#like not to be a fucking cop but maybe we don't have to follow every single idea to its most extreme logical conclusion

[graysongraysoff]

We talk a lot about the puriteens reinventing sexism and stuff but sometimes I feel like we're getting close to an extremely selfish and hedonistic anarchy on the terminally online zillennial end of the spectrum I'll be honest

[mostlygibberish]

I'm beginning to think I should just stop trying to watch slasher movies.

[evilminji]

...Wait. ACTUALLY???

The Portal is basically a doorway right? Big ol solid and sustained gateway from Realm A to Universe B? Unlike the brief blips of natural portals?

As IN... a Ring could therefore, theoretically, send out it's Search For Willpower. EXE vibes? Hit the portal -> go THROUGH the portal -> and continue expanding as the search continued until it hit a Confirmed Match(tm)?

You know... somebody INCREDIBLY SUPER LIKELY to match? Like... say... a Dead Green Lantern who? Had the WILL to continue on as a Ghost? Probably would get priority over any untested "new" Lantern candidates? Since they are somehow both in the system and not?

Recognized, yet a different species somehow?

The Rings records mark them deceased. Yet here they are, without a Ring. Which they OBVIOUSLY need, as Lanterns. Because once a Lantern, always a Lantern. Nyooom~ off it goes.

Off? Probably a whole SHIT TON of them go. Like? A truely, TRUELY alarming amount.

Think hundreds of thousands, suddenly wrenching themselves free of their stands and SHOOTING into the sky. Yes, a few at a time is normal. Day in, day out. Hundreds a day.

Not upwards of millions.

Not all at once.

A SEA of green orbs shooting up into the night sky like shooting stars. So many it chokes the sky. Drives everything to a stand still. All of them going the same direction. Some... EVENT... has just happened and no one knows what it is.

You have no choice but to follow them. Figure out where they are going and what's DRAWING them. You fly for weeks. Take shifts, following them. Alarm countless innocent people and more then a few governments.

It's....? Earth? Fuck. Of COURSE it had to be that God forsaken rock. EVERYTHING seems to come from there! Do you have ANY IDEA how many Lanterns they have stationed there by now? Multiple times the amount ENTIRE QUADRENTS usually take.

Why is it ALWAYS that planet?? Someone call Hal and his merry band of migraines. They're coming in hot. And NO, we CANT stop them. Don't bother asking. We ALSO have no idea where they're headed.

Think about being in Amity. Quiet day for once. You don't trust it. Something gonna happen, you can FEEL it.

A ring shoots past you. Then another. And another. Then dozens. Hundreds. THOUSANDS. Green, glowing, and like they were shot from a gun. The sky hailing ghost jewelry because God hate Amity specifically, apparently, and FUCK your premiums. You dive for your car.

Watch, baffled, at the Fenton house is SWARMED. The local crack pots are trying to shoot at RINGS. Failing to hit a single one. The swarm organized, writhing, and gracefully ALIVE somehow.

Aliens shoot past your car. They're wearing LANTERN get ups. Fighting the local crackpots. The sky is FULL of Lanterns now. Oh god, first Ghosts, now Aliens. Your mother was right. You SHOULD have stayed in Ohio with her sister.

The Rings break the Fenton's door down. The clattering is CACOPHONOUS as they push and shove to race inside. You watch the doorway. Some instinct telling you not to look away. Even as Lanterns and crazy people are shooting at each other not yards away.

Watch. The. Door.

Ghosts come back out. ALIEN Ghosts. Wearing LANTERN rings. Your jaw drops as they just... just KEEP coming. Every last one of them wearing a ring. You struggle to remember how many there WERE. As the sky turns GREEN. As Amity truely DOES become the most haunted place... anywhere.

You're pretty sure in the oceans of GREEN you spot the Justice League. You DEFINITELY spot Phantom. Thank god. No Spooks ever get away with shady nonsense on HIS watch, so whatever happening? 'S gonna get sorted.

And JUST? As you think... maybe, JUST maybe... you could just? Inch your car into drive, and sloooowly get the fuck out of whatever THIS mess it? Those white suited crazy people from the Feds show up and start trying to ARREST the SPACE COPS. For not letting them take unprovoked attacks on OTHER Space Cops!

Oh Shit(tm).

@hdgnj @ailithnight @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes

[thewinterpoet2]

ROXANNE

Jake Peralta x Reader

In which the reader is a secret vocalist outside of work as a detective in the 99th precinct, Jake becomes suspicious which leads to feelings rising to the surface.

