#Charles this may be your sign to start packing those bags

[press1forf1]

There's no way Charles and Lewis gets away with this. This means Lando p2 and Carlos p3 lol.

It only gets worse for Charles' 100th race with Ferrari

[mythicalsecretsanta]

In The Bleak Midwinter (G)

This gift is for: Grace-Anna (AKA @rhettroedits) Seaborne does not particularly enjoy Christmas and he especially doesn’t enjoy being back in his home town for it. From your Secret Santa, Mai (AKA @holdbythenotsharp)

Link to AO3, or read below:

As the insufferably cheery notes of Wonderful Christmastime invade his awareness, Charles Seaborne realizes he has been standing in front of the uninspiring wine selection of an A&C, staring at it blankly for some time. Trying to choose between a mediocre Merlot and quite possibly an even more mediocre Pinot Noir is impossible with the seasonal jingle assaulting his ears, overriding intelligent thought. 

To be honest, he’d prefer whiskey, but years spent away from his home state had made him forget grocery stores here don’t carry hard liquor. To be really honest, he could die a lucky man, if he never had to hear Wonderful Christmastime again, he thinks as he reaches for the Merlot.

Seaborne doesn’t enjoy surprises. As a rule, he doesn’t allow himself to be caught off-guard. Some might call him inflexible, even uptight, he prefers methodical and well-prepared. But as it turns out, it’s very difficult to be prepared for seeing a ghost. 

He had been on his way to the checkout, before remembering his intention to pick up a proper shampoo to replace the miserable 2 in 1 his hotel offered, so he turns around to navigate back to the personal care aisle. Halfway there he spots the figure of a tall man standing in the middle of the pet food aisle, browsing dog treats. It had been years since Seaborne last saw him. His glasses are smaller than they used to be, with subtle metal rims, and he’d grown a full beard at some point, but there was no mistaking. His best friend from childhood — who he had not heard from for almost a decade — had apparently gotten a dog. 

Apprehension and dread overwhelm Seaborne. He wants to run away, but his feet have stopped moving. It’s not like they had a falling out, really. He could probably just say hello, and Roach would probably say hi back. But then what?

Roach drops a bag of treats into his basket, jolting Seaborne back into action. He scurries behind a shelf and pretends to be engrossed in canned fruit until his heart stops racing. After a moment of contemplation, he decides he can subject his hair to the torture of 2 in 1 for a day or two more and makes his way out of the store, stealing glances over his shoulder, making sure he is not spotted. He doesn’t notice his hands trembling until he’s sitting in his El Camino in the parking lot, failing for the third time to aim the key into the ignition.

By the time he’s back at his hotel room, a spartan affair at a Holiday Inn near the interstate 40, he has almost convinced himself the man he had seen was actually a ghost, or possibly one of those kombucha drinking hipsters that had invaded the town since his last visit. What are the chances it was the man Seaborne specifically hoped to avoid this trip?

After watching two episodes of Magnum P.I. and polishing off most of the wine, he’s practically forgotten about the encounter. It’s as if it hadn’t happened at all. He plans to go on as usual, as if it’s just another job in just another town, not the prodigal son’s return to a place that had not been kind to him. That night he has an unsettling dream about being lost in a maze of dark alleyways, wandering endlessly, hunger and thirst eating away at his insides. Just when he expects to collapse next to a stack of pallets in some dead end that stinks like month old garbage, he notices a lonely turkey vulture on a nearby rooftop staring at him with piercing eyes, waiting. 

The dream refuses to leave him alone the following day, and gloomy imagery creeps back into his mind as he sits in his car, staring out of the window and across a parking lot at an office building. It’s rainy and chilly, and the windows of the El Camino keep fogging up as he shivers in his seat, fingers wrapped tightly around a takeaway cup of some sickly sweet gingerbread flavored coffee concoction. If nothing else, the sugar and the caffeine should give him energy to keep staring at the building’s only exit. The guy he was hired to follow should be out any moment now, but Seaborne is not a patient man, so he fiddles with the knobs of the car radio, taps along on the lid of his cup after finding a station that doesn’t play Christmas songs and — after realizing the tapping will not keep him entertained for long — fishes out his phone from his pocket. He’s been doing this for years, he can easily keep one eye on the door of the office building and the other on his phone, while he idly slides his thumb across the screen to reveal increasingly inane, mostly holiday-related, updates from distant friends and even more distant family members.

“Where the hell is he?” Seaborne mutters to no one but himself and leans back in his seat. Even after all the years of working in a job with a lot of downtime, he hasn’t learned to tolerate boredom. It still makes him irritable and antsy; like each minute spent with nothing to do pressurizes the anxious energy inside him until he is ready to pop.

After a while of scrolling, he is sure he doesn’t want to see another picture of someone’s child or pet in a cutesy costume or posed in front of a decorated tree in a mockery of domestic bliss. He hasn’t been paying that much attention to the motions of his thumb, so when he looks down again he’s startled to see the profile page of a Jim Roach. After some initial hesitation he browses through the pictures, just to confirm he is in fact still with Gina and they have two kids and a third on the way. There are several collections of photos, of a vacation to Hawaii, of an anniversary party, of their children’s birthdays. Seaborne scours through them frantically, like he’s trying to find something specific, but he doesn’t know what. When he looks up from the device, his is the only car in the parking lot and the office building looks dark and empty. 

That night as he sits alone in his hotel room, trying to distract himself from the strange and somewhat disconcerting damp smell lingering in the surrounding air, he googles Roach. For no real reason, just… He’s curious. He finds Roach has started a business selling commercial kitchen equipment, and all signs imply he is doing alright for himself. He lives not too far from where they both grew up and his number is listed. Seaborne saves the number on his phone. Just in case.

When he calls the number the following morning, he hasn’t planned what to say. Indeed, he hadn’t planned to call at all, but he can’t get the number out of his mind. The mere presence of the number in his phone’s memory has been burning a hole through his pocket ever since he left the hotel earlier. It’s still early, he figures. Judging by the opening hours of Roach’s store, he might still reach him by calling his home number. He hits the call icon on his screen, fully aware he has never done a single thing so spontaneously in his entire life. It rings for some time, and he contemplates hanging up.

“Hello?” Gina answers the phone.

Seaborne inhales to say… to say what exactly? His mind is blank, and his jaw is so stiff he fears he couldn’t move it even if he knew what to say. 

“Hello?” Gina’s voice is more demanding and Seaborne is sorry for bothering her like this. She’s probably trying to get the kids to school or something. He really shouldn’t have called. Hanging up on her seems more courteous than creepy, given the circumstances. He decides to drive by Roach’s house later instead to satisfy his curiosity about how the man lives these days, maybe see what kind of car he drives, or if he has a pool.

The driveway is empty when he gets there a few hours later, and he can’t see a pool, but Seaborne slows down to get a good look at the swing set in the yard. It’s a nicer model, he knows after shopping for one for his niece’s birthday last year. The house is nice too; it looks welcoming and happy nestled in between others just like it, with their well-maintained gardens marred only by the occasional scattered toy. Roach has come a long way from where he was when the arrival of his firstborn pressured him into accepting a job offer from his father-in-law instead of pursuing a career with his best friend.

The twinge of something dark he felt outside Roach’s house returns to him later at night, when he is back alone in his hotel room. The feeling is hard to name. Jealousy of the pleasant, middle class family life Seaborne never accomplished with his ex-wife, perhaps, or remorse of letting all that between him and his best friend? Sleep evades him as he tosses and turns in his overly soft bed, getting up every once in a while to adjust the temperature, have a glass of water or to urinate. No amount of focusing on his breathing or imagining himself on a tropical beach calms down the heavy pounding of his vexed heart. He doesn’t know what a panic attack feels like, but suspects it might be something like this.

Even three cups of coffee cannot revive him the next day. Exhaustion is like an itch behind his eyes and sitting still in a car with nothing to do aggravates him even more than usual. The insecurity and guilt that had cursed his existence the night before still linger in him, gnawing away at his usual indifference and cynicism. Worst of all, the day has been long but futile, Seaborne has still not got any incriminating evidence against the man he has been following for the better part of a week and he is seriously considering just packing up his things and going back home. What good will it do him, another day or two in this town that only reminds him of his loneliness? As if the holiday season wasn’t bad enough already.

The passenger side door of the El Camino opens, interrupting his thoughts. Seaborne turns to scold the intruder, but the words he had held on his tongue glide to the back of his throat and he swallows them, as the intruder settles down on the seat beside him, arranges his long legs neatly under the dashboard and leans back in the seat like it’s something natural he does every day. For a while they just sit still, air thick with anticipation. Seaborne has no idea what to expect, and the questions spinning in his mind refuse to be arranged to words.

“What’s the gig? Who are we following?” the intruder says. He’s wearing sunglasses instead of the glasses he had on in the grocery store, and he looks a bit like a rock star with his big beard and leather jacket. Or a moron, considering it’s not sunny, but Seaborne lets that slide for now.

“We are not following anyone, dude, what are you doing here?” Seaborne can’t help but feel a little self-conscious about still wearing the same gray tweed coat, now sporting holes in the elbows. It’s still a good coat, though, and he was never one to throw away perfectly usable items of clothing.

“You wouldn’t have driven by my house six times in two days if you weren’t looking for help.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so what are we doing?”

“It’s an infidelity thing… You know, I only drove by your house because the guy’s mom lives near there, at the end of the cul-de-sac. I was looking for him and thought he might be there.”

“Sure. Good to see ya, man.”

“Hmm.”

Seaborne wants to say he missed Roach, working with him, or just sitting with him like this, but it might be too much. They never said things like that before, theirs just wasn’t that kind of a relationship. He suspects Roach is not expecting it either, judging by the way he leans his cheek on the side window, staring intensely at something outside. Probably some squirrels running around in the park across the street.

“So. Still investigating privately after all these years,” Roach says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Turns out it’s what I’m good at. Or at least somewhat more successful than as a chef.” Seaborne replies. It’s not untrue, he’s made a name for himself and has a steady trickle of cases landing on his table, even if success may be a slight overstatement.

“Questioning the questionable. Missing dogs and eaten flowers, still?”

“Shut up.” A slight twitch in the corner of Seaborne’s mouth reveals he doesn’t mind the gentle jabbing. The years had softened some parts of him at least. He is no longer the tightly wound bundle of aggression and defensiveness he once was. “Still a lot of cheaters though.”

“You know I gotta ask… is the guy at least older than twelve this time?”

“Come on, man!” Seaborne can no longer contain his giggling, and the delighted grin on Roach’s face only spurs him on. “At least acknowledge my lack of mustache first!”

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele blurb: Charlie and Richie leaving for the Battle of Britain ~T

Also, quick reminder that historically accurate terms are used in this blurb that are not acceptable for our present day time period and therefore may be offensive to some readers. They are not used intentionally by me, the author, to cause any harm!

April 28, 1939

It was all too familiar for Daniel; the packed bag, the ironed shirt, the uncertain eyes. The expression of his son mirrored his own youthful face from nearly twenty-fie years earlier with the same blue eyes staring out the window on their way into London. The family didn’t speak much that morning, although Elizabeth tried to keep the normalcy the best she could. No one liked walking into the unknown; especially not being forced into the unknown.

It was just military training. Six months, still in England. Just preventative measures.

Charlie kept repeating those facts in his mind to try and reassure himself but they didn’t do much to ease his conscious. The hand on his knee had his turning to glance at the worried stare of his younger sister.

“They might not even need you today.” Elizabeth broke the tense silence that filled the car. “Then we can just return home and I can make your favourite supper, how does that sound, darling?”

“Great, Mama.” Charlie whispered, looking back out the window beside him. A pit in his stomach told him he wouldn’t be going back home that night.

The boys that were required to check in for military training were sent to city hall where a booth was set up to check their names off and brief them down and figure out who would be fit to go for training and who wasn’t. Their car was parked on the road and the family climbed out quietly. Charlie eyed the line up of military trucks that were parked along the side of the building, a few officers in uniform smoking and talking nearby them. It made him nervous.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and the family of four made their way towards the long line that stretched out of the front doors of city hall. Corbyn and Richard were already in line, packed admits the other frightened 20-something men and their families. No one spoke up about Charlie cutting in front of them to join his friend; just meant one more person between them and their undetermined fate.

Charlie and Richard shared a quick handshake in greeting as Corbyn and Charlie’s family got talking.

The boys stood side by side in silence for a moment, neither quite knowing what to say first.

“What did your dad say when the news dropped yesterday?” Charlie asked in a hushed tone to keep their parents from hearing their conversation.

“He just went on a tangent about what will probably be expected of me…made me recite how to shoot – not like he’s taken me every summer – and gave me a whole bunch of things to promise him.” Richard mumbled. “Yours?”

“Had a bloody meltdown.” Charlie whispered to his friend. “Smashed a picture frame and screamed at me when I tried to calm him down.”

“Christ.” Richard breathed through a heavy sigh.

The line moved forward.

“Are you scared?” Richard asked.

Charlie shrugged, “I dunno. It’s just training right? Not like you can die at training.”

“No, but I mean, we’re on a precipice of war. Nearly guaranteed, do you reckon?”

“I suppose.”

Richard eyed his best friend and his downcast gaze and he knew to shut up. Both boys were scared, that was obvious, but refused to show it.

The line moved steadily and it wasn’t long before they were at the front, next to be questioned by the officers sat behind the set up tables.

Corbyn stood behind the two boys, “These are your officers so you must call them ‘sir’ when they ask you any questions. No joking, no sarcasm, and all honesty.”

Charlie and Richard nodded. Charlie glanced behind him to Daniel who was already staring at him expressionlessly.

“Next!”

Corbyn ushered his son up first, walking right beside him up to the table. Richard’s legs were trembling with each step up to the table.

“Name?” the officer asked.

“Richard Zachary Besson.” he answered as strongly as he could muster.

The officer scanned the sheet in front of him that housed the list of all young men who were required to check in that day. His name was crossed off and another paper was pulled from a stack. The officer scribbled his name down on the top line.

“Date of birth?”

“1st of March, 1918.”

“Twenty-one years of age?”

“Yes.”

Corbyn nudged him.

“Yes, sir.” Richard corrected himself.

The table next to where Richard stood was soon calling out for the next man to step forward. Charlie stood frozen in place for a moment. A hand on his shoulder startled him out of him trance and he glanced over at his father beside him.

“Come on.” Daniel spoke gently, leading his son up to the officer waiting for them at the desk. Elizabeth and Evelyn stood to the side while they checked in.

“Name?” the officer asked him, staring up at Charlie with no hint of expression at all.

“Charles Christian Seavey.” he answered.

His name was crossed off the long list and written on the second sheet.

“Date of birth?”

“9th of February, 1918.”

“Twenty-one years of age?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Height?”

“180cm.”

“Any illnesses or physical injuries to report?”

Daniel’s hand tightened on his son’s shoulder as Charlie answered with an honest, “No, sir.”

“Any inclination of possible mental retardation or inability to properly and dependably fight for your country?”

“No, sir.”

“Any family members depending on your support such as children, wife, parents, or those who are suffering from mental retardation?”

“No, sir.”

The officer finished filling out the form and signed the bottom of it before holding it out to him, “Fill out the family contact information at the bottom of this page and if the rest of the information on this sheet is correct, you are to report out back to be assigned a truck.”

“Assigned a truck?” Charlie asked, taking the sheet and a pen from the officer.

“To take you north for your training.”

“T-Today?”

“Yes, boy. Now get a move on.”

Daniel ushered his son out of the way and over to the wall where Elizabeth and Evelyn were waiting.

“Well? What did they say? Are you coming home?” Elizabeth asked quickly, reaching for her son.

Charlie shook his head slightly, staring down at the paper in his hand. His heart was racing in his chest and he felt like he was going to be sick with anxiety, not even wanting to look at his parents’ faces. Daniel’s hand was still tight on his shoulder, even when Elizabeth threw her arms around her son and hugged him so tightly.

“You’re gong to be just fine.” Elizabeth whispered strongly, although Charlie could hear the quiver in her voice. “Now, let me see this form and I’ll fill it out for you.”

Charlie let his mother take the paper from him and she sat down to fill out the family contact information. Evelyn was next, throwing herself at her brother with a small whimper, clinging onto his shoulders and burying her face in his neck.

“Be so safe, okay?” she whispered.

“Of course.” Charlie mumbled.

“Just six months and then you’ll be back home again. Back home again so I can annoy you all I want.”

Charlie tisked, patting her back, “You never annoy me.”

Corbyn and Richard came over to join them, the youngest Besson with tears welling in his grey eyes and the paper clutched tightly in his hands. The boys looked each other, frightened, but at least glad to be together. Charlie wasn’t crying but his fearful best friend was, trying to hide his face in shame from the plentiful strangers around them, hiding into his father’s side.

“Just training.” Corbyn assured their little group as he rubbed his hand strongly over his son’s back. “There is no war going on; you’re just going to learn how to fight and get some uniforms and eat really rubbish food and then come home.”

Richard sniffled. Corbyn pulled his son against his chest and held him tightly for a moment, whispering gentle reassurances to him.

Charlie hadn’t even looked at his father, almost ignoring his hand that was still resting on his shoulder since they first approached the check in desk, too afraid to be yelled at again. He didn’t know how to act anymore. Elizabeth handed him his filled-out form and gave him one more hug and a kiss to his cheek before he had to go out back to be loaded onto the trucks. Daniel’s hand didn’t move. Even when Charlie tried to take a step away, the hand on his shoulder only tightened.

He looked over at his father, tears already welling in his mirrored blue eyes. Neither father nor son spoke but both moved in for a tight embrace, hands grabbing onto backs of shirts and faces scrunched up to keep from crying.

“I love you.” Daniel whispered shakily into his son’s shoulder.

Charlie held him tighter, inhaling the familiar scent of his father one more time, “I love you too.”

Nothing else needed to be said; no words of wisdom or dramatic farewells as Charlie took a step back from him slowly. Richard joined his best friend’s side, both boys with lingering glances on their families before they turned and headed for the back door together. They didn’t look back and they stepped out into the bright sunlight and disappeared from view.

Corbyn set his hands on his hips and let his head fall back with a deep sigh, trying to keep himself somewhat composed. Daniel swallowed back his tears; watching his worst fear start to form its way into reality right in front of his eyes, his wife and daughter under each arm and the two women cried softly together into his jacket.

It was just supposed to be training.  

[ultraklll]

Tony Miller as a Gun For Hire! Tagged by the lovely @envyfelled ! Ty! This was super fun! Also, I'm on mobile, so sorry for the garbo formatting! (Fun fact, tonys voice claim is laura bailey as fiona/fem!boss)

Paired With Fangs For Hire:

Boomer - "Heya buddy!" followed by excessive scratching behind the ears | "Fuckin' love this dog, can sniff out a peggie like shark sniffing out blood. Good trait to have! Awfully convenient too…" | [patpatapatptpataptap] | "Atta fuckin' boy Boomer!" When she sees him get a kill | "Who's a good boy! Who wants to kill some cultists!" | "Wanna play fetch? Rip out their necks?"

