#idk man like i KNOW he’s in tremendous amounts of pain but the way he says it

[kabingo]

i’m so unwell

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 1)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, clit stimulation, angst, dirty talking, cursing, name calling,(possible part 2?Idk)

Notes: I think it’s time for me to face my biggest fear: Drew McIntyre! 😂 all jokes aside, I’ve lost count of how many one shots I have written and soon after deleted about this handsome hunk. There are so many good stories of him out there that I’ve always felt like mine were actually horse shit compared to those so I’ve never had the courage to make this Scottish wet dream an official brand of my writing, but I’m looking forward to achieve new accomplishments on my writing in 2021, so here goes nothing folks! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy ���) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Oh Thank God! Just the woman I wanted to see”

I turned around to meet Becky Lynch, one of the few dear close friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a massage therapist.

“Hey Becks! What’s up?”

“Y/N I need your help, I was doing some training with the guys when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and now I feel like I wanna cry”

“Oh Becky, c’mon let’s go to my office”

Once we got there I mentioned for her to sit on the massage table.

“So tell me exactly what you were doing”

“I was doing some regular weightlifting, then all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain stretch from my elbow to my shoulder”

“Ok, did you warmed up before hand?”

“Yes”

“Did you added the weights in progressively or were you in some sort of competition against Sheamus, Cesaro and McIntyre as to whom could perform a proper weightlifting faster?” I crooked my eyebrow

“Y/N! You know I would never do that” She tried to hide her shame for being caught

“Becky, I know you! I know how competitive you are and how competitive you GET when you train with Sheamus, Cesaro and the Scottish prick.”

“They started ok?! They said I was no match for them, so I had to make them swallow word by word” She said slightly angry

“Calm down” I chuckled “And I presume you won?”

“Of course I won! As if they stood a chance” She scoffed

I touched her shoulder and palmed the back of her upper arm til I reached her elbow

“And your prize for that my darling is” I looked into her eyes “Six muscular knots, probably some small damage to your elbow nerves resulting in a little trip to the physical therapists and shit ton of pain, congratulations! Are you happy now?”

“Oh no!” She whined “Y/N, please don’t send me to the physical therapists, they will eat my ass off and they’re gonna tell Hunter about this. Please Y/N, please tell me you can fix it?” She stared at me with begging eyes

“Becks” I sighed “I can undo the muscular knots but I ain’t no fairy godmother! If you have some sort of nerve damage that’s up to the physical therapists...there’s nothing I can do about that honey”

“Please Y/N give me some of the red magical relief juice you gave to Kofi” She pleads

“Red magical relief juice?” I asked confused

“Yes, Kofi said he had this horrible pain from an injury and you gave him this red magical relief juice that helped him better than any medicine! Please give that to me too!”

I laughed before answering

“Oh Kofi, Kofi... it’s not an juice, it’s a liquid... a toner. A home made medicine I learned with my grandma. Technically I’m not even allowed to use that, but I know it works, better than these crap versions of Vick’s Vapor Rub” I tossed a little small green package in the trash can.

“Can you give that to me?” She asked with her eyes full of hope

“Fine” I said and she smiles widely

“But, you have to promise me that you will stop with these stupid and senseless competitions! They could permanently damage your nerves you know?!”

“Ok I promise”

I took a small plastic bottle from the cabinet and filled up with some small amount of the toner and placed the bottle inside a small paper bag. I also gave her a little bit of my grandma’s famous ointment in a tiny tin can.

“Alright, so here’s what you’re gonna do: once you get to your hotel room, you’ll take a hot shower and before you put your clothes on, you’re gonna rub the toner from your neck to your elbow all over your shoulder and back upper arm” She nods and I proceed “Then right after you’re going to take a small amount of this ointment” I show her the little tin can “And rub it all over your shoulder, back upper arm and elbow. Right afterwards you get dress with a long sleeve shirt and go to bed. Remember that you cannot leave your skin exposed to the cold air of air conditioning, because if you do it will make your pain and damage way worse! Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“If in three to four days you still feel any sort of pain you’re gonna have to go to the physical therapists”

“Ok”

“Becky I’m serious”

“Okay Y/N I got it” She smiles softly

“Good, now please, don’t tell anyone about this” I shook the little bag “And tell Kofi to keep his mouth shut. I know he means well but I could get fired for this”

“My lips are sealed” She pressed her lips in a thin line

“Thank you” I chuckled “Now, go on and take 20 drops of this” I give her some Ibuprofen “And come back in 20 minutes”

“Why?” She asks confused

“Because we still have to undo those knots and it’s not gonna be the fun kind of pain my dear”

“Argh” She groans

One week later

I was finishing tidying up the massage table from the session I just had with Bayley when someone knocked on my office door

“Come on in”

“Hey Y/N” Seth Rollins said in a voice full of pain as he tried to walk towards me

“Seth are you ok? Jesus, you look like somebody just kicked your balls so hard that they went up to your throat! What happened?” I tried to hold back my laugh

“A long story involving Cesaro and Drew. Moral of the story is my back is fucked up, do you think you can help me?”

“Can you lay down here?” I patted the table

“I guess so” He made his way to it excruciatingly slow as I helped him to lay down

“Where’s the pain worst?”

“My lower back” I touched and he gasped in pain

“Do you think you could give me some of that red magical relief juice?” He whispered so only I could hear it.

Of course I wasn’t surprised about him knowing of the “magical relief juice” since he and Becky were together I figured she told him.

“Did Becky told you?”

“Only today, once she saw I was in a tremendous pain...When she was using it I pressed her to tell me who gave it to her but she didn’t wanted to say, she said it was her fairy godmother”

I couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s inside joke and loyalty. I truly love that girl.

“Sure thing Rollins, just please don’t-“

“I won’t tell anyone Y/N don’t worry! Your witchy recipe is safe with me” He chuckled “Ouch fuck, that hurts” He groaned

“Did you bring any jacket on with you?” I laugh

“Yeah Becky told me to”

“Ok, let’s get start it”

Forty minutes and a relaxed thankful Seth Rollins later. I was finishing washing my hands while Seth pulled the zipper of his jacked up. I could feel his eyes on me

“What is it Rollins?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If the question is if I am a 450 year old witch then my answer is, you will never know” I whisper as I turn to face him with a smirk

He laughs before saying “Well I’m sure you are sweetheart” He winks playfully “But that’s not the question though unfortunately”

“What is it then?”

He looked at me with a sense of caution before asking

“Why do you hate Drew so much?”

“McIntyre? The Scottish prick? The shitty bearded version of Gastón from Beauty and The Beast?” I ask in disbelief

My hatred for Drew McIntyre goes way back to 5 years ago. To make a long story short he has being a pain in my ass every since I started working here. It all resumes to the bad flirting and endless fights. We’ve always fought at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. It’s like a weekly ritual for us, and our fights are always petty and ridiculous such as who will get in the elevator first or who will rent the last SUV car.

