#and shaw had fucking suffered enough

[pricescigar]

The way of life

Summary: After Harper left the orchestra, finding herself in a sense of despair abour how her life was going... She managed to pull herself together to get back to work, even if the job was small. It was enough.

20th of October 1953

The world around Harper seemed to have grown still, or that's what she had thought of at least. Part of her felt trapped, once again in this cage, whatever it was. Perhaps a part of her was still trapped in her own mind, she hated this feeling of emptiness. Numbness, nothing to look forward to now in life… She fucked everything up. Big time. Everything seemed to have crumbled before her, after what had happened. Now there was nothing she could do to fix it…

Yet a part of her still wanted to reassure herself, that she deserved as much love as anyone else. But maybe she didn't, perhaps if her mother didn't run away… Maybe things would be different. Life itself seems to go on without her, while Harper felt herself beginning to drown in her own thoughts much more.

Harper had been in a daze ever since she walked out during her performance, which utterly destroyed her career in the orchestra. But she didn't care, to be honest at the moment nothing ever seemed to matter to her. Mostly Harper stayed confined in her own home, the curtains mostly drawn to keep out the sunlight. Not really giving herself the vitamin D, exercise she needed for herself mentally and physically. Again… Harper didn't care. Nor eating, or taking care of herself particularly well.

The young woman was either playing chess by herself, forcing herself into learning new things to calm her mind, reading her favourite books, yet the dopamine didn't seem to satisfy Harper. Nothing seemed to satisfy her anymore. Mostly she was just laying there either on the sofa, or in bed simply in deep thought. Her mind still couldn't comprehend the fact she made everyone in the theatre room feel her pain.

She almost felt embarrassed to go out into public, what if people who were there in the theatre recognised her? What if her old colleagues see her? What if she subconsciously hurts people again without realising it?

What if?

Her mind was running overdrive, constantly questioning everything around her. She struggled to comprehend if people would actually care about what happened, or if they simply didn't care. Harper felt like the world was against her currently, nor to mention the fact that she felt so confident that she would be fine on her own.

She was not fine on her own.

Harper refused to go back to her grandparents, the ones who didn't care about her. Rather than that, she decided to suffer alone. Battle her demons alone, battling her own thoughts alone.

Even the… Darker thoughts, the thrill to control every fibre around her. How many minds could she control at the same time? To make everyone bend to her will… How many minds could she make to scream in agony, how much psychic energy would it take…

For it to all go quiet.

She thought of many others too such as… How much energy could she absorb until she herself was a ticking time bomb? Harper knee she was holding herself back, hell of a lot. Admittingly, the last couple of weeks. The urge to find Shaw and to simply join him, was getting more stronger by the second. But Harper stopped herself from doing so, yet again… That same nagging feeling was holding her back, yet she didn't know why.

No one should know how deep her thoughts could actually get. She wanted to try and figure everything out herself, after all… That's what an adult does isn't it?

Her mind kept on replaying her performance… To accidentally cause great pain on her grandparents many times, her mother and Freddie was bad enough since she had killed them. But to actually cause that much harm on many people at once, without killing her, well… That scared Harper. She loved the fact she had that much control over that many people, but it was scary at the same time.

Harper at the time didn't know how to currently cope, nor process the situation fully… She took pleasure in the calmness that alcohol gave her, how it quietened her mind. How everything washed away, from the busy bar and the thoughts ever so loud. It all seemed to numb away, and everything became white noise.

And that's what Harper did, she knew drinking wasn't good. Drinking never really helps anyone, it only creates temporary solutions. But Harper loved those temporary solutions as it was the only thing next to her. Sometimes Harper didn't remember what happened the next day, due to her drinking so much… And the massive hangover that would be there too. Yet who's to say how dangerous she is when drunk, not to mention her powers.

Harper knew she had to change, and that also meant having a firm boundary with alcohol. And she knew she had to take care of herself much better, no more staying confined in her own home.

. . . .

30th of October 1953

Getting a new job wasn't easy, Harper didn't have much to her name. She didn't think about going to college, not even thinking about attending university either. Obviously she knew she would be amazing academically, but then again. Harper didn't know what she truly wanted… Nothing to her name other than that she just decided to wing it and join an orchestra, with very little experience with life. How the world works, how people actually work as a whole.

What makes people tick.

Trying to learn all of that, while she still tried to find her way through life.… How everything worked, how to be an actual adult. She seemed to somehow manage that just fine, with her instincts and general knowledge it wasn't all so bad. But other than that everything else seemed almost hopeless. Living amongst humans, trying to live as normally as she could was hard enough. It was fucking awful, she hated it.

Harper knew she was good at singing, good enough for her. She had just finished singing at a small bar, who was in dire need of a singer. Of course she wanted to try, part of her just wanted to see how it would go… Wanting to test the waters.

It was only for a couple of bucks, but hey anything was good for Harper. At this point she was getting desperate, still not wanting to go back to her grandparents. She took any kind of opportunity she got, at the end of it she got a couple of bucks. Many gentlemen gave her a few nice tips, she could see how they looked at her. Harper definitely knew where this was going, takes one to know one. Many others said they'd give her more for… “other” reasons.

Harper with disgust obviously used her telepathy against them, telling them to simply fuck off or do whatever came into her mind. She told some men to dunk their heads into the beer barrels, make a fool of themselves in the bar, practically doing anything she wanted. She loved the fact she could humiliate them. She liked that.

Perhaps this little night job would be enough, even if she could mess around with people's minds a little as well.

That's what she did for the next couple of years… Harper always found herself on a stage at small bars, singing for bands, or singing solo whatever she felt like. Working most nights, just to make a comfortable living for herself. It was much different than being in a theatre, but at this point… A job was a job.

The money wasn't a lot unfortunately, but she lived somewhat decently enough for what it was worth. After paying all the necessities, food and everything else. She had very little left over, and so she saved it… Every last penny, just in case. It was enough for her to make up after what had happened at the Orchestra, but she knew she needed to put all of that behind her now. Harper knew she couldn't change the past, and what she had now… She simply had to deal with it.

Up until 1959, Harper remained as a singer. She was well known enough at a few little bars, she has gotten used to her small career. Not wanting to make anything big out of it, since she didn't want history to repeat itself. Yet another night of her getting drunk, she found herself walking down the Las Vegas strip. Yet a little gambling establishment caught her eye, wanting to be bold she wanted to gable on her money to gain more. And to get drunk more in the process with the alcohol they offered.

Always the nocturnal one Harper was, she went from bar to bar, singing whatever they requested, she took her money and eventually left the bar. Go back home and fall asleep, then rinse and repeat. Working hard to get more money each time, sometimes she took breaks here and there. Yet her brain always strived to work, anything to keep her mentally stimulated.

. . . .

28th of October 1959

It was going to be a fun night, Harper played blackjack, poker a few times. She was quite the daring devil, so she knew she could use her knowledge to her advantage.

Yet little did she know, Harper would be walking right into the Hellfire club's trap... Where her father would be waiting for her.

[spirit-whump]

whumptober2023 No. 15: “I don’t need you to help me, I can handle things myself.” | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

fandom: X-Men First Class (OC-centric)

Marianne couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been exhausted. 

It felt like she had been born that way. The eldest daughter of five children, raised during the Depression, with both parents struggling to make end’s meet - of course she had stepped up and looked out for her siblings. It was what she was meant to do. Her parents had to focus on supporting the family, and to do that, Marianne had to take care of the family. It was the only way. 

Then she had started dating Lawrence, and a while after, Henry had come along. That’s when she and Lawrence became the parents struggling to make end’s meet. They had managed somehow, but it was a lot of work, especially with Marianne being the one at home with the baby even as she kept the bookstore running. She was lucky if she could manage a ten minute nap in the afternoons, even when Henry was taking his own naps. There was always something to do, something to fix around the house, and her powers being what they were, it was easy enough, so she didn’t see the harm in doing what she could. 

Lawrence disagreed. He was always taking over for her, taking Henry out of the house when he could to let her get some rest, taking over the little projects she found to fix the house with the insistence that he could handle at least half of what she wanted to do. He made dinner most nights, even after a long day of work. He insisted that they were meant to take care of each other and she needed to let him take care of her as much as she took care of everyone. So she let him.

And then he was gone, and suddenly everything fell back on her shoulders.

And she managed. More than that, Marianne did a damn good job if she said so herself. She raised a child alone, made sure he was safe and healthy and loved. She kept her store running and well cared for, a safe place for anyone who wandered in. She took care of the home and her store and her child all by herself for years and she did fine. 

She was fine. 

And then Charles Fucking Xavier and Erik Fucking Lehnsherr and Moira Fucking MacTaggert walked into her life and fucked it all up. 

They were always there, asking her how she was. How she was feeling after this or that. It wasn’t their fault they hadn’t been at the facility for Shaw’s attack, but really, they didn’t need to be constantly asking her if she was alright. The kids had been through it too - surely they needed more attention than her. She had handled it all just fine. The kids were safe. That was enough. 

Or they were giving her concerned looks when she happened to mention Lawrence, or alluded to something about her family or childhood. Marianne knew what her life had been like. She didn’t need pity over it. She had lost her husband. She had been all but abandoned by her family. And she had made it on her own after all of that. 

Look - Marianne hadn’t suffered the same way they had. Not even the same way the others on the team had. She hadn’t been abandoned or tortured or orphaned or neglected or imprisoned or any of that. Her past had been rough, yes, but she had gotten through it. The worst of it was over. She didn’t need their pity or their help or their concerned looks when she absentmindedly mentioned things like the one time as a 14-year-old she hadn’t seen either of her parents for three days in a row because they left for work early and came back late.

That was the life she’d been given and she didn’t need pitying over it. It wasn’t worse than anything they’d been through. 

It was embarrassing on every level when she woke up one morning and remembered getting drunk with them the night before and realizing she was a much bigger lightweight than she remembered when she was only two glasses of wine in and suddenly started telling them everything she had kept locked away for years. 

Everything from the grief she had suppressed since Lawrence had died, to the sadness of missing her siblings ever since she had run away from home, to the anger and grief over her parents all but throwing her away when she got pregnant. Everything she had never said to anyone but Lawrence, she told all of them. 

It was Charles, of course it was Charles, who approached her the following morning when she was suffering from a violent hangover and gently started probing her for a follow up conversation about everything she had said. Marianne had told him kindly but firmly that she had been drunk and they didn’t need to worry about her. They didn’t need to talk about it ever again, honestly, and she preferred it that way. 

Charles tried again, and then again, to get her to stop dismissing it, until she snapped at him to leave her alone. It was none of his business. And finally he did, but not without a sad look and a reminder that they were allowed to care about her as much as she cared about them. She could come to them whenever she wanted. 

And she appreciated it. She did, really. But she didn’t need that.

Because she was fine. She was tired all the time and she always felt a thin ribbon of grief running through her very being, but she had been living with that for years now. So she was fine, and she would be fine. 

She had made it this far on her own, after all. 

[zepskies]

Ahhh thank you, my friend!!! 🥰 Omg I'm so glad you've heard of The Clock! (And oh YES, same with Vought Rising. 😭 I foresee so much SB fanfic coming soon from this fandom lmao.)

Love how the first line of this story is an easter egg. You never cease to amaze me, Alex 🤓

Hahaa I love you for catching that! It's funny, when I was trying to decide how much time after WWII to set this in and finally landed on November, I couldn't not do November 2. (Because I'm a nerd. 🤓)

*furrows brow* The Producers?? 🤔

Oh my God, you got me again!!! I freakin' LOVE The Producers (2005 version), and since it's set in New York (albeit in the 50s), I couldn't help a little easter egg. 😝 (again, big nerd alert)

Oh yes, we all remember that episode. Of course he would 😂 Poor Sam lol

lmfaoo Sam is so long-suffering, ain't he? 😂

Uh-huh... Dear Lord he needs help 🙈

Alllll the help. Pre-decent psychiatry, unfortunately. 😭

Btw, I've been doing my own 40s research for a fic and came across the contraception question. Idk why but condoms and methods of that time freak me tf out. Wondering what your experience with that was (if you came across it) lmao 😂

Oh dear lord yes, but I first learned about it from Downton Abbey. Condoms back then were the weirdest effing contraptions I've ever seen. As a woman it would scare me to have that come near me. 🤢

Ooof so rough 😮‍💨 PTSD and seeing all the dirty shit that goes on during a war is really brutal 😢 (My grandpa was in WWII and told a lot of stories when he was still alive) And then they were seperated too and didn't even know what happened to the other. Heartbreaking 😭

Oh wow, the stories your grandfather must have had. ❤️❤️ From what I've been able to research, it was truly horrific. And in the case of this story yep, compounded by the fact that Sam and Dean were separated for about three years with little to no way of knowing the other was still alive. 💔

The sass! Already love her 😂🩵

LOL she's got plenty of fire in her. ❤️‍🔥

*vibes* 😍 (even though I know MMM is set in 1958 lol)

Oh I love MMM!!! Love that comparison lol.

You don't know how fucking weak it makes me that he smokes in this. That vice will be the death of me 🫠🔥

Ahaha I remember from one of your comments on Break Me Down where SB was smoking (literally and figuratively)! 😜 I figured Dean smoking here would be true to the time period, and one of the few ways he can cope with his PTSD.

Aww yeah, Sam's just doing his job. Not easy having a vagina in 1945 and dealing with dicks... 🙄

Ughh exactly -- a major theme in this story. 😪

I get abusive vibes from shitty husband. There's more to it than cheating. Either he's emotionally abusive, physically or threathening to be. She seems like she wants to leave quick and quiet, fearing retaliation 👀 I loved how "damn" counted as cursing 😂 (Darn it!)

Ooh you're on the right track, unfortunately. 😢

And LOL gosh darn it, she just couldn't help herself! 😂😂

Yes, thank you!!! I knew Dean's spidey senses would turn on. (And I know that darn rat bastard can't hurt her now as long as soldier!Dean's around 💚)

Oh you already know, Dean's sharp enough to connect those dots. But darn right he's gonna be around to look out for her.

Melted 🫠 (I legit die every time I write "Sergeant Shaw" in TCF, but I married a military guy myself, so makes sense I can't resist a uniform and a rank 😂🥵)

Oooh I love it!! I can't resist a man in uniform either, and I'm not even married to one. 🫠 But while I'm incredibly behind in my reading, I haven't forgotten about the new chapters of The Exit Strategy, which I can't wait to dive into soon!!! 💜💜 (TCF is the prequel, right?)

I love the 1940s cadence, by the way! You can tell it's a different time period the way the characters speak, the words they choose, and how they phrase things. So well done, my friend! 👏👏

Aw thank you, Wayne!! That makes me so happy that you think so. 🥹 Especially after watching The Clock, I tried my best to make the reader's cadence feel like a woman from the time period (and Sam and Dean to some extent too). 💕

Mama's smelling mob activity... 🤌

Ooh you're not the first person to have made that observation. 😏

Such a Dean statement lol I do hope he won't feel so hopeless for long ☺️

Oooh shall see. 🥰 But I'm glad you thought it was a "Dean statement" loll, he's so self-deprecating sometimes. 🥲

Aww, they could've almost met. I love these little coincidences when people meet each other. It's fate 😍💕

Hahaa that's exactly what I was going for! (Imagine if they had met before she met Michael. 🥲)

I'm too busy plotting a gruesome murder in my head to properly get into how much I despise that guy 😂🙈

LOLL girl I don't blame you -- Michael is hot garbage, but it's a case of "got married hella quickly in wartime," so she didn't exactly know who he truly was when she married him. 😭

This was such an amazing start to this series! The storyline is so intriguing and the world-building is, well... simply otherworldly. You really took me on a journey to the 1940s here. Speechless, honestly 🩵 I so can't wait to see what else you have in store with this, but I think there will be lots of yelling from me lol 😅

I appreciate you so much, Wayne, thank you!! 🥹🥹 I'm so glad you enjoyed the start of this, and that it managed to transport you to the '40s. This chapter was a bit short, but it's a jumping off point for a lot more drama and hyjinks to come! (I anticipate lottts of yelling lmao) 💞💞

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

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Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.    