WARNINGS: Swearing, themes of crime, theft, interrogation.

Word count: 15,654

Y/N~ Your Name

L/N~ Last Name

The first time Jake started to become suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

It was nearing Christmas which meant crime in Brooklyn had reached a new level of stupid, leading every Detective and Beat Cop to internally curse every black Friday sale to hell for eternity.

The squad of the 99th Precinct tended to be divided around the holidays, Boyle sprung into action, in true Boyle fashion, buying ridiculously expensive gifts for, well, everyone.

Santiago spent countless hours writing Christmas cards, and for the fifth year in a row, apologised incessantly to an exhausted UPS driver as she reluctantly returned all her holiday gifts for Captain Holt.

Gina loved Christmas and celebrated, to some, in what would be a very unusual way. But in her defence, setting up a PO box for her fans, meant she could have a very cheap Christmas. Thrifty and entrepreneurial, that's Gina.

Whereas, some members of the squad weren't as keen on Christmas. We know how Jake feels about Thanksgiving and with no suprise, this translates to his views around Christmas, too.

Rosa Diaz, although she hides it very well, spends Christmas with her family every year. Now her sexuality was out in the open, the healing her family went through have led, thankfully, to a much closer relationship. Rosa would never say this out loud, but knowing that they're fighting in her corner, is the best gift she could have ever asked for.

Oh, but if you asked she'd definitely tell you to "Mind your own fucking business before I get involved in yours" and according to her, "you definitely don't want that, do you?"

Jake Peralta was a great detective but a tricky human being. To put it bluntly, Jake hated Christmas. He hated carols, trees, "little scary elves that show up everywhere", and most of all, romcoms. Jake despised hallmark romance films. Was it because he was single for the 8th Christmas in a row? Who could tell, but he'd certainly deny it if anyone had the courage to ask.

Y/N, was definitely the wildcard out of the squad, especially when it came to the holidays. She'd told every detective the same bullshit tale of how she was going back to England to see her family for the holidays, how her least favourite gift is socks, how more than anything she hates carolling. Because, jesus, no one wants to hear her sing!

Detective L/N was a liar, for many reasons. Yes she was from England but she actually didn't mind socks and the biggest lie of all, maybe she'd convinced the detectives they wouldn't want to hear her sing... But her bandmates and their followers definitely did.

See, Y/N wasn't just a Detective, she was a trained singer, performer and songwriter. After work she tended to dodge Shaw's to head to band practice or straight to a gig, not that anyone had figured that out of course.

Not yet anyway.

Tne first time Jake became suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

Jake and Y/N were in the middle of interrogating a perp, nothing too gruesome or inhumane, a couple counts of petty theft and something that would hopefully have led to a new lead about a future bank heist.

William Dobson was his name.

"Why do all these perps have such boring names, why isn't he called Franco Goldminer"

Peralta turned around, slamming an evidence file onto the nearest desk. Y/N looked unamused at the topic of conversation but not surprised, it was Jake after all.

"Because I'm pretty sure 'Franco Goldminer' is A) too obvious for a criminal B) kind of ironic and C) sounds like an idiot that still lives with his mum in his 30s"

Jake's eyes twinkled at her quick and easy retort, not that she'd have seen that of course.

"Nah I stand by it, he's got a dumb name"

Scoffing Y/N stopped reading the provided statement, sighing in conclusion, rubbing her face with her hands,

"So we've got nothing, Jesus."

Peralta let out a sigh of annoyance,

"L/N why don't you go talk to him, I'll watch and see if he opens up to you"

Giving a cheeky grin he continued,

"I would say you could try annoy him into talking but you basically do that anyway"

Slapping his shoulder Y/N walked straight back into interrogation, ignoring his laughter trailing behind her.

William looks up at Y/N, recognition dawning on his face.

Fuck, this wasn't good.

"So Dobson, recount the night of the 16th for me again, seems some details don't match up from the tapes-"

Mid sentence you're cut off,

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

Y/N made a sound of aggravation at being cut off

"Small world, lots of people. Anyway the footage shows a different time to the one you claim you-"

"Roxanne on 5th right?"

Shit, shit, SHIT. Y/N's blood ran cold at the name of the club she performs at, it's nice to meet fans, just not in the middle of an interrogation.

Fuck she had to play this off cool, nochelant, like nothing happened.