“Yeah...” He answers slightly embarrassed

“Well that’s simple, he’s an asshole! A smug fucker who thinks he’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth and that every woman alive must fall for him in all fours”

“Is there anything else beyond that?” He asks

“No! Of course not!” I lied. As if I could tell him about my deep sexual desire for the Scotsman

“Are you sure? I mean, you must agree with me that he is very beautiful” Seth answers

“I’m not saying he’s not. I have eyes, so trust me, I know he’s hot as fuck and a very handsome man but that doesn’t mean that every woman on this company wants him!” I scoffed

“Does the ‘every woman’ equals Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked aggressively

“Look, there’s no need for you to get all defensive ok? I’m your friend and I’m just asking this as a friend. I’m not coming for you by any means” He says with a soothing voice

“Sorry, it was just my automatic response”

“It’s okay sweetie”

“But Seth...why this question now?”

“Let’s just say that I may or may not have heard some backstage talk and I would like to know this from your own mouth instead of other people’s”

“Backstage talk? About what?” I ask angrily

His eyes widened “You know what? Let’s forget I ever men-“

“No no no Rollins you’ve started this now you will finish it!” Now I was really angry

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut” He murmured

“But you didn’t! So spit it out”

“Ok...I’ve heard one of the girls say that the reason why you hate Drew so much is because you kinda have a hidden want for him to fuck you but since he’s ‘not interested’ you get pissed off” He whispered

“I WHAT??? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“Y/N please keep your voice down! Somebody is gonna hear you”

“I COULD GIVE TWO FUCKS IF SOMEBODY CAN HEAR ME! Who’ve said that Seth?” I was boiling with rage

“Sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you who’ve said it because I know you will-“

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered

“If you don’t tell me who’ve said that right now Rollins I swear to God on God in heaven that I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

He gulped

“Now who’ve said that?”

“Carmella” He whispered and I smiled letting go of his collar “Y/N please don’t do anything stupid!” He said as I removed my coat

“Don’t forget to rub the toner on your back once you’re out of the shower” I patted his shoulder and made my way to the door

“Y/N where are you going? Y/N please whatever you’re thinking about doing it, just don’t ok? She’s not worth it! Y/N PLEASE!”

But his screams were now faint as I make my way down the hallway to find the blond gossiper girl.

I finally find Carmella “talking”, to Sheamus in one of the hallways.

“Oi Y/N, how’s life treating ya lass?” Sheamus smiles widely at me, making his usual greeting. At any other day it would’ve made my afternoon happier to find that amazing Irish man, but not today! I was so furious that I ignored him and went directly to Carmella

“Would you mind telling me why the fuck are you not only minding my business but also spreading rumors about me and McIntyre?”

From where I stood I saw Sheamus visibly gulp

“Hey Y/N, what do ya say about we go to tha catering grab some coffee huh?” He said urgently pleading

“So? I’m waiting for an answer” I said to her fully ignoring what he just said

“Well Y/N, from woman to woman, I think we both can agree that it’s no rumor. It’s quite visible, to not say pathetic, the way you can’t deal with rejection my dear” She batted her lashes

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“The obvious Y/N! That you want Drew in between your legs but he doesn’t! I mean, let’s face it, he’s too much of a man for you anyways! It’s not like you can handle him, because we know you can’t” She measured me from head to toe making me feel very conscious about the difference between her slim toned body and my thick one full of curves.

I know that most of the men’s in this company usually date or even have one night stands with women who were body equivalent to their own - slender and beautifully toned - , but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t saw my own curvy beauty. Hell, I even got some dinner invitations from some of the guys! Cesaro, Baron Corbin, Finn Bálor and even Seth Rollins (before he got with Becky) were some of them.

“I bet that I received more dinner invitations in a week than you in a year” I scoffed

“But not from the man you want the most right darling?” She evilly grins and I see red! Pure rage in it’s rawest form took ahold of me and I jumped towards her neck but a pair of strong arms stopped me from attacking her.

“Wow, easy now lass” He said

HIM! The cause of all this gossiping with my name, I couldn’t get even more angry even if I tried.

“Let me go McIntyre!” I roar

“Uh, enjoy it while it lasts Y/N, it’s as far as you’ll ever get anyways” Carmella chuckles

I tried to wiggle out of his arms “What the fuck did you just said bitch? I’ll feed you your own teeth you fuck-“

I couldn’t finish my sentence thanks to Drew, who lifted me off from the floor and tossed me on his shoulder, taking me to back my office.

“What are you doing? Let me go! I’m gonna punch her stupid rat’s face!”

“No you won’t”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preventing your ass from getting fired!” He answers

I tried to release myself from him, but who was I fooling? The man is a brick wall, I couldn’t let myself go not even if I tried hard!

Once we got into my office he locked the door, placing himself in front of it and released me.

“Don’t you never, EVER, dare to manhandle me like that again! Do you hear me?” I stare at him with my eyes full of rage

“You know Y/N, all that anger is not good for you...you could have a heart attack” He chuckled

I was so mad, that tears of anger rolled down my cheeks as I cut the small distance between us and begin to punch his torso, arms or whatever I could reach

“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON WHY I AM NOW A FUCKING BACKSTAGE GOSSIP SUBJECT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF AREN’T YOU HUH? SHITTY ASS GASTÓN!”

I was starting to loose my strength due to my ferocious attack, and I would be damned if I let him see that...

When suddenly everything changed, the air in the room thickened and I saw myself now pressed against the door with my hands forcefully pinned on top of my head.

“Aww, that was sweet princess” He smirks confidently

“What are you doing Drew? Let me go” I murmured

“Oh it’s Drew now huh? Why the sudden change love? What happened with ‘Scottish prick, asshole and Gastón’?” He cackled “What’s wrong princess? Not feeling so confident and in charge anymore are we?” He pouts

“You’re hurting me” I lied

“Nu uh, we both know that, that’s a lie. I know you Y/N, every inch of you so don’t you lie to me now! That’s not what pretty little girls like you do” He reprimanded me

I felt confused and slightly turned on by his whole dominant character. But still I felt the urge to fight back.

“And what do you know about me McIntyre? NOTHING! So don’t YOU dare to pretend that you do! You know nothing about who I am or my needs, so quit the act”

He laughed before saying “And that’s where you’re wrong princess” He towered over me, securing my wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed my cheeks making my lips pout(like one would with a child) and tilted my head up to meet his blue gaze.

“You see Y/N, we’ve known each other for what? 5 years? I’ve done a lot of observing in those years... I became quite good at reading you” He leaned forward..his beard,lips and mustache brushing against my own lips

“So I know for a fact that what triggered you into fighting Carmella wasn’t what she said...But the fact that what she said is true” He searched my eyes for confirmation and when he found it he smirks in appreciation

A murmured ‘Fuck you’ came out of my lips the best way I could since he had this vicious grip on my cheeks.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N... what am I going to do with you princess?” He asks amused as he release my cheeks “I must say though... I agree with almost everything Carmella said” He vaguely added

Pure humiliation filled me, the thought of him knowing that deep down I had a thing for him which wasn’t reciprocal at all made my stomach turn. I felt the tears of humiliation start to rise to my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see that he had broken me. Instead I reached for the safety of the one thing I knew I could do: fight!

“You let me go right now you fucker or I swear you will regret it!” I said as threatening as I could

“Oh my, won’t you look at that? Kitty has claws huh?” He chuckled lightly

I took advantage of his distraction and yanked my arms as fast as I could out of his grip. The action caught him by surprise, giving me the upper hand to turn around to unlock the door so I could leave. But his surprise didn’t last long as for he saw what I was about to do and pressed me against the door once more, instead now my back was the one facing him so he pressed his semi hard bulge up against my ass with my hands and face now pressed on the wooden door.