Peaches - "Good girl…" | stealth gang stealth gang | peaches: mows down peggies/tony: a baby!" | "I jus' think it's funny that when we went to the Henbane, we picked up a cougar, Addie, an actual cougar, Peaches, and joined a crew called the Cougars… Just'a thought," 

Cheeseburger - "This reminds me'a Vegas pride, saw plenty'a bears there too" | "Kinda ironic to find you in Jacob's region, all things considered," [snickers to herself] | [PATPATPATPATPATPAT] | "Get outta my pockets! These snacks are mine, not yours!" | "You remind me of those like, beware of dog signs, but the dog is always a sweetheart who'd rather play with a home invader rather than attack them," 

Paired With Other Guns For Hire:

Jess - stealth gang stealth gang stealth gang | Jess has a MASSIVE crush on Tony. Everyone can tell. Tony knows | jess: guns are fucking lame and the sniper rifle is the cowards weapon/ tony: uses a sniper rifle/ jess: actually sniper rifles are cool as fuck | "Good shot Jess!" "S-shit, um, thanks, Tony," 

Grace - sniper gang sniper gang!! | [steals a headshot Grace was lining up] "Cmon Gracie, thought you were meant to be Olympic level!" | highly competitive, do a shot whenever they get a perfect headshot to die instantly | smug top solidarity | also heavily depressed solidarity 

Adelaide - [acts like she's not sleeping with her nephew even tho Addie knows she definitely knows] | Tony is either constantly laughing or constantly face palming over the shit addie says | have gotten into an argument once bc addie said john was a top 

Nick - "What's up eye in the sky?" | [flirts over radio] [flirts over radio] [flirts over radio] [fli | Nick: speaks/Tony: god I just love the way you fucking talk | often talk about kim together | "Can we have a barbecue at your place once these fuckers are dealt with?" | [pretends not to be bitter the Deputy got to help deliver Carmina and not her]

Sharky - "Heya baby!" | [constant back and forth flirting. It's embarrassing] | any second they're both not talking is a second they're making out | Can and Will go john wick on some peggy ass if he gets hurt badly | "Do you wanna have a sleepover?" "Lemme ask my momma," | she calls him Charlie :> | loves him so so much they're just constantly talking about anything and everything | literally like A Comedic Duo. Have together for certified funnies

Hurk jr. - "Junior! This'll be just like Kyrat!" | competitions about who can shotgun a beer faster every 4 seconds | WILL tell you stories about their time in Kyrat together | Tony has punched Drubman sr in the nose before and she'll do it again | "Hey Tony? You still in contact with Ajay?" "He sends me a royal postcard every now n' then. Apparently it's boring being king, and his only solace is that his new bodyguard is cute," 

In Combat: 

Seeing an enemy - "Fucker in my sights," | "I got a bullet with your name on it… actually I don't, who the fuck has time to carve names in bullets, but you get the idea- im just gonna shoot you now" | "You're dead on arrival, shithead," 

Sneaking - "You'd think me sneaking is counter productive because I'm 6'4 and have a very loud gun, but you're the boss Dep," | "Shhhh… we're huntin' shitheads… Heard it in a game," | [shoots alarm boxes] "You ain't allowed to call your friends, you're all grounded," | *peggy triggers alarm* "Fuckin snitch!" 

Killing an enemy - "SKULLCRACKER!" | "I just don't miss!" | just fucking headshot after headshot after headshot | [sucks in breath through teeth] "God damn I'm good," | when shes not using her Wifle (wife rifle, a 45/70) she's being FUCKING EFFICIENT with her ak-ms or just blasting ribcages open with her shotgun

Reviving - "Up you get, baby," | "You ain't dying on me that easy, Dep" | "Not today Satan!" | "You gonna let some unwashed asshole kill you?" 

Hurt - "Motherfucker!" | "That's another scar I'll tattoo over," | "Thank god people find scars sexy," | "God fuck that's smarts!" 

Downed - "Dep! Give me a hand?" | "Clean up on Aisle 4 needed!" | "Don't worry about me, just bleeding out over here, no rush," 

Revived - "Drinks on me when this is over Dep," | "Thanks babe!" | "I'll kiss you when we get outta this mess," | "I owe ya!"

Driving: 

Entering a vehicle - "Lemme take over I'm a way better driver than you," | "Floor it!" | "Hang on I've got a mixtape, just hope I havent fuckin' crushed it," | [takes the opportunity to roll cigs] | *peggies roll up* "Keep her steady!" [leans out the window and headshots the peggie on their ass, causing them to crash the car, like that isnt the coolest shit you've ever seen] "Aight cool,"

Reckless Driving - "Watch the fuckin' road asshole!" | [desperately tryna grip the wheel so she can take over driving] | "STOP THE CAR! I'LL JUST FUCKING WALK!" | "Are you tryna kill us?! Fuckin' swap seats now!" | tony is the designated driver bc one she's fucking good at it and two shes also a really bad backseat driver. Just let her drive 

Changing Radio Stations - "Now don't tell Charlie I said this but some of the peggies music is actually good,"| "John's a prick but his music taste is fuckin' good," | [punches radio in when Only You comes on] "...Sorry… Force'a habit…" | "Bold and brave my ass, John looks like he needs help getting spiders out of rooms and wears fuzzy pink bathrobes," 

Idle: 

"Man, John's a freak, and yeah I mean that in the sexy way. Someone who demands so much outward control whilst being a shithead little brat likes to get trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey and stuffed like one too. Don't give me that look Dep, I'm right and we both know it," 

"That dude Jacob ate was called Miller?? God, that could've been me if I was much older and way uglier!" 

"Faith just makes me fuckin sad man. She's been manipulated and groomed into this life by fuckin Joseph- she's so goddamn young too. I'm not gonna tell you what to do Dep, but that's just my two cents,"

"Joseph's the worst kind of man- a manipulator. He tells you what you wanna hear, targets the misfortunate who have nothing left to lose, builds a fucking army out of em. The other heralds I'm ok with arresting, but Joseph's got to go,"

[Lights cig with either her fancy lighter or by striking a match on the bottom of her shoe] "Don't start smoking, Dep,  bad for your health," 

Location Specific: 

Testy Festy Aftermath - [pinches bridge of nose] "Not again…" | "Anyone got a water and like, 3 aspirin?" | "Ain't the first time I've woke up passed out in a field, won't be the last," | "Did we at least get a photo from the night? I've won the competitions here for the last 3 years in a row now, I'm not fuckin missing one cuz of these peggies," 

Falls End - "Fuckin shame to see Falls End like this, but Mary May and Jerome will take good care of her now weve got it back, they always do," | "Think we'll get free drinks for life at the Spread Eagle when this is all over? Actually, we probably won't even get free drinks for week, so for life is wishful thinking," | she enjoys playing with the singing fish on the front of the speed eagle and keeps tryna convince Mary May to let her take it for herself bc tony goddamn miller has the biggest singing fish collection in the entire county 

Seed Ranch - *loud whistle* "this place is swanky as fuuuuck… Not that big a fan of all the dead animals though…" | "IS THAT WEED ON THE TABLE? Johnny boy you fuckin' hypocrite!" | "Oh he's definitely got a secret room behind one of these bookshelves, like a home torture room? Oh my God, what if he has more than one...?" [starts frantically pulling books off shelves] | regarding his shelves with peggie memorabilia [takes baseball bat to it] | [pretends she's never been here as she frantically stuffs any of her own belongings she might've forgotten here into her bag]

Entering the Henbane - "Don't trust a goddamn thing you see here. You think you see something you're not supposed to, hit it," | [swinging at bliss induced angel/animal/faith visions] | "Can we try savin' Faith? Don't feel right killin' her, she's so young…" | "Can we go to Sharky's place? I left some stuff there that could be worth picking up,"

Hope County Jail - "Sheriff Whitehorse has always been a good man to me, Dep. Would appreciate it if he lived through this," | "I always feel like a giant whenever I come here, everyones like 5'3. Virgil, Tracey, Charles, all shortasses," | "I think it's cute they gave you a little pin! You're part of their Pride now! Or whatever the cougar equivalent is to a lions pride… do Cougars even travel in packs? Aside from when Addie used take the girls out for drinks,"

Entering the Whitetails - "Always feels like something's watchin' you in these woods. Keep your eyes peeled," | "Always felt like there's something in these woods that there ain't supposed to be…" | [Shifting from foot to foot] "Can we get a move on? Aint'a big fan of standing around waitin' to get shot by some fuckin' sniper with a bow," | [watching Jacob's video punishing Pratt] "I'll fuckin' get you outta here, Stace… you just gotta hold out a second longer," | [about all the dead bodies and 'you are meat' graffiti] "Love what Jacob's done with the place," 

The Wolfs Den - "Eli Palmer is a good fuckin man. Kind, smart, careful and ruthless against peggies. We've made a good friend here, Dep," | "Heya Wheaty! Got a few more vinyls for your collection! They're all my own though, so be careful with em," | "I don't think Tammy likes you that much Dep. I don't think she likes much of anything anymore, other than attaching jumper cables to Peggy's nipples… Oh god, my piercings hurt thinking about it," 

Joseph's Island - [hand firmly on rifle grip] | "Creepy, evil motherfucker, had him pegged right from the start. Well, not pegged. I'm not pegging Joseph. I'd rather stick my dick in a ceiling fan then go anywhere near him- I'm just gonna stop talking," | "You know what? No one else has asked it so I'm gonna- where the fuck does Joseph sleep.  In the church? In one of these houses? In the dirt somewhere? What if he hangs upside down from trees like a bat?" 

[what-the--curtains]

Braving the Elements

Chapter 15: Roman Defeated

Tw: Violence, Blood, Swearing

When you enter the facility

When the fight starts

A few days pass and with no activity on your monitors, you and Nat enter Romans cabin and remove any paper files marked as “Project X” from his office. You proceed to retrieve the surveillance cameras and pack up the truck to leave. You and Bucky hadn’t talked about the night you spent together. Neither of you knew why. You hoped he didn’t regret it, you knew you didn’t. You spend most of the ride home and most of the next day asleep, tired from the long shifts. Waking up at around 2pm you check your face in the mirror. The mark he'd left on your neck, the last bit of physical evidence of that night, has faded away. You make your way into the kitchen in sweatpants and a matching cropped sweater, hair done up in a bun. You find everyone else scattered between the kitchen and the living room. It seems like the missions went relatively smoothly, Roman hadn’t been at any of the houses. Though apparently Italy had had some problems based on the few bruises you can see on Sam and Clint's arms. Everyone’s managed to find the hard copies of the previously deleted files of which there were at least 60. At around 4PM you’re all called into the meeting room. Tony had sent copies of the files off to SHIELD in hopes that they would be able to piece them into a coherent report, but the originals were in the conference room spread across the long table. Taking a seat next to Wanda, you pick up a few of the files. You’re skimming through them when Shuri enters the room and pulls up a holographic of what appears to be the blueprints for some kind of fancy building.

“What is that?” you ask.

“That. Is what I found on one of those encrypted files you stole. It looks like it’s some kind of underground bunker.” she replies. “There’s two levels, the upper part seems to be various facilities, living rooms, gyms, bathrooms, etcetera, but the lower level is where they’re keeping the laboratories and medical bays.”

“Hidden in plain sight, allows him to do whatever he wants no questions asked.” You murmur.

“Do we know where it is?” Clint asks.

“Based on some shipment receipts we have a general idea, but we’ll need Sam to scan the area to get the proper locates. Now finding it should be easy enough, and since we have a floor plan of the facility we may even have an upper hand.” Tony explains.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever had the upper hand on Roman.” You state.

“You’re right we need to be prepared for anything.” Steve says.

“If we can bring him in alive, we could figure out where all the mutants in these files have gone.” Tony says, looking at you pointedly before repeating the word alive a decibel louder, but you’re not paying attention, you’ve noticed something in the files.

“There all alphas, looks like he’s even got some omegas.” you say skimming through the files

“They’re all what?” Vision asks, looking to Wanda for an explanation.

“The government classifies mutants into six general groups, epsilons,” Wanda starts

“Mutants with little to no powers but major physical presentation of the x-gene you’ll recognize them a mile away.” You explain.

“Deltas,” Wanda says, pausing in order to continue the back and forth exchange.

“Human presenting mutants with low level powers most of them don’t even know they have the gene. Asymptomatic carries if you will”

“Gammas”

“This is the base level of powerful mutants. They have powers yes, but they also have a distinct phenotypic presentation of the x-gene.” You see some of the people in the room looking confused “Phenotypic presentation meaning they present distinct physical traits. They’re often the most ostracized by you non-mutants. Think Beast, Mystic or Nightcrawler.” You clarify, unsure if the team knows who they are.

“Betas” Wanda continues.

“They’re just as powerful as Gamma’s, but they only have minor physical drawbacks, ones you won’t notice until you’re close up, like Wolverine, or Gambit.”

“Alphas,”

“Very powerful mutants with no phenotypic presentation of the gene some consider them to be the most dangerous because you can’t identify them, Wanda or myself, for example.” You smile at her.

“Then, then there’s omegas.” Wanda says

“These are mutants with the highest level of power. They’re also usually the ones with the hardest powers to control. The most dangerous of the alphas if you will. Jean, Magneto, Charles and Storm are all omegas, powerful ones.” You stop.

“So what does this mean? He’s gathering all the strongest mutants?” Sam asks.

“Looks that way.” Wanda says

“We’re going to need to take extra safety precautions. If they’re fighting with Roman they’ll be looking to kill, not wound, anyone who gets in there way” Tony says

“And what if they’re being held as prisoners?” Bucky asks, beating you to your own question.

“If they’re being held captive they may be angry, untrusting and ready to destroy anyone even if it's people looking to help.” You say “They’ll be scared and fear is dangerous, be careful when approaching them”

“Do we have any way of protecting ourselves?” Nat asks

“Yes,” Shuri pulls out a box with metal collars and a box of ammunition.

“These collars will ensure that whoever is wearing them has their powers disabled” she sees you give her a concerned look “just until we take them off I promise” she reassures. “Meanwhile, these are soaked with a heavy tranquilizer that knocks anyone out in seconds. I’ve hooked them up to best suit your weapons of choice.”

“How do we know it’ll knock out a mutant?” Peter asks.

“Well I tested it on my brother and it knocked him out for a good 5 hours, superpowers and all.” She says grinning from ear to ear causing you all to laugh.

Steve goes over the plans. “Alright troops, we’ll be proceeding into the building through the four main entrances as indicated on the map. We want to make sure that each team has at least one person trained in military combat leading the attack. So, Y/N you’ll go ahead with Wanda and Peter through the back entrance here. Myself and Tony will enter from the left, while Bucky and Sam will come up on the right. Nat, you’ll take Clint and Vision through the front. We’ll maneuver through our quadrants before meeting back here, at the center of the second level. From there we can continue our sweep of the building. Remember, we are not going in to kill, we need Roman alive in order to get information. Any prisoners are not to be harmed, you find them, you wait and Y/N and Wanda will go and make the call. Get your stuff together, we fly in 15.”

Throwing your arsenal into a bag and getting changed you make your way over to the jet.

You throw your duffel bag up to Sam, and he almost drops it underestimating how heavy it was going to be.

“Jesus what’s in here? A body?” he huffs.

“A lady never reveals her secrets” you say, placing your finger over your lips and making a shushing gesture causing Sam and Peter to giggle. You go to hoist yourself up but struggle as the jets entrance was higher off the ground than you had anticipated. Suddenly, two hands grab your waist and lift you up with familiar ease allowing you to reach Sam’s hand. He pulls you up asking you what’s got you all hot and bothered. You shoot him a death stare, leading him to lift his hands up as he walks away mumbling about how he was sorry for asking. You turn around and pull Bucky up “Didn’t think anything could fluster you.” he said quietly with a smile as he passes by, causing you to become even more flustered. What the hell was that all about? You think taking your seat next to Tony and clipping in your seatbelt.

“How was Russia?” Wanda asks while sitting with Visions arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“Fucking cold.” you reply, not making eye contact with Bucky, Nat or Steve afraid you may reveal yourself “Next time Tony we’re pulling name outta a hat so you can’t rig it.” He laughs and the flight takes off

“So what can we expect with this guy Roman?” Peter inquires.

“Well he doesn’t fight fair that’s for sure, but he never does any of his own dirty work he likes to be kept clean I honestly think he’s a germaphobe but I digress. Lots of brutes, usually without superpowers unless bashing someone head in with a baseball bat counts as a power. I don’t know if he’ll even be there.” You say tightening the strap of the holsters around your thighs and clipping your arm bands into place.

The jet lands a few blocks away from the supposed site. It’s a ghost town, run-down buildings that have been partially destroyed, potholes, broken glass, overlapping graffiti on every surface. This wasn’t Romans usual extravagant taste. What was he up to? He always wanted his accomplishments to be on display. Why was he hiding this one?

“Sam, you see anything up there?” Tony asks.

“Scanning one sec. Alright we’ve got a hit, under the old movie theater by the looks of it.” He responds, landing next to you.

“Get into teams, let’s get this asshole.” Bucky says, loading up his machine gun with the knockout bullets Shuri had made. Before you split up he looks over to you,

“Don’t do anything stupid, lots of people here would miss you if you died.”

“Are you including yourself on that list?” you ask, as you load up your own gun. He walks behind you placing a hand on your waist and whispers “What the hell do you think.” Before walking off towards Sam.

You, Wanda and Peter enter from the back. You lead them through the maze of hallways wielding a machine gun checking left and right into any doorways. You knock out the guards with the tranquilizer bullets and once they’re down Peter webs them up to the wall, ensuring they won’t be going anywhere. No signs of any mutants yet. You reach a hallway that diverts off to the side. Holding up your fist you stop before motioning to your two teammates to continue up the hallway while you check it out. You're about to clear the hall when you feel something thwack you in the back of the head, you must have missed a door. You drop your gun and turn around to see none other than your old driver Calvin holding a pistol to your head.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this.” He smiles cocking the gun. Before he can pull the trigger a ball of light hits him in the back. You look up to see Wanda standing behind him. You grab your gun and she pulls you up “Old friend of yours?” she asks, while Peter webs up Calvin. You exit the hallway and continue down your path until you reach a door that none of you recognize from the blueprints. “Sam you there?” Wanda asks into the earpiece

“What’s up.” He whispers.

“Send us your scan of the building we’ve reached undocumented territory.”

Wanda pulls up the blueprints. “It looks like this leads to a lower level.”

“Alright, were going in.” you say

“Be careful. Once we're done we’ll head your way. Send us your current location.” Steve’s voice commands.

“Copy.” you respond. Lifting your gun you proceed down the narrow hallway, single file.

You turn the corner, another door, you open it quickly scanning the room for potential threats. You turn on the lights revealing a large empty room, lowering your weapon you take in your surroundings. Then, you hear a clatter and fog canisters roll out in front of you reducing your visibility now unable to see even a few feet in front of you. You hear a crash and see a burst of red light in the fog. “Wanda” you whisper yell “Peter?”. You don’t shoot at the noise, not wanting to hit your two friends. The fog slowly begins to lift revealing Wanda and Peter chained to the floor by their wrists. You bend over to try and break them, but you can’t.

“Look out!” Peter warns. You turn around to see a man, you recognize his face but couldn’t quite remember his name. You blink and then there's 15 of him, carbon copies encircling you.

“ What the…” you start before being interrupted by the echo of slow claps coming from behind the multiples.

“Together at last! How I’ve missed you my freak of nature” a familiar voice calls out

“Now Romy is that any way to speak to an old friend?” you say through gritted teeth, standing up to face him.

“Friends don’t burn down each other’s building, steal from them and kill their guards” he shouts

“Ouf well I guess friends don’t really own each other either?” you snap back.

“Agree to disagree.” he says, finally appearing behind the multiples, sending him? them? back out to guard the door. The 15 men turn back to 1 and exit the room.

“Why are you even here Romy? It’s not like you to do grunt work. And besides, you know you can’t beat me” You exclaim raising your gun and taking aim.

“Maybe not under the usual circumstances, but recently I’ve been feeling like I’ve turned over a new leaf” he says. A burst of light leaves his hands and hits you hard in the stomach knocking the wind out of you. You topple over dropping the gun as you fall.

“But you see your powers are useless here, no water, no fire, no earth in sight.” He continues, kicking down hard on your back, splaying you across the floor. “And my new powers allow me to use electrical energy as a weapon. Isn’t that just so fun!” he kicks the gun away from your reach and lifts your chin up with the tip of his shoe

“Impossible.” You mutter trying to understand what you had just seen, he wasn’t a mutant.

“Not when you know the right people.” he laughs.

“I didn’t miss a room, you gave Calvin powers as well, how?”

“All in good time, but for now you’re going to come with me or I’m going to kill your little friends here as well as all the others currently sweeping the upper levels.” He says as you push yourself off the floor.

“Alright go ahead,” you stand up and make your way over to the door, “see if I care. You obviously need me alive so i'm gonna walk right outta here unharmed”

“Guess you’re still only looking out for number one” he says following behind you

“Always have been” you say, grabbing the handle of the door. “Oh and Romy.” you turn to face him

“Yes darling?” He asks with a snarl.

“Are you really as stupid as you look?” you ask.

“What?” he scowls.