"I don't care about your personal life Dobson, you're here because you're a criminal. Distraction techniques won't work with me, I don't recall being your best friend, Sir"

Awesome she thought, professional and managed to get an insult in at the same time.

"aren't you in that ba-"

Slamming her file onto the table

"Jesus give it a rest you don't know me"

Y/N's voice came out high pitched, aggravated and very, well, unlike her. This was enough to peek Peralta's interest from behind the glass, this wasn't the Y/N he knew, his coworker who hated anything boring but rarely took risks.

Hands up in defeat, Dobson backs down and the interrogation continues as it was before, absolutely useless.

What Y/N didn't know is Peralta was on the other side of the glass, a puzzled expression on his face;

This was the day Jake Peralta made it his mission to investigate further.

"Who are you Y/N?" He mumbled.

A few weeks later, Jake stopped going to Shaws with the squad.

This in itself was confusing for his fellow detectives, Boyle was practically heartbroken thinking that he'd done something to scare his best friend off.

This led to Boyle doing everything he could to try and entice Jake to their bar, regardless of how weird it was.

Boyle is Boyle, he's very extra, but he's got such a big heart and that's all that mattered to Jake.

However, Charles' interference was only causing Jake more stress, his plan needed to be a secret to be able to make this work.

It was a Friday night, the day before New Year's Eve. Y/N had requested annual leave tomorrow, something that was rarely granted on holiday's (thanks again New York) Jake managed to find this much out from a single conversation with Gina, oh, and because the holiday schedule was on a public server but that seemed too easy.

If he wasn't suspicious before, he definitely was now, something was in the water and he simply had to know what was going on.

It's not like Jake was OBSESSED with Y/N, he just wanted to know her on a more personal level and she made that incredibly difficult.

"I like to keep myself to myself, work is work, home is home. Keep them separate"

Her beautiful voice repeated the devastating series of words more times than he'd have liked to have heard them. Never. None. No thanks.

He'd invited her to Shaw's so many times he'd lost count, he'd asked if she wanted to watch Die Hard at his apartment, he'd even asked if he could do more overtime so he could spend more time with her. In the 6 years he'd worked with her he'd made absolutely zero progress, it's hard to fancy someone that doesn't acknowledge your existence.

Jake thinks Y/N is perfect.

Plain and simple.

Starring at her, lost in thought. He thinks about her eyes, how he wishes one day she'd look at him with the same love and happiness he looked at her with. He wonders what their kids would look like, okay Jake that's a bit far you're sounding a bit like Charles, he internally scolds himself.

"JAKE" Y/N snapped her fingers to get his attention, a look that can only be described as concern adorning her features.

"Huh? Oh yes, yes. I agree, yes let's do that. Whatever it was you said" He rambled at the speed of light, pretending to have acknowledged the last 20 mins that don't exist in his mind.

A smirk grew on Y/N's face, something he barely saw but made him feel like the room just got 20 times hotter.

"Oh so you were listening, yeah? Fabulous, so we can go ahead and schedule the hip replacement..."

Jake's eyes grew wide, babbling out some incoherent nonsense he managed to find two words; "HIP REPLACEMENT?"

Y/N couldn't hold back anymore and cried with laughter, barely being able to form any words.

"I was talking to you about someone I booked using their need for a hip replacement as an excuse, I joked she could use yours" wiping away tears, Y/N's laughter dies down seeing his daze and confusion.

"Are you okay, Jake?" Starring him down, he does what he does best, panics.

"I have to go" Jake stands up bolts out the room at top speed, leaving a very concerned Y/N.

Y/N has always liked Jake, he's bubbly, silly, but cares so much about everyone in his life, he'd go above and beyond for anyone and that's something you can't buy. She has wanted to let him into her personal life for a while but mixing personal and professional has never worked in her favour so she stops herself from letting things get weird and complicated again. Life is as complicated as she makes it after all.

Tomorrow Y/N's band were performing at Roxanne again for their NYE party, she was debuting the title song of their new cover album. Y/N has always been such a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, so "Go Your Own Way" definitely made the cut, providing, Jamie and Simon (her bandmates) were okay with that of course. She was excited, finally time to let her hair down and shed any stress from work.

Jake, after running out at top speed, took to his phone, made a few calls and booked a table tomorrow night for nine people.

At Roxanne.

Jake, Charles, Rosa, Amy, Terry, Captain Holt, Gina, Sully and Hitchcock.