“Where do you think you are going princess? We’re not done talking just yet” He whispers in my ear, making my whole body shiver.

“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me” His lips were glued to my ear “I almost, I said almost, agree with everything that she said..except for one thing”

“If you’re gonna say that-“

“Maybe I’ll have to buy you a ball gag, since you don’t seem to ever know when to shut up...or maybe I should choke you instead,what do you say?”

I gulped loudly

“Or even better, I should fuck your mouth..bury my cock so deep on your throat that you will have no other option but drool all over yourself” He pressed his bulge harder against my ass “, that will make you shut up! I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look with my cock shoved down your throat” He moaned “Would you like that princess? Would you like for me to show you where’s your place? Where you really belong?” He grinds his erection on my ass and the feeling makes me moan softly

“Drew...” I pleaded

“The only thing I don’t agree with Carmella” He continues his previous statement ignoring my plea “Is that I’m too much of a man for you. To be honest I think you’re the only woman in this company who can actually handle me! The only one who will love and beg to be fucked faster and rougher..” His hands let go of my wrists and roam down to cup my breasts roughly, pulling me even closer to his body

“The only one who is the perfect fit for me...who will let me use every single hole as I please” He bites my ear making me gasp for more air.

“Won’t you Y/N? Do you want me to use you like the good little whore that you are?”

My head was buzzing with excitement, I could feel the now very wet pool of desire in between my legs. To think that all of my darkest fantasies with this man were about to come true made me moan a faint ‘Yes’ to him

He grunts at my positive response while one of his big hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so his hand could sink down the fabric to find my very wet core.

“Hmmm I’ve been waiting 5 years for this lass...Fuck, you already feel amazing on my hand I can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy around my cock” He growls

“Fuck Drew, please” I whisper

“It’s Sir to you, my good little pet” He smirked “Now tell me, do you think I should fuck you right here, right now so that everyone in this company can hear me make you my fuck toy or should we head back to the hotel? What do you say pet?” He asks as his fingers firmly circles my clit making my legs shake

“W- Whatever pleases you Sir” I stuttered

“I see you’re a quick learner huh?” He chuckles amused “I say, let’s show this roster who is the only woman who can properly handle me” He says as he removed his fingers from my core and licked them clean while staring at me. I softly moan to that scene and he smiles deviously before whispering

“Strip now pet and show what a beautiful fuck toy you are for Sir”

To be continued...

Please let me know if you would like to see a part 2 🥺?

[mskatesharma]

“…she kinda comes across as only being Anthony’s emotional support crutch, and that’s it? Idk, a lot of the time it can feel like Kate’s insecurities and the trauma she holds are...brushed over, almost? And that she’s only there to forgive Anthony’s transgressions and to help him heal, like she’s some sort of flawless saviour?”

This!! It is incredibly frustrating and I pray the show makes their relationship more reciprocal than most fanfic does. They basically turn her into his therapist who has an unlimited reserve of grace. And the fact that Kate is 20 years old compounds how ridiculous that is.

I also really hope the show changes the ending/accident. Kate nearly died but she immediately forgives him for walking out on her and then starts coaching him through his daddy issues trauma?

(Related to this ask.)

I'm going to preface this again by saying that fic writers are free to write about whatever they want and what they find interesting, and it's on me to stop reading when I don't agree with the direction a story has chosen to go in. Again, the below is with regards to how Kate's character and personality has been warped into fanon!Kate, and how she differs from canon Kate IMHO.

A lot of the time is does turn into Kate becoming Anthony's therapist, which while it might somewhat be understandable for canon era fics, it happens in moderns aus as well? And that's so frustrating because, because there are literally professionals he can go to, even if Kate's the one to point out that he should really go and talk to someone with the relevant qualifications? And even when it happens when things are set in canon, it sometimes feels like Kate is there to interpret Anthony's emotions for him? The point is that for the first time he has someone he can talk to, that he feels safe enough since his father died to share how he feels with someone, but I feel like that kinda gets lost when Kate automatically knows how Anthony is feeling, and is there to interpret his own emotions back to him, in a way? It also erases the progress that Anthony has in articulating his emotions in a healthy way? Idk if that makes sense.

And like you said, she has an unlimited amount of grace, even when Anthony's been a dick to her? Kate is emotional in the book; she gets upset and Anthony's actions upset her, she gets angry, and she feels things incredibly deeply, even if she tries to hide it. She can be petty (tbh some of my favourite moments are when she's being a bit petty), and judgemental, and she's not always full of grace. And when you take into consideration their canon age difference, it just makes it even worse? As though it's fine for a flawed grown ass man to be forgiven the spiteful things that he does, but when talking about the woman he loves that is nearly 10 years his junior, the only way she can be accepted is if we pretend her flaws never existed in the first place? Anthony is allowed to be fallible; whereas Kate isn't allowed that same grace.

I think the book ending has a lot to answer for with regards to where this all forgiving, limitless grace and understanding Kate comes from. You can just tell that JQ was rushing to finish the book and get to the happy ending, and so she wrapped up the conflict as quickly as possibly.

Like, there's literally no rebuke for how Anthony treated her when he walked out and when she came to see him the morning after? Also, Kate's just gone through something traumatic, both physically and mentally, and she's just had her leg set after it broke. She's going to be in such tremendous pain. And yeah, she's had painkillers, but if anything, that's just going to compound the fact that she's not really in any fit state to be having such a deep and emotional conversation with Anthony? And yet there she is, forgiving him and making sense of his trauma for him? Okay then. Yeah, the show definitely needs to change that.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

14. A Shot in the Dark Part 2

Upfront: It has been a long time since I’ve known somebody who got shot (well enough) to have the exact parameters of how the hospital etiquette is, so I’m basically going to tap into the last time, and since that was about a decade ago and also in my hometown, Idk how far off the way that they handle it is. I’ll try to fill in the spaces with how not as close associates have portrayed their experiences with similar crises and maybe pepper in a little imagination for flow of story. But, the main takeaway is that the chapter has a heavy police presence and I know that can be extremely difficult to digest for people.

He had been crying for most of the night. He wasn’t that adverse to crying. Physically, it was a good release for emotions that the brain was trying to process. He did wish that he could stop for longer than fifteen minutes here and there, but there was too much happening in his heart and mind. It had been two hours. The police had talked to him, then he had to wait for detectives, and they were a “good cop, bad cop” team that he would have expected only in a fictional work, and that was fitting, since none of this felt real. 

The way that Grace’s body shivered in his arms, then just… stopped moving. The way that she wasn’t breathing and he was too scared to let go of her wound to try to administer CPR… The way that he was convinced that he was watching the love of his life die in his arms and the fact that she had been in surgery for two hours and nobody but police and detectives would speak to him about anything, yet, nobody would try to contact her family, despite him repeating to them that she was Ambassador Monroe’s daughter…

3:48 am - At least they had contacted Sunetra. Apparently, she was Grace St. Catherine’s listed emergency contact. She and Xander showed up about an hour after Simon had been sitting there, with the police. Whenever they came in, both of them noticed him and he could see that Xander looked equal amounts of confused, angry, and scared. Sunny was less readable, only seeming to be curious, but rushed over to him, while the police tried to intercept her. “What happened?” she asked, over their shoulders. 