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut. 

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said. 

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?” 

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap. 

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once. 

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?” 

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said. 

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks. 

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly. 

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.  

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.  

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.  

His brows furrowed. “Do what?” 

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.” 

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.” 

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice. 

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff. 

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so. 

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly. 

“Hmm. No real loss there then.” 

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.” 

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner. 

“Excuse me?” 

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.” 

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

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[asleepinawell]

silveroakleaf replied to your post

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.” Shoot, please :)”

Holy shit this is awesome! Thank you so much! Your writing always makes my day. Very glad it doesn't end in either of them dying... But, then how DOES end?

I mean, at this point Finch has already shut them out of the system and Root already put in her extra code that only he can activate so he needs motivation to let her use it. So...

everyone goes to the safe house sans root who is taking ‘a nap’

shaw stays behind by herself because lbr even if she enjoys shooting people with root she can totally handle them all herself if needs be

i was gonna have her go with finch and elias because then elias has a good chance of surviving since shaw is the fastest shot on the team and crazy on guard at the moment

but...honestly at this point finch is still pretty anti-letting-the-machine-protect-herself and i don’t think that would change without someone dying

so sadly elias dies and i am mad about it but he gets to die a way cooler death probably

think like hersh’s death levels of badass

shaw shows up to rescue finch from the samaritan goons and the whole firefight happens

since there’s no one else to drive off with finch she shoves him under a car and is like remember that time you wandered into the line of fire and reese got shot? maybe don’t do that.

anyway the firefight takes way longer with only her but she’s got an entire fucking car full of guns and nowhere better to be

reese shows up to help her out eventually

finch wanders into the line of fire and reese gets shot and shaw is like omg we JUST talked about this wtf dude

reese is not dead though, bear with me

they all get out of there and fusco gets reese to the hospital and shaw takes finch to the subway

he has to stay in the subway now because his cover is blown

shaw probably makes some snide remark about this because she’s still low-key bitter about that time she got drugged and handcuffed

she goes back to check in on root

root is still KOed but wakes up later that night

boy is she not amused

but since they’re them they end up having mind-blowing sex and promise not to drug/tase each other in the future

which neither of them really means because they’re them

meanwhile reese is like hurt super bad but he’ll live and they bring him to the subway to recover

the whole team is there including fusco because shaw was like the whole team is basically dying maybe we should just fucking tell him what’s going on isn’t that a great idea

reese is being a giant baby about being hurt because he used to be the most dramatic team member until root rudely stole that title from him

root is all like harold everyone is DYING maybe we should fight back?

reese is like you know what i’ve been SHOT and it HURTS maybe she has a point?

he passes out dramatically

finch is like this is a terrible idea

but elias is dead, reese is barely alive, and every single member of the team is arguing for this

even bear

so he agrees if and only if he’s allowed to change the code and put in like a kill switch or some dumb shit

listen, this is not how AI works. but then again the idea that anything could stop the machine from altering her own code however she saw fit is pretty unrealistic so shrug.

my AI rant is a different rant completely

so finch is like there’s this virus called ice-9 but listen guys this is a terrible idea there’s gonna be collateral damage

shaw is like did you not notice the eugenics-happy evil ai like i think that might cause some fucking collateral damage

also remember the part where it tortured me for like 9 months

she is basically 100% done with his moral high-ground

anyway a bunch of the same stuff happens like in the show but the whole team is actually working together now because that makes a lot more sense

i honestly don’t remember a lot of the details of the last three episodes since i only saw them when they aired and mostly pretend they didn’t happen

but shaw gets to shoot greer in the face because after everything that happens she deserves to be the one to do that

root goes and uses ice-9 on samaritan, there’s probably some badass hacking sequence with lots of cg

would also like to point out that probably the only way to really kill an AI that powerful would be to permanently take out the entire internet and all wired devices and destroy any physical server/device/anything that samaritan could have stored a copy of itself on

but whatever

samaritan and the machine wipe each other out

reese and shaw defend the roof because in poi-healing-from-bullets time reese is like 100% a-okay again.

or he just has a  minigun attached to a wheelchair like those dudes in bloodborne

because that would be AWESOME

root and fusco defend the machine in the subway

finch is off having a soliloquy somewhere

maybe he’s still talking to the machine

i don’t even care honestly

everyone lives and the machine comes back to life like a month later

finch has already taken off for italy

and grace is like wtf dude you basically caused me undue emotional distress for years and also lied to me the whole time we were together fuck off

so finch goes back to ny and does something or another with his life, stays friends with reese

reese, shaw, and root still do missions for the machine

who has taken carter’s voice because taking root’s would be weird now and carter was cool and had a good moral code and the machine digs that

reese still thinks it’s kind of weird but he gets over it

at this point it’s harder for me since i’m writing a fic which has an alternate ending and i don’t want to spoil shit from it

but everyone (that i care about) is super happy or at least content

root and shaw bang a lot and also are now bear’s parents

reese decides that there’s more to look forward to than death because come on that was like the whole fucking point until the end of the show

i don’t buy this ‘borrowed time’ bullshit when he spent over half a season getting therapy for his hero complex and also after he went through the aftermath of shaw’s sacrifice and saw what it did to everyone

so he’s chill with living to an old age and finds happiness with someone who isn’t his doctor because that wasn’t cool with me

maybe he and zoe remain fuck buddies instead or something

root and the machine work constantly to stamp out any trace of other AI development

shaw works to train a future generation of team machine

did i mention that shoot bangs a lot and are pretty content with life in general

fusco gets promoted to something or another

i don’t know much about police force ranks

like a captain or something?

i’m going by b99 here

the government rebuilds the isa under someone who will never be as badass as control but does alright

the machine helps them out with numbers still

everyone lives happily ever after with cool guns and dogs and only occasional taser incidents

the end

[dmpled]

who saved her? if this was what being saved was like then she should never have been. she didn’t want this pain, this suffering. maybe if she hadn’t been saved then she wouldn’t be feeling like this. she wouldn’t of met riley and be going through with this. but then again, being saved she met riley, her sunshine, the lightening that followed the thunder. riley shaw was her person and that person had been taken away from her.

“she would be proud of me, she would be proud that i’m not weak or pathetic and that i can look after myself.” riley would be proud, she would be proud of her for what she was doing. They all had to suffer, each and every member of the oea had to pay for what they had done, not just for riley for gertie as well. even if riley hadn’t passed, luna was sure enough that this is how riley would want her to react. she was protecting her family and friends. she was doing what was needed to be done and she couldn’t understand why he couldn’t see it. why wesley was standing in her way of what was meant to be.

“this is me..this is the luna you’re meant to love. clearly you fucking lied about that cause you wouldn’t be reacting like this if you did.”why, why couldn’t he see that this was her, this is what she needed to be. it was breaking her heart that he couldn’t see it and that frustration, that break in her heart was only fuelling the pain in her chest and the anger in her heart. “i’m still me.”

her eyes just remained fixed on the knife, she had to have it, it was her protection. she could stab her way through everyone that hurt riley and the others, make them pay for everything they had done, sacrificing brigg. they had to pay in their own lives. she just couldn’t understand why he wasn’t allowing her to do her duty, it was her job to protect them and herself, her job to make them all pay. they had to pay. tears streaming down her cheek, eyes flickering between the knife and wesley as he spoke.

“You’re twisting my words!”she hissed, herself now pacing but trying to maintain her eyes on him and the knife. she couldn’t trust him, not right now. “and there not empty threats..because I can do it..I could kill you like I did that hunter..”she spoke, nodding in agreement to herself. she could do this, she was a person of her own word. she would kill him if she had to, she would kill anyone who stood in her way. Riley deserved this, she deserved Luna to act some revenge on everyone who harmed her. “and I’m doing this for everyone because someone has to kill them..not just for riley…yes riley was important but they have to pay…have to pay.”she spoke, continuing to pace as she plotting how to get the knife out of his hand.

“but I’m not a monster, they started this..they fucking started this because they killed them, strung them up like some meat in a butchers shop.” a pause for a deep breath. she had to stay calm, she had to stay calm. “they are the monsters and they need to die. every evil thing has to die and they are evil. I just want the knife, so I can do that.” her voice calmer. maybe she needed to play it this way, maybe he would give her the knife back this way. deep breathes, fake smile as if she was calmer. she needed him to fall for this facade.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.”she spoke, eyes now flickering between the knife and wesley. play the good daughter and he may give in. “i promise I won’t hurt another person.” a clear lie from her but he didn’t need to know that. maybe, maybe he would drop the knife in stupidity or maybe she could find another one. “i’m okay…you could leave me. I’ll be okay.” she spoke eerie sweet and calm. “go find rebek-mum or artie, they need you more than I do.”

There were people in his endless life that were just simple unforgettable, people he carried with him through the years and of those people very few were truly, truly important to him. Rebekah and their girls would be forever engrained in him and Riley- well she had somehow managed to weasel her way into that short list of people. She was just as much a part of his life as Artemis and Luna were, daughter-like in many ways and as much as Luna wanted to believe that he would forget her, that he would forget any of them, it simply wasn't true. Riley was a light in the lives of his daughters, Luna especially, and that kind of light was unforgettable and just as he had gone to correct her she had continued, Wesley's frame tensing and jaw locking tightly, muscle noticeable popping against his features as he straightened himself out.

"I don't care how upset you are, Luna Mikaelson," Wesley stated, words firm, almost icy. "You will not disrespect your mother like that. You want to get disrespectful with me, be pissed off with me, then so be it but I will not stand here and have you blatantly disrespect the woman that has poured everything into you. Her life, her love, do not forget who saved you." Digits tightened around the knife, knuckles nearly white as his shoulders rolled back, trying to bite back the anger that was coursing through him, reminding himself that this was just the grief talking for his daughter as he stood his ground.

"You're right, I didn't know her like you did," he countered. "But I did know her and you are not being someone that she would be proud of right now." Brows furrowed further as Luna's anger continued to slam into him, stabbing him harder and harder with every word. "I'm not giving you the knife," the vampire reiterates. "Because contrary to what you believe right now, I do care about you and I do know you."

A scoff eased from his lips as his head began to shake, frame still as tense as ever as he remained still, unwavering determination to get his child to calm down even as she tried to push him away, tried to scare him off. He wouldn't have it, not now, not ever. "This isn't you Luna," Wesley spoke again, calm and patience beginning to wear. "This is grief, this is anger but it isn't you."

Her final words cut the deepest, the threat husting more than the actual idea of the threat in itself as his frame faltered backwards from where he stood almost as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs as he stared helplessly at his daughter. His jaw clenched once more, emotions on full display across his features as reality settled in that perhaps there was no way to get his little moon back. Arms rose to the side, knife still clutched in his hand tightly as he welcomed her threat, as if calling her out on her bluff. "Do it, Luna," Wesley spoke, voice eerily calm and unwavering. "Rip my heart from my chest. You've already done it figuratively so why not physically too? You think I'm the coward? Making empty threats to your father. To the person who has put you on a pedestal day in and day out because he loves and adores and cares more about you than he has any single soul he's met in his 153 years of life just as he does your sister and mother. Threatening to take away yet another person from two of the people you supposedly love. Or is that it? You just don't care or love anybody other than Riley? Look around you, Luna. We're all here, we're all fighting for her and the others that were killed. This is bigger than just you and Riley. Our entire community has been attacked tonight. But if you want to be the monster that they believe you are, if you want them to feel justified and correct in thinking that we are all monsters, that Riley was a monster, then fucking do it, Luna. Kill me, rip the heart from chest and tearv the knife out of my cold, lifeless hand. That's gonna make you feel better, right? Do what you have to because I can't. I can't see my little girl like this."

[backseatconfessions]

The Bet | Jake Peralta x Reader

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Reader

Summary: You and Jake make a bet. Who can last longer without Sex.

Warnings: Implied Smut, my non existent knowledge of police work, sexyness lmao, mentions of drugs and murder

A/N: There is not much to say. I just wanted to try writing about someone else. The next thing that i have planned is something for our fav fast guy Pietro (who owns my heart btw)

---

It all started about a year ago. You were new to the station and immediately attracted everyone's attention. Not only were you beautiful, no, you were a real badass too. You solve one case after the other without any complications. And while you sometimes had to be physical, you looked hot too. Amy had asked several times if you could teach her how to look good while you had blood on your uniform, but you just shrugged your shoulders. In all honesty, you just did it without even thinking about it. Holt was incredibly proud to have hired someone so talented. You lived for your work, but your private life suffered as a result. 

You spent your nights researching and in the morning you just came out of bed. And so after about a week you were at your desk. Rosa came in with her blank expression and sat across from you. You gave her a smile, which she didn't return, but she gave you coffee. You accepted it gratefully and immediately felt better. "Hey, Y/N! Could you bring me the new file? It's on Peralta's desk.” Terry asked you as you sat closer and you nodded. With your coffee cup in hand, you got up and went to his desk. What a mess. Sighing, you rummaged around with one hand. Was that a crushed granola bar? Disgusted, you took your hand out of the mess and took a sip. At about the same time, Jake strutted in and was immediately involved in a conversation with Charles. So he ran backwards towards his desk. You didn't even notice your surrounding anymore, you were too focused on finding the files without your hand touching anything rotten. And so Jake ran against you. Startled, you tightened your grip on the cup, which caused the lid to fly up from the pressure and some coffee spilled onto your blouse. You whimpered softly because the shit was really hot. "Fuck ..." Carefully you lifted the blouse a little so that it doesn't stick to your skin. Jake immediately walked away from you and spoke to you. "Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay, Y/L/N?” He asked with a guilty conscience and you turned around. With gritted teeth you nodded and walked slowly towards the washroom. "If you want, I'll help you take it off!" He called after you and you had to pull yourself together not to beat him up. This was his first attempt at flirting, and it wasn't his last. About a month later, you were sitting across from Rosa again, but your eyes were on Holt. He was talking to Jake again, but you couldn't see what kind of conversation. Was it praise? Or maybe scolding? You were bored with no case to resolve. Besides, you were kind on a sex withdrawal. After all, you were new to this neighborhood and didn't really know anyone. You hadn't even gotten to masturbation in the past few weeks. Annoyed, you let your head drop on your crossed arms. It could be that the withdrawal made you a little pissed. "What's going on?" Rosa asked and Amy perked up her ears. And since Charles didn't really have anything to do either and was a self-proclaimed consolation giver, he came straight to it. A kind of meeting came into being. "I'm just not in a good mood," you said and looked up. "Why?" Amy asked immediately. Even Gina was now at your table. "Is it because we don't have any cases right now?" Charles asked, but you denied it. A bit of free time was actually good, but you were in the wrong place to satisfy yourself. "Stress with the partner?", Amy guessed. "I don't have anyone.", You grumbled. "Aha!" Gina shouted. "You haven't had sex in a long time!" With red cheeks you buried your head in your arms again. Satisfied, she nodded as she hit the nail right on the head. Terry came along now. "I know some nice men," he said and you rolled your eyes. Great, now everyone knew. "I know some great girls too," Rosa suggested. “That's enough, guys. If I want then I'll surely find someone. ", You grumbled and looked up again. By now everyone had a sympathetic smile on their faces. You groaned annoyed. Gina pushed Charles aside and showed you a couple of Instagram accounts with some guys. Somehow you wanted meaningless sex, but not with someone strange. Jake stepped out of the office again and noticed everyone standing at your table. "What's going on here?" He asked aloud and walked to your desk. "We're looking for someone to lay Y/N.", Gina answered without looking up. Embarrassed you avoided his gaze. Did everyone finally know? "I'll volunteer.", He grinned and everyone started laughing, including you. "Why are you laughing?" Confused, he looked at his colleagues. Charles put a hand on his shoulder. "Not bad for Jake, but Y/N is way out of your league.", He replied with pity in his voice. Jake looked at him indignantly. “Thanks, Boyle! It doesn't matter now. Y/N, take your bag or whatever, we have a little drug case in a gelateria.”Peralta said, avoiding Boyle's hurt expression. A gelateria and he didn't take his best friend with him? Excitedly, you grabbed your service weapon and your jacket. “I’m ready!"