And Y/N had no idea.

Well, neither did anyone other than Jake. This was going to be interesting.

The morning of NYE came and Y/N was ecstatic, eating breakfast at lighting speed, grabbing a coffee, brushing her teeth and then heading to the subway, felt like seconds. You know what they say, time flies when you're having fun.

Y/N arrived at Roxanne at just gone 1pm and immediately hugged Jamie who gave a huge grin seeing her arrival.

"Hi baby! Don't you look a treat, you excited for later?"

Blushing and hitting his shoulder Y/N laughed at his brash complimenting.

"Yeah, yeah, save it Jame, where's your boyfriend? He better not be hiding, we're fucked without him"

"Right here gorgeous"

Y/N jumped and let out a sharp gasp seeing him right behind her.

"Don't scare me like that, dick!"

Laughing he pulled her into a hug.

"Ready to blow the world away with your pipes tonight angel?"

Laughing gently she said "As ready as I'll ever be, right let's practice idiots. Then we can grab some food before we have to change"

Y/N had her mind free from work and Jake, but for Jake, well that was another story.

To Jake this was a stakeout, he had no idea whether he'd find a Mafia organisation or nothing at all. He phoned up Roxanne to ask about the event but all they said was to "Check the damn website, it's not 1942 anymore" and the website hadn't been updated in months.

Jake was terrified.

An afternoon turned into the evening and soon Y/N was slipping on a red sequined dress, black knee high boots, two lace black gloves, smokey, dark makeup and her hair was in curls, ready to take to the stage.

Roxanne was bustling already and it had only just gone 8, she was on in 30 mins and this was their moment.

Warmed up and excited, adrenaline coursing through her veins, she jumped up and down to hype herself up, she had got this.

Jake on the other hand, was only just getting ready, nothing too extravagant just a classic shirt, no tie and a jacket, but a clean jacket so it counts, right? The table was booked for 9 and he had no idea what was going to happen or what would be uncovered.

5 minutes to their opening call, Jamie, Simon and Y/N were all hugging and hyping up each other, knowing this was going to be the performance of a lifetime.

The crowd are cheering already, the bar is stacked and there's no space in the room, the floor is filled to the brim full of people and the only remaining space is one singular table on the balcony of the club, a reserved sign sitting neatly in the center.

"LADIES, THEYDIES AND GENTLEMEN, TONIGHT WE TAKE YOU INTO THE NEW YEAR IN STYLE, YOU KNOW THEM, YOU LOVE THEM, IT'S 'CRIME ME A RIVER"

Running out onto the stage, the heat from the stage lights hit Y/N and then everything changed, her body felt warm and she'd never felt more comfortable. The first notes started of Go Your Own Way and she took a breath then started to sing.

Loving you

Isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things

That I feel?

The crowd scream at the sound of her voice, the sweet melody carrying through the entire club, out the doors, into the night.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

How can I

When you won't take it from me?

Y/N can't help but think about Jake as she sings, music really is true to the heart and god what her heart wants more than anything is him.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

Jake and the squad pull up to the club, Terry already confused about why they're at such a random location on NYE when they could be at Shaws or "somewhere that doesn't look straight out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show"

Squeezing through the crowd blocking the entrance to the club, Jake heard Amy gasp.

"Oh my god, Jake"

"No fucking way" Rosa chimed in.

"This is unexpected" Gina remarked.

"Terry did not see this coming" Terry exclaimed.

Tell me why

Everything turned around

Packing up

Shacking up is all you want to do

Looking at his shocked colleagues, Jake followed their eyeline to the stage, seeing Y/N he unconsciously held his breath. She looked out of this world, so out of character from the person he shares a desk space with, but at the same time, she'd never looked more, her. His heart beating faster than the beat of the music, he turned to look at the squad once more, seeing Rosa's smirk, Amy's disbelief, Terry's enjoyment, Boyle squealing like a child at Jake's reaction.

"Oh Jakey, I knew you liked her, I knew it, I can't wait to be best man at your wedding" Charles then carried on monologuing but it all drowned out to Jake who only heard Y/N, oh boy, could she sing.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

Open up

Everything's waiting for you

During this moment he imagined Y/N was singing directly to him, his heart fluttered and in that moment he knew he had to tell Y/N, he just had to. Or he'd explode.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

All the squad started pushing past the crowd to try and get as near to the stage as possible, ignoring their table completely (well apart from Hitchcock and Scully) cheering, dancing and having a great time. Enjoying every second.