Simon stared at her, glanced at Xander, and even though everything in him wanted to say, “You left her to fucking die is what happened!” Instead, he said very softly, “Grace and I were on a date and she got shot…” Sunny had an emotional response. She began to let tears fall from her eyes, though the rest of her was unresponsive as the police gently guided her away, asking that she and Simon don’t talk.

Xander had a look of… realization and resignation. Simon was gonna cover for them again. He and Sunny could stick with the alibi that they would have used if Grace had been found dead in the alley… “Is she dead?” Xander asked, shaking and crying/

“Surgery…” Simon said, feeling… equal parts bad for him but still extremely pissed off. He knew that he cared, he did know that… but they just LEFT her. They left her to die, not knowing that Simon was there for her, to avenge her nor to save her. They had left her to die in an alley and would have just… moved on without her, like they’d done with Heath. He felt his own tears forming again, angry ones this time around and he wiped at them with his sleeve.  She deserved better. 

At least now, he was ready to make his phone call. He just… didn’t want to potentially be arrested if Grace was gonna be alone. Hopefully, somebody would call her parents. She wasn’t close to them, but she loved them a lot, and they deserved to know where she was. She deserved to have them there for her. “Mom…”

“Simon? Baby, it’s 3 am, what in the world is going on?”

He sobbed and said, “Grace was shot..”

He heard the wind leave his mother like she’d just been hit. “Oh my God, Simon. Baby, I am so sorry. Where are you, I’ll come right down!”

“I’m at the hospital. The police want to talk to me. I’m scared that… That they’ll make me leave her here… that they might arrest me.” There was a pause, and he knew that she was trying to process something… “I was just trying to protect her. I killed somebody… He shot her and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t even the fact that he had done it, but telling his mother was… harder than he imagined when he mustered up the courage to call her.

“I’m gonna call the lawyer and come down there. What hospital?”

.

 Simon wrote something on her hand. 

It's not the first thing that she noticed. That was the room. A hospital room.  What happened? For a moment, she didn’t even know who she was, much less where exactly she was and why, but her brain read her surroundings as a hospital room, and whatever happened, she felt very fuzzy headed and resolved not to say anything aloud until she could figure out more about what happened and why.

The second thing that she noticed was the badge.

It had a visceral and sobering affect on her. She thought about the ACAB button on her favorite canvas bag and her body felt actual elevated pain at even seeing the symbol - a symbol she hated and did not trust. The badge holder spoke, seeing that she was now awake, she mentally noted, not caring that she couldn’t POSSIBLY look like she was capable of holding a conversation, because she still was trying to figure out what happened. “Miss St. Catherine?”

“Monroe,” she groaned.  Bitch, was that YOUR voice? She wondered, hearing something that sounded gross and pained come out of her and feeling a tremendous strain as the word flowed from her lips, even as her mind told her not to say THAT. Monroe. She hadn’t used that name in years, but… her brain still automatically spat it out when addressed. “Ugh…” she finally remembered more. Monroe. That’s correct. She had parents and her last name, from them had been Monroe. It took her a while to push out her explanation - both energy and concentration that the badge holder allowed her to power through. “I’m the daughter of Gethsemane Monroe… and Ambrose! Ambrose Monroe. Call him… My father… I’m… hurting…”

The third thing that she noticed was her pain. You’d think it would be instant, but her brain spent so much energy trying to formulate words and connect them to thoughts of questions that she hadn’t. But, by God, now she did.

“You’ve gotten medical attention, but we will contact your parents.”

“Cool. They’ll call the family lawyer.”

“You think that you need a lawyer?”

“I  don’t  think that you should talk to me in my condition. Can hardly think, and I’m in pain. I’ve…”  I’ve been shot! THAT’S what happened. She remembered. Her blood pressure spiked at this realization. “Simon!” Her voice was stronger, in her panic and she moved quite violently, only to realize that she was handcuffed to the hospital bed. Both her wrist and her gsw hurt in that moment and she laid down, breathing hard and holding herself with her free hand.

“Simon Laurent?” The badge holder had been unmoved by her sudden jolt, and unphased by her obvious pain. 

“I hope that whatever is in this IV doesn’t make me forget that you’re trying to talk to me in my condition, after the fact that I asked for my lawyer. I hope that they have a lot to say about me being chained to this bed after getting shot.”

The doctor had arrived to check on her and the detective ducked out, with Grace glaring at him. They brought her blood pressure down, gave her more pain medicine and spoke to her about her injuries and procedures. “Am I going to make it?”

“I think so. Good thing that your friend was there.”

“Simon! Is  he okay?” her pulse shot up. 

“Please try to remain calm, Miss St. Catherine. He wasn’t harmed.” She sighed and rested against the pillow.  That wasn’t what I asked…  But,  that was when she noticed it:

“Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon”  The doctor left the room as she stared at the sloppily written message, knowing that even though it looked shaky and/or rushed that it was Simon’s handwriting and he MUST have written it while she was injured… she knew this was an important message.  Our last date night? Like… last date-date, date night or last “date night” date night? No… not our last date. There’s nothing special about that.  He had recently asked her about their “last date night,” so she knew that must have been what he meant.  Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon… 

She knew what she needed to do. She waited, trying to breathe and meditate, silently hoping and wishing that she knew Simon as well as she knew that he knew her. She looked at the clock in the room. 4:14 am.

.

4:58 am, a VERY handsome couple stormed into the hospital and Simon recognized them immediately. Even if he had never seen the photos, Grace was the spitting image of her mother - the woman didn’t even look old enough to have a daughter her age. They could easily pass for sisters, and with a slight variation of her skin tone and hair texture, they had the exact same face, build, and body language. (Though, Grace's body language most likely mimicked her mom's to pass for normalcy) Her father was… clearly rich, because that woman was definitely out of his league and his style was more of a conservative fashion than the clearly purposely fashionable wife, but that was an earlier thought Simon had… not necessarily one he had on this night. 

The man was slamming his finger onto the counter and speaking very sternly to the poor lady at the desk. Whatever was happening wasn’t her fault, but Simon figured the police had been just as shitty with them as they’d been with him the past couple of hours. The woman turned and noticed him. She came over and his mother took his hand and intertwined their fingers, seemingly to give him strength. They weren’t sure WHAT Grace’s mother was going to say.

“You’re Grace’s boyfriend,” she said. Simon… knew that Grace said her mom was English, but hearing that voice come out of “Grace’s face” was a bit shocking at first. He nodded his head. If Grace hadn’t announced that they had broken up, this wasn’t the time to. Maybe she also hadn’t mentioned that she’d rushed off because he was stalking her. “Do you know what happened?” She wondered.