-

"I think the owner is the dealer," you said quietly to yourself. Jake nodded in agreement. "Now we just have to catch him red-handed," he added. He turned to you and put both of his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him with a raised brow. "Flirt with him," he ordered and shook you. "What! Why? ”You hissed softly and glanced over at the guy. "You distract him and I'll go back through the door," he explained and you sighed. "Okay." So you stepped inside slowly, purposefully towards the counter and looked at the many different types of ice cream. "Hi!", You smiled shyly, and he took the bite immediately. "Hello beautiful woman, what can I do for you?" He asked charmingly with his heavy Italian accent. Your heart went soft with all the ice cream. "What can you recommend?" "It depends on what you like," grinned the man. "I like it extraordinary, maybe something Mediterranean.", You said and suppressed your gag reflex. "I should have- Hey!", He interrupted himself and looked past you. Inwardly, you just gave yourself a facepalm. He couldn’t be serious. "What are you doing back there, huh?" Slowly you turned around and saw Peralta with a mustache stuck on. You sighed softly to yourself and just mimicked your fate. "Well, searching the drugs.", He replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. You took your badge in your hand ready to turn around when the swanky Italian slapped it out of your hand, jumped over the counter and hit you on the floor. With a thud, you landed on the floor. Jake was about to walk towards you, but you waved in the direction of the door. He bit his lip and hesitantly ran after him. Slowly you got up and cracked your fingers. Why did he have to bite his lip so badly? Now you ran after them too, it didn't take long for the Italian to land in a dead end. Jake seemed to have everything under control, so you stood to one side to take a deep breath. But when he handcuffed him, you couldn't prevent your dirty thoughts. How would the handcuffs feel on your hands? You rubbed your thighs together to release some friction. You realized one thing. Jake was the one who had to fuck you. You just had to make him do it.

-

A few days later, you were leaning your arms on Gina's desk, your bum up. In the reflection you could see his eyes on it while he was talking to Amy. Even your blouse had one button open today. At least time was running and you were getting more and more impatient. Gina told you something about a dance group and normally you'd like to listen, but this time it was more difficult. When you turned around he was no longer there. Instead, Amy gave you a friendly wave. You returned her gestures with a smile. Suddenly you smelled his perfume in your nose. He was right next to you. Your breathing became a little more irregular, as did your heartbeats. Oh God. His sleeves were rolled up and he was smiling slyly. “We're going to Shaw’s after work today. Would you like to come with us?” He wanted to know and you didn't miss how his eyes briefly wandered to your breasts. “Oh yes, Y/N! You absolutely have to go.", Gina agreed, so you nodded."I'll be happy to come, Peralta. "

-

That evening, you sat in a corner with your drink in hand. If he stopped giving you any more signs, you would look for someone else, which you would find a shame. Time passed and slowly the troop broke up. Until there was only Jake left, who sat down next to you with a new drink. "Here." Smiling, he pushed the glass towards you. You took the straw slowly in your mouth and didn't break eye contact. If he didn't get that hint now, you'd probably freak out. Instead, the detective put his hand dangerously close to your clothed core. You gasped loudly. "Could it be that you want me to fuck you?" He asks quietly and your heart almost popped out of your chest. You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. So you just nodded. “Unfortunately that's not enough, babygirl. Use words. ”Jake said. Slowly he tilted your head to one side and kissed the back of your neck. "Please, fuck me," you breathed. He removed his head and grinned. "I will, but just because you asked so nicely." Shortly afterwards you landed in his apartment. And at three in the morning you woke up and left like nothing happened. And it went on and on. Some days he would hold you against the shelves in the evidence room. On others it was in his car. And you liked the dominance he exuded. You liked how he took what he wanted from you, while still not forgetting your satisfaction. But after the sex you were always the first to go.

-

After a year it was still just sex and nothing more. So you were all the more surprised when he suddenly showed up on a date. You apologized to the nice man and pulled Jake on his ear out. He followed you gasping. When you finally stood in the parking lot, you crossed your arms. “What's this crap, Peralta?” You wanted to know, annoyed. "I ... I just wanted to make sure the guy was decent," he lied, which you could clearly see. “Bullshit. You are jealous. ", You replied." No, I am not. " "Yes you are." "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." “Okay! Our sex is fantastic okay? But what am I talking about here anyway? You wouldn't even go a day without it.” The cop defended himself. "Oh yes? I think you're confused, darling. You can't last a day without it.” You replied angrily. “Then let's bet. Whoever gives up first loses,” he suggested. “What do I get if I win?” You asked suspiciously. Betting with Jake always goes wrong and ends in chaos, you've been aware of that since Halloween. "I'll give you the murder case." "Okay, and you?" "I want one waking up." Confused you pulled your eyebrows together. "What do you mean?", You said. "I want you to wake up with me once. No escaping," he explained with ruddy cheeks. You examined him briefly and finally nodded. "Deal."

-

It started very easily. Here and there he brushed your hips, of course quite unobtrusively. Sometimes your file fell down, so you had to bend down very low. But he didn't jump on it. So you had to get more extreme. Bananas were eaten and he was flirting with Amy. And somehow your heart got heavier. So you had to act differently. Shortly before the end of the day you accidentally spilled your water on your white blouse. While your red lace bra became visible, you apologized with red cheeks and promised to come back. You didn't miss Jake's eyes, but you had other plans. From your closet you pulled a top with a deep neckline and tight jeans that made your bum stick out. You pulled the hair elastic out of your hair and freed your voluminous mane. You even forced yourself into high shoes and for once you leave your underwear off. "Show Time.", You mumbled and drove to the bar. And as soon as you stepped in, everyone's eyes were on you. Rosa whistled loudly and grinned honestly. Flattered you gave her a hug. "I thought I could dress up a bit." You explained your outfit to her. "Good girl," she winked. She’s the only one who knew about you and Jake since she caught you in the evidence room. With a swing of your hips that could only drive someone crazy, you strutted towards the bar. The bartender leaned down to you. "What will it be, my lady?" He grinned charmingly and you laughed out loud. still focused on getting what you wanted. “A shot would be a start,” you answered. He pushed one over to you pretty quickly. "It’s on the house.", He smiled. You nodded as a thank you and drank it. The warmth spread through your body and you let your shoulders circle. And so you flirted with the bartender for an estimated two minutes, when a well-known body was already pressing against yours. And with it his erection too. Your grin grew bigger. "What do you think you're doing?" He whispered in your ear. Goosebumps graced your body. He let his hand slide gently under your top. "You don't even wear a bra," Jake said, breathing irregularly. Inconspicuously, you rubbed your bum against his reaction. "That's enough," he whispered through clenched teeth. And so he pulled your wrist towards his apartment. And for the first time you didn't care what your colleagues thought about you.

-

Tired you opened your eyes and looked directly at the alarm clock next to you. Three o'clock at night. But this time you didn't get up. Instead, you turned around, put your arms around his body, and closed your eyes again. And Jake's smile grew bigger.

[sebastianshaw]

I know everyone here is SICK of my Duggan hate but-- It strikes me, he really just CAN’T write complex characters? I’ve noted many times over how he’s dedicatedly stripped Shaw of anything likeable or human not only the present, but actively retconned events to make him a 2D sack of evil (and frankly, inept evil) in the past as well. But he also goes out of his way to do the reverse for Emma, retconning that she’s ACTUALLY been a good person All Along even when she was at her most evil (so. . . what about her neverending journey to be a better person then, if she always was?) and actually Always Helped Other Women (which is like. . .pretty laughable to anyone who has read her past issues) to fit his ‘feminist’ theme. And there’s also, as many others have noted, how the secondary cast is just. .  .bereft of character, or likewise one-not. Bobby, Pyro, Shinobi, and Bishop can go for ISSUES without speaking, and when they do, it’s like. . .one line. They show the bare minimum of personality most of the time, and while sometimes Duggan can hit a home run (Shinobi’s remark about how he and his dad have done well in not trying to kill each other so far) a lot of it is just. . . why are they there? No, really. They don’t really do anything, and the “plots” he gives them are typically underwhelming and resolved in one issue.  Pyro, as @sammysdewysensitiveeyes has noted, hasn’t been demonized into a total strawman like Shaw, but he’s also really not at all recognizable as Pyro either. His character is entirely a one-note buffoon who is there for stupid comic relief, and there’s zero discussion about his past prior to coming back---his time with the Brotherhood, his battle with the Legacy Virus, the changes he underwent as a person when he was at death’s door, or even the stuff before that as a wartime journalist in Southeast Asia. None of that is there, there’s just this chaotic frat boy joke that Duggan pretty much entirely made up; he only even acknowledges Pyro is a Gothic Romance novelist after 20 issues, and even then it’s to make him look like a joke some more. Like Shaw, he’s just got one dimension now. Duggan seems to WANT to talk about abuse, specifically at the hands of men, which both Christian and Shinobi have experienced, as both were abused by their fathers. But he never, ever brings that up. Instead, he retroactively invents that Shaw abused Lourdes, and tacks on an abusive backstory to a female villain. I don’t think he thinks men can be abused? Or just. . .doesn’t care. His male characters are the ones who suffer most from flatness and having to be inept, evil, or both while the Cool Women Do Things, and I guess he, like lots of men, thinks that’s what Feminism (TM) is, just he’s not whining about it and is performing it instead. Speaking of that female villain, Wilhemina is a nasty evil sadistic little girl who not only happily kills/hurts people, she also kills and tortures animals, especially kittens. And you know what? I bet in the hands of a skilled writer, she very much COULD be made sympathetic and understandable. But what Duggan does is he just takes her and literally in ONE SCENE is like “oh she understands it was wrong now and is SUPER SORRY see she’s CRYING and also she did it because she was SEXUALLY ABUSED” and bam, we’re supposed to feel for her. There’s no buildup, no exploration, just a sudden explanation and remorse and that’s. . . .it?  Compare MANON AND MAXIME whom I’ve written about before. They’re two children who were traumatized, abused, exploited, and made to hurt others by their abuser, which they seemed to enjoy doing. Now that they’re free and living on Krakoa, they do still exhibit unacceptable behavior at times, sometimes out of vengeance, sometimes in self-defense gone too far, and sometimes out of a desire to help and please others but lacking the tools to understand boundaries and appropriateness and respect for other’s autonomy. They’re a very unsettling blend of being sweet, childlike children, too eager to please adults, and little gremlins who seem to take joy in messing with people’s minds---or who just don’t understand when it’s wrong even when they mean well. Unsettling, and realistic. Psychic powers aside, I find the twins to be much closer to real-world victims of abuse, especially children, in that they’re NOT “good victims” or “bad victims”. They’re not the “abuse makes you evil” trope, but they still have fucked-up behavior so they’re not the “little abused angel who just sobs beautifully but whose symptoms are all sympathetic uwu” either, which is just as rare and as damaging a stereotype in its own way because it holds that up as how survivors of abuse “should” be. And, as said, that’s rarely it. Most survivors come out of abuse with behaviors that AREN’T sympathetic but DID help them survive, and they ARE NOT BAD PEOPLE FOR IT. This shit is complicated. Then there’s Wilhemina, who starts out as just a monster (even though, realistically, if a child is hurting animals, they probably DO need help) and then the moment her tragic backstory is revealed, she also recognizes and regrets all her wrongdoings. She jumps from one extreme to the other in the space of a few panels, but remains totally one-dimensional either way. And of course, Lourdes. We didn’t see to much of her personality BEFORE Duggan got ahold of her, but in her two issues pre-retcon, she showed a surprising amount of depth and moral ambiguity. She was a member of the Hellfire Club and high enough in its ranks to try to prevent Shaw from being nominated as Black Bishop, claiming she’d seen how it changed people. She clearly had seen some shit and despises it, yet she remained within it. She also seemed content with the idea of Shaw and Buckman experimenting on mutants as guinea pigs, her concern was more doing it on the X-Men specifically and that Buckman would betray Shaw. And she had far more agency when she chose to give her life to save Shaw’s, than Duggan’s version that needed Emma to tell her what to do. Duggan’s Lourdes is a brainless doll who talks like a little girl and needs Emma to handle everything for her, despite it largely not making sense that she would, given her own resources. She’s more morally pure, perhaps, but also one-dimensional. Only room for ONE Woman With Agency here, honey! TL;DR Duggan really can’t write characters that are more than one or two notes, and it shows. 

[shootwinterfest]

‘Tis The Season

‘Tis The Season by @asleepinawell

CHECK OUT THE ART COLLABORATION!!

Companion art by @maarikaaaa

Shaw slouched in the driver's seat and sighed loudly. "What's taking her so long?"

"You seem awfully worried," Reese said from the passenger's seat.

"I'm not worried. Root can handle babysitting a number by herself."

"Of course."

Long seconds ticked by as they waited. Shaw looked around the interior of the underground parking garage they were waiting in, hoping for something to distract herself with, but nothing stirred. She watched suspiciously as Reese fiddled with the dial on the car stereo. The reception here was shitty, but she could still make out the opening notes of Jingle Bells on the station Reese stopped on.

"No."

"’Tis the season, Shaw."

"I can hurt you."

"That's how you get on Santa's naughty list."

In the back seat, Bear whined.

"See? Bear hates it. Change the station."

"It's Christmas Eve."

"Who cares?"

She reached out to change the station, but Reese held his hand over the stereo to stop her. She thought about breaking one of his fingers, but then she'd have to listen to him complain about that while they waited. Without meaning to, she glanced down at the little clock just below where Reese's hand was. Eight twenty-three. Root had said to pick her up at eight.

"You how what? Fine. Put on whatever you want. I'm going to go find Root and drag her down all forty floors of this damn building."

"So you are worried about her then."

"No."

Shaw climbed out of the car and then stuck her head back in so she could address the remaining occupants.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, so just keep him out of trouble while I'm gone."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Reese promised, reaching into the backseat to pat Bear on the head.

"I was talking to Bear." Shaw shut the door to cut off Reese's protest and turned to go.

She wasn't worried about Root. Not yet anyway. It was a simple number: keep an eye on some business CEO lady at her office holiday party. The Machine had been vague about the details, but that was nothing new. Maybe Root was trying to make Shaw come look for her. If that proved to be the case, she'd have to deal with both Root and Reese making snide remarks about her worrying the whole drive back.

She jabbed violently at the elevator button and glared at the doors until the elevator car arrived.

___________________

Root sulked in silence. She wasn't mad about Ricky from the marketing department who'd kept coming on to her half the night (he was currently unconscious and folded up in a closet full of cleaning supplies down the hall), nor was she mad that Judy from customer support had spilled fruit punch on her amazing new Christmas sweater (the punch had only gotten on the sleeve fortunately, which meant the small taser she'd hidden in the enormous stuffed reindeer head that was mounted on the front of the sweater hadn't gotten wet). She wasn't even mad about the armed men who had invaded the holiday party and made all of them sit on the floor in the middle of the conference room.

No, she was mad because she wasn't allowed to go and do horrible and unpleasant things to the party crashers because someone was worried one of the hostages might get hurt in the process. The Machine wasn't letting her have any fun today.

"Do you think they're going to kill us?" the terrified man next to her asked.

"Probably," Root said, distracted by one of their captors who was doing something vaguely interesting with the computer in the next room. She craned her neck to try and see across the hall better.

The man next to her wailed in panic and Root sighed.

"He'd probably be better off unconscious," she said quietly, hoping the Machine would take pity on her and let her tase him. But no, apparently tasing terrified civilians was not allowed. Not even for Christmas.

She ignored the Machine's suggestion that she try to calm the man down and instead inched away from him to try and get a better look at what was going on across the hall. Just what were these guys after here?

___________________

Shaw had imagined a lot of possible outcomes from her trip to rescue Root--though mostly she'd imagined Root 'apologizing' to her in an empty office while Reese had to wait and freeze to death in the car--but she definitely hadn't imagined that she'd find herself crawling on her stomach through an air vent shaft above the head of a heavily armed man.

Her side trip had started with the elevator coming to an abrupt halt between the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth floors. She'd been annoyed, but not concerned. Until the gunfire had started. Gunfire that definitely didn't sound like the small pistol she knew Root had on her. She'd brightened: maybe this wasn't a wasted trip after all.