“Do you really think we showed up here without a backup plan?” You knock him down with a gust of air, as he hits the floor he yells for his guards. One tries to grab the door handle, but you ignite your arm bands and touch the knob scolding the man’s hand badly, you can smell the burnt flesh as you let go. Using the water converter technology installed into your suit by Shuri you throw water over the chains confining your two friends, freezing it as it hits the metal. You walk over whacking the chains with the butt of your gun causing them to shatter. You help them up. “Nice acting.” Wanda says rubbing her wrists “Seriously where’s your Oscar?” Peter asks. “Aww thanks guys, you know maybe I should quit my day job!” you start, but quickly realize you have bigger fish to fry as the multiplier and several others enter into the room.

Wanda knocks down three of them with a single blast as Peter works on taking down another two. You're squaring off against a guy who must have superhuman strength, based on his height and intense muscles. “You know there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, seriously what are you on steroids?” You shoot at him but he catches the bullet and crushes it proving your theory. You drop the gun and run at him. Sliding between his legs you jump on his back , pulling out your knife you jab it into his shoulder and he lets out a yelp of pain. At least you knew he could bleed. You manage to wrestle off his helmet, as he reaches around to pull you off, you bite him. This makes him even angrier. He grabs you off his back and throws you against the wall. He’s learning over you as you attempt to make a grab at a knife, he steps on your wrist lifting his foot he aims at your head, you brace for impact. All of a sudden you hear a gun fire and the guy turns to face the shooter, Bucky. The rest of the crew have arrived just in time to help with the other guards. While the muscle man starts towards the winter soldier you grab the knife on the floor and slash the guy's Achilles causing him to fall to the ground. “Thanks for that.” you say wiping the blood of your knife “Right back at you, I was 10 seconds away from being a pancake.” he smiles at you before shooting down two of the guards. It doesn’t take long for you guys to take the rest of them out. Roman’s started moving towards the door amidst the chaos but he doesn't get far before one of Clint's arrows hits him in the leg. Still trying to drag his body out of the room you walk over to him and lift up his head by his hair “You seriously thought you and your run of the mill abusers could take down a team of nine superheroes.”

“Hero? Is that what you think you are? Your hubris will be your downfall.” He says spitting in your face before passing out.

“You get your touch for the dramatic from him?” Sam chuckles.

“Did you know he had powers?” Peter asks, while Bucky lifts up Romans limp body.

“That’s the thing he didn’t use too. Wanda, did you see any doors in that hallway where Calvin tried to kill me?” You say wiping the spit off your face.

“Where who tried to do what to you?” Bucky asks loudly.

“No. You think he had them as well?” Wanda responds, ignoring Bucky’s concern. You shrug.

“So how did he...” Tony starts.

”I don’t know.” you shake your head in confusion. “Someone call Shuri. I have a feeling she’s the only one who can crack this.”

[edales-drabbles]

Green Thumb 4

First / Previous

------

He woke up surrounded by flowers. To be exact he was draped in a canopy of them that had grown around him, covering him from view. More importantly, It was warm. His powers were calm again. No longer bursting from his chest. He had grounded himself. Clicking his neck, Walter slowly uncurled and pulled himself out of the cocoon.

It was bright, too bright to be early. Fuck. He stumbled to his feet. Barrow was going to be furious with him. He was barefoot. When he had taken off his shoes, he didn’t remember but mud was covering him. Searching, he found his phone, now waterlogged. Double fuck.

Tears rolled down his face. So much for just being an hour. He wiped the tears from his face and looked around more. Something had clearly happened. The trees were all lush and blooming, the canopy of flowers was a sign too. He shivered and pulled his coat close. It was only then that he noticed his hair was considerably longer than before. Running his fingers through it, it found it was down to his waist now. Leaves and twigs were tangled into it now too.

“Roses shouldn’t cut their hair,” His voice was hoarse as he reminded himself of the rules. Even thorns tended to keep their hair long. If their powers unleashing did this, there was no wonder. He had a knife in his bike. He could cut more of it off there. The rest would have to wait.

He picked a flower from his new mane and let his magic flow. As suspected, the flower grew, blooming beautifully as it did so. Its roots curled around his forearm and for a brief moment, Walter felt like he was about to fall to pieces. Steeling himself, he gently put the flower on the ground and covered the roots with some soil. He stumbled over the roots of the trees and followed his feet to the path. He didn’t find his shoes which was unnerving. Instead, he had to deal with the undergrowth under him.

Slowly, he found his way, until he stumbled out into the car park. People were waiting. They turned and looked at him in unison, their eyes flickering. “Walter,” Kirsten said her voice relief filled. She was a werewolf, mated to one of the lower-ranked members of the pack but more importantly one of the best trackers the local pack had. “This makes our job easier.”

“What time is it?” Walter frowned, looking up at the sun. Not midday, surely?  

“Around 10,” a voice rumbled from behind him. A strong hand took his shoulders and propelled him forward, catching him as Walter almost tripped. Marvin was taller than Walter by an inch. In general, the wolves were on the tall side but at 6’2 Walter rarely felt dwarfed by them. Kirsten was tiny in comparison but to his understanding, what she lost in height she made up for in speed. “Lord Barrow had us check here. Your scent has changed.” there was something accusing in Marvin’s voice.

“Interesting,” Walter frowned as Marvin started patting him down. His keys were taken from him and he pushed to sit on some picnic tables. Kristen placed a cup of tea in his hands and another wolf he didn’t know well placed a blanket over his shoulders. “I didn’t… I know the basics but not much after,” he offered, drinking deep.

“I see,” Kirsten hummed, feeling his forehead. “Did you know it was going to happen then?”

“The thing or last night? The thing, no. Last night spiralled out of my control,” Walter answered truthfully. He was starting to tremble less now. The cup was warm in his hands and things were beginning to sink in more. Lord Barrow had called favours in to find him. That was going to cost. “Do you have a knife?”

“Don’t need them,” Marvin snorted. “Why do you want a knife?”

“You haven’t you noticed my hair?”

“ You’re not cutting it here,” Kirsten shook her head. Her fingers ran through it and pulled it out of the blanket. Walter could feel her fingers already picking out leaves and twigs. “I’ll braid it for you. We need to stop at the den before taking you to Lord Barrow. You need a shower. I can get Sophie to cut it for you.”

Walter closed his eyes and nodded. The wolves were to be his jail guards for the moment then. “My phone is dead. Water got to it.”

“We’ll have a burner ready,” Marvin noted.

They waited in silence, the wolves chatting among themselves as Walter drifted. Marvin was sat next to him, acting as a heated bookend and keeping him upright. Kirsten didn’t bother trying to brush his hair, just divided it and got to work taming the mess. Walter knew there were other people in the park but chances were the collection of rough-looking bikers were keeping them away for the moment. They were good people. The sort who would get rid of a body for you at a moment’s notice. Unlike Lord Barrow or the many other fractions, they were unlikely to expect a life debt for it either. Simply a favour in turn. Unless those favours started adding up too much.

“Come on,” Marvin hustled him into a car that had pulled up, tossing the keys to someone getting out. Kirsten kissed his cheek before leaving him to Marvin and whoever was driving. Marvin’s arm was strong over his shoulders, keeping him pressed against him. Marvin was one of Alec’s former fancies. It was nice having someone familiar as he drifted.

Lord Barrow wasn’t a monster. He would want someone with Walter’s powers. The cost was going to be steep and Walter was frozen in the midst of it all. Until he faced Barrow there was no telling what was going to happen. What was going to be taken, or if he would be breathing at the end of it all.

“I let Alec know you’re alive,” Marvin said softly. “He’s on his way to the den. Is he being clingy again?”

“Down to three fancies. One is likely to leave soon too. The other, I’m not sure about. I think he’s lost interest.” Walter explained. Alec hadn’t been worrying about Charles leaving, just him and Tristian. “And now I’m in trouble so …”

“He’ll be on the hunt again,”

“Is he ever not?”

Marvin laughed and tightened his grip again. It stayed warm and tight. “I’m not sure how you put up with it,” he murmured. “My wolf was going mad by the end of it. Too many different smells on him. Maybe if they had been consistent…”

“He’s Lord Barrow’s favourite. Or at least, one of them. Lord Barrow is happy to give me to him. If I did not want it, Lord Barrow wouldn’t, I hope. Coping is interesting. Alec is rather open with me about who he’s with. He was sending pictures of him and Tristian last night before the incident,”

“That’s improved then,”

Walter laughed, opening his eyes and looking at Marvin with fondness. He could see the doubt in Marvin’s eyes. Marvin’s wolf may not have been able to deal with Alec anymore but Walter wasn’t so sure his heart was free from Alec’s mesmerizing eyes yet.  “You should be proud. You leaving him affected Alec more than him being clingy to everyone else. Not many of them can claim that.”

Marvin looked slightly uncomfortable but didn’t let go of Walter. He shifted, cupping Walter’s face and bringing them somehow closer than before.“Your right eye has changed,” he breathed softly. “It’s green now, not blue.”

“Ah,” Walter grimaced, pulling away.  “My blind eye is going to stick out more,” he sighed and rubbed his forehead. With his eyes being blue, the pale fog over his left eye was not noticeable unless someone was glazing into it too deeply. He hadn’t been too worried about this eyes changing, last bloomers didn’t normally but nothing about this was normal. “Just perfect.”

The snort of laughter from Marvin and the driver made him glare at the wolf he could see. “You still look handsome, Walt. You’ll be fine,” Marvin promised.

Alec was waiting as they pulled into the wolf compound. The fae practically bouncing on the spot. Marvin had barely got Walter out before Alec was on him, jumping on him and holding tight. Walter held Alec up in the air and used Marvin as support as his knees almost collapsed. Marvin’s hand was on him.

Alec was crying, that wasn’t a good sign.

Alec was taken from him, someone plucking him from Alec complaining loudly but Marvin was too busy pushing Walter in the building. Alec was close behind fast, grabbing Walter’s arm and clinging. The alpha appeared, a large solid man who took one look at the three of them, sighed and point them in a direction. Walter almost laughed. There was a weary acceptation to the look. Only Walter was in the middle of this particular mess and wanted nothing to do with it all.

Then, the three of them were left alone in a bathroom with a massive bathtub and a fair size shower. The wolves were big fellows and their homes were designed as such. Marvin turned the shower on and the bath, starting to get the area ready.

“Clothes off is usually a good idea,” Marvin teased, winking at the two of them.

“Need help?” Alec asked. Mascara was smeared over his cheeks, his lips plain and his hair was messed up too. His hands were clinging to Walter’s arm still.

“Sure,” Walter smiled at the man. Whether Alec was nervous because Barrow was about to kill him or because Tristian had declared he was leaving too was uncertain but something had upset the fae. Alec pulled his rags off, Marvin taking the ruined clothes off him and putting them in a bag.

“Good things about doing this here, we have plenty of spare clothes,” Marvin smiled brightly.

“Yours,” Alec said firmly.

“Al…”

“Yours,” He repeated, looking at Marvin. Marvin faltered but nodded and left the room. Alec hugged Walter again and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Don’t lie to uncle, Walter. You’re on thin ice. It’s tempting when he asks things that are too intimate, too deep but you have to, Marvin,” Alec pleaded.

“I know,” Walter nodded. “I won’t, I promise.”

“I’m fae, Walter. You know what that word means,”

“I know. I promise I won’t lie to Lord Barrow, Alec. I meant what I said. I’m not planning to go like Rick,” Walter leant done and kissed Alec’s lips. He could taste mud from his cheeks in the kiss but Alec was gripping too tightly to care. Hands grasping his neck, not minding the state he was in; Just wanting his warmth and love. Just saying, ‘I’m here’. It meant everything to Alec and the warmth in Walter’s chest, let him know it was just important to him too.

Next

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Moving Day

Pairing: Dean x friend!Nelly

Characters: Dean, Nelly, David, John, and Sam.

Summary: A hunt gone wrong has Nell packing her bags.

Warning: Angst, character death, caring!Dean (yes it’s a warning), caring!John (yes also a warning), depressed!Nelly, some fluff.

Word Count: 2393

Fate & Destiny Masterlist

It was fall of 1994. It had been three years since Nell and Dean met, and since they last spoke. Both have tried to convince their fathers to join for a hunt, but both refuse. This was another day in their lives that would change them forever. It was November 16, 1994. Nell had barely just turned 13, and was going on practically her first solo hunt. She had David there to help her if she needed it, but the research was all up to her.

She was anxious, but at the same time she couldn’t wait to be sort of on her own for this hunt. Putting the clues together, and starting a journal al her own to commemorate this special opportunity. She wanted to prove she could do this with little to no help, but sadly that wasn’t the case.

She put all the clues together to know it was a ghost her and her dad were hunting. She had done the proper research and was able to locate the body of one Mrs. Doss. She was targeting men who didn’t love their wives, or they were caught cheating. Everything looked like it was going really well for Nelly until it wasn’t.

“Dig faster so we can get out of here before we get caught.”

“I’m trying, but this is a tough job to do for one person.” Nelly replied to her father, who was frantically scanning the area for any signs of the spirit.

He was about to scan back the way he was facing when he turned to look at Nelly, and check her progress, when he notice Mrs. Doss was going to grab Nelly.

“Nelly look out!” David yelled, but before she could even process what was happening her father jumped between his daughter and this monster.

Nelly dug faster, and finally found the coffin in which the old lady was buried. She took out the salt lighter fluid and a match within seconds. The spirit burst into flames as she screamed in agony. It was over and she had one hunt under her belt.

Once Nelly was able to catch her breath she couldn’t help, but smile with joy, and was awaiting for her father’s approval. One problem though, he was lying still in the grass. No sign of moving, not even slight breathing.

She started to panic, but at the same time she thought he was testing her. Seeing what she would do if the time ever came for her to think fast.

“Dad I did it! Come on stop fooling around,” she touched his skin which was already starting to become dangerously cold. “Dad come on this isn’t funny.”

She knew deep down though what was really happening. She knew that he was already gone. It was her fault and she never even got to express how much she truly appreciated him, and everything he was teaching her.

She grabbed his phone from inside the glove compartment of the car and dialed the first person she could think of to call. She didn’t know why he came to mind, but she knew that he would be able to help her.

“David I told you not call this number again,” the man answered on the other end.

“John Winchester? It’s Nelly. David’s daughter?”

“Oh, hi Nelly. Um, where’s your dad?”

“There was a hunt that went wrong, and he’s dying or already dead, or…” she started to freak out, reality starting to set in.

“Calm down give me your coordinates and I will be there as fast as I can.”

“We were on a hunt in Oklahoma. I don’t know where. I can’t think of anything.”

“Calm down. I’m on my way. Bobby will know where the two of you were headed.”

It took John 4 hours to get to Nelly. By then she had already called 911 and they tried to save her dad, but the girl was all alone in the world now.

John walked in and found her curled up in a chair. It broke his heart to see someone so young going through something like this. She had lost both her parents now, and had no other family that anyone knew about.

“Hey there Nelly.”

“Oh hi John.” She tried to give him a welcoming smile, but it hurt her to smile.

She was in a lot of pain and didn’t know how to handle it. Her father was all she had and now she was having to say goodbye to him. He couldn’t see most of her face though, for as soon as she saw him her head went right back onto her knees.

“Um, sir may I help you?” One of the nurses approached John.

“Yeah I’m Nelly’s godfather. She called and told me what had happened. I was away on business and flew back as quickly as I could.”

“Nelly is this true? You know this man?”

“Yes ma'am. He’s an old family friend. My dad asked him to take me in if anything were to happen to him, and in return my dad would do the same for his two boys. I just hoped it would never happened.” She whispered the last sentence putting her head back down, but John heard her loud and clear as if she had spoken louder.

This was awful for someone her age to have to be going through something like this. He couldn’t help but think of his two sons having to go through something like this. It hit him hard, but at least he knew they had each other. This girl curled up on a chair had no one left. She was the last remaining of her family.

“So, I assume that she might have filled you in on what happened?” the nurse asked looking between the pair.

“No she just said that something was wrong, and she asked me to come right away.”

“Well, Mr. Carmichael had suffered a heart attack. Quite a severe one.”

“How severe?” John asked concerned that Nelly had brought her father here for no reason because he was already dead when the paramedics arrived.

“He was pronounced dead at the scene.” Nelly spoke up.

“Did the doctors and nurses tell you that?” John asked making Nelly feel like a two year old.

“No I figured out on my own.” She looked to him, and came out of the ball she was curled up in.

Now he could clearly see her face. Her eyes were red, and they were surrounded by dark circles. Her skin was pale, and if he didn’t know better he would think she was a revenant. He knew better than that though, and all this girl needed was a nice place to sleep and some food in her stomach.

“Well, I think I’m going to take her home now and help her through this difficult time.” John said to the nurse standing, and reaching to shake her hand.

“Yes of course. I’m so sorry for your loss again Nelly.” The nurse stated, and walked away.

~*~

“Look, I know this place isn’t much, but at least these beds are more comfortable than those chairs in the waiting room.” John said dropping his bag on one of the beds.

“Anything is better than those chairs. Hell, a bed of rocks is more comfortable than those chairs.” Nelly joked trying to get herself to laugh, but only for a brief moment.

John noticed this and knew what he had to do. He was going to get the remainder of her stuff from a storage unit in Colorado, and officially have her travel with him and his sons.

~*~

It had been a few days since the incident with Nelly’s dad, and she still had this aching feeling in her chest. Of course she is still going to feel the loss, but she felt even worse about lying about what happened to her father. John doesn’t even know the truth yet, and she doesn’t plan on telling him unless he asks her to.

They were driving to Bobby’s to get Sam and Dean before they headed to their next destination. John kept looking over at Nelly wanting, and needing to know what happened to the man he once called friend.

“So, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I need to know what happened that night.”

She swore she could hear herself breathe a sigh of relief.

“I'm glad you asked. Lying has never been a strong suit of mine, and lying to the nurses and doctors was eating me up inside. We were just on a regular salt and burn. I was mainly taking the lead because he wanted me to prove that I could do it.

“So, I figured the person we were dealing with and found her buried in a cemetery nearby. I was digging, and my dad was keeping watch. He kept telling me to dig faster, but I didn't listen. Until he yelled look out. By then it was too late. He jumped in front of me and took a hand to the heart. She squeezed it to the point where it shriveled up. Which is why the nurse said it was severe.”

“You're saying it's your fault?” John asked not looking at her. He sounded angry, but she couldn't blame him.

“I screwed up and it cost my dad has life. You can be mad at me all you want, but it won't compare to how much I hate myself.”

“I’m not mad. Everyone makes mistakes.” 

This is where Nelly learned it was a one time thing that he said this. He didn’t want to push her away when she clearly needed someone. He was drawing her in to make her want to stay. That’s exactly what happened. She was drawn in by his kind words.

“If you are though, I can take it. I understand because I will never forgive myself for what happened. His death was 100% my fault.”

Listening to her blame herself was punishment enough. It was the last time he would ever bring up David in front of her again.

~*~

It had been a week since her father passed away and now she was finally going to see Dean again. It had been two years since she last saw him, and she was excited. She just wished it was on better terms. She was also excited to meet his brother Sam. She heard so much about him. Dean loved him even if he never came out and said the words, he adored his little brother.

They pulled up to Bobby’s, and were instantly greeted by the man who Nelly had heard so much about from both Dean, John, and her father.

“Hey there John, this must be Nelly Charles. Nice to meet you Nelly.” Bobby greeted reaching his hand out to her.

“Nice to meet you too. My talked about you all the time.” She smiled softly before it faded into the thoughts of guilt.

“I know it’s hard now, but it will get easier. I promise.”

“Nell? What are you doing here?” Dean ran out noticing that the girl who he considered his best friend was standing near his father.

“Hi Dean.” She spoke softly, almost to a whisper.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asked, concern written on his face.

“Dean get back inside let the grown ups discus this,” John ordered, “Nelly you too.” He looked over at the timid girl who was trying to curl up while still staying vertical.

Nell and Dean walked into Bobby’s house and it wasn’t long before she was being bombarded by question, but not from Dean.

“Hi I’m Sam! What’s your name? Where are your from? Do you like games?”

“Hi Sam! It’s nice to finally meet you. Your brother has told me so much about you. I’m from Colorado, and just so we’re clear I love games. Board games, make believe, you name it, I’ll play it.”