The police were a lot more accommodating with allowing her to talk to him than they had been with Sunny and Xander, who were also in the waiting room, with officers beside them, and had been presumably questioned when they’d been guided to the detectives earlier. Simon glanced at them and he saw that the police were staring at him, waiting for him to finally say something. If he wasn’t going to answer them, he would maybe answer this woman. He squeezed his mother’s hand and let himself tell her. “Somebody attacked Grace. She was shot,” he pointed to where. “She’s been in surgery. They won’t say more. The man that shot her… He was somebody… that she  knew…  from her past, I think,” he said, tilting his head, hoping that Mrs. Monroe would catch what he meant. She stumbled, ever so slightly, letting him know that she indeed did get it. “I killed him,” Simon said. It was more of a proud declaration than anything else. The woman looked… relieved. Simon didn’t know if he was imagining that for his own ego, or if he was simply too disoriented to note things properly. But soon, the doctor approached Grace’s parents and they rushed down the hallway with him.  She’s alive. She’s okay… Simon felt himself take the first relieved breath that he’d had in hours.

.

5:17 am. Outside of her room, she could hear her parents fussing with someone. The other voice wasn’t very familiar, but she ultimately gathered that it was that badge that had been in earlier. He had a hard voice, which, although he was speaking in a low voice, it cut through the wall and sounded very sinister as he told her parents that she couldn’t receive visitors until they figured out what happened in that alley. An accent of “the Queen’s people,” Grace considered it. She wasn’t that great at telling a lot of those accents apart, and found out that people snobbishly point out that their accents are special. Their accents are different. If they had the Queen listed whenever she looked them up online, she just threw it in a bucket. It was an effort on her part NOT to think about linguistics. In fact, she furrowed her brows that she was thinking about it so naturally just from hearing an Australian accent through a door.  Damn it. 

Her father spoke about the constitution, warned the dick that he  knew the law, and her mother insisted that he was incompetent, subhuman, and corrupt. The door opened and the man returned, leaving her parents outside. 

“Miss Monroe, or Miss St. Catherine, or whoever you wish to be called these days. Your parents have been alerted and they want to see you. Your boyfriend is out there, speaking to my partner. If you want to get your side out, I would suggest that you do so now.”

She frowned.  Her side?  Simon wasn’t telling on her. He wouldn’t. She looked at the note on her hand.  This cop is trying to get under your skin, Grace. 

“People sure do seem to die around you a lot. Hopefully, he'll realize that sooner, rather than later." He adjusted her blanket and smirked, his icy blue eyes seemingly having nothing human behind them as he covered up her still cuffed arm. "But, maybe I'm misunderstanding the facts. Maybe it's  not  what it looks like. Maybe you  weren't trying to attack someone when they shot you in self defense, only to be murdered moments later by some poor fool under your spell."

Now, Grace smirked, but she was in enough pain that it could be mistaken for a wince, if Mace wasn't so receptive. "Yes. You ARE wrong."

"Explain it to me. Simon's certainly explaining it to my partner."

.

Sieve: Just explain to me what happened

Simon: Is Grace okay?

Sieve: Whatever you know, it could only help her.

Simon: (Sighs) I've already told the police and I also told you and your partner. That guy shot her and I shot him. He attacked, I reacted.

Sieve: What led up to it?

Simon: It happened really fast.

Sieve: Start from when you first saw him. We’ve got time. 

Simon: Ummm… he seemed to come out of nowhere to me I don't know. 

 Grace: I spotted him throwing the trash out back there and I recognized him. I thought he might not recognize me, but if he did... I... Didn't want Simon to know. (Lowers her eyes to the note on her palm. Clenches her fist.) He doesn't know about my past. I didn't want him to know that I was... Product... And I certainly never expected to run into the man who had turned me into product…

 Sieve: Did she say who this man was?

Simon: No... She... (Taps into Grace's personality. ‘If I were brainstorming the actions of a character like Grace, how would I outline her response to this line of questioning?’) She seemed paranoid. Secretive. I didn't know him, but I had a feeling that she didn't want me to, so I tried to give her space. I gave them too much of it…

 Grace: I tried to get some distance between Simon and I to get a closer look at the guy. It was dark and I didn't know if my past was playing tricks on my mind. It's been almost 15 years now… I didn't really believe myself to be seeing him again, especially in such a random place as this alley.

Mace: But it was him?

Grace:  (nods head)  It was dark. I was walking up on him and I asked him a question about that day. Are you the nice man with the pinky ring in the white limousine? I asked it out loud before I could stop myself or formulate a more tactful way to handle it.

Mace: And then what?

Grace:  (Looks into his eyes) And then he shot me.

 Simon: I don't KNOW what she said. I don't know what happened. It was dark and they were a little ways away from me. From what I COULD figure, he seemed to be trying to kill her. I simply reacted.

Sieve: By emptying your gun into him?

Simon: That's… that's how I practice at the range. I've been practicing a lot. I'm a pretty good shot. I just... Went into my practice mode. He was running, but I imagined the firing range targets when they move forward.

Sieve: He was running towards you?

Simon:  (Pauses)  No.. the other direction.

Sieve: So, you admit that he was running away when you killed him.

Simon: I… never denied that he was running away… AFTER he tried to kill Grace. (Hands shaking in anger and frustration)

Sieve: But, instead of self defense, as you claimed, this sounds like revenge for shooting your girlfriend.

Simon: If you could only be self-aware enough to realize how absurd that is coming from the police. You all shoot people all the time out of fear. Unarmed people who aren't even being violent. This monster shot at us!

Sieve: At her. After she rushed up to him in the dark, in presumably a confrontational manner.

Simon: Why do you presume that?

Sieve: It sounds like your girlfriend rushed upon this man, if it happened so quickly that you can’t form how exactly it did happen. How far away would you say you were from him?

Simon:  (Flares nostrils)  I didn't measure.

Sieve:  (More pensievely than accusatory)  But, in the dark, with him moving in the opposite direction, you were a very precise shot. It was not well lit, he was an unknown distance away. Your girlfriend was probably on the ground by then. All on short notice, and in a random alley behind this man’s job. You hit him with every bullet in your gun. You didn't miss at all, and still had time to apply pressure to the wound and call 911. 

Simon: I’m a quick thinker and I've been practicing.

 Mace: So, the victim…

Grace: Me?

Mace: The murder  victim.

Grace: The attempted murderer.

Mace: Had ties to someone you knew. Someone we spoke about before. Heath Farmer.

Grace:  (Pulse accelerates. Face becomes firm)  I don't believe that.

Mace:  The night that Farmer died, he had been a part of a b&e, two of the culprits escaped. The homeowner didn't get a good look at them, but noted that they were all dressed alike and wearing masks. Some time later, a man was taken from his home, not to be seen again. His wife, who hadn't been on the scene when Farmer died, described the kidnappers in a similar fashion as Farmer had been dressed that night. Same exact clothing that was removed from your person for surgery.

Grace: (Unbothered) Sounds like they were stylish.

Mace: 148. That's what you told the police whenever you were initially arrested for beating a girl almost to death. 

Grace: A gang member who murdered a small child that police failed to protect.

Mace: Heath Farmer once had a number too, and I'm sure that if I were to go through all of your friends, I would find more numbers. More members of your gang. More murderers…

Grace:  I'm  sure that you’ll find that there is no type of evidence to indicate that  I  have murdered anybody, anywhere. The only thing that you have is the word of someone who described an outfit of some people who maybe tapped into a description that her husband gave her when he spoke about work.

Mace: I never mentioned anything about his work.