The problem of being stuck in an immobile elevator had remained though and she'd been forced to improvise. In this case, improvising had meant climbing out a hatch onto the top of the elevator and prying off the cover of a vent on the wall slightly above her. Her heavy winter coat had been too large to fit in the vent, so she'd left it behind. Also left behind had been the horrible, ugly Christmas sweater she'd had on under it (the only thing that had made it tolerable was Reese had to wear one as well since he'd also lost a bet to Root). It was a shame that the sweater would probably never be recovered from the depths of the elevator shaft which she had gleefully flung it down, but surely Root couldn't blame her for losing it under the circumstances.

The black tank top she'd had on under all that wouldn't keep her warm outside, but it wouldn't get snagged in an air duct either. And it looked much better on her than the sweater had.

And then, after crawling through the metal vent for what felt like a million years, she'd finally seen a grate in the side of it that looked down into a room below. Which was where she saw the man with all the guns.

She couldn't hear everything he said over his little radio communicator, but she did pick up enough to get the general impression that there were multiple armed men here and some of them had been sent to sweep the floors above and below where the main group was. Which of course meant the main group was on the same floor as Root's stupid party because of course it was. The building was supposed to be empty other than for the party, she learned as she listened, and with the power to the elevators cut off no one could get up to the thirtieth floor (where the party was) without taking the stairs.

What she didn't get out of it was what the group was after, though for the moment that didn't matter too much.

She waited until the man walked past her position just a bit and then knocked the grate out with one hard kick and sprang out of the vent like a panther leaping on its prey. The man let out a very unprofessional shriek when she landed on him, and she shut him up by choking him unconscious with the strap from his gun. Her gun now.

The radio communicator, which had fallen on the ground when she'd pounced, crackled to life.

"What's going on down there? I'm sending backup."

Shaw ignored the radio in favor of looting the unconscious man for weaponry. There was a very nice combat knife strapped to his ankle that she inspected with satisfaction.

"Guess I made Santa's nice list after all," she said to herself as she tucked the knife away.

Her eyes fell on the bag the man had been carrying. Now what would an armed thug be carrying around in a bag with him? She unzipped it.

"Well, Merry Christmas to me."

Other than the disturbing amount of C4 in the bag, there was also a spare earpiece communication device of some sort that wouldn't do her much good on its own. Or wouldn't if she didn't have the world's most powerful AI on her side who was hopefully paying attention.

"Can you call Reese on this thing?" she asked as she put the earpiece in. She'd call Root next, but she wanted Reese to get his ass in gear and give her some backup first.

There was some static on the line and then the sound of a phone ringing.

___________________

"It suits you very well," Reese said as he adjusted the headband on Bear. It had been hard to get the red puffball to stay on Bear's nose, but the fake antlers had fit him perfectly and he looked very handsome in his festive cape. And more importantly, Shaw would hate it.

Up in the front seat, the radio blared Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and drowned out the sound of a cell phone vibrating in the cup holder.

___________________

"What the fuck is he doing? Fine. Whatever. Put me through to Root."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew Shaw's attention. At least two, probably three, and somehow she doubted they'd come down to invite her to the party.

"Hold that thought for one second," she told the Machine. "Gotta go serve some holiday punch."

___________________

Root was suffering horribly. She'd finally managed to get herself into a good position to watch the man at the computer across the hall, and she could now clearly see that he was trying to hack into the system here, undoubtedly to gain access to some of the company accounts or something equally boring and unoriginal.

The problem she was having though was that he was terrible at his job and she had to sit there quietly and watch him fumble about like he'd never broken into the servers of a security technology company before. Pathetic. It was all she could do to stop herself from going over there and ripping the keyboard away from him and doing it herself.

She was weighing the pros and cons of doing just that when the leader of the group walked by having a frantic conversation with one of the other men. The fact they were speaking in German would have been an issue if the Machine hadn't helpfully translated it all for her.

Apparently they'd lost contact with the three men they'd sent to look into a disturbance on the floor below and they needed to start the elevators again so their backup on the third floor could reach them.

A disturbance. Root smiled. She knew exactly what sort of disturbance could take down three armed men with no effort.

With perfect timing, a voice that wasn't the Machine's whispered in Root's ear. "Root? You there?"

Root moved a little further away from the others and lowered her voice. "Hey, sweetie. I hear you're having fun."

"What the hell is going on up there?"

"Oh, the usual. They're just after money. But Shaw, the hacker they brought with them is terrible. You wouldn't believe what he's--"

"Root. Focus. What's your situation like there?"

"There's only a few men left here besides the leader but they're going to restart the elevators to bring up more people from the third floor."

"The elevators, huh?" There was some rustling over the line. "Say, Root, can the Machine confirm that there's no one else in the building below us other than the bad guys?"

"She says there isn't. Why? What're you going to do?"

"You'll see. Or hear."

And then Shaw was gone leaving Root still stuck in a room full of useless hostages and idiotic thieves. Why did Shaw get to have all the fun?

"This whole sitting here doing nothing thing isn't really working for me," she told the Machine, "so unless you have a bet--"

A deafening boom roared through the room and the entire building shook. Overhead the emergency sprinklers switched on, drenching the already panicked hostages. The man in charge of the thieves and one of his men were yelling at each other in German again and waving their guns around.

They were, the Machine informed her, going to take the hostages up to the top floor and leave the hacker and one or two guards behind here to finish the job.

"Sounds like it's my turn to have some fun then."

And finally the Machine agreed with her.

___________________

In the five minutes between hearing footsteps on the stairs and calling Root, Shaw had incapacitated all three men who'd come to find her. One of the men now had a broken arm, another a broken nose and three less teeth, and the last one had a few minor stab wounds he'd most likely survive.

Shaw had an exciting array of cuts and bruises, and a bullet graze on one arm that wasn't serious but did bleed an annoying amount. But more importantly she had a captive audience (literally) to watch her strap the C4 she'd found to an office chair. She'd gagged all the men when she'd tied them up of course, but she could see the sheer terror in their eyes at the sight of all the plastic explosives in her hands.

It took a lot of effort to pry apart the doors to the elevator shaft and brace them open with a metal pipe. Way down below she could see an elevator car descending to pick up the backup that Root had managed. Just in time.

There were probably other ways to stop the elevator, but Shaw had been shot, punched, and skinned both her elbows in the vents. Also she'd ripped her second most favorite tank top. There would be no mercy today. Especially not for the Christmas sweater that was undoubtedly still in the elevator shaft somewhere.

"You can't do that!" One of her prisoners had somehow spit out his gag. "You'll bring the whole building down with us in it!"

Shaw grinned at him as she wheeled the chair of C4 over to the elevator and held it balancing on the edge.

"Yippee ki yay, motherfucker," she said with a wink. And then she let go of the chair.

___________________

"In here, Shaw," Root called without turning around.

"Yeah, you left a trail of unconscious bodies leading right to you," said Shaw from behind her. "How'd the one guy end up hanging from the ceiling fan anyway? And what are you doing on there?"

Root didn't look away from the computer screen. "They were trying to hack in, but Leeroy here is very bad at his job." She gestured at the hacker tied to the chair next to her. "I'm giving him a free demonstration on how to do his job. He should be thanking me." Which he might have been able to do if he hadn't passed out in terror when she'd threatened him with her taser earlier. It wasn't her fault that he was missing out. "This server was cut off from any external network before, but I've given the Machine access now. Might come in handy. You never know."

"Uh-huh, and what happened to all the hostages?"

Root finally looked away from the screen and forgot what she'd been going to say when she caught sight of Shaw. The blood, the sweat, the ripped tank top, messy hair, and bare arms. This was definitely what she'd asked Santa for. Her glasses were in serious danger of fogging up.

"Root? The hostages?"

"Hmm? Oh, them. I locked them out on the roof. They were loud." And then at Shaw's disbelieving look she added, "Well, I did deal with all the bad guys first so it's not like they're really in danger and the Machine has helicopters en route to come rescue them before they freeze to death." It wasn't like she'd left them out there without their coats or anything. She wasn't heartless!

"So are we done here then? Because I think the NYPD are probably going to be crawling all over here looking for whoever blew out all the windows on the ten lowest floors of the building."

"The Machine is taking care of that as well. We'll be gone before they get here." But Shaw was probably right and they should leave. She got up and straightened out her clothes, which drew her attention to the fact that Shaw did not have on the sweater she'd agreed to wear tonight. "What happened to your sweater, Shaw?"

"Tragic accident. Couldn't be avoided. Next time don't make me wait twenty minutes in the car with Reese and maybe the sweater will survive."

"We'll see about that." She had extras back in their apartment.

They had to take the stairs back down through the ruined building since the elevators were...no longer in service and Root spent the long walk down enjoying the view of Shaw's back and arms. Sure this hadn't been the smoothest number they'd ever handled, but the important thing was they'd both had fun.

And maybe, she thought as she watched Shaw pause on a stair landing and use her shirt tail to wipe some sweat off her face, they had just enough time for a little more fun. Making out in a stairwell hadn't been where she'd expected her day to end up, but the Machine had chosen her for her ability to adapt and improvise so she gave it her all. And while the remnants of the flames from the earlier explosion still flickering around them weren't really the same as a yule log in the hearth, it still felt very seasonal.

Even the stuffed reindeer head on her shirt that kept jabbing Shaw in the stomach when they kissed couldn't ruin the moment.

___________________

"What happened to your sweater?" Reese asked right as Shaw asked, "What the hell happened to my dog?"

To make matters worse, Root was already taking pictures of Bear with her phone which meant the humiliating reindeer cosplay Reese had forced on Bear was being immortalized. Shaw resolved to steal Root's phone later and delete the evidence.

"I got a text I'm assuming was from the Machine that told me not to worry about the rather large explosion in the building I'm parked under," Reese said. "Why do I always miss all the fun?"

"That's what you get for making me listen to shitty music," Shaw said as she opened the door to let Bear back into the car. "Also, you're too tall to crawl through air ducts. Let's get out of here before someone shows up asking questions."

She figured she had a few more hours before all the excitement from the day wore off and she started feeling all the bruises she'd gotten, and she planned to make good use of that time. Getting Root out of the goddamn reindeer sweater was definitely a top priority for multiple reasons.

"Didn't expect Christmas Eve to end with a bang," Reese said as they drove away.

Root piped up from the backseat. "Actually the banging hasn't start--"

Shaw smacked the radio button on and some horribly cheerful song about snow drowned Root out.

[ohgodmyeyes]

hi! I was curious as to what are both your fav and least fav versions of anakin? (like aotc, rots, old force ghost, clone wars, etc)

This is such an exciting question, but I'll try to be succinct instead of long-winded and boring. (My stories are already there for that.) Here's a quick rundown of a few different Anakins, from my most treasured to the one (and only one) I tend to side-eye: 

ROTJ Anakin / Force Ghost Anakin - I'm grouping these guys together, because I love them all for the same reason, and that reason is that they DID it. ROTJ Anakin is the Anakin who finds himself again; who takes responsibility for his family, and a huge step toward atoning for the things he's done. He spends ROTJ slowly changing; we see it in how he regards the Emperor, and the way he regards Luke. The closest thing he’s ever going to do to getting his wife back, realistically, is saving his son and finally openly defying Palpatine. It doesn’t matter that anyone else knows Vader has been rescued from himself, or that he was really a good man all along. Luke knows, and that’s enough; it’s part of why their relationship is so special to me. Luke is the only living person who says a proper goodbye to Anakin: He knew all along that it was worth it to try to know him. That’s beautiful.

His journey isn't finished at this stage, exactly, but his he's in a better place than he's ever been, and I love him for it. He's hope personified, even for the very worst of us.

As an aside— physicality isn't a barrier to any of this; I love him all busted up and dying, I love him as a fully-healed Sebastian Shaw, and as a pretty, young Hayden Christensen.

Padawan Anakin / AOTC Anakin / Jedi Quest Anakin - In second place is a much younger iteration of him— a sad, lonely kid who's easily excitable, and dangerous, somehow, without being at all frightening. He's a mixed-up kid who's had a less-than-ideal upbringing, bound to an ancient prophecy no one knows enough about. He cries out constantly to be held and loved; he's got his heart in his hand, and he's always ready to give it away to the next person who shows him kindness— or who even just needs him. 

He's still so compassionate and well-intentioned at this point in his life, even when it doesn't benefit him. He can be petty and sensitive, although anyone would be, if they had to bear the kind of weight Anakin carries on his own shoulders at that age. His emotions sometimes run amok, but his heart is still so good... and more importantly than that, he knows it. He still has hope, for himself and for others, despite the overwhelming sense of 'otherness' he tends to feel. That's what sets him apart from Vader for me, even though I think AOTC Ani resembles the ultimate, 'suited' Darth Vader a lot more than the Anakin we meet at the beginning of ROTS. 

Plus— although this is fairly irrelevant— AOTC Anakin happens to be Anakin at peak hotness. No damn wig is going to change that, nor is the sad fact of my own rapidly-advancing age. :) 

Little Kid Anakin / TPM Anakin - The sweet baby version of Anakin comes in next for me. The altruism he struggles to hang onto until he finally falls is front-and-centre at this stage. He's tough by necessity (obviously, he's a fucking slave), but he isn't jaded yet— largely owing to his mother. Even when he loses Qui-Gon and gets to the Temple and struggles to integrate, his heart just stays enormous. God knows what he's already been through, but he never stops trying, and there's nothing fake about his confidence at this stage in his life. I love that; I think we could all stand to be a bit more like nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker.

There's an Anakin & Reader story on ao3 by @itohan called 'Kuebiko', and it's a beautiful depiction of what it might be like to be a caregiver for a very young Anakin. It's headed for some pretty sad places, to be sure, but there's a lot of sweetness and lovely (sometimes chilling) little insights into his character that I don't otherwise get to see very often. Anyone else with a soft spot for child Ani should go and read it.

'Classic' Vader, between the end of ROTS and the end of ANH - This is an enormous chunk of time, but again, I think it's more helpful than not if I just group these iterations of him together, at least for the purpose of compiling this list. It's horrific and tragic and a devastating waste of potential, but Anakin really does spend a huge amount of time mired in a thick, dark cloud of grief and anger. He convinces himself of a lot of stupid shit during this period in his life: 'Anakin is dead, I'm fulfilling my destiny, I can get Padmé back, she'd love all this ORDER I'm bringing, blah blah blah'. Every ounce of his extraordinary control is purely surface-level; he's a raging wildfire inside for a longer period of time than I think nearly anyone else could realistically sustain (as in, Kylo Ren was always going to die at 30, and I'm surprised I didn't, too lol).

He's empowered by his shitstain of a 'Master' to hurt and kill people against everything that once made him who he was, and no one can know he suffers for it (or for the loss of his wife, or the family he wishes he could have raised with her). No one can know anything about him; he's a man playing a part who can't ever take off his costume. Everything hurts him, and the only places he can turn to for comfort are the battlefield, and the inside of his own head. He has profound disabilities of every imaginable nature, and receives no more than the most cursory physical maintenance to remedy them. He escapes into his missions, but every one of those is a slight against his own better nature. His personal pursuits don't benefit him either; for basically twenty years of his life, he's living in an emotional storm— it ebbs and flows, but it never lets up, and his entire existence is set up specifically to reward the most despicable of his behaviour.

He doesn't make very many genuine emotional breakthroughs, because he's not allowed— just tricked and lied to and manipulated and taken advantage of, even when he's the one ostensibly in 'control'. His life only starts again when Luke comes into it; again, one more reason their connection is so special to me.

I'm going to go ahead and recommend another Anakin/Reader story by a different author; it's called 'mrfiveohone' by DarthDoritos, and it's on ao3. It's a brilliant exploration of what a strange, budding relationship with a youngish Vader might look like, and just an overall beautiful portrait of escalating intimacy on top of that. Another one I would highly recommend (completion status notwithstanding) is called 'Afterimage', and it is by garnettrees, also on ao3. It's a very dark Vaderdala story that gets right inside Anakin's head in the most wonderful ways. He never stops loving Padmé, and in that, he never truly stops being who he is. 