For the first time in almost a week she smiled a genuine smile. Not a smile she had to force because she wanted people to know she was okay. That she was going to be okay. These boys were going to be the most important thing to her.

“So, Nell? Why are you here? Where’s your dad?” Dean asked after he settled his brother at the kitchen for a light snack.

“I was on my first semi-solo hunt when something went wrong, and now he’s...he passed away. Now I’m here. Your dad has promised to keep me, but to be honest, I wouldn’t put it passed him to sick me on Bobby for the rest of my life, or until I’m 18 at least.”

“I won’t let him do that. He promised to keep you, and I’ll make him even if he kills me for stepping out of line.”

“This isn’t the same Dean I knew two years ago. It has me wondering if you do this for everyone you meet or if it’s just me.” Nell teased trying to get Dean to ease up. 

Again Nell wouldn’t blame John if he just dumped her somewhere. It would be a lot better than the internal war she is battling within herself. She thought it was probably the best option for her.

“Nelly? Can Bobby and I speak to you for a second?” John peeked his head in through the door gesturing for her to follow him.

“John and I both have decided that it would be best for him to take you in. He did promise after all and it makes it seem sort of at home for you since you and your dad traveled a lot together. We just want the healing process to be as short as humanly possible. We care that you don’t get hurt hunting. Mistakes do happen sometimes, and you don’t need to continue to blame yourself for what happened. It would have happened eventually whether it was your fault or not.” Bobby reassured her.

This is where her life changed. The next day the Winchester boys would be heading out on a shifter hunt, and Nell would join them. She felt more at home on the road because it has been all she’s known for almost 7 years, and she was glad her time of hunting wasn’t over just yet.

Fate & Destiny Tags:

@atc74 @bella-ca @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @snffbeebee

[anneesfolleshq]

Bonjour et bienvenue! Paris welcomes you, our Hedonist, Charles Olivier! May we say, you’re the spitting image of Jeremy Irons! Please make your presence known within 24 hours, and do have a look at our checklist before setting out into the city on your own.                                                                                                          À bientôt!

MUN

Name/Alias: Lui Preferred Pronouns: She/Her Age: 20 Timezone: CST

MUSE

Chosen Skeleton: The Hedonist Muse Name: Charles Olivier Muse Age: 58 Chosen FC: Jeremy Irons, Colin Firth, Jeff Goldblum Muse Occupation: If not listed in your skeleton already. Muse Affiliation & Frequent Haunts: Charles is simply a man of lots of activity and many pleasures, he moves around every location of the city and visits every single corner that is available for him. He does not have a preference at all. Most frequently, he stays for long periods of time in the Hotel Montmartre, having his own suite at the top floor, which he considers to be very valuable.  Direct from La Petit Journal: As his next stop from all over the world, mister Charles Olivier has taken up Paris as his next empty canvas. No matter where you turn, you’ll find him there at anytime of the day or night. Splurging like a king, everyone’s eyes light up in dollar signs as he lights up charmed by the pleasures of Paris. Liking him becomes effortless as he incorporates to the soul of the city.

BIOGRAPHY

Born in England, Charles Olivier is a distant member of the royalty. If you ask him who or how, he would not be able to tell you. His parents were a classic example of a perfectly vain couple. The couple had 3 sons, Charles being the one in the middle. His oldest sibling was always the brightest and most daring, and the youngest was the smartest and the most successful one. Charles was just there, not many talents but a whole lot of personality. At home, the love and support received was not much, but at school he was used to being the leader of the not-so likeable group of boys. Always making the new student’s life impossible and walking around like the owned the whole place. Charles, as he is right now, doesn’t feel particularly proud of that stage of his life, and anyone who met him back them probably has a bad vision of him. Assisting the most privileged schools and colleges, mister Olivier got all the experiences a man of his standard was allowed to have. But he always craved so much more… 

So he began his journey around the globe, meeting people and learning all about different cultures. He learnt how to sail and how to pilot the newest aircrafts (which helped him fly away from the war), Olivier wanted to take over the world. Something inside of him switched, he was less of a vainglorious asshole each time, and more of a craving individual. Every time he experienced something, he wanted more and more. The parties, the women, the friends that he made seemed to fulfill his life. For a man that has always had everything material he could wish for, the taste of those untouchable properties was the sweetest. 

When he was very young, he married miss Helen Longeville, his high school sweetheart. She was a strong and short-tempered woman that never really played along with his tantrums. Ironically, she seemed too heartless for his taste and they had a very stormy relationship. Out of this marriage came two daughters, who Helen made sure to raise just as strong-willed and cold as herself. Charles never played a huge part in their life that didn’t directly related to money for their clothes or studies until they were old enough to not need him anymore. This came from him not being around much, his response to the minimum feeling of boredom was to jump on a train or a cruise without even packing his bags. Helen didn’t seem to bother, she was happier when he was not around. His family life was never too pleasurable at the time, somewhere deep inside of him, there has always been a need to own things. He takes a special kind of pride in the people around him and being wanted or needed, and his family certainly didn’t. 

As expected, Charles divorced Helen two days after meeting Karina in the Czech Republic. She was young, lively, sweet and poor - so he was not needed as much as his money, but that still counted in his eyes. She certainly loved him and they married almost a week after. It was short, but sweet. He divorced her. Then he met Olivia in Venezuela, then divorced her. Then married his fourth. The thrill of each girl still sparked a strong emotion inside of him, but anyone could say he is obsessed with the current Mrs Olivier. Depending on his wive’s wishes, he moves from city to city of the world to please them and dazzle them with the beauties of the world. He is currently living in Paris, which has been his favorite so far. As he becomes older Charles has started to believe that his grave belongs to France. 

Charles would talk to you endlessly about the things that touch his heart. Despite his reckless years. he is an extremely sentimental individual. After being married four times, he still talks with the greatest of loves of each woman that he has made his wife. Wakes up early in the morning for a matinee workout, coffee at the plaza, brunch with his friends. Wine in the mid afternoon, always ordering something different for dinner and partying until his body can handle more. He has made sure for over 50 years that he has not one minute of boredom in his life. And the whole world has been a witness that he practices what he preaches. 

POTENTIAL PLOTS/CONNECTIONS

I love all the connections listed on the skeleton! I would also love for him to have his 4thwife much much younger than him, and she is basically the only woman he truly truly loves and sometimes his world basically spins around her. He would be an absolute idiotic fool for her. Also maybe some sons / daughters or some dude that is sleeping with his wife that he just hates with his whole soul. Anything is totally welcome! 

EXTRAS

Not at the moment, but i will be adding some cool stuff to the character blog. 

[moviessilently]

A rare Lubin feature film about a young woman who goes west and ends up being forced to marry an alcoholic mine owner. Based on a smash hit play from the same era, this film was hailed as one of Lubin’s best.

I will also be reviewing the 1929 remake with Dorothy Mackaill, Ian Keith and Myrna Loy. Click here to skip to the talkie.

Home Media Availability: Not currently available.

Go west, young woman

An enormous thanks to Martyn Stevens for generously granting permission to review this rare print from his collection.

A few disclaimers before getting started: While I consider myself to be a reasonably tough reviewer, I do try to give movies a fair shake and not draw the knives without cause. This movie has given me cause. You’ll see what I mean as the review progresses but this is fair warning that I will be hitting below the belt. This picture deserves nothing less and, frankly, if the hero had been hit below the belt a bit more, a good deal of trouble could have been saved.

This is our hero, by the way.

Even though I did not care for the picture, I am thrilled to have this opportunity to review it because I have been dying to get my hands on later Lubin work. So, again, Mr. Stevens has my gratitude.

Siegmund Lubin was among the first independent filmmakers to rival the Edison film production unit and his brash, sleazy films and ripoffs have raised eyebrows ever since. While he eventually allied with Edison and joined the Motion Picture Patents Company, Siegmund Lubin remains a quirky figure in film history. His company didn’t survive the transition to features but his technical knowhow saved the future Paramount from ruin.

America’s greatest play? Look, I know we’ve made mistakes but I’ll be hanged if I take responsibility for this! (Beautiful typography, though.)

That’s not to say that no Lubin features were produced. The company tried to keep up with audience tastes but was eventually forced into bankruptcy in 1916. The Great Divide was released at the very end of 1915 and was hailed as one of the finest productions Lubin had ever created.

Just so you know, I will be spoiling the heck out of this thing. Content and trigger warnings in place. Let’s do this.

Look out, guys, she’s gazing heavenward!

Like all good westerns, the film opens in Massachusetts. Ruth Jordan (Ethel Clayton) has decided that she and her brother (Hayden Stevenson) will head out to Arizona to seek their fortune. They are accompanied by sister-in-law Polly (Mary Moore) and Dr. Winthrop Newberry (Warner Richmond), who has an awful crush on Ruth. Of course, as we all know, nobody with a name like Winthrop Newberry stands a chance of winning a heroine’s heart.

So, our merry band of Massachusites head west (the film was shot on location) and Ruth thinks it’s all marvelous. If only she could find a rough and unpolished man. Well, in the proud tradition of Monkey Paw wishes, Ruth’s is about to be granted.

Did I hear “a violent alcoholic?”

One night, Ruth is left alone at the house. Three drunks break into the house, overpower Ruth and resolve to shoot dice for “Exclusive rights to love, honor and cherish ‘til we’re tired of her.” Ruth appeals to the least ugly drunk, Steven Ghent (House Peters), promising to marry him if he will save her from the others. Ghent agrees, buys off one man with a necklace of gold nuggets and shoots the other dead.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

What’s that? They don’t? What kind of joint is this?

Okay, fine. Sigh.

Our hero. Let that sink in. Our hero.

Ghent makes Ruth write a note saying that she has gone off to marry the man she loves and then he takes her to a frontier minister who ties the knot. And then it’s off to Ghent’s cabin, located conveniently atop the Grand Canyon. When Ruth locks him out of the bedroom, he declares that he married her and paid for her, so he owns her to do with as he sees fit.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

They STILL don’t? You have got to be kidding me.

Our. Hero. Hero. Ours. Our. Hero.

Ruth learns how to weave baskets and she works to earn money to buy herself back from Ghent. (Um, it’s not legally binding, she does know that, right? Ruth really hasn’t two brain cells to rub together, does she?) Ghent goes to town, gets drunk, returns to the cabin and forces himself on his wife.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

Oh, you cannot be serious. Who shoots him in the face? You can tell me. Nobody EVER? What kind of nonsense is this movie?

Ruth doesn’t like to be kidnapped. Spoilsport!

He’s totally sorry the next day and promises he is a reformed man, said EVERY ABUSER EVER. Will Ruth find (gag) “love” with her kidnapper and abuser? Will she return east? Will she sell more baskets than anyone? Those questions are answered in The Great Divide.

Okay, you can see why I have problems with this, right? And if anyone questions the tales of abuse told by actresses, this movie is a prime example of why I believe them.

The plot is essentially The Sheik with a smelly bum in the lead. Now The Sheik is obviously problematic but it has kitsch to soften the blow, for better or worse. In this film, the grit and realistic settings just make it so, so, so much more awful.

Hide all the breakable objects, Ruth is posing again.

The leads of The Great Divide contribute to its problems. Ethel Clayton is beautifully photographed and gets kudos for her subtle makeup but her performance is just the sort of thing trotted out to make fun of silent films. Clayton does not act so much as glide from one pose to another, always playing to the cheap seats. There’s lots of gazing heavenward, flailing of arms, that sort of thing. Clayton is not helped by the fact that her character is a complete nincompoop but I would have preferred less thrashing about.

Our hero. Our big, strong hero.

I am not the biggest House Peters fan in the world. He plays his parts with this irritating “Look, ma, I’m in pictures!” grin and displays very little range beyond it. Reviewers of the time politely remarked that he does crank his drunk scenes up to a rather exaggerated degree. I would go further and say that he plays them like a slapstick drunk.

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This may sound strange but my biggest problem with House Peters as an actor is his hands. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with them. In The Captive, he just kept them shoved in his pants, which was weird but I was willing to forgive because it was Blanche Sweet’s movie and he was just there as eye candy. In the case of The Great Divide, Peters keeps his elbows bent and his wrists limp, looking not unlike someone who has just soaped up their hands to wash but has discovered that the running water is on the blink. Or maybe he thinks he’s a kangaroo. I can’t imagine what it’s supposed to mean and must conclude he was just a peculiar man giving a peculiar performance.

The supporting cast is better. Mary Moore easily has the best part in the picture as Polly and she plays it for all its worth. While the leads are making dramatic pronouncements and striking poses, Polly says things like this:

In 1915, Polly would have come across as the comedy relief but to modern viewers she’s the voice of reason. I kind of love her. Is it too late to get our heroines swapped?

I feel you, Polly.

Warner Richmond, probably best remembered by silent film fans as Richard Barthelmess’s big brother in Tol’able David, does good work as Ruth’s rejected suitor. I mean, the character needed to take a hint but Richmond plays him well, with subtly and no weird kangaroo hands. A low hurdle, to be sure, but one worth mentioning.

And now we have to talk about the rather distressing story. With the exception of lopping off the third act, the film follows the play closely. We get everything from soup to nuts to rape. Oh goody gumdrops. Reviews of 1915 and 1916 did not phrase it quite like this, of course, and chose instead to focus on the scenery, and what they called powerful themes and an unusual romance. Um, that’s a bit of an understatement.

What a prude!

The worst part is how everybody gingerly steps around the pachyderm in the parlor to this day. Here is how the Encyclopedia Britannica describes the story: “A prose play about conflict between eastern U.S. puritanism and the individualism of the western frontier.”

Okay, let’s start from the top, Britannica. Not wanting to be raped is not generally classified as being puritanical, just so you know. And if this is western individualism, I am packing my bags for Connecticut immediately.

Britannica: Women, eh? Can’t live with them, can’t find them sometimes.

Normal Person: I hope to spend an evening in my own home and not become the victim of a violent crime.

Britannica: Oh, where’s your sense of humor? You’re no fun anymore!

At least my faith in humanity was restored slightly by a review of a revival in the New York Times:

“A more obscure 1906 melodrama that provides a new set of clichéd characters who, at their best, are intriguing reflections of a changing nation… Because the play is crudely drawn and clumsily plotted, its chief value might be as a cultural artifact.”

Amen!

Look, I’m all for twisted romance. Heck, The Forty-First is one of my favorite movies. But the characters have to behave like actual human beings, okay? Ruth’s bizarre acceptance of the “bargain” she made with Ghent strains audience suspension of disbelief to the breaking point and beyond.

Deals with home invaders are null and void. This is basic stuff.

Let me put this another way. If the heroine’s house was broken into and the burglars threatened to burn it down unless she signed the lease over to them at a lawyer’s office the next day, she would definitely be smart to go along with the plan but she would be nuts if she actually signed the house over in front of witnesses. “I have to keep my word!” has no power if the promise is extracted through threats of violence. This is, like, Promises 101 stuff.

Not only does Ruth sign the marriage license when she is among people who could have helped her, she also accepts that her value is a string of nuggets. Um, I believe the 13th Amendment is a thing. A war was fought about it, is this ringing any bells?

In short, the characters act like characters in a play and not like any normal human beings who ever walked the earth.

Actual dialogue from the play. I can’t even. I hope Ruth gets indigestion.

I should give the film credit for toning down the character of Ruth a bit. In the original 1906 play by William Vaughn Moody, she is so smug and superior that I was rooting for Polly to haul off and slug her by the end of the first scene. She’s still annoying in the film but it’s more of the typical “Ooo, look at the tree! Look at the flower! I must swing my arms and prance!” kind of thing, pretty common in silent films.

As stated above, the play also has a third act in which Ruth does leave Ghent and return east but (spoilers for a place released eleven decades ago) decides he is absolutely marvelous for sending her mother money. For somebody who declares that she cannot be bought, Ruth is certainly happy to accept cash once it passes through an intermediary. Obviously, Ruth doesn’t deserve the horrors that the play visits on her but let’s just say that I would not be sorry to see her stub her toe in the night.

The Great Divide, based on a movie, based on a play! (Anthony P. Kelly wrote the screenplay.)

Oh well, I suppose it’s better than the tie-in short story by Norman Bruce published in Motion Picture Magazine. That bit of deathless prose features descriptions like “gallant girl-person” and “woman thing.” Gollum, is that you and how did you come to be hired by Motion Picture Magazine?

Gallant girl-person, precious, we loves them, we does.

The movie has its flaws but it definitely could have been worse.

So, there you have it. The Great Divide is a rare surviving Lubin feature and while the story is not at all to my taste, I am very glad to have had an opportunity to see it and to research a forgotten bit of early twentieth century American pop culture. I can’t say that I recommend it for pleasure viewing but it is interesting all the same.

Where can I see it?

Not presently available on home video but I will let everyone know if it ever becomes available.

I know what you’re thinking. “Sure, The Great Divide was pretty tacky but at least Hollywood moved onto more sophisticated fare during the studio era.”

About that…

Home Media Availability: Released on DVD.

The Great Divide was remade in 1925 (a copy is presently held in a Swedish archive) and again in 1929 as a talkie. It was remade once more in Technicolor in 1931 and given the eyebrow-raising title of Woman Hungry. I’m tackling the 1929 version today because it’s the one on DVD. I’m not sure it was such a great decision.

Poor, poor, poor Myrna Loy.

While the 1925 version and the 1931 version both follow the play reasonably closely, the 1929 version goes its own way and makes up its own plot. Given the horrors of the play, I would normally be in favor of this but the new 1929 plot is just as disturbing. What it lacks in sexual harassment, it makes up for with racism.

Steven Ghent (Ian Keith, who was Mr. Ethel Clayton when this film was released) is a mine owner who has been supporting his late partner’s daughter in New York for years. He remembers her as a kid but kids do have a way of growing up.

Oh yeah, totally not interested at all.

Ghent is the object of affection and obsession for Manuela (Myrna Loy, still in her exotic vamp period) and while he doesn’t say yes, he doesn’t exactly say no either. The film tries to portray this as honorable when it’s really eye-rolling.

Anyway, that kid back east, Ruth Jordan, is now played by Dorothy Mackaill and she is a sassy flapper who can knock back a cocktail and loves to dance. The screenwriters (all men) hope to convince us that she is the wild spawn of Satan and Everything Wrong With Young People These Days. To me, she comes off as a perfectly normal young woman whose idea of a wild time is stopping off at a fiesta and having a cocktail sometimes. Is this the direct 1920s equivalent of those “Millennials are killing…” articles? I think so. No word yet as to whether or not Ruth eats avocado toast.

One of those awful flappers in her cloche.

Ruth stops off at that fiesta, makes a few racist remarks, casually calls for genocide and runs into Ghent. He affects a Mexican accent and pretends to be a bandit. At least I think it’s supposed to be a Mexican accent. It could have been Irish, Russian or Cambodian for all I know.

He follows Ruth and her friends (including silent veteran Creighton Hale, who plays her fiancé) into a bar where he is persuaded to sing a song. Now Ian Keith actually could sing but you’d never know it from this film. Keith’s lipsyncing is so bad that I kept waiting for some kind of punchline, like wheeling out a gramophone or something. But no, this is supposed to be his real voice.

Ghent better not get on Manuela’s bad side or she might sing another song.

If that wasn’t enough, Manuela sidles up and sings a seductive song to get Ghent’s attention. Myrna Loy does a better job of lipsyncing but the song…

Actual lyrics: One dance with me, Si Si senor. One chance with me, Si Si senor.

Ugh. Please explain to me again how talkies won because I am still a bit baffled.

Live by the goofy accent, die by the goofy accent. Ghent deserved what he got.

Anyway, Ghent is ogling, which makes Ruth jealous and then he romances her (still with the terrible accent, mind you) and she starts to fall for him. But then he is exposed as being an American, Ruth is like “What the heck?” and then heckles him for being a dweeb (fair).

And then Ghent discovers that Ruth is really the daughter of his late partner and he gets angry. He storms into her train car, declares that she is promiscuous, shouts at her for drinking and smoking and generally comes off as a pompous, prudish ass. Kids these days, amiright?

Ruth’s expression is exactly what mine was at this point in the film.