Grace: You mentioned that the wife’s description matched Heath's death at his murder scene. Either somebody let a civilian on the premises during an investigation, or the woman's husband was on the scene for work, since she was not, as you were happy to inform me. (Bats her eyes)

Mace:  (Glares) You were able to pin numerous murders on so-called stewards, who wore all black clothes masks to cover their identities, and yet, in several disappearances over the past couple of years, we find the symbol associated with your old gang. The one that you got away with acts of violence by being rich and pretending to be crazy. Several of those same kids who were on the streets were there for a year while you were allowed to sit in a room, dance and draw pictures with crayons. Maybe the ringleader felt bad for abandoning them. Maybe these people who are disappearing are doing so because the princess has decided.

Grace: This is inappropriate. The detective.

Mace: Why would you and Farmer have matching outfits and be near people associated with the old Apex in the middle of the night? More than one occasion, and it be exactly the same as what the witness saw when her husband was taken?

Grace: My date with Simon was after practice last night, and Heath must have stopped by that man’s house on his way to  practice that night.

Mace: Practice?

Grace:  (Deadpan)  We have a dance crew.  (Stare at each other)  You can verify it with the Infinity Train Foundation Center. Sometimes we practice there and most of our performances have been there. For the kids.

Mace: You never said that you had practice on the night of his death.  (Smirks)

Grace: I said that we cancelled some plans to hang out with Simon. Those plans were practice that night. My other friends wanted to size him up and Heath didn't make it to the little meet and greet. Maybe he was as unfortunate as me. Maybe he saw somebody that he just couldn’t stand not to address. Maybe that’s why he was killed, as opposed to wounded or apprehended for questioning. Sure would have made your job easier than this plot of yours to give me details of the investigation. You might think that you’re programming me to know stuff that I’m not supposed to know so that later that knowledge can be used against me, but I promise, I’m not as stupid as you think.

Mace:  (Fumes in frustration as Grace stares at him, emotionless)

Grace: Are you on the take? Is that why you’re so passionately trying to pin cold blooded murder on an internationally recognized children’s book series author?

Mace: Maybe it’s him who’s in your pocket. Unfortunate young man who brings joy to children is a good, strong alibi for a murderous former gang member and child prostitute…

Grace: (Spits in his face) 

“Book me for assault for that if you want to, but you don’t have SHIT else on me,” she hissed. “I can’t wait to tell my lawyer what you just said to an injured SURVIVOR of child trafficking, homelessness and the subsequent street violence brought on by aforementioned abuse. I’m a recovery success story, philanthropist, child welfare advocate, and payer of so many taxes… The way that my dad and the DA might as well be fucking each other, they’re so close, and you take my physically and mentally traumatized body, cuff it to a bed while I’m striuggling for my life, and question and accuse me while I’m under medication... I feel like… You should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself, ``Do you want to fight me?” He wiped his face with her blanket, uncuffed her and left the room.

Her parents were speaking with her lawyer whenever he came out. “Going to take Mr. Laurent to the station for more questioning,” he said.

“What?” Mrs. Laurent wondered, walking up with coffee for Mrs. Monroe that she had gone to fetch while waiting for Simon to finish speaking with the other detective. “Simon already told us all that he did what he did in self defense!” 

“Other things have come to light, namely that the murder victim…”

“The assailant who tried to kill my daughter,” Mrs. Monroe corrected, infuriating him as well as her daughter had.

“WAS affiliated with the organisation that disbanded and became known as the street gang that your daughter was part of…”

Mrs. Laurent gasped. “Street gang? What are you talking about?”

“What he’s talking about is something that he has no legal RIGHT to talk about and now you’ve just slandered my daughter to a woman who only knows her after her terribly haunting childhood of being forced into a life of crime.” Mrs. Laurent’s eyes were already red from crying, and now they were simply confused, as well. “Mrs. Laurent… Our legal team already has representatives here on behalf of Grace. I’m more than happy to extend their services to Simon, as well.”

“I don’t know that we can afford something like that…” the woman said. 

Mrs. Monroe doubted that Simon would have a problem with good legal representation, as she definitely already researched his net worth, but it was true that he didn’t have a team like the one that they did. “Don’t be silly. Our children come first, and it's clear that they are under attack right now. Why else would we be even be entertaining the notion that two beloved pillars of the community are somehow orchestrating a conspiracy theory to…” she gave Mace a look, “What were the claims? Killing a child trafficking gang member?” She finally took her coffee from Mrs. Laurent’s shaking hand, blew on it and took a sip, staring at Detective Mace, for dramatic effect.

It burned her tongue, but she didn’t flinch. 

Sieve came from the room that he had been allowed to use in order to speak with Simon and he and Mace touched base, going over the discussions. Simon hugged his mother and Mrs. Monroe stared at the detectives. Her husband approached with the DA on his cell phone to speak with Mace. They watched as he stammered and tried to explain things, then he handed the phone back and punctuated with conversation (pointed at Simon), with, “We’ll be in touch if further questioning comes about. At this moment, no charges will be filed.”

Simon’s eyes smiled and he politely said, “Thank you so much, for everything that you do to keep citizens safe.” Mace knew he was being sarcastic, though there was nothing to prove it and the Monroes had just made it clear that this entire lot would be a unified effort. In fact, the woman was rubbing Simon’s back and talking kindly to him while his mother offered him her coffee cup. Mace left angrily. Sieve seemed less upset, but he always was. 

The police were going to stay around for a while, and Grace was only allowed 3 visitors at a time. First, she saw her parents and the lawyer. Then, she saw Sunny, Xander, and Jalicia had come in too, by then. Then, her mom brought Mrs. Laurent in and the woman was trying to be very strong about having had it sprung on her this morning about Grace’s past and the entire situation with the police and things. Grace was extremely tired by the time that Simon finally got around to coming in. So tired, that she only saw his face, smiled, held his hand and fell to sleep, with him and the clock watching over her. 8:41 am.

15. I Trust Him With My Life

[classified-bluerose]

put me back together - quentin beck x reader

a/n: (mild) spiderman: ffh spoilers ahead. probably a very OOC quentin but hey... the man got me clownin’.

quick notes: reader is an avenger, quentin is quentin, this is far too soft tbfh but it’s fanfiction so \_(0-0)_/. just suspend your belief & hope u enjoy!

a/n 2: unedited, unbeta’d. idk man. i’m just in love w jake gyllenhaal (gylenhaal?) and mysterio is hot as hell.

(GIF is not mine)

—

chapter one: breathless

—

quentin beck is a meticulous man - he planned every facet of his revenge plot down to the smallest of details. arranged contingencies and back-up plans and waited, with the patience of a saint, for the correct moment to strike. he ensured any and all top-tier avengers were MIA, left it just long enough for SHIELD to pull together some semblance of it’s former operation but short enough so they were still finding their feet in the aftermath of the Blip. getting around the kid, parker, would be easy enough. he’d been through a tremendous amount of trauma, and quentin could use that to his advantage.

the one thing quentin beck didn’t count on, though, was you.

you, an avenger - or a former avenger, at least - who fell somewhere in the middle of all the others. not by power level, simply by how known you were. the widow and the hawk were rarely spotted and little was known about either, whilst iron man and captain america owned the heart and soul of the entire nation. banner was known for his destructive capabilities and thor worshipped for his literal godliness and appearance.

how shallow the common folk can be, quentin always mused.

then you - powerful, but not plastered across billboards or tv ads. quiet and lowkey, but not quite invisible. quentin was aware of your existence but never paid much attention to it, having heard that, following stark and roger’s deats that you’d quit the superhero charade and disappeared into the ether.

so, the man of mysteries found himself more than a little surprised when fury showed up mexico, with you in tow.

a little bit of panic hits as he watches you appraise the scene - this could be a problem, he thinks to himself, scanning his brain for any possible solution. it is only when he begins to interact with the shield agents that he notices something.

although you are standing in his presence, alive, solid, real, it‘s pretty obvious you aren’t exactly there. haunted images flicker across an otherwise stoic face as shoulders bow from the weight of grief and guilt and trauma. glassy eyes stare through and not at, words mumbled in montone in response to fury.

okay, quentin thinks, hiding a smirk, i can work with this.