This is the Vader I (admittedly somewhat dramatically) see the most of myself in. It puts us at-odds sometimes, but my urge to get up underneath that mask and make him feel worthy of his own name is insurmountable. I love him because if I didn't, I'd be in trouble. 

Which brings us to TCW Anakin… who is, perhaps, the only version of Anakin I can honestly say I don't care for. Which is fine, because the show itself really isn't my kind of thing. Suffice to say, that particular depiction of him departs so dramatically from any of the other ones I've known (or listed here) that I just can't get into it, no matter how hard I try. 

I'm going to end this with a shout-out to Lego Anakin! I've never seen a shitty version of Lego Anakin, whether in a cartoon or on my desk at home. :)

Thank you for asking, anon. That was fun to write out!

[insxparablxduo]

Drabble based on my fantasy au. It’s ok if u don’t read as y’know its an au and not cannon but yeah I had fun with this one.

Oh, this was annoying as fuck. 

At first fighting a dancer and a soldier class seemed easy. Almost stupidly so. Surely they were left behind to die here by them or any other group brave enough to challenge him. Right? Wrong. 

If it was true they'd have killed the twins by now. Maybe they shouldn't have underestimated them so much. The truth of the matter was they were left in charge of this keep under direct commands from their 'master'. They were part of the cause for so many peoples suffering, and they had done it willingly? They weren't even the first 'boss' they've fought, so clearly they were a lot stronger than what meets the eye, and they were learning that lesson now. 

Dancers are known to be fairly weak and incredibly vulnerable to attacks, especially since they wore little to no armor. Their attacks weren't all that powerful either as they weren't particularly strong nor did most really even know what to do with weapons other than to block or even parry. The only difficult thing about them was they were hard to hit, but would go down easy just with a couple of attacks. 

Soldiers on the other hand wore hefty armor and carried great swords or a sword and a heavy and thick shield. This one wasn't very different. He had a great sword and pretty bulky armor. Which meant they would just have to chip away at his armor since he had no other protection. 

This fight should've been fairly easy. Especially with how much stronger they got to make it all the way up here. This should've been so easy, fighting 10 waves of their grunts back to back should've been easier.

Oh, how wrong they were.

First off, since when the fuck did dancers get so strong? It made sense to target and pick her off first since she was clearly the weakest. Whenever they tried to attack her via magic, sword, arrow, whatever her brother would always get in the way and cover for her. No matter how many of them went to attack her. It became clear if they wanted to attack her they would have to get rid of the brother first. No matter, dancers didn't really do much, but give their teammates a little motivation that helped them fight just a bit better, right? Wrong again.

Apparently they also had the capability to wake those who were passed out. They had targeted all of their attacks on her brother and paid her absolutely no mind. All she was doing was dancing without seemingly a care in the world or mind to what was going on around her. Slowly they had worn down her brother.  The only challenging thing at first is he would look at her and suddenly his attacks would get much stronger, or somehow he was much more agile than he should be, and he was evading more blows than should be possible. 

When they spared her a glance they would find themselves entranced and open to attacks or a fog would come over their minds and when they came out of it apparently they were fighting their other teammates. Matt seemed to have the later problem the most. Distantly, Janne remembers that dancers danced to please the gods. Considering how effective she was, she must've been favored by the gods. Or perhaps she was so skilled they couldn't help, but favor her? Either way, she was annoying.

When her brother fell, they let out a collective sigh of relief. He was much harder to take down then he should've been. They were already pretty exhausted. Their health was pretty low, and they didn't have many curative lefts. They would have to end this soon.

That proved to be harder than first thought. Maybe it was something about these two. There was a lot more than met the eye. 

The first obstacle in fighting her was they actually had to look at her now. Her moves were now affecting them a lot more now that they weren't just glancing at her. Her first set made them a lot slower. Janne did his best to attack her with his arrows, but she seemed to weave through them gracefully as if they were a part of her dance. Anytime Mat or Kataya got closer to her, they seemed to either immediately get charmed (Mat more so than Kat) by her once again or just completely missed her.

Despite most of Mat’s attacks coming from above as he jumped ridiculous high up and slammed down with all intentions to spear right through her, he would always miss by a hair as she just slightly moved out of his way. Even with Kataya backing him up by staying firmly on the ground fighting toe to toe on her. Sometimes the dancer would move out of the way and Kataya would follow her only to barely miss getting speared by Mat as he came down. Kat seemed to have the most luck as she managed to cut up her shaw that she twirled around and even the lightest cuts on her person. Still, for the most part she seemed to escape their reach and even got the two to almost hit each other and my own arrows weren’t helping much. 

Even as the two kept trying to hit her with their lance and sword she would just avoid it all no matter how fast they seemed to be, she was faster. It almost looked the three of them were dancing with the way Kat swung her sword and Mat tried to pierce through and stab her, she just weaved around it all, keeping the same grace she had once they started. Eventually Matt or Kat would move back to catch their breath, giving him and Lina a better opening to try and hit her. 

Lina being the only mage of the group took pride in her roll. He knew she had to be exhausted by now, but she maintained the same power as she kept attacking. Her attacks seemed to have the most success, but every now and then the girl would just hop around her magic as if it was nothing. Before they could even think of a plan to take her down, she did a couple backflips away from them. What was she gaining distance for?

She closed her eyes as she started her next dance. The group tried their best to stop her, but somehow she continued to avoid all their attacks. Her set seemed to be over, and she collapsed for a moment painting and looking up at the sky. Suddenly the clouds broke and a warm tray of sunlight enveloped her and her brother. Grass seemed to grow around his passed out body, and then he got up. 

Oh fuck.

It just got harder from there.

The two groups fought in a frenzy eager to get this over with already. The sister that just stayed behind was now attacking them too after she got up again. Janne switched to being a bard. Collapsing his bow back into a lyre, he sang to give his own team some motivation as it was clear his own attacks were doing little to nothing. On the bright side, this seemed to stop Matt from getting charmed by the sister. The not so bright side it somehow made the sisters dancers stronger. Even as he sang ancient tales and played beautiful music that made his teammates buzz with unrivaled energy that they needed to keep going. It also made his enemies crawl with anxiety. Still, she danced to the rhythm but, seemingly unaffected and danced in a way that counteracted the effect of his own singing.

It seemed that a battle of the arts has now started between the two.

As he kept singing she kept dancing and neither planned to stop till they became the victor. This was also a battle of skill and endurance and Janne didn’t plan to lose. He was regarded as not only the best storyteller in his caravan, but also in many other villages as well. He knew countless stories and had a fine ear for music. Despite his age, he had already masted the lyre. Her dancing would be no match for him.

Sometime after their own little battle began, she started to throw knives. Taking on a more active role to fight them. Still she didn’t stop dancing. Was she showing off? Unfortunately this left her a little more opening to attacks and Kataya focused in on her. 

As the battleground became littered with knives, when had to wonder where was she keeping all of this? Another was when would she run out? Soon enough, that was answered as she reached behind her and suddenly the chains that she had wrapped around her upper body fell to the floor.

After that she seemed to be more focused on fighting then dancing as she started to wield a chain mace. Her agility was still ever apparent of course. She had disguised her true weapon, (?) as something decorative, this whole time. She must be getting desperate as her brother seemed ready to fall again. Despite being awoken at seemingly full strength after being passed out, his moves were more sluggish and weaker. 

Janne considers this a win. Still, he doubts his arrows would be much help, so he continues his supportive role as a bard. 

It wasn’t much longer before they finally managed to win the battle against these ‘generals’. The group has never been so relived before. They barely managed to survive that with the skim of their teeth. The thought of having to fight another general makes them uneasy. If they wanted to fight their leader and not only win but survive, they would need to get much stronger. This battle was proof of how much harder it was going to get from here on. This battle was much harder than the last 5 ‘bosses’ before them.

[luci-cunt]

Tell me about Magneto🤭

MAY YOU CAN’T SEE IT BUT IM KISSING YOU SO PASSIONATELY RIGHT NOW

Ok so listeeennnn tooooo meeeee, okokokok, so a while ago I went on this James McAvoy bender--don’t ask--and I saw he was in the X-Men movies, whic hi haven’t watched since the Wolverine movies/ Last Stand when I was like, actually a baby. So anyways I flipped them on thinking “yeah what could go wrong?” except I watched them in the wrong order

Anyways here’s an essay on why neither Erik or Prof X was right and the actual answer would be to compromise and these movies how how because they’re both too stubborn and couldn’t it destroyed their friendship and fucked everything up. 

Also the fact that X-Men: First Class is the best Villain origin story to ever cross the screen.

Ok so spoilers ahead for X-Men: Days of Future Past and X-Men: First Class

Now, it should be noted that I’m no an X-Men expert I just love these two movies. 

So for some context: First Class and Days of Future Past are both kind of prequels, except DoFP is a prequel-sequel?? becuase of time travel?? I’ll explain don’t worry. The point is, they take place in the past where all the characters are younger. James McAvoy plays Professor X (who I’ll just be calling X for this whole thing), Michael Fassbender plays Magneto (aka Erik), oh and Jennifer Lawrence plays Mystic--who will be appearing in this essay XDD. 

Alright so first of all have a plot summary: DoFP is about Wolverine getting sent back in time so he can convince a younger Prof X to stop Raven (aka Mystic) from getting caught by this guy Trask who then uses her DNA to create super weapons that irradiate all mutants. The current future Wolverine is in, he, prof X, Magneto, and a few other mutants are trying their best to survive but it’s a losing battle and their only hope is to literally change the past. 

This one takes place after the events of First Class, which I will now explain. 

So in First Class a younger Prof X and Magneto team up to find and recruit bb mutants to X’s school because the government wants to use Mutants to help fight the Russians (oh head this takes placee in the 1960′s right before the Cuban Missile Crisis). This is essentially a Magneto origin story and also--in my opinion--the best villain origin story to ever cross the screen. 

OK so now some details on our main characters: 

Magneto/ Erik Lehnsherr: a literal holocaust survivor who’s only goal in the begining of the story is hunting/ killing nazi’s, specifically one nazi who tortured him specifically and I will get into him later don’t worry. 

Professor X: super smart rich white boy with a heart of gold but also enough naivete to make a lamb look like a Stephen King character. 

Already you can see very stark differences between the two of them. Erik is set up as being a staunch pessimist while X is a vivid optimist, and that makes sense. X’s grown up sheltered and never wanting for anythign while Erik suffered a trainwreck of the greatest traumas in human existence hitting him over and over and over again from like age fucking 9. 

Ok also tehre’s J-Law’s character Raven, who is a mutant that can change her skin to look like anythign she wants it to but her actual form is blue/ scaly/ “not pretty” (bullshit but ok). She met X when she broke into his house one night to steal some food and then they became friends, their relationship will become important later but for now that’s all u need to know. 

ok so anyways, in the begining of First Class Erik is hunting + killing Nazi’s, specifically looking for this one called Schmidt because when Erik was little he and his family were carted away to a concentration camp where Schmidt witness Erik use his metal bending powers and decided to “train” him. aka physically/ mentally abuse him for years. The whole thing starts with Schmidt trying to get Erik to lift a metal coin with his mind, when he can’t (because he’s a child who didn’t even know he had his powers until literally hours ago) Schmidt puts his mother’s life on the line and when he still can’t Schmidt kills her. This sends Erik it’s a rage and he crushes some nazi heads but then Schmidt is still standing and mentions how “oh gotcha, so it’s rage and pain that’s the key to your powers huh?” anyways this tidbit and the coin will become important later trust me--

Meanwhile Prof X is graduating from Oxford/ generally being an idiot pretty boy. He’s a telepath who knows about his powers and has used them from an early age. He also wrote some big paper on mutants, which gets the attention of an FBI agent who witnesses the villains being mutants and wants his advice

However, the villains just so happen to be Schmidt, who’s going by “Shaw” now, so when X and the agents catch up to him Erik is already there and on a mission to murder his ass. Some bs happens, Erik tries to pull a submarine out of the water but can’t (T-T this will be important) and X jumps into the water to stop him because the mental stress is literally killing him. 

That’s how they meet. 

It’s important to note: up until this point, Erik didn’t know there were other mutants, so meeting X, who’s friends with Raven, is kind of a big deal for him. He and X become very fast friends and also have a very homoerotic montage where they become dads for a bunch of mutant teenagers, because they realize they can use X to track all these baby mutants, collect them, and train them so they don’t grow up fearing their powers. 

Anyways, the other thing about this is that now that Erik has this newfound group of people that are just like him, he’s opening up, and X is helping him realize he’s actually so much more powerful when he taps into happy memories rather than fueling himself on pain and rage. This scene always makes me sob oh my god--

Also, fellas--is it gay to “access the brightest cortex” of your homies memories and remind him that hate and pain are not good motivators before reminding him that he has good memories he can draw on and showing him that his life has not been entirely painful?

YEs, the answer is yes are u shitting me??

ok so anyways--something to note about this is that X and Erik are both very protective of all their new kids, but Erik is especially so. I’m going to be getting into this more but just tab thsi thought for later :)

Now, the plot’s kicking up a bit, because it’s at this point that Erik and X capture one of Shaw’s (aka the nazi’s) main lackies and they question her until she gives them the info that Shaw’s planning on using the Cuban Missile Crisis tensions to start a nuclear war to wipe out all humans so that only mutants survive in the new world. 

Obviously they want to stop him, but also, you can kind of tell that Erik is not totally against this plan, which only gets to be more later but that’s for later. 

Right now I wanna take a quick break to talk about Raven--aka Mystic, aka J-Law. She and X were childhood friends and she kind of clung to him because she doesn’t have family/ anyone she can really be herself around besides him. 

X insistently says throughout the movie he sees her as a sister, but it’s kinda obvious she’d be down to fuck. She has this big plotline where she keeps trying to get X to understand why it’s so frustrating for her to have to be using energy to look “human.” Because her natural form is the one with the blue skin. X doesn’t understand this because his power is easy to hide, it’s simple for him to just fake-human and have no one be any wiser, Raven, however, doesn’t have that luxury and when she tries to explain this to X it just flies over his head, insisting she hide her natural self to better fit in if that’s what she really wants. 

Queue Erik, who comes in as a king of self love. He’s pretty blunt about it, but his point is basically “you’re wasting energy by constantly pretending you’re something you’re not--stop” and she responds essentially with “yeah but then no one will like me” to which he responds “then make them.”  

Raven’s relationship with both the boys is used through both First Class and DoFP to really highlight their faults. X believes humans and mutants can coexist but he thinks we go about doign that by completely ignoring the pages of history of abuse mutants have suffered--and it’s mostly because he hasn’t experienced it. 

Erik on the other hand will do everything and anything he possibly can to protect his new family/ people, and in his head that means exterminating any and all threats. By the end of the movie--humans become one of those threats. 

The point of this whole ramble is that: they both represent utter opposites, BUT, X’s blind optimism and Erik’s blind pessimism are equally bad.

Ok so back to plot for a second to prove this. 

Shaw is revealed to be a mutant himself and he also has a helmet that can block telepathy. (yes it’s the magneto helmetjasjd;fkjaskl;dfjasldkj jsut wait).

His plan’s complicated but basically: he’s going to poke America and Russia until they pop and incite a nuclear war. And it works. The whole pre-climax of the film sees X, Erik, Raven, and the other mutants all working double time to stop Shaw’s plan (AND IT INVOLVES ERIK SUCCESSFULLY PULING A SUBMARINE OUT OF THE WATER!!! BECAUSE NOW HE’S USING HAPPINESS INSTEAD OF ANGER/ PAIN!!!). 

Anywho, they’re doing all this, but then some bullshit happens, the plane they’re on crashes oh and -- yeah there’s this part where Erik uses himself as a seatbelt for X it’s fantastic but anyways--

This is finally the climax of the film. 

Also possibly the greatest scene in film history in my humble opinion. 

Because listen--in order to stop Shaw they need the helmet off of him so that X can telepathically freeze his ass and they can arrest him or whatever. So they split up--Erik rushes into the wreckage to find Shaw and X stays behind ready to freeze the guy as soon as the helmet comes off but--

Well, vengence is just too tempting. 