So, he kidnaps her, a mature reaction. What follows is your typical Teach the City Girl a Lesson cliché stuff. Fear of wild animals, sore feet, the whole enchilada. Let’s see, drag someone out into the wilderness, frame yourself as their protector, regulate every aspect of their existence. Yep, sounds like a recipe for Stockholm Syndrome to me.

And, of course, our young lady changes her tune about Ghent after another session of insultingly incompetent lipsyncing. Seriously, grade school kids manage to lipsync convincingly, it’s pretty darn easy.

I suppose I shouldn’t reveal the ending, though a reasonably intelligent sea sponge can see it coming.

At least SOMEONE can act in this joint.

The cast is pretty mixed. Ian Keith clearly has no idea what to do with Ghent but Dorothy Mackaill is able to bring a little charisma to the table. It’s a thankless role as the Straw Flapper who symbolizes the excesses of her generation (a cocktail before bed, the minx!) but she does what she can.

Poor Myrna paying her dues.

Roles like Manuela were par for the course at this point in Myrna Loy’s career. Her sharp comedic timing had not yet been discovered and she was still being wasted in clichéd vamp parts. There’s always a certain amount frustration in watching Loy at this point. It’s like seeing a fully qualified lawyer being obliged to serve coffee.

And the winner is..

The Talkie

I want to be clear that this was a race to the bottom. Both films are deeply disturbing, the 1915 version because it glamorizes rape and the 1929 version because it glamorizes an abusive, paternalistic relationship and embraces Stockholm Syndrome.

Basically, this is a contest between stylized nastiness and something that can and does happen in the real world. Neither option is particularly savory.

The 1929 version also gets some points for most excellent hats.

But a winner must be chosen and so I will say that the 1929 version wins because Dorothy Mackaill is a good actress. She deserved better but she gives this silly, dangerous film much more than it deserves. Incidentally, after her film career ended, Mackaill spent the rest of her life in Hawaii. Good for her!

The talkie does suffer from set-bound sequences and rather fakey scenery, along with some painful from Lucien Littlefield as a singing cowboy but I think Mackaill’s performance makes up for it.

Singing cowboys AND bad lipsyncing? Oh swell.

I don’t like the Code one little bit but I must grudgingly admit that I am grateful that it saved us from further remakes of The Great Divide.

***

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The Great Divide (1915) A Silent Film Review A rare Lubin feature film about a young woman who goes west and ends up being forced to marry an alcoholic mine owner.

[megswolfe]

Shinjuku Mornings

I knocked at the door. At first slowly and quietly using the knuckle of one finger. My stomach jumped all the way into my throat and I could feel butterflies fluttering through my intestines. I felt sick. I wanted to scream that I was sorry. I knocked one more time, with force, preparing myself for silence, ready to walk away and find something to eat on my own. Blood rushed through my head and my heart pounded, I picked at the buttons on my coat with trembling fingers. He’d never open the door. I was so harsh. Too harsh. Last night while I focused on holding my anger I had forgotten to hold my tongue. Daniel was sweet and smart but there was always that part of him that was poison. He wouldn't ever admit it but I remind him too much of him. A younger, more volatile him. Maybe the things I said were true. Maybe they weren’t. He was the only one that could decide that. 

I imagined him lying on his stomach, stretched across his bed, sheets a mess, head filled with images of Paris and New York, dreaming about something he’d never remember. Meanwhile I stood still outside. I nervously looked at my watch, almost counting the seconds. Ten, maybe fifteen more, then I’d leave. It was 9:30. I’d already been awake for three and a half hours, but I’d never tell him that. If he opened the door he would ask me why I was already dressed and ready, if I had been waiting for him, if I’d been up all morning, or even worse, still up from last night. 

The door opened. There he was standing almost six feet tall in the doorframe, eyes barely open, in nothing but boxer shorts. I’d seen him naked before of course. But in that moment, and with his lack of clothes, I felt my face flush and grow hot and I forced my eyes to stay on his. He rubbed his face and tried to look at me, and all I could say was “Do you want to get breakfast?” My heart raced in those few seconds afterward, sunshine beamed in through the window and I could see his bed through the open door. A mess. Exactly what I expected. My eyes drifted back to him, I tapped my fingers against my side dreading what he had to say. The butterflies hurriedly flapped their wings in my stomach. I thought I was going to faint but all he did was raise his eyebrows, nod, I heard him whisper the word “wait” faintly as he slowly shut the door. My heartbeat was the only sound in the hallway as my blood drained out of my face and back into my body. 

How long should I wait, I wondered. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Maybe I should’ve gone down to the lobby and waited there. But I stood in the hallway, in the same place. As I looked down at my watch the door suddenly swung open. Six minutes and twenty-five seconds.

Last week I cut my hair so it would hang over my eyes. I wondered if he cared. Back in New York we talked and talked for hours over cigarettes and whiskey. We’d been traveling for weeks on end and finally had one week back in the city. For the first few days I was ecstatic to sleep in my old bed again, see my cat Halloween, talk to my friends. After sleeping off the Charles de Gaulle to La Guardia jet lag I decided to read the book again. An old manuscript was sitting on my nightstand and figuring it was around four in the morning, I decided to open it up and read until the sun came up. Halloween woke up from his spot next to my pillow and started to nestle his head next to me. He was a little calico with yellow eyes. My first boyfriend, my first real boyfriend, Caesar, bought him for me as birthday gift. My birthday is October 30th, right before Halloween, so naturally when Caesar came home with a black and orange kitten, I couldn't help myself. His pink toes stretched out over to me and tapped me gently. I scratched behind his ears and he purred a soft purr from deep within his throat. 

“What do you wish for?” She said. 

“I wish,” and with a pause lasting an eternity, he plucked the only the most precious words for her answer. “For you to meet me at midnight, on the balcony overlooking the ocean. For you to meet me in that pink frock of yours, and I hope that it may catch the moon’s eye just as it catches mine. So I may gaze upon you in a paler light. That is what I wish.”

I looked back up to see Halloween rolled into a ball at my side. The charlatan danced across every line. All the writers I looked up to, Haruki Murakami or Vladimir Nabokov or Oscar Wilde, were wading in the words but never really surfaced. Those first few chapters I wrote screamed in agony of some pretentiousness I was desperately mimicking. I wanted to be special so painfully, so much so that my writing sounded like a bad Proust impression with glimpses of Forster and Fitzgerald. The sun rose ever so slowly over the crest of Long Island and crept into my room an inch at a time. I tossed the manuscript over Halloween’s head and dissolved into my pillow, sighing, my jaw hurting from clenched teeth. I ran my finger across his soft orange speckled head, right in between his eyes. His face was round and still kitten like, he’s barely changed since Caesar brought him home that day. That single fact makes him a beacon of my old life, the one with Caesar in Brooklyn, in the flesh. That toxic swill of bittersweet memories always followed Halloween. “Who did I think I was?” I ask him, giggling while he scrunched up his little pink nose. 

The daily routine of making coffee, feeding the cat, haphazardly reading the newspaper over freshly soft-boiled eggs and toast, and playing the old Japanese city-pop records from the 80’s my mom left me. Plastic Love started playing over the speakers and I got up to dance, still in my socks and pajamas, I felt awful, my body aching all over from the thirteen hour plane ride. I dug through my bag to find a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. After opening the windows and making sure Halloween was far away, I gently swayed to the song while I lit a cigarette between my teeth. Smoke filled the room while I moved my arms to Mariya Takeuchi’s voice. My mother would have laughed at what a perfect spitting image I was of her, dancing in my underwear to city pop, blowing smoke rings for no one. I remember when I was a kid, she would get out of the shower, wrapped in a pink towel, hair dripping wet, singing and dancing to Taeko Onuki and Miki Matsubara. She was happiest then. 

Thoughts of my mother laced those city-pop records with sadness and emptiness as they echoed through my empty apartment, where all the furniture was covered in thin layers of dust and cold to the touch. The room seemed dim even with the sun reflecting off the Chrysler building. A feeling of hate boiled in my belly. I hated her for doing this, leaving me with happy memories tinged with poisonous melancholy that fills my head and my stomach, where it makes me feel dizzy and weighed down. I missed Daniel.

I missed his half awake smiles in the mornings when we stumbled blindly into hotel lobbies. I missed his voice in my ear whispering jokes during signings that went on too long. I missed him ordering us coffee in french. Or at night, over grappa and espresso, telling stories and glittering in his euphoria. So I called him to ask him over for dinner. I swallowed the desperation in my voice and smoothed it out with notes of disdain. It was innocent enough. And I leaned into the role with just enough give where I sounded like I couldn't care if I saw him or not. But inside I was itching for it. I was dying. 

[potterotterdrafts]

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like mylock, sherstrade, mystrade, omegaverse, johncroft, and johnlock.

You: I appreciate your discretion after yesterday's events.-M (Omega!Mycroft, if you'd like. TW: Slight mentions of abuse, can play without. Mycroft has a child, Arthur (4). Your choice if your character is aware)

Stranger: Of course I'll be discreet. You needed help, I was glad to do so. GL (Fem!Lestrade, Grace, Alpha.) Are you doing better? GL

You: I'm fine, as I was last night.-M It was blown completely out of proportion.-M

Stranger: I don't think you were. Not last night at least. G You seemed frightened. G Or as close as I've ever seen you. G

You: I was startled by your showing up unannounced.-M

Stranger: I thought I would surprise you. G I'm sorry. I won't do it again. G

You: Surprise me with what?-M

Stranger: Saying hello. G Thought I might take you to dinner. G Giving you a relaxing night. G

You: Why would you want to take me to dinner?-M

Stranger: Because I like you, Mycroft. G I would have thought that was obvious. G

You: [Delayed] You don't know enough about me to 'like' me, Detective.-M

Stranger: Well, I'd like to get to know you better, then. G

You: While I appreciate that, I am unable to fulfill to your request.-M

You: *fulfill you

You: (JFC, sorry) Fulfill your

Stranger: (( eeyyy, i'm sure you can fulfill her plenty, Mycroft)) Why not? G

You: (OMG, I nearly dropped my laptop! That was so perfect) A number of reasons, Grace.-M

Stranger: Give me one. G And then give me a chance to prove you wrong. G

You: I am currently owned by another Alpha.-M

Stranger: (delay) Oh. G I'm sorry, I didn't G You're not wearing any G It didn't seem like G (delay) I'm sorry. G

You: It's hardly a traditional relationship, Grace. It's a business arrangement.-M

Stranger: (delay) So I don't have to worry about your Alpha coming down to the station to sock me in the face? G

You: He's already made his dislike known.-M

Stranger: Do I know them? G

You: No.-M

Stranger: I'm confused. G You're not interested in spending time with me because you already have an Alpha, who doesn't like me, but isn't going to punish me for coming on to you, and all of this despite it not being a traditional bonding? G Do I have that right? G

You: Yes, Grace, it's complicated.-M

Stranger: (delay) Too complicated for some potential friends to talk about over dinner? G

You: I suppose, if you insist, we could have a quick bite.-M

Stranger: Great! That would be great. G Are you free tonight? G

You: I'll arrange the time and send a car for you.-M

Stranger: You don't need to send a car. G Just send me the info, and I'll see you there. G

You: [Delayed] Consider it sent.-M

Stranger: brbr!!

Stranger: See you tonight. G (switch to Paras? )

You: (Yeah, I'll start!)

You: Mycroft made sure to send the address of the small, discrete Chinese restaurant to Grace before he reminded his Alpha that he'd be working late. Charles, his Alpha, was rather upset at another night spent alone, but eventually allowed Mycroft to return to his work. Mycroft spent the afternoon in meetings and conference calls giving himself little time to think of the previous night or what sort of punishment may be waiting for him at home when he returned. Before he left the office to meet Grace, Mycroft made sure the bruise under his eye was covered and the marks on his wrist hidden by his suit jacket. He arrived at the restaurant early and found a booth near the back to wait for Grace.

Stranger: Grace was practically bouncing as she strode in to the restaurant. A few short words with the hostess and she was led back to the table where Mycroft was. Something made her pause for a second, a momentary frown tugging at her lips, but with a small shake of her head it passed and she was smiling once more as she slipped into her seat. "Hi," she greeted, tucking her short bobbed hair behind her ears. "Thanks for meeting me, Mycroft."

You: Mycroft gave her a short smile. "Of course, Detective. I am always happy to oblige the more stubborn members of New Scotland Yard." Mycroft glanced around every so often, hoping no one he knew would happen upon them during dinner. He didn't wish to field questions from nosy colleagues or have word get back to Charles that he hadn't exactly been truthful about working late. "You said you wished to discuss my current situation." Mycroft said after they had ordered their dinner. "What questions may I answer for you?"

Stranger: Her eyes narrowed a touch as Mycroft glanced around. It was as if . . . but no. No. Not Mycroft. Sure. "Well, I really meant I just wanted to talk to you. I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you better. Even if just as friends." She wasn't keen on interfering in another Alpha's relationship, even if Mycroft said it was 'just business'. In her experience, it almost never was. "I am sorry if I caused any problems for you. I really didn't think -- it's not like you're wearing any marks -- not that you have to!" She was putting her foot in it wasn't she? It was the 21st century, Grace Lestrade, Omegas didn't need to display claiming marks or other signs of being 'owned'. They weren't even 'owned' in the legal sense, anymore.

You: Mycroft took a deep, steadying breath as Grace began stumbling over her words. Alphas, he thought to himself. "Marks are still fairly common, Detective, however in my case, part of my agreeing to been sold off from 'under my parents' watch was that Charles would not be allowed to bite me." He explained. "I do not wear a ring because we are not married. We are simply...coupled, if you will. I intended to leave the arrangement after a few years, but circumstances have since changed. I am no longer able to leave." He swallowed thickly, thinking of his son at home. "Charles and I are not intimate outside of my heats, we do not share a room or dinner or any other number of things found in a traditional relationship. However, I am still considered his property."

Stranger: That bad feeling came back, and she stopped trying to push it away. Anyone could be subject to... to bad situations. Including Mycroft Holmes. 'Selling Omegas hasn't been legal for forty years," she said softly under her breath. "You're no one's property." Not in the eyes of the law at least. The public was always much slower to adapt and adopt such views. "How did circumstances change?"

You: Mycroft chuckled. "In higher social circles..." Mycroft began. "It is still common practice. Omegas are gifted, instead of sold, but changing what you call a process hardly changes the process itself. It allowed my parents to retire to the country, allowed me to continue working and gaining even more political standing in the government." he hesitated when Grace asked what had changed. Mycroft rarely spoke about his personal life with his colleagues, but Grace was more than that, wasn't she? "I became pregnant shortly after Charles took me."

Stranger: Yes, she felt ill. "...how old are they?" Her mind might not be as magnificent as the Holmes's, but it was still working overtime. Common practice, it still wasn't legal, and thus not binding. If Mycroft wanted to leave, he could. But a child, that of course made it different. More complicated. They way Mycroft spoke about it, too; she tucked those details away, reading into them with all the experience of an detective long on the force.

You: "Arthur is four." he answered quickly. "Grace, are you alright?" Mycroft asked the detective, noticing the way she practically turned white at the idea that not every couple was happy. Mycroft could practically hear the wheels turning in the woman's head and it worried him slightly. "Whatever you're thinking please stop." he warned her. "It's not worth getting involved in. I am perfectly fine, Arthur is perfectly fine. Charles is away more often than he is home so our lives aren't affected by his presence as much as you may think. Yesterday was an argument, which I'm certain every couple has experienced in their time together."

Stranger: "Couples argue," she agreed, with a nod. "But one partner being afraid of the other is not normal, Mycroft." She was scrutizing the omega closely now. It was hard, in the dim lighting of the out of the way booth, but she thought . . . reaching across the table, she lightly brushed at the skin beneath Mycroft's eye.

You: Mycroft flinched out of Grace's touch. "I am /not/ afraid of Charles, Detective. Just because I am an Omega does not mean I am weak and defenseless." He stood up quickly, not bothering to wait for his food. "I do not need to be pitied by another Alpha. Apologies, but I have to go. Goodnight, Detective." He grabbed his coat from inside the booth and turned to leave the restaurant, opening the door rougher than he would have liked.

Stranger: Gace winced. Yes, she'd handled that poorly. She should have known better. How many cases of abused Omegas had she been pulled into before? The shrinks said there was something less threatening to those Omegas about a /female/ Alpha; some underlying biological instinct or something. Grace didn't understand the science of it, only that she could help. In all her years, she'd seen just about everything, and heard everything. Mycroft's flinching and sharp retort was nothing new to her. Instinct told her something was wrong. But as the Special Victims cops often told her, their instincts weren't enough. Running her hand through her hair, Grace waved off the waitress as she came with the food, asking her to pack it up instead. Pulling out her phone, she quickly texted the man, I was not pitying you, Mycroft. I was worrying. I apologize if I overstepped (again). GL Snagging the bag with the food in it, she sighed as she ruffled her hair again, heading back to the office for another late night.

You: Mycroft was nestled in the back of his black town car when his mobile buzzed in his pocket. A message from Grace. Worrying over an Omega that wasn't her own, that certainly wouldn't do. Mycroft typed a quick message out to her before replacing his mobile. It was pity, Detective. It was you assuming you know every detail about my situation. Perhaps you should stick to solving homicides and leave my personal life out of your thoughts.-M As his car pulled up to his home Mycroft saw the lights on. It meant Charles was waiting for him. He took a deep breath before he got out of the car and went inside. "Hello, darling." he said, attempting to be the sweet, demure Omega Charles preferred. It would help ensure they did not fight that evening. "You lied to me." was the only warning Mycroft received before the fist of his Alpha met his cheek.

Stranger: Back at the office, Grace tried to distract herself from Mycroft with the powerful combination of paperwork and coffee. It didn't work very well. Going for a refill, she ran into some cops with one of the Special Detectives heading out. Greeting them, there was the brief exchange of normal banter before she asked what they were headed to. "Potential domestic. Some neighbors called it in." Grace glanced at the clock, and then thought of her paperwork. "Can I come along?" The detective gave the okay, so in two cars, the pulled away from NSY, heading to the address of the call.

You: Mycroft heard the sirens in the distance, but it didn't register they could be coming for him. The pair had been yelling at each other for nearly an hour, breaking many items in their sitting room as Mycroft struggled to protect himself from Charles. He'd managed to get a few good punches in before the Alpha overtook him. "Getting off with that whore of an Alpha, weren't you?" Charles asked, dragging Mycroft up the stairs by his hair. "Of course not, darling. I would never step outside of our relationship, you know that. Please, let's not argue tonight." Charles pushed open the bedroom door and flung the Omega on the bed. "Arthur's not here. I didn't want him to see his mum having to be punished for being a cheating slut." Mycroft struggled to get out from Charles' grip but was pinned to the bed.

Stranger: It was a nice neighborhood they were going to, and it made her think of Mycroft all over again. Her heavy sigh and shake of her head got the detective's attention. "You all right?" "Yeah," Grace said, before added, "Just . . . when we're done here, can I get your opinion on something?" The Beta woman nodded, with that grim look in her eye. They pulled up to the curve and saw the concerned neighbors standing outside on the sidewalk; that wasn't very usual. The beat cops started to talk to them while Grace and Detective Cooper took the steps up to the front door. "New Scotland Yard, open up," she called after ringing the bell, hand on her belt. "Open up."

You: Mycroft couldn't hear anything, he'd blocked the room around him out as Charles punished him for his dinner with Grace. He didn't know how long it went on until Charles was crawling off of him and pushing him to the floor. "Get rid of them or it'll be another round for you." the Alpha spat in Mycroft's direction. The Omega faltered as he got up and headed towards the door, adjusting his rumpled suit. "C-coming." he called as he hurried down the stairs as fast as his battered body could carry him. "St-stop banging. Please." he pleaded as he checked himself in the mirror on his way to the door. There wasn't much he could do to hide his split lip and bloody nose, but he didn't really have a choice. "What?" he snapped as he wrenched the door open.

Stranger: Grace started as the door opened to reveal Mycroft; a much altered Mycroft than she'd seen not that long ago. She felt Cooper next to her stiff; "Sir," she said gently, "We got a call for a domestic disturbance. Will you please step out of the house?" Grace's hands were curled tight into fists at her side. It was only Cooper's warning glance that kept her from storming into the flat and finding the Alpha lurking within and beating him into a pulp.

