguely bemused. "You got the Italian-Catholic bit right, but my upbringing wasn't that strict. As for my relationships and my time in the military, I hardly think you can accurately judge a person's personality by a few brief glimpses of their past. If you have questions, you know you can just ask."

Emily glanced down at the glass of wine she was holding, all of them embarrassed to have been caught in the act. To their surprise, Rossi simply said, "You should probably come join us back inside. They're serving dessert, and Hotch has a few things to say before we head our separate ways."

They obeyed, following the VP back into the dining room. It was still a shock to see Hotch sitting at the head of the table, where Gideon had always been. Things were more calm than the morning had been, but Morgan knew this was only the beginning. They were all still shell-shocked, standing deep in the river and waiting for the current to drag them under. 'It would be then that they would be forced to sink or swim. A thing like this didn't effect everyone equally. It would take time to heal, yes, but it would take time too for wounds to be revealed.

The only thing he was certain about – nothing was ever going to be the same.

Arlington National Cemetery, Washington DC May 6th, 1:49 PM

They buried the President with all the grief they could muster. Reid didn't feel sadness so much as bitterness, anger, but it manifested all the same. He didn't have to fake the tears as they stood on the lawn, somberly dressed in black. Flashbulbs on cameras went off all around them, marking the moment in history. Hotch gave the eulogy, as Stephen has refused to attend.

The words were hollow, fake grief for a fake death. The world wouldn't know that, though. They didn't know the casket was as empty as the things they said that afternoon. Hotch was stoic as always. Garcia and JJ looked genuinely moved, mourning the loss of a friend who would never return. Emily and Morgan stood in a stiff silence, sunglasses on despite the cloudy weather. Reid cried quietly, not caring who saw him. In his heart, he hoped Gideon was watching the mess he made, would realize how many people he'd hurt.

I was not all about him. There were other people whose lives depend on him. And he was just gone.

Everyone has always left him. His father gave up, his mother lost her mind to her illness. He could never make friends outside of work. He even lost himself, after the incident with Tobias Hankel. He was still losing himself, fighting to keep it together and not to give in to the only thing that promised consistency.

Gideon left. Gideon abandoned him. Leaving him only with a letter to remember him by. As if it helped. A piece of paper couldn't fix a heart so broken by loss, or mend what was such a violent severing of ties. Gideon was a coward. He couldn't even step down publicly. Instead, they had to fake his death for him.

I knew it would be you who came to the library to check on me. You must be frightened. I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain.

Then why leave the letter at all? Gideon was one of the few people Reid opened up to, he knew how hard it had been when his father left. Had Gideon ever really been listening to those confessions? Quiet discussions on the lawn or over chess. Maybe that's all it was to him. One big chess game, and Reid was merely another pawn on the board, a piece Gideon could move to get what he wanted.

A president needs to have solid footing to lead a country. I don't think I do anymore. This country confuses me. The world confuses me. The cruelty, the indifference. And the tragedy.

The tragedy? What right did Gideon have to say the senseless tragedies of the world confused him? His head asserted that there was plenty the President had to deal with, so many losses and failures and difficult moments. He'd led the nation through dark days, even when struggling with his own personal losses. He lost Sarah, killed by a radical extremist only because she was connected to the President. He'd lost colleagues and friends, most notably at the bombing in Boston years earlier. And for all of those things, part of Gideon blamed himself.

Yet he took no responsibility for Elle's breakdown, or for allowing Tobias Hankel to get close to Reid.

It was irrational, the anger he felt, but he'd spent his whole life acting rationally. He deserved one moment of rage, to allow all the frustrations he'd compartmentalized to come crashing over him.

Tragedy. That was his life. One tragedy after another. They all had burdens to carry, but how was it that Gideon thought someone who'd been through all he'd been through couldn't understand the tragedies of the world?

As bad as losing faith in humanity seems, losing your faith in happy endings is much worse.

Was this Gideon's way of finding happy endings again? By forcing all of them to sit through an unhappy one?

For once, Reid didn't have answers. Nothing about it made sense. He didn't know why he was standing in an uncomfortable black suit, shedding tears over someone who didn't even have the courtesy to say goodbye. What was the point? What was the point of any of it? He wanted to think his work made a difference, but maybe a the end of the day he was just another bureaucrat in a suit, unable to make the slightest ripple in the world.

The rifle party raised their guns to begin the twenty-one gun salute, and simultaneous shots rang out into the air. Reid wiped his sleeve over his eyes, and a hand touched his arm gently. JJ gave him a cautious look, silently checking in on him. Reid sniffed and nodded, letting her know he could handle this. Not that he had a choice.

Gideon, one way or another, was effectively dead. It was time to let go, and move on. He deserved a happy ending, too. Didn't he?