So when Erik gets Shaws helmet off, X freezes the guy, and he’s ecstatic, at least until he realizes Erik plans on killing Shaw. 

He’s pleading with Erik because this is vengence and he can’t chose that but Erik just puts on the helmet and--taunts Shaw, pulling out the coin Shaw taunted him with all those years ago and in a mimickry of the game Shaw forced him to play as a child and killed his mother over--he slowly floats the coin at Shaws head, telling him “I’m going to count to ten, and all you have to do is move.” 

But he can’t--because X is holding him--and that’s the point, Erik wants him as helpless as he was, and X can’t let his hold on Shaw go because that would mean putting Erik in danger but he’s also in Shaws head so he feels the coin go through his head as though Erik was doing it to him and the fucking cinematography in this scene is so fuaksdjf;laksjd;fjasd;lkfjadsl;asdjf;ljL:DKJFL:SDKJFL:D KFUCKKKKK

This scene is cinematic perfection don’t fucking lOOK at me unless you agree.

T-T and then, it only gets worse, because now Erik’s finally finished his original purpose--killing the man who killed his mother and ruined his life--and now he’s got a new one, aka protecting his new family aka the mutants. 

AND HE’S ONLY PROVEN RIGHT THAT HUMANS ARE A THREAT BECAUSE THEY TURN AND TRY TO KILL ALL THE MUTANTS IN THE PLANE CRASH AND JSUT--

And so he stops all the missiles flying their way, and turns them around on the humans and X has to stop him but he’s not listening and the rawest fucking line in the whole movie comes when X says

“There’s hundreds of men on those ships--innocent men. They’re just following orders!” 

And Erik simply replies, “I’ve been at the mercy of men ‘just following orders’--never again.” 

And then he goes to blow up the shipsthen one of the other characters goes to shoot Erik and he deflects the bullet wtihout thinking right. into. X’s. back. 

Paralysing him. 

And just akjd;fjasdflkjasd;lfkj this scene speaks for itself

Listen just--akjdsf;ljasdlk jguys this movie has no right being this good.

And then the movie closes off with X and Erik literally begging one another to just see it their way--because they both want so badly to be on the same side but they’re too stubborn and they refuse to see compromise and just ajkdf;lja;sdkfja;sdljkfsadlkf

Ok I realize now that I barely talked about DoFP but this is already so long. The major things I was going to bring up was teh absolutely fantastic bitter exes energy that McAvoy and Fassbender bring to that movie it’s excellent but also the fact that X is literally the only person Erik goes out of his way not to kill despite standing directly in the way of Erik’s goal. 

Like, you remember my whole deal with Raven??? yeah that’s x10 in DoFP (which takes place quickly after this movie) yeah so her and Erik are close, and shown to be close, but the second he thinks she endangers his fam he literally 180′s so quick and tries to straight up murder her. 

BUT HE FUCKING BENDS THE BULLET AROUND X’s HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! X!!!!!!!!!! WHO’S LITERALLY 100% AGAINST HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST

Ok, that’s all. By the way I don’t want to like, up your expecations too much because I actually kind of hate X-Men: First Class almost as much as I love it?? it’s very..... of it’s era, and cheesy, and dumb--but fucking magneto you guys holy SHIT

[asleepinawell]

hiii not sure if it’s okay to ask a poi question but here it goes - i recall seeing you expressing (at least some level of) discontent with what Harold has done on the show (to root, to shaw and all those hypocritical decisions throughout). would you like to share more about your thoughts on this character? tks

always okay to ask poi questions. since the fandom is pretty small these days i was going to put my answer under a read more line so people could ignore it more easily if it’s a subject that bothers them but apparently you can’t add read more lines in ask answers? thanks tumblr! so if this is a topic that annoys anyone, please, just skip it. also, while some of this is facts or based on facts a lot of stuff is obviously my opinion and therefore not canon and not the only opinion etc etc.

in general, i wasn’t crazy about the way harold treated any of the other characters (with the exception of john who he had a pretty great relationship with). for root, there was the refusal to call her root, which i found very gross and uncomfortable (like, in general you should respect what people ask to be called, but also it was linked to the traumatic death of her childhood friend and he absolutely knew that so fuck that shit). he even said something along the lines of 'john reese is what you prefer to be called' to john right in the first episode? he was okay with using reese's fake name, but not hers because he made her identity into a power game.

he also tended to be..hmm, patronizing is the wrong word (and lbr root was extremely patronizing to everyone) but more that he treated her like ‘rehabilitating’ her was his pet project or something. i mean one thing that always struck me was his ‘what happened to you’ line in bad code and then the subsequent decision to put her in a mental institution instead of, you know, jail, which is where every other perp they ran into tended to go. he saw her as broken and flawed and in need of his help which, to me, came off as hypocritical and belittling.

also, putting someone in a psychiatric institution where they get pumped full of drugs when they don’t need to be? really fucked up! even if you argue root needed therapy/was depressed whatever, that’s not what they were treating her for. they were treating her for ‘delusions’ and ‘hearing voices’ which were...real things. like, the machine was speaking to her. harold knew that. he let her get put on all sorts of medication and put in solitary confinement and oh yes also her doctor was a really fucked up dude, something harold could easily have dug up if he’d bothered. also the whole ‘killing off a woman to advance a man’s character development thing’ is, uh, a bad trope. to put it mildly. i could write a lot more about his shit with root but let’s move on.

in some ways, his attitude towards shaw bothers me most. he consistently treats her like she’s violent and unhinged because she has aspd and despite the large amount of evidence to the contrary. she is, in fact, the most cool and controlled member of the team (not counting carter) and the least likely to go off half-cocked. shaw does play into this, but mostly only with harold and only through her words, not her actions. she knows what he thinks of her. when she’s captured by samaritan, harold gives up on her very quickly in a way he would never have done for john (and probably not for root either at that point). shaw’s reaction to sim!harold in 6741 of ‘did you even look for me’ says a lot about what she thinks he thinks of her. his whole ‘binary moral compass’ line to her is also, uh, heavily projecting. shaw and carter had the strongest moral compasses of the group. by a long shot. 

moving on to the machine. so first and foremost, if you’re creating a sentient being, whether that’s having a kid or making a self-aware AI, you don’t create something with the intention of locking it up and ignoring it forever. (and he was creating her for the bush/cheney administration???? who TM pointed out was terrible if he somehow had managed to miss that. root called them something like the worst people imaginable and she wasn’t exaggerating). was it too dangerous to let TM be free from the get go? maybe! but then don’t fucking make an AI you think can destroy the world, buddy. there are a lot of reasons he made TM and none of them make this acceptable to me. once TM had clearly proven to be not a threat and trying to help he continued to ignore her and act like she was dangerous.

harold always needed very badly to feel like he had the moral high ground and not be the person who made a bad decision, which yes, is probably partly due to the trauma from what happened to nathan but that doesn’t make it okay when being paralyzed by being unable to make a decision got people killed. more than once! also, most of his morals got tossed out when they weren’t convenient. wouldn’t kill the senator to save the world because killing is bad! next episode he’s like if anything happens to grace kill all of them. cool story, still murder.

i wanna conclude this rant by talking about harold as a character vs harold as a person. meaning, harold as a fictional character who is used as a narrative device in a story as opposed to harold himself without the context of him being fictional. i don’t mind characters who say and do things i dislike. it’s very important to have characters you dislike as people imo. feels like an understatement. but lambet, for example, is a slimy asshole. the story is aware of this. he gets an ending a slimy asshole deserves. harold has a lot of flaws, and causes a lot of damage, gets his friends killed, and his stubborn refusal to budge on his arbitrary moral high ground lets samaritan take over and almost makes team machine lose. he gets a happy ending. with the woman he lied to (and caused a lot of pain and grief by lying to). root ends up dead, shaw gets tortured and fights her way back for root only to have her die which is kind of handwaved as ‘well she has tm with root’s voice good enough’, and john, after having rediscovered his will to live and have a life in the end of s4 goes right back to his whole dying for someone else thing. only harold gets the happy ending.

the show was actually pretty good at highlighting harold’s flaws and making them interesting, and then it kind of forgot that at the end in terms of story outcome. like, if harold had suffered enough to get a happy ending, then why didn’t anyone else get one? so my annoyance was with the narrative’s failure to satisfactorily conclude the characters’ arcs. (and for the record, i’m not one of the people who think he should have died. i don’t think it would have served a point. also death doesn’t equal redemption to me).

so, yeah, not a fan of him. don’t write him in my fics since my dislike would take time and focus away from writing about the people i do like. would probably be less bitter if they’d ended the show better. i was 300k words fic level of bitter. there was some post i saw going around recently about how if your found family show doesn’t end up with your found family together then you’ve kind of missed the whole point of found family and yeah, that.

[bad-boy-spanker]

Austere Academy:Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Green extended his hand, Jack was taken aback by the kindness in his eyes, this was the guy who spanked men to tears, he looked friendly, caring, maybe AJ was just trying to mess with him, Jack smiled & shook Green's hand warmly.

"Jack Moore, nice to meet you, Gaz"

Green chuckled to himself.

"Thank you, now I don't mind you calling me Gaz while we're alone, but if we're around others, it's probably better that you call me sir"

Call him sir, was this guy taking the piss, they were the same age.

"Now, before we get to the tour, there's some business we need to take care of"

Green led Jack over to AJ.

"AJ here told me that you kept him waiting, normally I would spank you for that, but AJ should have given you the brochure before giving you your uniform, you didn't know the rules yet, AJ did, so you will not be getting spanked, AJ will"

Jack didn't know what to say, wasn't AJ was staff, he wasn't going to spank a member of staff, was he, Jack watched as Green unclasped AJ's trousers, & pulled them down to his ankles, his Calvin Klein's soon joined them, Jack noticed the pink spots on AJ's arse where Green had slapped him, Jack already thought AJ had a nice arse, it looked even better bare, you could see the fine hairs that covered it & what looked like faint marks, maybe from a recent caning, Green sat on the bonnet of the car, grabbed AJ by the ear, & bent him over his knee, the first hard slap landed on AJ's unsuspecting arse, bringing Jack back to his senses, a red handprint was now forming over the pink spot on AJ's left arse cheek, soon followed by a similar one on the right, as Green spanked, he began admonishing AJ.

"This is the second time this has happened AJ, you're a senior, I expect better"

Jack now understood what was going on, AJ was a senior, not staff, he thought it couldn't be right a staff member getting spanked, Green spanked AJ hard & fast, barely taking a second between slaps.

"Ah-ha"

The pain had started to build in AJ's bum, he moved from side to side trying to escape Green's punishing strikes, but Green held him in place, he began focusing some of his spanks on AJ's thighs, causing AJ to buck.

"Ah-ha-ha"

Jack winced as he watched Green punish AJ, he felt for him, it was a mistake, mind you, if AJ hadn't said anything, it would be Jack in his position, his arse red & burning, after a few more minutes of harsh spanking AJ, began to cry out.

"Ah-ha-ha, I'm sorry sir, ah, it was a simple mistake, ah, it won't happen again"

Green kept on spanking, tears formed in AJ's eyes, his bum was stinging badly, he couldn't take it, he started crying.

"Please, sir, I'm sorry, please"

Green stood AJ up & bent him over the car, bending down to retrieve the belt out of AJ's trousers, which he folded & handed to Jack, Jack took the belt, confused as to why Green gave it to him, but Green's intention soon became apparent.

"Now AJ, it's only fair that Jack here has some part in your punishment, as it would have been his bare bottom I was spanking if you hadn't told me the truth, he's going to give you five with the belt, then we're done"

Still sobbing, AJ nodded his head, Green guided Jack into position behind AJ & gave him the go-ahead, Jack didn't want to spank AJ, he'd never spanked anyone before, he fumbled a bit but eventually raised the belt & brought it down on AJ's burning arse.

"Ah"

Jack felt terrible, he could already see a welt forming, but he swung again.

"Ah-ha"

Jack whipped three, four & five down quickly, but not with much force, still enough to make AJ writhe, his sore red arse jiggling as he did, Green gave a bit of a disapproving look, he didn't want Jack letting AJ off easily.

"Ah-ha-ha"

The last one had to be good, Jack didn't want to end up in Green's bad books, he drew his arm high & slammed the belt into AJ's arse.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha ha-ha"

AJ remained bent over just sobbing as Jack handed the belt back to Green, Green rubbed the boys back & helped him pull his shorts up, AJ wiped his face & put his belt back on, he threw his arms around Green, who hugged him back equally as tight, Jack didn't understand how AJ could hug the guy who had just spanked, AJ & Green hugged for a minute or so, AJ promising it wouldn't happen again, & Green reassuring him it was forgotten, AJ said goodbye to Jack & ran inside, still rubbing his sore bum, Green turned to Jack.

"Well, now you've seen how I deal with lateness, I trust you'll be at all your lessons on time, Jack"

Too fucking right, Jack thought, no way he wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

"Yes, sir"

Green's smile reappeared.

"Quick learner, that'll serve you well here, come on, I'll show you around"

Green put his arm around Jack's shoulders & led him inside, as they entered the main building, Jack was taken aback by how modern the décor was, from the outside it looked like an old, stuffy, boarding school, the interior, however, was chic, light grey walls, with light wood floors & sleek, comfy looking furniture, as Jack was admiring some of the artwork, Green was explaining the role of a senior.

"Being a senior means you can be trusted to have certain privileges, like AJ, for example, he's our driver, he picks up new students, seniors are still students, but they have responsibilities, they are also authorized to enforce discipline"

Jack turned his head at Green's last comment before he had time to ask a question, Green walked him into a classroom, it was filled with young men, all dressed in white shirts, with black ties & black trousers, each at an individual desk, all sat in front of a MacBook, Jesus they got fucking MacBook's, how was this place a reform school.

"This is the finance class, run by Mr. Ian Shaw, sorry to interrupt Mr. Shaw, just showing the new lad round"

The man stood at the front of the class turned his head, fuck he's gorgeous, he had shaggy dark hair, a stubbly chin & icy blue eyes, like some sort of vampire, he was wearing dark blue jeans, a bluey grey button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he had to be in his early forties, total DILF, big shoulders & a nice arse, Jack was enchanted.

"No worries, Mr. Green, I was just teaching Stephen Allen here a lesson in listening"

Jack was so busy drooling over Mr. Shaw, he failed to notice the man bent over the desk, his trousers around his ankles, & his smooth, toned arse, a bright shade of red, before Jack could process, Shaw slammed a plimsoll down on the lowest part of Stephens arse, Stephen let out a loud cry, without missing a beat Shaw, slapped down four swats, Stephen wriggled over the desk, Jack thought he'd probably do the same.

"Are you ready to listen to me now"

"Yes, sir"

Stephen choked out between sobs.

"Good, now stand up, put your hands on your head, & make your way to the wall"

As Stephen stood up, Jack gasped, Stephen was easily in his late thirties, dark blonde hair, buzzed short all over, a trimmed beard, with sad, blue eyes, he was a full-grown man, & here he was in tears, with his red arse on display, Green & Shaw exchanged pleasantries, as Jack stood shocked at what had unfolded, he was getting a few leering stares from some of the guys, not that he minded, there were some good looking lads in this class, Jack was finding it hard to believe that they were all ok with what had just happened, Stephen was a grown man & he willingly bent over to get his bare arse spanked, like a petulant teenager, why did they just take it, before they left to head to Green's office, Green turned to Stephen.

"I’ll see you tonight, Stephen”

Stephen looked at Green miserably, his eyes still red from crying, he gave a sniffle as they left, & Green confirmed to Jack that he would be giving Stephen an over the knee spanking before bed, Jack felt sorry for Stephen, his arse already looked so sore, he wondered how anybody could take another spanking, after what Stephen had just suffered, his thoughts were disrupted however when he was bumped into.

“Watch where you’re going”

It was that Callum guy from the brochure, before Jack could respond, Green delivered a harsh slap to Callum’s pert arse.

“Callum, where are your manners, apologize right now”

Callum huffed & sarcastically smiled at Jack.

“Sorry, newbie”

Green rolled his eyes.