You: Mycroft was surprised to find Grace at his door. "No, Detective Inspector, I will not step out of my own home. " he said sharply. "I suggest you both leave my property before I call my lawyer and have your entire squad forced into early retirement. This is borderline harassment." he sneered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work today. Do /not/ let me see your faces again." Mycroft spat, closing the door in the officer's face. He leaned against the door, heart still pounding in his chest, and closed his eyes. He was trying to calm down and settle his nerves before he returned to his Alpha.

Stranger: "What was that about?" Cooper asked, waving the other two officers over. Grace sighed. "What I was going to talk to you about." "You know we have to go in." "Yeah," Grace nodded. A sign of violence, a clear assault. Even if charges weren't ultimately made, they had a legal obligation to intervene. "I'll go wait in the car. Less messy that way." Cooper nodded her agreement, and sharply told one of the beat cops to call it in as Grace trooped back to the car. In this Mycroft (or his lawyers) didn't have a legal leg to stand on. Someone had just brutalized that Omega, and Omega Protection Laws were very clear, even if they could occasionally be stiffling. From the car, Grace watched, mentally supplying the script. "Sir, you're going to have to open this door, else we'll have to take it down." Vaguely she wondered if it would be better if she was all together gone, but she couldn't bring herself to walk away.

You: Mycroft hadn't taken two steps before a new voice came through the door. He stood glued to the spot as the officers waited for him to respond. What was happening to his life? A harmless dinner led to an argument. The argument got out of hand and led to the police being called. The police being called led to a very angry Alpha bounding down the stairs towards him. "I thought I told you to get rid of them." he snapped, shoving Mycroft into the wall, knocking the breath out of him. Charles was furious with him but looked as if nothing had happened: no bruising, no blood, no sign of the pain Mycroft had inflicted upon him. The Alpha answered the door as Mycroft hurried into the sitting room to straighten up. "Apologies for my Omega." Charles said, turning on the charm. "He's not the brightest."

Stranger: The trio of cops all stiffened, instinctive knowing this was the danger. "Of course, sir," Cooper said calmly. She was immune to his charm; some of the most charming people she'd met were the biggest bastards she'd landed behind bars. "Would you please step out of the house?" Split them up; standard step one. Get the abuser away from their victim.

You: "Of course." He said, complying with the officer's request. Charles didn't want their business spread around so he kept his voice quiet. "I hope this won't take long. I have an early morning and need to get to bed. I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding. Mycroft said there was a domestic violence call placed for our address?" he questioned. "We fought, yes, but doesn't every couple. Perfectly normal." he smiled at the officer. Inside, Mycroft had thrown away the broken picture frames and his favorite vase, as he heard Charles leave the house. He didn't dare leave the sitting room, for fear of running into Grace or being questioned about what happened. He moved to the sofa, sitting down and pulling out the small first aid kit he kept in the side table for Arthur. He cleaned himself up quickly, hoping to look better by the time Charles returned.

Stranger: The neighbors had already been sent back inside, for their own safety. "Perhaps, sir, but your mate came the door with a bloody nose and a split lit. That is not normal. Would you please accompany Officer Davidson down to the garden? I will need to speak to your mate." A short nod from Cooper before slipped inside. "Sir?" she called. "I'm sorry, I know you feel this is an intrusion, sir, but I'm afraid I have to speak with you about this." It wasn't hard to find the man in the living room, and her eyes took in the signs of missing objects from around the room. A brawl, in her opinion. An uneven one, but a violent one.

You: Mycroft sighed, standing up to face the officer. "I feel this is an intrusion because it /is/ an intrusion. Pity NSY must scrape the bottom of the barrel for officers who are unable to listen. I advised everything was fine, Charles will corroborate my story, therefore you threatening to break my door down and coming into my home, without being invited, is completely an invasion of our privacy. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, officer." Knowing the cop was alone, Mycroft quickly brushed past the woman and down the hall to the kitchen to make tea. He paused at the doorway of the kitchen. "Tell Detective Lestrade I will be lodging a formal compliant against her, as well as your squad." he snapped. "Show yourself out."

Stranger: Cooper sighed, following the man. She hated the types who thought they knew the law and the protocols of the police better than the police. At least the insults rolled right off her. "Unfortunately it's not, sir. I'm sorry if Detective Lestrade's presence has upset you, but I assure you that she had no idea of the address we were going to. She's often brought in on some of our cases. For your comfort, she has excused herself. However, that does not mean I can simply leave you. You were obviously injured and unless you tell me that someone else is in the house," which neither he nor his mate had done so, "I have to assume it was your husband that did this to you, and I am legally required to speak to you about it." The threats didn't bother her either; their Captain was a hardass who had no problem going to the mat to defend his officers, who he trusted implicitly.

You: Mycroft put the kettle on, grumbling when he was followed by the woman. "You have spoken to me about it." he yelled, turning to face the other. "You have asked what has happened and I have told you, it was none of your damn business. Therefore, you have done your job." he moved to stand in front of the officer, not backing down. "He is not my husband." He enunciated each word for emphasis, seething with anger. They were doing nothing but making it worse for Mycroft. Once they left, Mycroft would be punished again for allowing them in the house and lying about his injuries. Mycroft only wished to get the punishment over with. "I injured myself. Charles had nothing to do with it. Happy?" he asked.

Stranger: Cooper sighed. Already she could tell this was a lost case. He wasn't ready to face what he was going through, or try and get help. They, the police, couldn't do a damn thing, without that. It was infuriating and heartbreaking and the worst part of the job. "Of course," she said neutrally. Cooper pulled her card out and left it on the counter next to Mycroft. "If you ever injure yourself again, feel free to give me a call." A significant pause and a sharp look to let the Omega know, in her reassuring Beta way, that she understood more than he thought he did. Free of pity, absolutely clear of it. Only conprehension. Mycroft could lie to himself, but not to someone as experienced as Cooper. "Again, apologies for the intrusion, sir. Enjoy the rest of your night." Cooper nodded her head and turned sharply on her heel, leaving the house. The two other cops met her eyes over Charles's shoulder and quickly ended the conversation, apologizing for the misunderstanding and wishing him a good night. They piled into cars, the beat cops peeling away first. Cooper sighed heavily as she took her place in the driver seat. "You're fucked," she told Grace. Grace could only nod as she looked out the window at the imposing house. "I know I am."

You: "That was her, wasn't it?" Charles roared as he entered the kitchen. "No, darling, that wasn't who I had dinner with. That was...Cooper." he held up the card to read the name off of it. "What did you tell her?" he asked, moving to snatch the card out of the man's hand. "Did you tell her how you were running around on me? That I had to remind you /exactly/ who you belong to?" Charles pressed Mycroft into the counter, pining him. The Alpha leaned down and nuzzled into Mycroft's neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin he found there. "Stop it, Charles, you know that's not allowed." Charles grabbed one of Mycroft's arms and twisting it behind his back as the Omega tried to get away. "You're mine." the man growled. "My property." Another twist and Mycroft felt the snap of his arm, crying out in pain. He forced the elbow of his other arm back into Charles' ribs, catching the Alpha off guard, allowing him to quickly leave the kitchen. Mycroft, broken arm clutched close to his chest, hurried towards the front door. "Grace!" he called out to the retreating car. "Grace!" "No you don't, they can't help you now." Charles said, fingers curling into Mycroft's hair, tugging him back off of the doorstep.

You: *twisted

Stranger: (( Hey, I have a small request. Can you avoid describing any more rape that might happen? Just for my comfort. Like, I get that it will probably happen, but can we skim over it from now on? I'm fine, really, but it made me a little unsteady. Also, can there be a second domestic call lodged? Then they'll really have to take Charles in, and be able to take Mycroft to the hospital))

You: (Yeah, definitely! Thank for letting me know!)

You: (Didn't mean to upset you!)

Stranger: ( No, no, you're fine! Normally it doesn't but for some reason it's hitting hard )

You: ( I completely understand!)

Stranger: They were already too far away for Grace to have possibly heard, and with her head slumped down and Cooper focused on the road and reviewing the grim details they already had, neither saw Mycroft's brief escape. It was a nearly silent drive back to the station. Grace settled back at her desk, pretty much resigned to not getting anything done, head rested in her hands. When there was a sharp knock at her door, she nearly fell over in her chair, startled. She was ready to laugh about it until she looked up and saw Cooper's grim face. The other woman barely had to say a word before she understood. A repeat domestic call. Now they really could do something. Snagging her coach, she practically sprinted down to the car, imaptiently waiting for Cooper to catch up. "Breath, Grace," Cooper had to remind her as they drove through the streets. "Keep it together. You're going to have to stay in the car, still." Grace nearly broke the handle on the door at that.

Stranger: ( Also, random information but i want to share: Cooper's first name is Gwendolyn. She hates it. Goes exclusively by Cooper. )

You: (Thanks!) "Darling, you need to calm down." Mycroft was still, after hours, trying to get his Alpha to calm down. He needed to see a doctor about his broken arm and his split lip. They'd been arguing for hours over the dinner, over the text messages from Grace, over Mycroft's work hours and everything under the sun. Mycroft froze when he heard another knock at their door. He knew what it meant before Charles even snarled at him not to say a word. Their house was a wreck. There were broken dishes littering the kitchen, the sitting room looked like a tornado had come through it and the entry way had been ground zero. Mycroft heard the voices from the kitchen, no Grace. He carefully considered his options, knowing his face would send Charles into another fit, he stayed in the sitting room and looked around for his discarded phone. Finally seeing it, he typed out a message to Grace. Charles won't agree to another search. I don't wish to speak to another officer. Please?-M

Stranger: Grace jumped as her phone buzzed. Pulling it out, barely daring to hope, she couldn't help the relieved sigh at the name. He can't argue against another search. They're going to bring him in. GL Two disturbance calls in a night does that, and the blame auto falls on the Alpha in the house. For once the shitty laws were working in their favour. Are you okay? I'll come in if you want. GL

You: Are you okay? The question was so terribly simple and Mycroft knew it shouldn't have touched him the way it had, but those three little words in black text on his screen were enough to force tears. "No." he sobbed, typing out the same reply to the DI. She was there, even after the way Mycroft had treated her, still attempting to help him. He didn't want to be paraded through the house and led out to an ambulance. He didn't want everyone knowing he was weak and defenseless. He didn't want to give a statement to a stranger. He wanted his arm to stop throbbing and for the pain in his ribs to ease enough for him to take a deep breath. I need a doctor.-M

Stranger: That was enough for Grace to get out of the car. On my way. GL She slammed the door behind her. Cooper and the other officers were dealing with Charles as she quickly strode up the short path to the door. She was vaguely aware of him becoming increasingly beligerent, but didn't worry about it. Cooper could handle herself, as could her other officers. And if Charles had a single braincell, he'd realize fighting would only make it worse. Part of Grace hoped he didn't have a single braincell. "Mycroft?" she called as soon as she was through the front door? "Myc, where are you?"

You: Mycroft had tried to clean up the sitting room again, but hadn't made much progress when he heard Grace call for him from the entry way. "In here." he said, as loudly as he could. He'd stopped to rest on the coffee table, holding his arm close to his chest. He looked up as Grace joined him. He wasn't sure what to say to her or even where to begin. He opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. He should apologize to her for acting like a child. He should tell her the truth and allow her to help him. He should remind her there were better people for her to waste her time on. "I couldn't calm him down." was what came out instead. "I'm sorry, Grace..."

Stranger: "It's not your fault, Mycroft." Grace swallowed hard, taking in the room, Mycroft, and the way he cradled his arm against his chest. "You don't need to apologize, Mycroft, you didn't do anything to deserve this." Touching him lightly on the uninjured shoulder, she guided him to the sofa. Sweeping some debris off it, she guided him down. "Is this because you had dinner with me?" she asked gently.

You: Mycroft, too tired to fight with the woman, allowed himself to be moved and sat on the sofa. He sat far too close to Grace, craving the safety she brought with her. "Of course I did." he said, not looking at her. "I lied to him about having dinner with you, about flirting with you for months. I work too much. According to Charles I should remain here, at home, where I can look after Arthur and giving him more pups." Mycroft wiped at his face, embarrassed. "It's my own fault I'm weak and couldn't fight back properly. It's disgusting that I can't take care of myself...." he continued. "That I need you to do it for me. I shouldn't have..." he finally looked up to her. "You shouldn't have bothered to come back after the way I treated you. I'm sorry, Grace."

Stranger: "Shh." Grace swiped her thumb over his cheek, humming softly to calm him. "Those things don't mean you deserved this. Nothing could deserve this," she assured him. Some small part of her glowed to hear that he'd been flirting with her, that it hadn't been all in her head. "Not being able to fight back agaisnt an Alpha taller, heavier, and stronger than you is not something to be ashamed of. You were scared," she worked through his concerns slowly, knowing it was only the first of many times she'd have to go through this and not caring a bit. Her head lifted at the reminder of his son. "Where is Arthur?" They'd have to take him with them, especially if this tipped Mycroft into wanted to get out. Which she knew was overly optimistic, but she couldn't kill that hope.

You: "He's...he's not here." Mycroft said, leaning against the woman. "Charles sent him to stay with Sherlock. He...he always does before this happens. Charles may believe that I deserve to be punished for stepping out of line, but he...he prefers Arthur not see." Mycroft sniffed. "Sherlock'll keep him until tomorrow. I'll have Sherlock bring him over tomorrow. I think a few days off will do us both well." Mycroft looked around the room at the idea of Arthur coming home and suddenly couldn't continue to sit down with Grace. "I'll need to straighten up though, before he gets here." Mycroft turned to Grace. "I need to have my arm set, Grace, so that I can come home and straighten up. I don't want Arthur coming home to a destroyed house. It'll worry him unnecessarily. I don't want to upset him too."

Stranger: Going back to making soothing noises, Grace shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Mycroft. We'll get it sorted." She wasn't keen on the idea of letting Mycroft come back here at all. "Does Sherlock know?" Sherlock had to know, right? Grace's ears picked up as she faintly heard the sounds of someone getting belligerent outside, but she made no move to bring it to Mycroft's attention. Cooper and the others would be bustling Charles into the squad car for the disturbance calls; that would be enough to hold him at least overnight. Grace could bring up assault charges to Mycroft later.

You: Mycroft nodded. "Of course he knows. Everyone in the bloody country knows and no one cares. Why should they? An Alpha disciplining their out of control Omega, there's nothing wrong with it." Mycroft began to pick up some of the items scattered around the sitting room. "The one time Sherlock mentioned it to our parents, Father threatened to write him out of the family trust. Even I would have kept my mouth shut after that. Sherlock makes up for it by watching Arthur whenever I call him." Mycroft stopped, wincing at the pain in his ribs, his head spinning slightly. "We should go. Charles should be shouting abuses to the arresting officer from the back of the squad car by now."

Stranger: "There's a thousand things wrong with it," she told him firmly, getting a grip on her urge to sock Sherlock in the face, and using less restraint when it came to Mycroft's father. No family trust was worth this. "Stop that," she said, standing up and guiding him back to the sofa. "We'll get you to the hospital soon. I just want to make sure he's gone." She gave him a small smile. "They can handle it. They're probably hoping he tries to punch one of them."

You: Mycroft shook his head. "Charles isn't stupid. He knows he'll barely be booked and processed before he's let go because he knows I don't have the guts to press charges for what he's done." Mycroft flopped onto the sofa, ashamed of himself. "I can run a bloody country, but I can't stand up to one man. Pathetic, Grace. It's absolutely pathetic." Mycroft wiped his face again, taking a shaky breath. "Perhaps I should call my parents and have them come and deal with this mess. They gave me to Charles because they thought I needed looking after. They wanted grandchildren, the ability to brag about their 'son-in-law'. Perhaps now they'll know these fights escalate far beyond what I've always told them."

Stranger: Her hope started to wither. "It's not pathetic, Mycroft. So many people go through this exact same thing. It is far, far from pathetic." She wanted to keep him far away from his parents too, who cared so little as to hand their son over to such a brute. Her ears strained, checking for the voices outside. She needn't have bothered because Cooper was walking in. She took one look at the room and another at Mycroft before she offered, "Should I pack you anything before we head to the hospital?"

You: Mycroft shook his head. "I do not plan on staying longer than necessary to tend to my broken arm." Mycroft stood once again and made to leave the sitting room. "I apologize for my attitude earlier. I do understand you were simply doing your job." he told the Beta, giving Cooper a small smile before he left the sitting room. He stopped in the entry way for his over coat. "Can I trust you two to forgo any theatrics while you take me to the hospital or should I call my driver?" he asked the pair of officers. "The neighbors are already gossiping behind their curtains, I'd hate for them to return to my drive way for yet another time tonight."

Stranger: Cooper was very serious as she said, "Sir, we don't indulge in theatrics," opening the door for him. "If anyone asks, we are taking you to the station to deal with the noise complaints and your . . . and Charles after he got belligerent about the repeated calls." A very diplomatic smile while Grace snorted as she took the coat the coat from him, drapping it over his shoulders. "Come on," she said gently, guiding him out the door.

You: Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you find so amusing, Grace?" he asked as he was led outside and down to the waiting car. He slipped into the back seat as the pair slid in up front. He looked out the window and up to his home. He'd once loved it there, the space and the quiet charm about the house. Now the home held a negative energy thanks to his Alpha. He was quiet for a long time as they drove towards the hospital. "If I press charges..." he began timidly. "Will he be able to take Arthur away from me?" That was one of the main reasons Mycroft stayed, knowing he'd lose his son to the powerful Alpha.

Stranger: "Cooper's ability to spin things the best way possible," was her light answer. Once they were in the car, and started driving, she let herself sigh in the silence. It wasn't comfortable, but she still felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulder. The two women glanced at each other at the question, though. Grace swallowed, knowing she'd have to handle it. "Most likely not," she said, twisting around in her seat to look at that Omega. "Custody tends to favour the Omega. And if you raise assualt charges against him, and you and someone can attest to a pattern of abuse . . . your case is incredibly strong." Grace would make sure Sherlock swallowed his damn pride and stood up for his sister. "That we had to come twice in one night, even if there isn't an earlier record of calls, will speak volumes for the assault charges," Cooper added.

You: Mycroft snorted, shifting under Grace's gaze. "No one's going to be able to attest to the pattern of abuse." he looked down at his arm. "Sherlock won't speak out against my parents decision and I forbid you to force him to do such, Grace." Mycroft knew the woman was as stubborn as he was and would force the issue more than necessary. "So to ensure my son remains in my car I will not be able to press charges. Lovely." he mused to himself, alone in the back of the patrol car. It was just as well, he thought as they neared the hospital, perhaps Mycroft deserved the position he found himself in. Perhaps this was simply his punishment for being born an Omega and disappointing his family. He thanked the detectives as they came to a stop at the hospital. "I'd prefer you simply left me alone. I'm not a stranger in the emergency department. My assistant will take me home."

Stranger: "You don't need the pattern of abuse," Cooper assured the Omega, even though she knew it would be a weaker case. Weaker didn't mean impossible though. "Absolutely not," Grace said flatly. Getting out of the car, she opened the door for Mycroft, offering an arm to help him out. "I left you alone once tonight, and regretted it. I will not do it again." Her eyes dared him to challenge her on it. Didn't matter if she had to sit in the waiting room the entire night. She wasn't going anywhere.

You: Mycroft stood staring at the Alpha. She was determined, stubborn, forceful, but there wasn't a shred of anger in her eyes. Mycroft wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve such kindness from the woman. He nodded, not arguing as she led him into the hospital and helped him check in. It was nearly an hour before he was called back. He stood and moved to the nurse waiting on him, assuming that Grace would follow him. He stopped when he saw she wasn't there. "Well?" he asked. "You did say you weren't leaving me alone again tonight, yes? I'm sure you'll enjoy watching me burst into tears again as they poke and prod me."

Stranger: "Not in the least," Grace said, her heart breaking a little bit, but she was back at his side in an instant, so glad that he was letting her in. "You can hold my hand if you need," she promised. The nurses took over, comfortingly cooing over the injured Omega. In a pause while they went to get some things, after they'd gotten Mycroft changed into a gown, revealing and extended molt of bruises, Grace took Mycroft's hand. "I've asked them to take pictures to document," she told him gently, knowing she might have overstepped here. "In case you decided to press charges." There was a lump in her throat as she said it.