—

the plan changes ever-so-slightly before venice. it is simple but brilliant, even if he does say so himself. having already laid the groundwork for his tragic backstory, it is easy to weave your character into the tapestry he was creating.

pained glances, longing expressions, a hesistant greeting - all little, subtle clues hinting to the fact that quentin knew you in his alternate world.

fury picks up on it first, of course. the spy who’s secrets have secrets still has the eye for detail he’s famous for. you, on the other hand, are oblivious to quentin’s actions - obvlious to pretty much anything happening around you. you don’t speak unless directly spoken too, don’t offer insight or advice on how to defeat the elementals. it‘s almost like fury has dragged you here in a bid to convince you to return to the fold.

quentin learns as much as he can about you as he flies over the sea to italy; not much could be gleaned from online sources but he pulls out just enough information to put together a rough sketch of who you are, what you wanted, what you’d lost.

you’d worked with the avengers since 2012, sided with stark in the infamous civil war years later - the idea of you being close to that man was enough to set quentin’s blood boiling - and had fought in both battles against the mad titan thanos. your powers were certainly impressive - your ability to conjure and manipulate fire set off a fresh worry. the final elemental that mysterio would face off against was the one made of ‘’flames’’ - what if you decided your powers would help with the destruction of the molten man?

quentin files that thought away for later as he clicks on a rare picture printed on some trendy news site. he almost doesn’t recognise the girl in the photograph as you. you were younger, looked lighter, did not carry as many ghosts on your back. and you were smiling. wide and bright and shining and quentin struggled to pull himself away from the sight.

when he did, he itemised the information he’d gathered into what he could and couldn’t use to win you over. after all, every superhero needs a love interest to protect, right?

you were close to stark, that much was painfully, bitterly obvious. newsreports following the aftermath of the last battle hinted at an intimate relationship with the black widow, too. both those people were dead and gone and that meant there was something missing in her life. an empty space that quentin was certain he could fill. the battle had caused some damage to your powers - almost like a battery, the effort and strain of fighting thanos had drained your energy quite significantly. you were slowly returning to your original state, but right now you were weakened, hurting. vulnerable.

perfect for quentin.

he gathered his information, updated the team on this latest development, and braced himself for what would come next.

—

when he reaches venice, it’s clear that fury has mentioned to you that quentin has taken an interest. you seem slightly more alert, meeting his gaze for periods longer than a half-second. your body language changes minutely - your arms, usually crossed tight across your chest, now hang looser at your waist, fingers interlaced. it is by no means a huge shift, but enough for quentin to make his move.

after a meeting with agents, fury, and spiderman, he hangs around the base setup, lingering at consoles and waiting for the last of the people to trickle out. you have stayed on to keep an eye on quentin - fury is no fool and recognised that this stranger from some other world could turn out to be just as much a threat as the monsters he was fighting. quentin couldn’t surpress a smile as he thought, oh, you don’t know the half of it.

he quickly rearranges his face when he clears his throat and approaches you, slowly. you glance up. he took his time to savour this moment - this scene he was most excited for.

he smiles, softly. ‘’ hey. i was hoping i’d a get a chance to talk to you. ‘’

no verbal response; you simply gaze at him expectantly.

quentin let his eyes take in every inch of your face - not a hardship, in fairness, you were beautiful in every way to him. if any other world really did exist she’s the girl he’d approach at a bar and offer to buy her a drink.

focus, quentin, he reminds himself, and breathes out a short laugh. ‘’ it’s so good to see you. ‘’

again, no real answer. just a tilt of the head, confusion in the eyes.

he let his fingers fall to the simple silver band on his left finger, twisting the metal around. your gaze follows the movements and there’s a brief moment where quentin swears he can see the cogs turning in your brain.

the blank expression breaks - a frown furrowing your brow, lips parting in a silent ‘’oh’’. excitement brims low in his belly - it’s working. she’s already figured it out.

you take a breath and turn your head away. when you look back, your face is neutral once again. but there’s something there - a softness that’s new. a tiny chink in the armour, all that quentin needs.

‘’ i’m sorry for your loss, ‘’ you tell him, ‘’ but i’m not her. ‘’

he nods quickly, ‘’ i know, i know. it’s just ... you look like her. ‘’ he falters in his words and feels tears building behind his eyes. seeing his watery gaze you clam up and he curses himself for getting too into it. after a second, however...

‘’ i know how it feels. to lose the one you love. to feel like it’s your fault, like you could’ve - should have - saved them, ‘’ you sigh and rub your face, tiredly. ‘’ but that’s not gonna help you save this world, quentin. ‘’

the sound of your name leaving his lips sends a tremor through his heart. he freezes momentarily - what is this feeling? - but quickly shakes out of it as you continue.

‘’ you gotta move on, ‘’ your voice is nothing more than a whisper, ‘’ you have a chance, now, to win, and you can’t let bad feelings ruin it. ‘’

you meet his gaze almost shyly, and he feels physically drawn in to you, doesn’t even realise his feet are moving until he’s barely a breath away. startled by the sudden closeness you take a step back and harden your features once again.

quentin apologises, sounding sincere, ‘’ i didn’t realise ... you’re not like her, not entirely. she was ... she didn’t have powers. ‘’ he lets the ghost of a fake memory flutter across his face. ‘’ but she was still the strongest person i knew. ‘’ his voice splinters on the last word and tears slip down his face.

you hesistate, he senses the uncertainty, and moves to turn away as though ashamed.

his stomach does a victory flip when your hand comes to touch his armoured shoulder. from underneath long, damp lashes he peeks down at you. you look as though you’re hurting for him and something harsh twists in his chest. he doesn’t have time to think about it, though. not when your hand slides down the material of his costume and finds it’s way into his.

you squeeze it gently, the unnatural warmth of your skin almost burning against his palm. quentin finds himself feeling comforted, tries to climb out of the moment and remember that this isn’t real -

he slips a little bit when you squeeze his hand a second time, and say, ‘’ just make her proud, quentin. you can save this world. do it for her. ‘’

his breath leaves him and he’s silent for a long moment as he gazes down at your face. he feels cracked open, raw, vulnerable. eventually, he nods, waits for his voice to even out. squeezes your hand back, a little tighter than necessary.

‘’ i’ll do my best. ‘’

|| Part 1 of ? ||

[diffractor]

So, there’s several different aspects of punishment that the criminal system is trying to do, none of them well. I’ll try considering how to best optimize them individually, and then mentally expose them to other considerations to arrive at something not totally evil (something still feels a bit off about my results, this is a first draft). Only reblog if you’re going to do a dry effortpost about crucial considerations left out and a better way to do things taking those considerations into account.