“Don’t start, Callum”

Callum smirked at Green.

“Whatever”

Jack smiled at Callum’s attitude, Green wasn’t so impressed, five slaps landed on Callum’s arse, making him squirm.

“Owah”

Callum glared at Green, after the spanking Green gave AJ, Jack couldn’t believe Callum would dare answer Green back.

“Get moving Callum”

Callum sauntered off, despite his bravado, Jack noticed Callum rubbing his arse as he strutted down the hall.

“You’d be wise to steer clear of Callum there, he’s been on punishment parade for the past three months, I’d demote him from senior, but deep down, he’s a good lad, just got a bad attitude, which usually dissipates after he’s spent some time over my knee”

Jack thought about Callum’s tight arse bent over Green’s knee, he’d love to see that, Callum kicking his legs as Green spanked away his cocky attitude, he was getting hard just thinking about it, he discreetly covered his bulge as they entered Green’s office & sat down.

“Now that you’ve had the tour Jack, any questions”

Of course, he had questions, could the seniors spank other students, why did they just take it, was the mouth soaping thing real, he wanted to know everything but didn’t know where to start, so said nothing.

“Not really sir”

Green smiled at Jack, he could tell he was a bit shaken up, they all were when they first arrived, he’d adjust in time.

“Then there’s only one thing to cover before you’re dismissed.

Jack nervously shifted in his seat, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Green had to say.

“It’s time for your first Austere Spanking”

[breakable-girls-and-boys]

Crooked Smile Ch 2

~It makes it somewhat less appealing to be feeling like you're stealing someone else's broken heart~

Holly woke up with a splitting headache. Everything hurt, and she felt like she might be sick. Hobbling her way to the bathroom, she bent over the sink and groaned. She didn’t remember drinking that much at the bar. And then, suddenly, she recalled grabbing a bottle from her cabinet the moment she got home and chugging as much as she could before Rachel ripped it away from her. Holly splashed cold water on her face, dried it with a towel, and then made her way to the kitchen, where the scent of bacon flooded her nostrils.

“Oh good, I was worried you might’ve drank yourself to death,” Rachel commented as she flipped an egg in the skillet.

“I wish I was dead,” Holly mumbled, flopping into a chair at the table.

“Well, maybe this will help.” Rachel set a plate of fried eggs, bacon, and toast with jam in front of her. The smell of the greasy food made her stomach rumble, and Holly quickly dove in, fork first.

Rachel made up her own plate and sat down across from Holly.

“So, when do you go back to work?”

“Tomorrow,” Holly spoke through a mouth full of egg.

“You are so gorgeous when you talk with your mouth full,” Rachel said sarcastically.

Holly took a big bite of her toast and smiled openly. “I know.”

Both women chortled at Holly’s antics. They finished their breakfast in silence, and when they were done, Rachel stood and began to clean up.

“You don’t have to do that.” Holly’s voice was muffled by her arms as she laid her head on the table.

“Well I’m not about to let the dishes sit here and attract all manner of creatures,” Rachel retorted.

“Rachel, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I’d say you should start with a shower, cuz you got alcohol coming out of your pores,” Rachel teased gently.

“I mean about work. About Gail.”

“Oooh,” Rachel said in understanding as she dried her hands. Hanging up the towel, she turned to face Holly and rested her arms on the table. “You go to work. You do what you always do and just… keep going. It’s gonna suck, that’s for sure. But, I know you. And I know you can make it through this.” Rachel smiled at her friend, even though Holly still had her head buried in her arms.

“Plus, aren’t you like the boss now? Wasn’t that part of the deal? You come back and they give you a promotion? So you can hand off cases you don’t want, right?”

Holly finally looked up.

“Yeah. I suppose so,” Holly said as she attempted to rub the sleep from her eyes. “Ok, I’m gonna go shower. If I’m not done in 30, I’ve died and I need to you begin planning my funeral.”

The sound of Rachel’s chuckles followed Holly as she trudged her way upstairs.

————

“So,” Oliver said, plopping himself down on Gail’s desk. “Holly’s back.”

“Yep,” Gail said, popping the ‘p’.

“Traci told me.” Oliver began fiddling with his fingers. “How ya doin’, darlin’?”

“I’m fine,” Gail said flatly, leaning back in her chair.

Oliver looked her over. He could see right through that icy exterior. She wasn’t fine, but he knew that if Gail Peck didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t.

“Well good, because there’s a homicide over on Euclid. I need you to go over there with Anderson.” Oliver patted Gail on the back before walking away.

There were already multiple squad cars on the scene and the area had been taped off by the time Gail and Frankie pulled up. Both women got out of the car and made their way into the house. They stepped carefully over the blood splattered on the floor and around the broken glass in the entry way and walked to the kitchen. Chloe and Nick turned around at the detectives’ entrance.

“The victim is Richard Donaldson, 57 years old. Shot once in the abdomen. He lived alone,” Nick informed them. “Looks like a possible robbery gone bad. It appears that some items are missing and his wallet was picked clean.”

“Ok, let’s get someone to get a trace out on his credit cards in case the suspect is stupid enough to use them,” Frankie began, “And I want that wallet dusted for prints.”

“Murder weapon?” Gail asked.

“We’re still searching the house, but we haven’t found it yet,” Chloe answered.

“Canvass the neighbors, see if anyone saw something,” Gail ordered.

————

Holly was only about halfway into the autopsy when Gail Peck and a detective she did not know entered her lab.

“So whaddya got for us, doc?” the detective asked.

Holly flashed a tentative smile at Gail before directing her attention to the other woman.

“Well, he died of exsanguination from a single gun shot wound to the left upper quadrant of the abdomen. The bullet pierced the spleen, causing the massive hemorrhage,” Holly said as she pointed to the open cadaver on her table.

The detective stared blankly at Holly, before asking, “What?”

Holly chuckled softly, her mouth forming a lopsided smile.

“He bled out from a single GSW to the stomach,” Holly explained.

“Well, why didn’t you just say that?”

“She did, Frankie,” Gail said. “You’re just an idiot.”

Frankie brushed off the comment and rested her hands on the exam table.

“Did you recover the bullet?” Frankie asked.

“Hands off the table, please. And yes,” Holly said, reaching for a small plastic container and offering it to the detective.

Frankie took the proffered evidence and held it up to the light. A small caliber bullet tumbled around inside the container.

“Thanks,” Frankie said, nodding in Holly’s direction.

Frankie started for the door but stopped short when she realized Gail had not followed her.

Gail stood where she was, watching Holly as she continued to examine the cadaver. Holly could feel Gail’s eyes on her, but attempted to go about her business as if no one else was there. The tension in the room was palpable and Frankie looked back and forth between the two women.

“So, uh, have… how have you been settling in?” Gail asked tentatively, staring down at her clasped hands.

The question startled Holly. She immediately stopped what she was doing and looked up at the woman standing across the table, staring for a beat.

“Uh, good. It’s been good,” Holly mused. “It’s kind of different being in charge, but I’m enjoying it so far.”

“Good, that’s good,” Gail said.

“What about you?” Holly asked. “You’re a detective now?”

“Yeah, just this past year.”

“Hey, Shaw needs us back at the precinct, like now,” Frankie interrupted, no longer willing to suffer the awkward exchange unfolding before her.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Ok,” Gail mumbled as she backed towards the doorway Frankie was standing in.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything else,” Holly offered.

“Thank you,” Gail said, avoiding her eyes.

“It was nice to see you, Gail,” Holly said, looking wistfully at the departing detective. “And nice to meet you, Detective…uh…”

“Anderson, Frankie Anderson.”

Holly flashed a small, lopsided smile at the detectives as they left her lab. When the women had rounded the corner, Holly put her head in her hands. She took a deep, steadying breath, shook her head to clear it, and got back to the work at hand.

————

“What the hell was that?” Frankie demanded as she and Gail exited the morgue.

“What was what?”

“That painfully awkward, tension-filled excuse for a conversation you just had with the mortician?”

“She’s a forensic pathologist,” Gail said as she climbed into the driver’s seat of the car.

“So does this nerd have a name?” Frankie asked, buckling herself into the passenger seat.

Gail threw the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot. Her eyes didn’t leave the road as she spoke.

“Her name is Holly Stewart.”

“Well she is fucking hot,” Frankie mused appreciatively.

“She’s not a piece of meat, Frankie,” Gail snapped, her knuckles turned white as her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Is she like your side piece, or something?”

“What?” Gail asked incredulously. She hit the brakes a little too roughly and the car came to a rather abrupt stop at the stop sign. Gail turned to look at her partner.

“You’re awfully defensive, so I just assumed it’s because you’re tapping that,” Frankie said, shrugging her shoulders.

“I am not! I-I, where would you- what do you- I-” Gail took a steadying breath and continued on down the road. “She and I… we, uh, we dated a couple years ago.”

“And?”

“And what? That’s it.”

“That is not all, you liar,” Frankie said. “You would not be this riled up over someone you dated ‘a couple years ago’.”

Gail’s jaw clenched and she tightened her grip on the wheel, but she continued to stare straight ahead. After about a minute or two, Gail broke the silence.

“She left me,” Gail whispered so soft Frankie almost didn’t catch it. But Gail continued, and Frankie knew it was best to just let her get it all out. “She took a job in San Francisco. You know she asked me to come with her?” Gail glanced at Frankie, Frankie shook her head ‘no’. Gail continued, “We had just gotten back together after I was an idiot, and things were great. And then she dropped that on me. And I couldn’t tell her not to go, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. But I couldn’t just leave my life here. And on top of that, I was trying to adopt Sofie, and, well you know how that panned out.” Gail’s sentence trailed off.

“Did you guys try long distance?” Frankie asked softly, scared of startling Gail into silence.

“Frankie, I’m not even good at regular, close-distance relationships.”

“True, very true.” Frankie nodded in understanding.

The rest of the drive back to the 15th precinct was spent in silence.

————

Gail set her bag down by the front door of the apartment. The smell of garlic and onions filled her nose. She removed her jacket and hanged it on the coat rack before making her way to the kitchen. Sarah was standing at the counter, chopping some vegetables. She walked up quietly behind her fiancée and wrapped her arms around Sarah’s waist, pulling the woman gently back into herself. Gail tenderly trailed kisses down Sarah’s cheek and neck. Sarah stopped what she was doing and raised a hand up to cup Gail’s face.

“Hi,” she giggled.

“Mmm, something smells good,” Gail said.

“I’m making pasta.”

Gail pulled away from Sarah and grabbed the spoon from the pan on the stove. She scooped out a noodle and some sauce and quickly blew on it and shoved it in her mouth before Sarah could protest.

“Gail!” She exclaimed, smacking her gently on the arm with a potholder. “Get out of my kitchen!” She continued to swing at Gail.

Gail giggled as she defended herself from the onslaught with the potholder. She was able to catch Sarah’s arms and pin her against the counter, both women laughing as she did so. Gail caught her fiancée’s lips in a tender kiss. She released Sarah’s arms and moved her own hands to Sarah’s waist. Slowly, she moved her hands up and under Sarah’s shirt, caressing the soft skin at her hips. Sarah swatted her hands away gently.

“Go get settled. I’ll call you when dinner is ready,” Sarah said, ending her sentence with a quick kiss.

Gail shrugged out of her button up shirt and sighed in relief as she removed the cage of her bra and slipped her well-worn academy shirt over her head. She shimmied out of her slacks and slipped on her sweatpants. Then she made her way back out to the kitchen to set the table.

————

“So how was work today?” Sarah asked around a bite of pasta.

“Uh, it was ok,” Gail said. “Frankie and I are working a new case.” “Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s early and we don’t have much evidence to go on just yet.” Gail took a large bite of her dinner.

“Is everything ok?” Sarah asked, looking up at the woman sitting across the table from her.

Gail stopped chewing and looked up at her fiancée.

“What?”

“Is everything ok? It’s just, you’ve been kind of… off, the past few days. Did something happen at work?”

Gail searched the eyes of the woman sitting in front of her. All she found was love and concern staring back at her.

“I’m fine,” Gail said. Sarah shot her a look of disbelief. “Really, I am. It’s just been a little stressful lately with the new rookies and what not.” She was only half lying, the rookies this year have been awful.

They rounded out their night watching a movie on the couch. Gail hadn’t paid much attention, but made an effort to laugh when Sarah did. Her mind was too preoccupied with rerunning the interaction between Holly and herself in the lab today.

When she had finished brushing her teeth and turned out the lights, Gail crawled into bed next to Sarah. She turned and snuggled into Gail’s chest.

“Goodnight, baby,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Gail exhaled slowly before whispering,”I love you too.”

[letsperaltiago]

we’ll sweep out the ashes in the morning |CHAPTER 7|

Even in the middle of New York's freezing month of February, a scandalous familiar fire is ignited within Jake and Amy when they run into each other after years apart. Luckily there's nothing wrong with being caught up in a fire that has to die out soon, right?

Read chapter here or on AO3 

CHAPTER MASTERLIST HERE

Being a cop, experiencing so much harm, hopelessness, chaos and everything in-between, was the hardest thing he’d ever have to handle.

Or that’s what he thought right up until the moment Jake stood on the doorstep to Sophia and, weirdly, his apartment in an attempt to get himself to come forward and confess to what he’d done - or just knock on the door would be a good start. For the last minutes, he didn’t even remember how many at that point, he’d been restlessly pacing back and forth outside the front door to their, his and Sophia’s, so-called “home”. But it being Brooklyn it was probably just a matter of time before someone would call the cops on him since he did look kind of disturbed and creepy: he couldn’t keep pacing forever.

His heart was beating so fast; so fast he was absolutely persuaded of having never experienced any similar feeling before. Another thing he noticed, he could’ve sworn, was that he could hear every pumping movement his heart uttered, which made no sense considering he simultaneously felt lightheaded and like no oxygen was getting to his brain. Man, he had messed up so hard. Not only with Amy, but with Sophia too.

Nevertheless he didn’t get much more time to consider, suffer and make up his mind, in reality none at all, because a loud repetitive knock from inside the apartment beat him to it and completely threw him off guard.

“Who’s there!?” he could hear a woman’s voice yell from inside the apartment: Sophia, of course. Her sounding upset was an understatement. “I’ve been hearing pacing and mumbling for the past 5 minutes so don’t act like no one’s there! I can and will call the police!”

Oh, shit - no more time to think. He had to just jump, head in first and… do whatever he could. Either that or cops, probably from his own precinct, would be there to arrest him within 5 minutes.

“No no no, please don’t! It’s me Jake!”

The yelling and warning bangs from her side of the door seized but probably not because, if he knew her well enough, she was relieved. Not that he’d expected her to be though; he couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was feeling, abandoned by the person whom she thought she would spend the rest of her days with, and now, without her knowledge, he was back to make it even worse.

“Can we talk?” He called out.

Silence. 5… 10… 15… seconds.

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about, Jake. I think where you stand has been made very clear.”

Venom coursed through her voice, every syllable, word and sound, which Jake couldn’t even blame her for: he deserved it. All she’d done was love him, saying yes to loving him forever when he had asked her to marry him, and all it’d gotten her was being left on her wedding day; being cheated on though she wasn’t even aware of this. Yet.

“You don’t have to say anything; you don’t even have to look at me… I just need to-“ he cut himself off trying to think of the right words to say though he knew nothing would ever be perfectly right. “I need to come clean: lay it all out on the table. I’m a the world’s biggest dick, and I’m not here to try to convince you of the opposite… Let me just explain a few things, okay? Please, Sophia…”

A sigh full of regret put a period to what he had to say; what he could say as he stood outside the gates to confession waiting to learn if his admission of guilt would be welcomed. On top of this he also felt deep regret knowing he’d hurt an incredible woman, knowing he could’ve acted so much more wisely, but also at the same time not regretting every moment he’d gotten with Amy.

Then, to his surprise, the door swung open revealing an exhausted-looking Sophia clad in sweatpants and being the exact opposite of what he knew her for: put together, cool, always on the move, determined. He’d done this to her and, if possible, he now hated himself even more.

“Hey,” to say smiling felt inappropriate was some understatement as he put on a weak one, but he didn’t know what else to do. Scream? Cry? He sure did feel like it. The smile ended up being the less weird option although it didn’t earn him one in return and that was okay.