You: Mycroft hated the way the nurses fussed over him, patting on the shoulder and reminding him he'd made the right decision. They took blood and swabs and ran a battery of tests on him. He hated their pitying looks, their meaningless words, their frowns. He knew they'd talk about how terrible he looked as they snapped their photos and cleaned him up. "It's fine." he told Grace, surprised she took his hand. "I know you and Cooper were lying." he said quietly. "Pressing charges won't do a bit of good. Charles will use Arthur to keep me with him. A weak case is a lost case."

Stranger: "It's not a lost case, Myc. It's not. I've seen so many of these case, and trust me, yours is not a weak case." She hesitated before adding gently, "You said the emergency room staff wasn't unfamiliar with you?" She'd accepted that Mycroft wouldn't allow Sherlock to testify in support, but the he could have no qualms about the hospital.

You: "This isn't my first broken arm." he explained. "I've been here before. Once when I was pregnant with Arthur, once for a broken ankle and a few times for stitches." he listed off his more recent injuries to the DI as they held hands. Mycroft's grip tightened as the nurses moved the gown in different directions in order to get enough photos of him. He felt vulnerable and exposed in front of the DI. "This is the first time I haven't been alone during a visit, however."

Stranger: Grace smiled, and smoothed his hair off his forehead. "I'll be here whenever you need me," she promised, belatedly flushing. Now wasn't the time. She waited until the nurses left again before she raised another sensitive topic. "Myc . . . did he /force/ you at all?" Another thing she'd seen time and time again. "Ever?" Again, no pity, just concern and affection.

You: Mycroft leaned into Grace's touch, soaking up the kindness from the Alpha. "You're a terribly good friend." he said softly. He didn't move or meet her eyes when she asked her next question. "You already know the answer to that." Mycroft said, shifting on the bed. "It hardly takes a rocket scientist to know exactly the sort of Alpha Charles is. I will, however, spare you the details. I have enough respect for you, Grace, but it's nothing you should concern yourself with."

Stranger: A hard swallow and a small shake of her head. "Will you let them do an exam?" It would be more evidence, more proof, piling up against Charles. An Alpha raping their Omega was a toss up still, but more and more public opinion was swaying in a positive direction. And considering that by all normal standards, Charles wasn't even Mycroft's Alpha (no markings, no marriage, no claiming) -- Grace would take whatever she could get.

You: Mycroft considered it for a long while. He'd never had that sort of exam done. He never thought it would make a difference and he only felt more shame surrounding his abuse. But Grace had been so kind to him, had come to help him when he called, even after his outbursts towards her. He knew she was only trying to help solidify his case against the Alpha. Eventually he nodded. "You'll stay with me, yes? I hate being poked and prodded like a piece of cattle. I don't...I don't want to be left alone with the doctor."

Stranger: "Of course I'll stay," she promised, squeezing his hand with a smile. "The entire time. And you can focus on me and tell me all about things that are way over my head and I'll never udnerstand," she teased. "Like how the pea trade in Niger affects Tube traffic from Victoria station."

You: Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you it did." he said, looking up at her. "I want you to meet Arthur." he said. "Once this whole thing is settled. I think he'd like you, Grace. I usually don't tell many people about him, given my line of work, but I do consider you a friend more than a colleague." Mycroft, all too soon, was made to lie down on the examine table as the doctor began looking him over. Mycroft never let go of Grace's hand, fearing he was squeezing too tight. "I don't like this." he whispered, closing his eyes.

Stranger: "I would be honored to meet him," Grace whispered. Mycroft could have broken every bone in her hand and she wouldn't have minded. "You're okay," she reassured him, stroking his hair. "You're doing great. It won't be long," she added, glancing at the doctor who seemed perturbed. The omega doc worked quickly and efficiently, shaking his head occasionally, documenting what he found. When he was done, he helped Mycroft sit up straight, reassuring him as well, thanking him for being a wonderful patient. After saying a doc would be in shortly to help reset his arm and cast it, he made a small gesture to speak to Grace. Giving Mycroft another squeeze and the promise that she'd be right back, she dropped a brief kiss to his hair before following the doc out. "Are you the reporting office?" The man said, crossing his arms over his chest. Grace shook her head. "No, just a friend. But I am a detective, who saw what happened. I'm trying to get him to file charges. My hope is that we'll go to the station after this." The doctor nodded. "I hope so too. There was recent trauma, but also scaring. The kind you'd get from long time abuse. I've seen a lot of things, but this," he shook his head. "I'd be shocked if he'd ever once gotten properly slick for intercourse." Grace blushed; it was unusual to hear and Omega speak so bluntly. "I'm a doctor, Detective," the Omega snapped, clearly annoyed with her embarrassment. "Yes, right, of course," she coughed. "Is there anything else?" "...I'm no expert on the matter, but I would be surprised if he could ever carry a pup to term again." Grace felt her heart break a little for Mycroft. Nodding she sighed. "All right. Thank you doc." "Let me know how things go," the man said, before leaving. Grace returned to the room, mustering a smile. "How are you doing?"

You: Mycroft whined as Grace left, unable to stop himself. He didn't want to be left alone in the cold room in nothing more than a paper gown that didn't even properly cover him up. He wanted to go home and crawl into bed with his son. He wanted to pretend like this day hadn't happened. He wanted to go back to being Mycroft Holmes, politician, not Mycroft Holmes, abused Omega. He looked up when Grace came back to the room. Mycroft knew something was wrong. "What?" he said quickly, ignoring her question. "What's wrong? The doctor wouldn't have asked to speak to you privately if something wasn't wrong. He shouldn't have spoken to you about my medical conditions to begin with. Oh god..." he trailed off, watching Grace's face. "Am I pregnant again?" he asked, beginning to panic slightly at the idea. He knew blood work was standard for an Omega but he hadn't even begun to foster the idea that he could be expecting again. "Grace Lestrade, stop looking at me like that and tell me what that doctor said."

Stranger: A deep breath as she took both of Mycroft's hands. "You're not pregnant," she told him. "Myc, I... the doctor isn't sure you could get pregnant anymore." She just forced it out. "He said there's a lot of scar tissue, and I guess that would cause problems." She wasn't a doctor, she didn't know the mechanics of how, but . . .

Stranger: "I'm so sorry, Mycroft."

You: "What?" he asked as his voice cracked. He may not have wanted to birth any more of Charles' pups but that hardly meant he didn't wish to give Arthur a sibling. He only had a few more years in him to safely bare children and now he was being told the Alpha may have taken away the possibility of that. "Stop." he said. "Just stop." he pulled his hands away. "That bastard has abused me for six years." he spat. "He doesn't get to take the ability to have another pup away from me. He doesn't get to continue to rape me after he's beaten me down. He can't...I'm not...no one will..." Mycroft couldn't hold it in any longer, breaking down on the exam table. He knew what it meant, not being able to have any more pups. No one wanted him now and no one would want him in a year when he'd cleaned himself up.

Stranger: Grace knew she shouldn't, now wasn't the time, but seing him break like this, such strong, brilliant man falling to peaces breaking everthing in her too, she couldn't help it. "Shh," she cooed, gathering the Omega in her arms. "Myc, My, shhh." She didn't know what else to say. She couldn't say it was okay, it wasn't. It WASN'T. She could have said, promised, begged the omega to see that there was a future for him still; that was too presumptuous, too much like replacing one Alpha with another. Mycroft didn't need an Alpha, and he needed to know that.

You: Mycroft didn't know how long he spent in Grace's arms, furiously sobbing into her blouse, but he didn't care. She wanted to help him and this was what he needed. Grace didn't know what to say and Mycroft didn't think he could stand any speeches about how everything would work itself out in the end or how he was lucky to be alive or how Charles would never see the light of day again. Mycroft knew Charles eventually be released after some time. They were interrupted by the next doctor entering to set his broken arm and Mycroft limply allowed the doctor and Grace to set him into position on the table again. He didn't speak for the rest of their stay in the emergency department, instead just looking away from the pair of them and allowing the silent tears to fall down his cheeks.

Stranger: When the doctor said Mycroft could get dressed again, and he'd be allowed to check out, it was late at night and Mycroft hadn't spoken in what seemed like forever. "Do you want me to help you?" Grace said at last. "Get dressed again?"

You: Mycroft was exhausted by the time he was allowed to leave. It was nearly three in the morning and he hadn't eaten or showered since the previous morning. Everything hurt, everything was sore. He shook his head at Grace. "No, you should leave. It's late and I've kept you much longer than I should have." he said, standing from the examine table, carefully trying to keep the gown closed to retain some shred of dignity in front oft he Alpha. "I'm sorry for my outburst earlier. I shouldn't have reacted like that." he didn't look at her as he pulled his clothes out of the white hospital bag. His suit was rumpled and practically ruined in his eyes. He knew he'd throw it away as soon as he got home. "I'll have my driver come and get me."

Stranger: "Mycroft." Her voice was gently firm as she ducked so he had to look at her. "I'm not leaving you."

You: "Stop being so nice to me. I don't have the energy to argue, Grace. I'm tired and I'm sore and I want to go home so that I can clean up my house before Sherlock returns Arthur." he finally stopped fiddling with his clothes as she pulled his face up to look at her. "You've gone above and beyond the call of duty. I'll be sure to give a glowing recommendation to the superintendent for you and Gwendolyn."

Stranger: That hurt more than anything. "This isn't about duty, Mycroft! This is what I want to do to. For you! I want to be here with you, to help you. It's not me being nice, it's caring about you. I'll help you clean the house, hell, I'll do it by myself, you should be resting, but I won't let you go home alone. I can't!" Her voice cracked on the last part. Sinking down to her knees, she stared up at him. "Please, Mycroft. All I want to do is help."

You: Mycroft was taken back by Grace's outburst. When the woman fell to her knees Mycroft stared down at her. Slowly he tugged her back up. "Your knees will not appreciate that tiled floor." he reminded her. He sighed before he leaned into her, wrapping her in an awkward hug. "You're not going to clean my house alone. We'll go home and rest for a few hours. Then we'll call Sherlock and ask that he keep Arthur until lunch to give us plenty of time." he pulled away. "You should realize how much you've helped already, Grace. After you and Cooper arrived the first time, I tried getting away from Charles again. I didn't make it to the doorstep in time to catch you, but I knew, after that, what needed to be done. It's because of you that I've had the courage to come here and be examined and that I'm going to press charges."

Stranger: Her heart soaring, Grace enfolded Mycroft into a gentle hug. "Thank you," she murmured. How odd that she was thanking him for letting her help him clean. Stroking his hair, she felt bereft when he pulled away. Nodding she swallowed. "If you want to press charges, the sooner you do, the better." She knew that wasn't what Myc wanted to hear. "Maybe we ask Sherlock to keep Arthur until dinner, or for another night. Take him on a day trip to the sea shore or something." She had a growing nightmare of Charles coming back to Myc and Arthur.

Stranger: *coming back to the house with Myc and Arthur still there.

You: Mycroft shook his head. "I want Arthur home with me where I can keep an eye on him. I don't like to be away from him longer than I have to." the Omega explained, allowing Grace to help him get dressed again. He blushed as they worked together to get his pants and trouser's on. "I feel like a child." he said. "You having to coddle me so with this stupid cast on. I owe you a great many favors for this." he gave her a smile as she finished the buttons on his shirt. They made their way out of the exam room and up to the desk so Mycroft could check out. "Are you telling me that I should go to the police station instead of my house?" he asked as they exited the hospital. "Will it take long or could it wait until we've both had a few hours rest?"

Stranger: "It can wait until you've rested a bit," Grace assured him as she waved down a cab. She blushed faintly as she said, "I might have asked Cooper to start the basic paperwork." A stupid hope at the time. "She'll be there in the morning to continue it," she assured him.

You: "Do you often take such liberties with all the helpless Omegas you wrangle away from abuse Alphas?" he asked the woman as she stuffed him into the cab and climbed in next to him. He gave the driver his address and settled back in the seat as the cab drove towards his house. Mycroft took his own liberties with Grace and nestled close to her, laying his head on her shoulder and closing her eyes as they drove back to his home. He needed to thank her properly, he thought as he began to drift off to sleep. Perhaps a promotion or a raise or a free holiday. He'd have to figure it out later when his brain was working properly. A short ride later and Mycroft was being roused by the DI. He yawned and hustled out of the cab, waiting for Grace. "There's plenty of guest rooms for you." he said as they made their way up the drive to the front door. "All impeccably kept by yours truly."

Stranger: Grace thought it was better if she didn't make any response to that, so she was glad when he settled in a seemed to drop off. She told herself it wasn't a /liberty/ to hold him to her side, not to rest her cheek on his head. It was comforting a friend. She could almost believe it too. Trotting to keep up with Mycroft as he got out of the cab, she shook her head. "You should take it easy," she said, rather than tell him she had no intention of sleeping. "Do you . . . want to sleep in one of the guest rooms," she suggested carefully.

You: Mycroft shook his head as he let them inside. "Charles and I don't share rooms." he explained. "My heats were always spent in his. As much as I hate to admit it, his scent always helped during them. It was better than my own room without an Alpha around." he moved through the entry way and upstairs. He stopped at the first room. "This one is close to my own room, should you need anything. Bathroom is across the hall for you. My room is the next door on the left." he told her. "If you get up before I do you're welcome to anything you find in the kitchen." He gave her a small smile. "Thank you again, Grace, for everything." he hesitated for a moment, nearly having to bite his tongue to keep from asking her to stay with him. "Goodnight, Grace."

Stranger: Grace would have found it hard to say no. "Of course, Mycroft. You'll know where to find me if you need anything." She waited until he'd gone into his room, and then she started to go around the house, checking that windows and doors were locked. It wasn't paranoia, she told herself, if it kept people safe. She knew Charles would get out until the next afternoon at the earliest, and once Mycroft had charges brought against him . . . if he made bail though, they might have a problem. He could try to claim a right to stay in the home. She wondered who it was deeded to. They'd figure something out, though.

You: Mycroft cleaned himself up as best he could before he changed (with great struggle) into his pajamas. He crawled into bed, sighing with relief, knowing he was finally safe again. He thought he would have had no trouble falling asleep, but to his surprise he couldn't quiet his mind. He supposed part of him was worried Charles would come bounding through the door at any moment. He heard Grace moving around the house and Mycroft knew she was checking to make sure they were secured before going to sleep. When it was finally quiet, Mycroft got out of bed and padded down the hall to the guest room. He knocked. "Grace?" he called softly through the door.

Stranger: Grace had sat on the edge of the bed, checking some things on her phone. She jumped at the knock, hurrying to the door. "Mycroft?" she opened it. "Are you okay? Is everything all right?"

You: "I'm fine." he said, trying to reassure the Alpha. "I just couldn't seem to fall asleep...." he trailed off, hoping she would understand what he needed. He thought it completely unfair to continue to take things from her, to take her kindness for granted. "So I came to check on you. I heard you walking around. I know we're both had a terribly long night." he said, unsure of how to continue. Embarrassed he quickly changed the subject. "I'm sorry. I really should go back to my own room. Forget I've interrupted your evening again."

Stranger: She hadn't a clue what he needed. Taking his hands, she shook her head, "No, you haven't interrupted anything. And you came here for a reason, Mycroft. What do you need?" Unthinking, she stroked the back of his hands with her thumbs.

You: Mycroft squeezed Grace's hands as she reached out to him. He opened his mouth to explain it to her but couldn't find the right words. So instead he turned, still holding her hand, and led her to his room. He let go as they stepped inside and moved over to his 'side' of the bed. He got in under the covers and moved them for her, patting the bed. He hoped he hadn't offended her by this final ask. He fully expected Grace to refuse and return to her own room.

Stranger: Grace's mouth went dry as she froze in the doorway of the room. She strangled a noise in the back of her throat as her hands curled at her side. She took a step forward and then paused. "Are you sure, Mycroft? I promise, I won't do anything," she added in a rush. "Nothing, just, just sleep here with you. Make sure you're okay."

You: Mycroft sighed. "If I was worried about anything you would do, Grace, I wouldn't have allowed you to stay with me at the hospital or bring me home." he reminded her. He didn't understand why she was so uncomfortable. He readjusted the blankets. "It's not a requirement. You're welcome to say no, Grace. I won't be offended. "

Stranger: Say no! As if she would ever say no. Shaking her head, she crept closer, remembering to stop and slip off her shoes. She'd sleep in her blouse and slacks, but she stopped and draped her jacket over a chair. Then she carefully crept to the edge of the bed, letting out a slow exhale, willing her body to behave as she slipped under the offered blankets. "Hi," she murmured shyly.

You: Mycroft immediately nestled close to her, craving the affection and attention she'd given him earlier. "Hi." he greeted her. "Are you alright with this?" he asked, noticing she seemed to be reminding herself to remain professional as she settled into his bed. "It's not like you could hurt me, Grace. I don't believe you have it in you to do such a thing, especially not to an already broken Omega."

Stranger: "You're not broken," she breathed out, shaking her head. "I don't... I don't want to cross a line with you. Do anything you'd regret." That would kill her, to have him look at her and regret something. "I don't want to upset you." Or scare him.

You: "Cross a line?" he questioned. "What could you possibly do to upset me?" Mycroft didn't understand. "You've seen me break down into hysterics, you've seen me naked, you've watched as I was examined and prodded. You've learned more about my medical well-being than most people know. You've done nothing but help me, even after I pushed against you and threatened you. I owe you a great thank you, Grace.'

Stranger: "You don't owe me anything," she said. Grace could think of a thousand lines she could cross right now. Starting with brushing her fingers against his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her slacks to keep herself from doing exactly that.

You: "You're far too stubborn." Mycroft said as he scrunched up his nose. "I will figure out how to thank you and you'll not argue with me." he felt her twisting her hands into her trousers, worrying over upsetting him. "Neither of us are going to get any sleep with you fussing like that. Tell me what's wrong."

Stranger: "I'm not fussing." Worrying and fussing were very different. "And nothing's wrong. I just... I'mtryingtofocusonnotkissingyourightnow."

You: "Oh for god sake." Mycroft said, leaning up and kissing Grace on the lips. "There." he said, settling back onto her shoulder. "It's just a kiss, Grace. You kissed me in the exam room earlier, I don't see what the big deal is now. It's not as if you're proposing marriage to me."

Stranger: She flushed deep red. "It's different," she protested in a high pitched squeak. That hadn't been on the lips. That could have been passed as friendly. This, laying in bed next to him, kissing him properly, was definitely not friendly. Nor was having him nestled against her. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She felt like she was taking advantage. Of his fragile, emotional state. Being a predatory Alpha.

You: "It's not. You're comforting me in my time of need. It's what you begged me to let you do, it's what I want you to do." he told her. He could tell she didn't enjoy the kiss or being coaxed into bed. He could tell she was worried about controlling herself, though Mycroft didn't understand why it would be a problem. "Perhaps you should go back to the guest room. You'll never get any rest if you're anxiously twisting the blankets and your trousers." Mycroft moved away from her, turning on his side, wincing at the pain in his ribs. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Stranger: In her stupid, stupid brain, it smack of rejection and it made her whimper. Shifting close to his back, she lay a arm gingerly over his side, resting her hand against his sternum. "You're not bothering me," she whispered. "I just . . . please don't feel like you owe me anything. For any of this. Okay?"

You: "If you're insinuating that I've asked you into my bed with the express purpose have giving myself to you as a thank you, I'll be extremely offended, Grace." He resisted the urge to move back towards her to cuddle with her. "I've never willingly brought an Alpha into my bed. I prefer sleeping alone, being alone. It's always been better that way."

Stranger: "That's not what I meant!" she squeaked again, feeling like she'd insulted him by trying to avoid insulting him. Letting out a deep breath, she went for honesty. "I'm not expecting anything from this. After this. I think I've made it pretty clear how I feel about you, Mycroft, but you need to know that I'm not mistaking this as anything more than being here for you as a friend." And her stomach twisted in knots, having gotten that off her chest. So what if she wanted to pull him against her and bury her face in his hair? It was all contained in this night. Ultimately it didn't mean anything more than comfort.