The aspects: 1: Retribution: Someone hurt you, so you want them to suffer. 2: Deterrence: Preemptively prevent people from doing [thing] by guaranteeing that bad things happen to them if they do [thing]. 3: Prevention: If someone does [thing], you do something so they don’t do [thing] again. 4: Reparation: If someone does [thing], you take resources from them to pay back for the damage caused. 5: Preemption: Do stuff that makes [thing] less likely to occur in the first place, like after-school programs or something. For maximizing retribution: Well, that’s just called torture. For maximizing deterrence... well, certainty of punishment plays a bigger role than magnitude of punishment, so some 100% certain moderately bad thing is visited upon you when you commit a crime. For maximizing prevention... idk, a magic rock that when you touch it, it instantly wipes any desire to commit crimes. Or a teleporter to extradimensional australia where someone walks in and they don’t come out. For reparation... fines seem pretty sensible. And for preemption, that’s just structuring society in ??? way s.t. there’s no incentive to commit crimes in the first place. Now, a lot of the earlier-mentioned stuff is pretty evil when taken to extremes, so let’s try throwing a moral parliament at this. Retribution: Ok, this one gets a whole lot of shit as not a morally valid motive, and I think there’s a lot of people who, if given a magic criminality-wiping rock, would have “touch the rock” as their only legal consequence. I don’t know about that, desire for retribution is pretty clearly a terminal value. If a man shot someone’s dog, and then they touched the magic rock and were remorseful and would never do something like that again... then, according to my personal sense of which worlds are better, it’d be clearly better if they also got kicked in the nuts by the dog owner, even though that doesn’t affect anything going forward. With that said, however, there’s still all the other moral considerations about. Disproportionate retribution like Hell or Azkaban or spending a decade or two in prison gets a very strong veto from the rest of the moral system, and it isn’t even that satisfying to the retribution value. If someone burns down my house, I don’t want them to spend several years in a dreary place with their life on hold, either no or bad company, a high risk of rape, and then find it impossible to come back into society, that’s just depressing, excessive, and not even that satisfying as punishment. Retribution-Value says it’d be much more awesome to just beat the shit out of them with a stick, or sting them with a bullet ant. I also think that, if given a choice between the latter options and prison, I’d take getting beat up in a heartbeat. There’s a tremendous amount of risk with the legal system having retribution as a purpose, because there’s no incentive for mercy there. The prisoners cannot vote, and the people voting for what to do with criminals are not going to go in the direction of “more mercy”, signalling is going to take it to really bad extremes. Also (Retribution-Value says), hurting someone yourself is way better than having someone do it for you, and (Mercy-Value says), there’s a possible check in the latter case that isn’t present in the former case, namely, the person doing the punishing feeling bad. There is, however, still a slippery slope of being permitted to come up with increasingly nasty retributions to do to people. So, the best option for retribution seems something like “if you were greatly wronged, you get a chance to personally beat up the person, someone’s nearby to ensure you don’t do permanent harm”. For stuff like imposing a bullet ant sting, that’d take a great deal more care because past a certain point, increased intensity of pain doesn’t make someone look like they’re suffering more, so you’d need incredibly strong restrictions on not adding additional painful options (example of failure mode: “yo we found this one species of centipede that hurts like 3x as bad as a bullet ant, let’s add that to the allowable retribution list”), or a rule like “you’ve gotta personally go through a quarter of what they’re going through, choose your retribution accordingly” to give more of an incentive towards not being too cruel for really vengeful people. I don’t trust any civilization to be able to stick to those rules, so I guess “you get to personally beat up the criminal, but not cause permanent damage” is about as good as you’d get. Retribution-Value says this is awesome, and other values don’t object too hard. 2: Deterrence. Magnitude of punishment isn’t as important for deterrence as certainty of being caught, so I guess just ramp up the number of police, and do the Singapore thing of caning. I’d definitely take that over prison and it seems like a pretty effective deterrent. Or maybe “eat this ghost pepper”. Having devastating punishments that are infrequently applied is just the exact wrong way to go about this. 3: Prevention. I don’t really know what works for this one, having not done a literature review. I will, however, observe that putting someone in a place stuffed with repeat criminals and then tanking their ability to get honest work once they get out is a uniquely awful way of preventing future crimes. An aspect of this is incapacitation, where a repeat offender has to be kept in prison because otherwise they’d totally do [thing] again. If you need to incapacitate someone, prison seems like an uneccessarily cruel way to do it, just design, like, a big apartment, throw in an unlimited supply of video games and weed, and drop the solitary confinement part. Or, if you really really need to make sure someone stops interacting with others, period, just cryopreserve them. Thinking about it a bit more, these two feel unsatisfactory, there’s probably better options. Also, I’d be quite worried about using crime-stop magic rock for this one, because we have instances of moral progress (legalization of weed, gay rights) which relied on people breaking the law, so sufficiently advanced deterrence or prevention may shut down lawbreaking for bad laws. I’d take a bullet ant over the magic rock if the magic rock enforced compliance to the laws of the US, because there’s a lot of really dumb laws. 4: Reparation. Idk, fines? Community service seems like a way of doing reparation, but I’m a bit leery of it because it saps time instead of money. 5: Preemption. Again, I don’t really know what’d be effective here, and there’s the aforementioned issues with sufficiently advanced deterrence/prevention/preemption taking away the recovery mechanism for bad laws. And there’s one last thing that hasn’t really been discussed but also feels like a terminal value. The desire for the person to realize how bad the thing they did was. I think one of the original motives for prison back in the 1700′s-1800′s was that the time of solitary reflection would prompt a realization on the part of the prisoner that what they did was wrong (source: half-remembered Focault book), and... it doesn’t really seem like that works. The ideal would be something like the ending of the Eragon series (major spoilers ahead!) So, there’s an evil king who’s been making the land pretty terrible for a while, the hero confronts him, is just about to lose, and then in the last moment manages to fire off a  wordless empathy spell born from the desire for the king to just... understand that what he’s been doing is wrong. And so, he mentally experiences all the consequences of what has happened to all the people of the land since becoming king. Needless to say, full awareness of all the consequences of one’s actions minus scope insensitivity is a pretty severe thing to think about, and the king shortly thereafter commits suicide. Minus the suicide part and the full removal of scope insensitivity part (because wouldn’t that be as bad as all the stuff that has happened up to now?), that just feels deeply right. That there be something to bring awareness of the full ramifications of everything you’ve done and realize that it was wrong. We’re probably not getting that, but it feels like an unusually pure form of justice. So, summary: current penal system sucks, more police, less prison, more minor corporal punishment (for deterrence/punishment), more fines (for reparation), ??? (whatever works) for addressing the cause of crime/somehow ensuring that people don’t do their crime again, if you need incapacitation then you don’t need to be cruel about it, just go for something Lotus-eater-like. You don’t want to be too effective at shutting down crime, because some crime is good when the laws are dumb. Retribution is a terminal value, fite me on this, but it’s best done on a personal level without lasting harm instead of being put in the hands of an impersonal organization with no incentives for mercy. Finally, full awareness of what one has done is something that’d be awesome if it existed.