Another tense silence, one more than before now that the door was no longer present as a buffer between them, crept up the stairs to where they were by the front door. It immediately let Jake know that no, he probably shouldn’t expect to be let in.

“I don’t have time for small talk, Jacob. Get to the point.”

Jacob. Oh, he was in so much trouble.

“Eh- okay,” his hands shifted uncomfortably in his jean’s front pocket, he took a deep breath and then jumped into the freezing ocean of truth: eyes closed, head first, can’t lose.

“So, first of all, I know this must mean nothing to you which is far beyond understandable, but just wanna say, again, how so very sorry I am for what I did to you - to us…” he paused to see if he should expect some kind of answer, reaction, the bare minimum but alas no. The only moving she did was crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest as if she was gearing up for war. His most qualified guess was that this was his cue to continue.

“…and I’m not here to rub salt in the wound and this might be selfish, I’m not really sure anymore, but I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth.”

This to some extent seemed to catch Sophia’s attention, a sudden curiosity lighting up her darker than usual eyes as if she was a kid who’s just been told they’re going to be let in on a secret. Only this secret surely wouldn’t make her feel any good.

“A few months back, in February, something happened and I already should’ve told you back then but I didn’t because I was a confused and a huge stupid coward and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

From the look on her face Jake could tell that Sophia was slowly starting to put the pieces together. It was only a matter of words, no matter how carefully picked they were on his part, before she would crack the code and know. The secret would be out with taking it back being no option.

“Remember that night I said I was going to Shaw’s with a friend from work?” he tried, not expecting an answer but hoping she’d recall which would allow him to spare her from the details.

Then a look of realisation, the last puzzle piece falling into its designated spot consumed the look on his almost-wife’s face. He could physically see the microsecond it all came together in her mind and it felt like witnessing someone pulling the safety pin of a grenade, and now he had to stay, stand his ground, and handle the explosion.

“Y-you…” she stammered before closing her eyes as to compose herself after the shock of the truth bomb. “You… cheated on me?” he could tell the word was laced with venom, tasting horridly in her mouth as she couldn’t believe she had to say it. “And you didn’t even have the balls to tell me!?” within seconds her voice transitioned from disbelief to loud, ringing anger.

What else could he do but comply? He knew he was the traitor; the culpable; the one in the wrong.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t give a shit about your apologies! I was here, by your side, working my ass off for this wedding and us, meanwhile you were out and about screwing some chick?”

The flinch Jake’s face upon hearing Amy be put on a par with ‘some random girl he’d just screwed’ was in no way discreet, and Sophia of course noticed. It was indeed inevitable that their relationship was over Jake knew that Sophia knew him well - they’d been together for long and about to get married after all. Also, she was a lawyer so there was really no where for him to hide. Her entire demeanour quieted down upon internally analysing the facts.

Jake Peralta, a good guy with no scandalous past, goes out to get drinks with “someone from work” and cheats on her, flinches when she belittles this other woman…

“I know her, don’t I?”

Perhaps yes he was coming clean about everything but still he didn’t exactly feel like exclaiming the mystery woman’s identity. Alas the silence he met Sophia with was enough of an answer. The wheels continuously turned inside her mind, so loud that Jake could’ve sworn that he could actually hear it.

Jake Peralta. Good guy. No scandalous past or track record. Drinks. “Someone from work”. Flinch.

There must be feeling involved. She knows her.

“Someone from work,” Sophia repeated out loud as to speed up the answer coming to her. It was all one big mess in her head but somehow comes together forming a perfectly clear answer.

“Amy… “ she tasted the name on her tongue trying to find the second half of it. “… Amy Santiago. The girl you used to work with back at the Nine-Nine.”

Another silence; another answer; another soundless yes. Suddenly Jake wished he’d never told Sophia about Amy. The two women had never met, but of course Jake couldn’t enter a relationship without bringing home a lot of shop talk, which involved anecdotes and pictures about his squad: ex-partner Santiago who’d by then moved on to work with Major Crimes included

“I can’t believe you went out and screwed an old colleague while I sat at home like the good, naive wife-to-be!” She cursed loudly after having gotten over the big blow of the mistress’ reveal. Jake flinched having no defence as he knew very well that he deserved the rough treatment. What he’d done to her was inconsolable and unforgivable.

“Fuck you, Jake,” her eyes and words were equally life-draining as they dug into him like daggers. “Fuck you for being with me, fuck you for telling me you loved me, for you for building a life with me, fuck you for proposing and the biggest of all fuck yous for almost leading me into a what was already a dead-end marriage.”

By then, having already threatened moments ago but had only actually fallen in the midst of her last outburst, tears were falling on her cheeks.

“I deserve every single ‘fuck you’ you have to offer and I’m so sorry, Sophia. Really, I truly deeply am and, not that it matters now, but I did love you and still do… It’s just-“

“I’m not her,” she finished his sentence for her making it much simpler than whatever long, intricate explanation he would end up forming. And she suddenly looked very calm; upsettingly calm and settled even.

Jake froze. He knew he was thinking it but didn’t exactly expect Sophia to catch up on it so fast.

“You might be the world’s worst person to me right now, and I’m not about to forgive it…” Her eyes for the first time tonight, through the tears, showed a sign of sadness, regret even, rather than anger like she’d come to realise something. “… But I also know that you’re a man who does love and probably did love me, even though it doesn’t feel like it right now, which is also why I know you would never do this to me if there wasn’t someone you…” she halted as if the words didn’t want to come out of her. “… if there wasn’t someone you loved even more, and I don’t want to be with you if there’s someone out there you love more than me. I don’t want to waste my life being someone’s number two: I jut wish you’d told me earlier… Or simply in a way that didn’t include screwing around.”

Jake had never considered the fact that perhaps he had what resembled love for Amy, but hearing Sophia somehow explain his mess to him though she was the victim, it suddenly seemed more clear and obvious than ever before.

“You’re worth much more than I can offer you, Sophia… And I’m sorry I didn’t communicate that properly.”

“Well…” his almost-wife had seemed to calm down although the clenching feeling in his gut, guilt, would surely stick around for some time. “Just make sure to at least offer that Amy something equal her worth. Don’t be an idiot twice.”

Jake nodded trying to change it all in; the switch in tone and mood, all the new facts hitting him harder than a storm.

“Did she know?” Sophia quizzed again after a moment of silence.

“What?”

“That you had me?  That you were engaged?”

“Oh, uh…” Jake frowned hating that he knew the answer. Even though it didn’t matter he didn’t want what she did that night to represent Amy. But he couldn’t lie. Not anymore. “Yeah, I think… I believe I mentioned it.”

“Well,” Sophia took a moment to compose herself, grabbing the door as to get ready to close it. “Then perhaps you’re already offering her something equal to her worth.”

-

Between the confessing to Sophia and trying to win Amy back (is it ‘back’ if he never really had her?) Jake’s having a week from hell, and it very quickly turns out that talking to Sophia very surprisingly comes down to being the easiest task of the two.

It was a dark evening with clouds assembling threatening to spill rain and thunder covering the sky. Perhaps the weather knew how he felt; hopeless, somber, alone. After obviously not being able to stay in his and Sophia’s apartment anymore he’d offered to take the high road and move out - or at least move himself out along with a bag of clothes and bare necessities. The rest of his stuff would come around once he’d found a new place to call his own.

Until then he crashed at Charles’ which both he, Genevieve and especially nephew Nikolaj immensely enjoyed. Although he seemed not as happy and joking as usual, Nikolaj noticed, there was nothing better than spending evenings playing with his priceless collection of trucks and uncle Jake who always impressed him with conniving truck-sounds.

But as soon as the darkness and the moon reigned over New York, when Niko and his parents were fast asleep and the apartment was dead silent, Jake was left to himself in the guest room to ponder endlessly and hating himself so much more. At least during the day he could repress and distract himself from these thoughts and feelings.

The end of him and Amy, though he barely even knew what that meant anymore, suddenly seemed inevitable. Turned out that getting back in contact with a person whose trust you’d lost was harder than one would think - especially when you were obsessed, dying to be with said person, and she wouldn’t answer any calls, texts or voicemails which would allow you to explain.

Jake experienced this first hand as he dialled her number only to be met with her by now all too familiar voicemail.

“Ames, it’s me for the…” he took a brief glance at his phone immediately feeling slightly embarrassed by the sight of call list. “… 4th time today (20th time this week). Please, I’m begging you, pick up. I talked to Sophia and I’m-“ he searched his mind for the perfect words to say but they seemed so far gone, used up and meaningless by now. It already felt like he’d tried every way of wording possible to explain his renewed, honest intentions.

A deep sigh filled the pause before he preceded, slowly feeling himself slipping and giving up. “I miss you. I never meant to hurt you, and I know nothing will undo that I in fact did but please let me explain. I’m at Charles’. I’m staying here until I can find a new place to live and, yeah, Sophia is no longer in the picture. It’s just you, Amy. I just want you. Please call me back - or even just a text would be good too.”

He hung up before putting down his phone and turning over to lie sleeplessly, one more night to add to the list, in his lonely borrowed bed.

To no one’s surprise, least of all Jake’s, this declaration and plead number 20 wasn’t the one to convince Amy of giving him the time of day either. There was no way over, under or around the fact that she simply didn’t want to hear from him, and even less let him hear anything back. Though he was dying to explain himself, wanting nothing more than run to her apartment and kick down her door, tell her he wanted her,  he also knew that wasn’t the way things worked. Maybe in movies but not in real life with real people, real feelings and real consequences.

No matter how badly he needed and missed her he respected her wishes, which seemingly was not seeing him. Giving up on her felt wrong, unreal and excruciating when just five days ago he’d been lying in bed with her in his arms in the warm morning sunlight. And though he wasn’t officially about to back down and give in to the screwed up circumstances that had gotten them here, there sure wasn’t much motivation left in him but one thing: Amy.

Seeing Amy. Talking to Amy. Apologising to Amy. Admiring Amy. Touching Amy. Loving Amy, someday when that word seemed rational. Anything with Amy, he wanted it and would go to great lengths to earn it.

That, all that, he hoped, would be enough to mend them again someday hopefully soon.

[shxwmaster]

— terror by torchlight | shaw analysis / ramble —

     OKAY gathering my thoughts is not easy at all I am not capable of making this sound eloquent so here it goes here’s the major points that I just wanna hit on

Shaw is incredibly patient and thoughtful

Shaw’s love language is praise / compliments

—

SHAW’S PATIENCE

     Shaw could have easily been completely annoyed or aggravated that Flynn’s dragging him out from his work to go on an ‘adventure’ out to DUSKWOOD of all places. Flynn’s scared shitless, and Shaw did warn him that it’s not pleasant there, and so they could have easily gone a route where Shaw’s taking the ‘i told you so’ route but he doesn’t. Instead?

     “I don’t know, mate, might be the right call. They do call it ‘liquid courage.’”

     Shaw’s voice was unusually warm. “I don’t think you’ll need it.”

-

     “Mate . . . , not helping,” he said, with a feeble attempt at a laugh.

     “You don’t need help, Fairwind,” Shaw said. “You’ve taken everything this Light-forsaken place could throw at us and yet here you are. I know there’s a lot of them. But that doesn’t matter. We only have to do one thing: get that torch to safety. I want you to know I’ve got your back. And . . . I know you’ve got mine.”

     The entire journey, Shaw is very, very patient. He’s kind to him, he takes the time to thoroughly explain everything that’s happening and gives Flynn the proper warnings needed, like how the undead are feral and operate on instinct, how they need to get the torch, the history of the land, warning him that they need to go into the catacombs where she’ll be strongest, etc. — he’s very keenly aware that Flynn’s scared but doesn’t draw attention to it.

     “Do we have to follow the road?” he asked Shaw very casually, but the cracking of his voice betrayed him.

     “Let’s move a bit north,” Shaw said. He sounded like he hadn’t noticed the chip in Flynn’s courage, and the swashbuckler was grateful. The gryphon climbed higher into the sky, slowly careening over a mesh of trees that seemed significantly more alive than the rest. This time, when he glanced down again, Flynn saw a soft blue glow that looked nothing like the bobbing specters. A white paved road, gleaming in the moonlight, led up to the area, and Flynn felt his apprehension recede ever so slightly.

     “What’s that?” he asked, with a pointed finger.

     “The Twilight Grove,” Shaw said. “I thought it would do us both some good to glimpse something soothing before heading into the fray.”

     He doesn’t acknowledge the chip in his voice, and he does everything he can, within reason, to accommodate for Fairwind. He flies them up to see the Moonwell nearby, he offers Flynn encouraging words, and not ONCE does he show any sign of his own fear. Even when he’s faced with that rot spell, he pushes Fairwind to refocus, stick to the task and trust him because he’s got this. And DAMN he does, the man does not BREAK (until he does!) 

     but even better: he TRUSTS FLYNN to do what they need to do, he trusts him enough to not give into his own instinct. See Shadows Rising, where Shaw is suddenly swarmed with all these guards, and Flynn and the Bold Arva are ready to absolutely fuckin decimate them, but Shaw says no, tells them to escape and leave him behind, and Flynn listens. Here in Terror by Torchlight, Shaw is rotting, he’s panting and hurting (it’s mentioned on a few occasions that Shaw does not get winded) and it scares Flynn, but he pushes him away, tells him to take care of the torch and let him distract the boss, and Flynn listens! That level of TRUST, that shit GETS ME DUDE, IT GETS ME. Because there’s none of that cliche “i’m not leaving you here” kind of fight and stubbornness ; they both know what needs to get done and they DO it and they’re so! fucking! efficient!!!!!

SHAW’S LOVE LANGUAGE

     I’ve mentioned it already with his patience, how he very carefully explains everything that’s happening, speaks plainly and offers Flynn suitable warnings for what he’s about to get into. Not a single time in this short did he ever express displeasure, disappointment, anger or annoyance towards Flynn, just unconditional love and trust.

    “You don’t need help, Fairwind,” Shaw said. “You’ve taken everything this Light-forsaken place could throw at us and yet here you are. I know there’s a lot of them. But that doesn’t matter. We only have to do one thing: get that torch to safety. I want you to know I’ve got your back. And . . . I know you’ve got mine.”

-

     “I saw, Flynn. I saw everything. You didn’t load our packs with rum, but with bandages and traps and weapons. You were kind enough to be with someone who was suffering and sharp enough to spot something deadly in time for us to fix it. Despite your abhorrence of the undead, you chose to face scores of them in one of the biggest cemeteries in the world. You fought a dangerous being, and you figured out how to defeat her . . . and save my life. I’m not saying goodbye, Flynn. I’m asking you to come with me.”

     Praises, he was careful to lay on him. Throughout the journey he’s basically just like “you’re doing great! proud of u! ♥” tbh like,,,,

i... wanted to write more on this. but after reading this thing so many times I actually can’t find too many instances so i’ll just say i’ll just go headcanon time 

     Mathias “not a single detail escapes my peripheral” Shaw NOTES everything you’ve done, takes note of your work or progress and, if he cares about u, will take the time to bring it to your attention!! If you’re a little down or just not feeling at your best, he’ll just very carefully point out all the reasons why you’re actually doing really great

     One thing I like to personally write Mathias is just being generally not very, well, touchy. He doesn’t express himself very physically, as opposed to Flynn, who seems to take any opportunity he can get to have a hand on Shaw in some way. I do, however, like to write Mathias as kind of mirroring others’ quirks or habits, reflecting it back at them. He struggles to express himself to others, so take Flynn for example, who expresses himself through touch — this isn’t Shaw’s language, but because it’s his, he reflects it. At some point, when Flynn’s located the necromancer and he’s trembling, Shaw puts a hand on his shoulder, and even though he startles him with it, he means it as a form of comfort. I love to imagine that he tries to show Flynn those same gestures that are usually done unto him, both as a means of saying “i am here for u, and i care about u” and also as a means to say that he is, in fact, paying attention to these gestures given to him, look see he’s copying them!!

—

I had more I want to say but things are distracting me and this post is already really long so for now just AAA