You: "Then you won't deny me your comforting arms or your scent or the fact that you carry a gun to help me sleep comfortably for a few hours." he said, finally nestling back against her. Grace was warm and inviting and reassuring. Her scent calmed him and relaxed him and the weight of her arm around him grounded him. "I know what this is." he whispered. "I'm not asking it to be anymore that this, Grace."

Stranger: Stupid, stupid, stupid. Her head wanted one thing and her heart another, and hearing him say those words broke her heart a little. "Okay," she murmured, pressing her lips to his hair. "You should sleep."

You: He hummed. "So should you..." he began, closing his eyes. He focused on her breathing and her arm tightening around him and her lips pressed against the back of his head. It was so sweet and gentle and reassuring. It didn't take him long before he finally fell asleep with Grace holding him protectively. By the time he woke up again, it was nearly lunch time, his stomach grumbling in protest. He felt worse when he woke up than he had when he went to bed, everything sore and tight and protesting the mere thought that he'd need to get out of bed.

Stranger: "Look who's finally awake," Grace murmured. She'd barely moved all night, only napping occasionally. After the sun had risen, she still hadn't moved, refusing to deprive Mycroft of that comfort he'd wanted to much. Instead she'd worked on her phone, coordinating some different things. Sherlock was keeping Arthur until dinner, Cooper would have lunch for them at the station, and she'd gotten in contact with Mycroft's assistant to get the flat cleaned up. "How are you feeling?"

You: Mycroft groaned. "I've certainly felt better." he said, voice rough from the events of the last night. "You're still here." he turned in her arms, looking over to the detective. "I thought you may leave after I fell asleep with how uncomfortable you were after I kissed you and told you I wanted to cuddle." He winced, stretching his arm with the cast. "I bet I look like hell. I'll need to clean up before Arthur arrives." he turned, looking for his phone. "Has Sherlock called?"

Stranger: "You could do with a shower," was all she said. "I've been texting him. It's nearly lunchtime. I wanted to let you sleep. He and I agreed that he'll keep Arthur for the afternoon and bring him home for dinner. That way we can go to the station without you worrying about him. If," the nerves jumped into her throat again, "you still want to press charges."

You: Mycroft frowned at the woman. "You've clearly been busy planning my day, haven't you?" he sighed. "Thank you." Mycroft sat up with some effort. "Yes, I want to press charges and yes, I promise to eat the lunch you've requested." Mycroft stood up and turned to the woman. "Are you sure you don't want to go home and change? You don't have to baby sit me the entire day, you know? I won't change my mind once you've gone."

Stranger: She shook her head. "That's not why I'm here. I have a spare set of clothing at the station. I'll shower and change there." Sitting up, she swallowed down nerves. "Do you need anything? I'm sorry I planned your day for you."

You: Mycroft moved around to his closet, picking out a fresh suit for his day. When he returned he moved to stand in front of Grace, laying his clothes out on the bed. He wiggle his way to stand between her legs. "You're far too nervous about this." he said. "I know that things have been turned upside down, Grace, but I'm not afraid of you or of what could happen with us. Please stop working yourself up over it, yes?" he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the DI's forehead before he gathered his clothes and moved to the bathroom. "No more peeking..." he teased, stopping in the doorway of his bathroom. "You've got far too many free views in the past twenty four hours."

Stranger: Stunned, she was left blushing from the kiss and the teasing even as she heard the shower start. Had he just flirted with her? Standing up, she smoothed the wrinkles out of her clothes as best she could before turning and making the bed neatly. That done, she went down stairs and started to clean up a bit, remembering to text Mycroft's assistant (Annie?) a reminder to clean the bins outs when she came to neaten up. When she heard the shower turn off, she headed back upstairs. Knocking in the door, she said, "No more peeking. But are you almost ready to go?"

You: Mycroft emerged, looking battered but refreshed, in a cloud of steam. "Yes, Alpha." he smirked. He was dressed in his trousers, button up and waist coat. He kept his sleeves rolled up to fit over the cast. Mycroft grabbed his phone from the bedside table and moved with Grace downstairs, making sure he had his keys and wallet as well. They left his home and were greeted by Tom, his driver. Anthea must already have been at work. He explained where they were going to the man and slid into the back seat. He took out his phone and sent a message off to Sherlock to check on Arthur and then a message off to Anthea explaining what had happened. The messages in response were quite colorful, both making Mycroft chuckle at his phone.

Stranger: He was definitely flirting, and he definitely knew what it was doing to her, unless he was absolutely blind to how red she'd turned when he'd called her Alpha. She felt shabby next to him and knew her change of clothes wouldn't help the matter. Quiet in the back of the car, she jumped when Mycroft chuckled. "Arthur okay?"

You: Mycroft nodded and turned the phone to Grace. Sherlock sent a photo of Arthur dressed in a small lab coat, goggles and gloves. "They are currently experimenting. I was chuckling at the comments that Anthea and Sherlock sent regarding the events of last night." he explained. "Anthea's always hated Charles, even before I had a reason to." Mycroft shrugged. "Apparently it's Alpha instinct."

Stranger: Her esteem for Anthea, already high, rose higher. "He's a really cute kid, Myc." Grace smiled at him. "And if he's anything like you, brilliant, too."

You: "He is quite brilliant, yes, and sweet. I have a feeling he's going to be an Omega, but I hope I'm wrong. I don't want him subjected to the same hardships I have." Mycroft glanced up to Grace as the car rounded the corner. "What happens now?" he asked her. "With the process. Once I make my statement to you and Cooper. How long will it take for Charles to serve time and have his parental rights revoked?"

Stranger: "Once you formally press charges, he'll be arrested and then arraigned. Could take a long time for his case to be heard. The system is a bit backed up." And some files were extra slow to get transfered where they needed to go. "You can start the process of declaring him an unfit parent right away. You'll want to get a lawyer to help you with that. I don't know a ton about that part." She reached over and laid her hand over him. "There might be a trial for Charles," she warned, "If he doesn't take some kind of deal that gives him a reduced sentence. We can ask the prosecutor to make sure he stays away from you as part of any deal that is offered to him."

You: Mycroft nodded. "I'll have Anthea call my lawyer and see what favors I am owed. I'm sure I have some information a judge or two would prefer not made public." Mycroft looked down at Grace's hand over his own, smiling. She was far too good to him. "I'm sure a restraining order will go hand in hand with the assault charges. He's never harmed Arthur, quite the opposite, in fact, but I can not believe any normal human being would allow him to continue to see his own son after the amount of violence he inflicted on me."

Stranger: Nodding in agreement, Grace felt better knowing Mycroft was willing to pull strings here to make his case go well. In that way it was far from a normal case. Why had she ever worried at all? He practically ran the country, he could probably make Charles disappear with no one the wiser, now that he felt like he could do it. Thumb rubbing his hand, she smiled at him. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she murmured, chest squeezing painfully.

You: "I feel absolutely terrible." he said as the car came to a stop. "I feel like crawling back into bed and not getting out for a few days." he looked out of the window up to the station, lacing his fingers with Grace's. He was nervous to begin the process but he knew he was doing the right thing. He'd file charges, fight for full custody and figure out a way to have another pup for Arthur. He's figure out a way to properly thank Grace and maybe, just maybe, begin a real relationship with the Alpha.

Stranger: Squeezing his hand, she blanched a bit. "I'm sorry," wishing she could lean over and nuzzle against him. "Do you want me to stay with you for the whole thing?" She wasn't sure they'd let her. Plus there was the keen awareness that she was walking into her work wearing yesterday's clothes, having apparently spent the night with a victim. A victim from not her case, but still. Police talked. She'd stay if she could, though.

You: "It's alright." He said, looking at her. "You don't think it's a good idea." he told her. "I can tell from the look on your face. I don't want to cause problems for you, especially not after everything you've done for me." he considered his options, taking a deep breath. "Why don't you let my driver take you home. You can rest, eat and shower and be back at my house by the time Arthur arrives with Sherlock. We'll have dinner together."

Stranger: "I told you, I can shower and change here. Be close by for you." That was really it. She still wanted to be close to him. "Besides, I've got to check in on some stuff." Her abrupt request for time off had been approved (with more than a little cheek and comments of 'finally, a day in the office without you around'), but she didn't feel right leaving things as abruptly as she had.

You: "I know what you've told me." he said. "I'm not a complete idiot, Grace, I just don't want to put your career in jeopardy for forcing you to stay at my home or stay with me at the hospital..." He gave her hand another squeeze before he got out of the car and waited for her to join him. With another glance to her, Mycroft finally felt courageous enough to march into the station. He was nervous, yes, numb as his statement was taken and he gave names of his regular doctors at the emergency department, his general practitioner and his assistant.

Stranger: "You didn't force me to do anything," she assured him before he marched off. Grace rushed through a shower, the water turned up as hot as it could go. She allowed herself fifteen minutes after she scrubbed herself, forehead resting against the tiles, her hand between her legs. Washing away the evidence and making sure the thoughts that had brought her to her peak were firmly locked away again, she turned off the shower and dried herself off. Her change of clothing was thankfully minimally rumpled, and she felt better when she popped into her office with a fresh cup of coffee to take care of a few things. That turned into a few more things. Until Mycroft had to be directed to her office when he was done.

You: "For someone who's taken the day off you certainly do work quite a lot." Mycroft said quietly from the doorway of Grace's office. He watched her for a few moments, eyes narrowing as he watched her. She looked refreshed, relaxed and a bit pinker. "They're finished with me for the day." he told her. "I'm going home now, but I do still wish for you to join us for dinner, at the very least."

Stranger: Frowning, Grace glanced at the clock and then swore. "I didn't realize it had gotten so late." Standing up, she stretched, giving him a sheepish smile. "I'd love to join you for dinner. And meet Arthur." Looking down at her clothes, she grimaced. "But maybe I should head home too and change into something less . . . rumpled."

You: Mycroft shook his head. "You look fine." he said, "Arthur doesn't care about your clothes and neither do I. I don't plan to remain in this suit for much longer any way. Far too restricting." He gave her a smile. "Cooper seemed even more intent than you were last night, to toss Charles in a cell and throw away the key." he told her as they left the station and slid back into Mycroft's waiting car. "I'm glad she's taken my case."

You: (brb!)

Stranger: Instantly her mind jumped to helping Mycroft get out of his suit, and she had to pinch herself. "Cooper takes this stuff seriously. And she probably had to spend time with him last night. I'm sure he did little to endear her to him." Cautiously, she slid her hand across the center seat towards Mycroft.

You: (Back! Sorry that took so long) Mycroft took Grace's hand, enjoying the comfort it brought him. "Lucky for me he's a brute who believes he can charm anyone into his good graces." he chuckled. "You know I like this, yes?" he said after a few silent moments between them. "I can't tell you the last time I've felt the touch of an Alpha that was so tender and positive."

Stranger: "I'm glad." Even as it made her wonder if any Alpha that was halfway decent would mean the same thing to Mycroft, after as ass like Charles. She pushed that thought away and instead focused on how nice it was to hold Mycroft's hand. "It's what you deserve."

You: "I'll remind you of that when you're yelling at me about Sherlock or about trying being one of my little minions." he hummed, amused. He used his free hand to carefully scroll through a few emails, not able to do much else with the cast on his arm. Anthea had cleared his schedule for a week long holiday and then another week of working from home. He was grateful for her dedication to his well-being. When they finally arrived back to Mycroft's house, he found Sherlock and Arthur waiting for them. "Mummy." the little boy exclaimed as he ran full speed towards Mycroft's legs. Mycroft immediately scooped the little boy into his arms, ignoring the screams of pain from his body. "Hello, darling. I've missed you." he kissed the boy's cheek. "Were you good for Uncle Sherlock?" he asked, looking over to his brother who stood scanning the Omega's injuries. Sherlock gave a short nod. "The perfect lab assistant." Sherlock said.

Stranger: Grace hung back, watching the painfully domestic scene. Some part of her was still angry at Sherlock, no matter what Mycroft said. How could he have born knowing what his brother went through all the time?

You: "Well, I am glad to hear it." Mycroft said, shifting the boy to his side. He turned back to Grace, calling her over to him. He knew she was angry with his brother, but he hoped she would forgive him soon. "Arthur I want you to meet a very good friend of mine." Mycroft said. "Arthur, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade." Arthur looked at the woman. "You're the one that works with Uncle Sherlock." the little boy said. "The one that took care of mummy last night at the hospital." Mycroft glanced to Sherlock. "You didn't need to worry him." Sherlock held up his hands. "He overheard the phone call and read my texts. I wasn't going to lie to him, brother mine, though a few more..precarious details were omitted." he glanced to Lestrade. "Should I show myself out before your new body guard does it for me?" the youngest Holmes brother asked. "Grace.." Mycroft warned.

Stranger: "It's nice to meet you Arthur. Yes, I work with your Uncle Sherlock and I helped your mummy last night. He didn't really need my help, but I was worried about him, you see, and he was nice enough to let me stick around and bother him." She grinned at the little boy, already smitten. The smile was more strained as she turned to Sherlock. "It's your brother's home. He can decided if your welcome or not. And clearly you're welcomed." It was as civil as she could manage right now. "Thank you for your cooperation; I know we're running late."

You: Mycroft knew he'd have to talk to Grace again about Sherlock, but now wasn't the time. Sherlock shook his head. "It wasn't an imposition, Mycroft knows I enjoy my time with Arthur." The little boy nodded. "I'm his favorite." Arthur said proudly. "I do have to go, however, I'm meeting John for dinner. Until next time, Arthur." Sherlock moved to kiss the boy on the check. "You have my full support, brother mine." he gave a quick squeeze to Mycroft's arm as he moved around the pair. "Lestrade." he said, before leaving the house. Mycroft looked back to Grace. "Thank you for not yelling at him." he said as the three of them moved to the kitchen, Arthur complaining he was hungry. He set the boy down so he could go pick out something for them to make for dinner.

Stranger: It was a start, Sherlock's promise, and Grace gave a little approving nod. Meeting Mycroft's eyes, she sighed. "I know it's not as easy as I wish it was," she relented. "Do you need help? Let me cook, you should still be careful of that arm."

You: Arthur chimed in from his spot at the pantry. "Grace is right, mummy. Sit down, we'll cook for you." "That's Inspector Lestrade to you, young man." Mycroft gently reminded his son. "And I'm not so sure she ready to cook with you, hm?" Arthur pretended to be hurt. "She adores me, Mummy. Just look at her." Mycroft groaned. "I should have warned you, Grace, Arthur inherited every bit of the Holmesian sass." Arthur pulled out a box of noddles and carefully held a glass of sauce to his tiny chest. " 'ghetti, Mummy. It'll make you feel better."

Stranger: "Don't listen to him, it's Grace to you," she told him with a grin. Ruffling his hair, she laughed. "And ever bit of the charm that renders them irresistible to Lestrades," she said with a wink. "Excellent choice, Arthur. What else do we need for Spaghetti?"

You: "You've done perfectly well resisting us, I wouldn't doubt for a moment that you couldn't." Mycroft teased, moving to sit down at the table. "You've got to get the pot." Arthur said, pointing to the rack he couldn't reach. "And put the water onto boil. I'm not allowed to do that. I burned myself once." Mycroft hummed. "And why did you burn yourself?" he asked. "Because I didn't listen when you told me the stove was hot and I shouldn't touch it." Mycroft nodded. Arthur took the things to Grace to put on the counter before he moved to grab his step stool. He set it up right beside the stove so that he could help her.

Stranger: Grace could already tell her cheeks were going to be sore long before dinner was over, she was grinning so broadly. Fetching the pot, she filled it with water and set it on the stove to start heating. "All right. Do you know how much pasta we need for three people."

You: "We always cook the whole box." Arthur said. "That way we have leftovers for tomorrow." Mycroft could practically here the 'duh' coming. "Arthur, Grace isn't used to cooking for us, don't be rude." he quickly interrupted. "Sorry." the little boy said, handing her the jar of sauce to begin heating up. "Garlic bread too." he said after a moment. "Don't forget the bread." Mycroft watched the pair carefully, thankful that Arthur seemed comfortable with Grace. Mycroft had a feeling they'd be spending a great deal of time together in the coming months.

You: (Hey! So sorry but I have to head to bed. Thank you SO much for an absolutely fantastic evening. You are one of the best Greg's/Grace's I've had in ages and I am incredibly thankful. I'll keep the log, just in case we ever run into each other! Have a wonderful day/night, love!!)

You have disconnected.

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Travel Tips - Top 10 Ways to Travel Better

If you’re just starting out with your travel adventures or travel often I want to share with you my top ten travel tips that will make all of your travels better.

Consider this, with all the information on travel out there and all the travel blogs it can get a little overwhelming so I’m here to break down what I feel are the 10 most important things, this is my travel advice to you.

Let’s get started:

#1 Don’t be Afraid.

When many people think about travel they think there is so much to do and so much planning that they get themselves into a place of fear which deters them from ever traveling. Remember this, you are not the first person to ever do this, in fact you’re not going to discover a new continent or go places that no one has ever been. There is a beaten path out there where millions of people travel the globe every year. There is guidance for each step of the way if that’s what you need, so relax and don’t be afraid.

#2 Don’t wait.

There are people out there who get so caught up in the planning of a trip that it takes up a lot of their time and they wait too long. You never know what tomorrow will bring, you don’t know in 3 or 5 months if your life will still allow what it does today that lets you travel. There will always be something you have to do, be it a party, wedding, whatever, don’t wait just go as soon as you can. Once you make it outside your door the hardest part is over.

#3 Over packing is real.

When it comes to travel tips this is one you can’t skip. As you think of the locations you will visit you check the weather and do your best to plan on having the right clothes. The problem with this is you end up trying to pack for every scenario and this leads to over packing. It’s a real pain lugging a heavy suitcase or bag all over with you. Only pack the basics and if there is something that you really end up needing you can pick it up as you go.

#4 Avoid planning everything.

When it comes to your trip don’t plan everyday down to the last detail. The reason for this is it can add a lot of stress to a trip when your trying to meet certain timetables and be at certain locations on time. There are things that will happen on your journey that are just unexpected, when this happens you want to be able to just go with it. It’s fine to plan one or two excursions but let the rest just happen.

#5 Slow down and take it all in.

This travel tip is one of the most important in my opinion. If you plan on trying to see everything in a location all you will be doing is rushing around and getting a glimpse of whats around you. I did a tour of Italy from Rome north and back. It was a great trip but there was so much to see and so little time to see it. We flew through Rome in two days but you could spend two weeks there to see everything. It’s important to take the time on your trip to take in what’s around you and really learn about the location.

#6 Watch the ATM and credit card fees.

When you travel the cost of ATM fees and credit card fees will add up fast. Don’t burn your hard earned cash on these stupid fees. To avoid them you can join a bank that is part of the global ATM alliance or if your American you can join Charles Schwab which has no ATM fees. Stop paying your money to giant banks who already have plenty, be smart and it will save you a lot of money.

#7 You don’t have to stay in a hotel.

The first think most people think about when they setup travel arrangements is what hotel to stay in. I’m here to tell you there are many other options than mainstream hotels. Some of these options can even save you money that can be better spent elsewhere. For example, you could check out places on Airbnb or PerfectPlaces. You also could stay in a monastery or just find a small non-chain budget hotel. If the sleeping arrangements don’t mean that much to you remember there are plenty of places to just lay your head.

#8 Always sign up for loyalty programs.

This is one of those travel tips that at first may not seem like something you will need but if you start to travel a lot, these rewards will add up. By not signing up from the beginning you’ll miss out on points and later wish you had them. So sign up for airline and hotel rewards and any other rewards programs that fit your travel needs.

#9 Watch your budget.

When you travel you’ll here people saying they can’t believe how much this or that costs or that the drinks would be so expensive. These are people who didn’t put in the work to learn about what it costs where their going. Be budget savoy, if you eat and drink a lot then plan your budget for that. If adventure is more your speed then plan on putting more of your budget there. Don’t be that person saying they didn’t know what things cost.

#10 Never skip travel insurance.

If I could give you just one piece of travel advice this would be it. You see, this type of insurance covers more than just health costs. It can cover things like cancellations, trip delays, emergencies and even lost or stolen luggage. If you don’t have this insurance on your travels then you’re making a big mistake.

These travel tips are designed to help you travel better, travel wiser and of course save you money.