On the last note of Y/N's performance she took a breath and basked in the screaming of the crowd.

"THANK YOU! MY NAME IS Y/N AND WE'RE HERE SO YOU CAN HAVE A GOOD TIME, DO WE WANT A GOOD TIME?"

Hearing a scream of "YES" she continued by saying "OKAY SO HERE'S OUR NEXT SONG, THIS ONE IS A BIT DIFFERENT, IT'S MORE OF A POWER BALLED, ARE WE READY?"

But before the first note could be sang Y/N made direct eye contact with Jake, who was fondly shaking his head in disbelief. She smiled widely and blushed a deep red.

She knew they'd talk after, and he did too. But for now she'd show how she loved him by showing him who she really was, Unapologetically and he loved nothing more.

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this fic, might do a part 2, if you want to be added to a taglist or if you want a part 2 full stop please let me know:) unedited so it's definitely not perfect haha. Enjoy!

#jakeperalta #jakeperaltaxreader #brooklyn99 #brooklyn99fanfic #brooklyn99jake #jake #jakeperalta #jacobperaltaxreader #xreader #charlesboyle #rosadiaz #amysantiago #captainholt #terryjeffords #ginalinetti #scully #hitchcock

[gentlefangz]

ithink this is what tumblr would be like in the dogman universe: a simulator

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

can those villain asshats get control of those goddamn monsters i have lost literally every single fucking thing thanks to those brainless pieces of shits last week a fucking T-REX SKELETON destroyed my fucking HOUSE and everything around it

🪻 inmylane-1999

how are you able to say those words

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

what words?

🪻 inmylane-1999 the a word, f word, and s word

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

oh i see you're one of the Collardale inhabitants. screw the fuck off your town is a CURSE

🪻 inmylane-1999

what did i do? :(

10 notes

🪰 greenweirdthingwithteeth follow

hnstly i dont get y Daryl hangs arnd that pig guy hes rlly mean & bad

🐊 piethrowingboss

didnt u help us go after him when he ditched us after the mini jail broke 2 bits?

🪰 greenweirdthingwithteeth follow

yeh butt hes still rlly mean & i was a lil moar concerned 4 Daryl

🐊 piethrowingboss

ohhhh kk

5 notes

🐕 zupabuddiezthezenutz

zomg did u guyz watch that new mini-documentary w/ Petey The Cat n Zarah Hatoff??? that waz tragickk..

#holy shart i have so much moar respect 4 him now..

6 notes

🔄 24hotdogsatyourdoorstep reblogged

🌆 icareforyou follow

still dont know why people are supporting Petey Duckhat just because of that documentary, didn't he terrorize the city for more than a month or two?? ntm he quite literally MUTILATED Officer Knight and Greg The Dog's bodies bad enough with that bomb to where they had to become that sick and horrible abomination i have to stomach through seeing on the news every week.

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

i know right?? like hes genuinely a horrible cat but people are supporting him for no other reason other than "oh hes a victim!!" like shut the fuck up and grow up.

comicpanel-deactivated-98325749857

op i wouldn't say DogMan is sick and horrible, he seems to be in great condition despite such an accident and hard surgery to conduct, and looks perfectly happy. while i don't support Petey Duckhat either, you took it a step further and suggested that DogMan is currently in conditions horrible enough to render him an "abomination".

🌆 icareforyou follow

dont you post tips for fucking evil monsters on your blog.

#LMAOOO dude was SLAUGHTERED so hard they deactivated #redogs

1,509 notes

🌭 24hotdogsatyourdoorstep

walking on the street with a small can of living spray in my pocket and the nearest cop explodes into blood guts and viscera

10 notes

🦷 bigmonsterinyourheart

okay i get that Dr. Scum is a real and kinda sucky person and all that but his labcoat kinda fucks!!

0 notes

✨ lookatthestars

Hot take or whatever but I don't think we should trust a guy who gets really distracted by squirrels and balls and a kitten who could easily get hurt to protect our city. Lightning Dude IS one of the better options as they ARE a highly durable and strong robot, but The Bark Knight and Cat Kid maybe aren't our best bets, they could get hurt easily and aren't exactly professionals.

Don't get me started on the Friendly Friends, I don't think we can trust two guys who JUST left the same exact trio that was responsible for that marshmallow factory's destruction (which left many injured, some DEAD), what if they're pretending? Also the bugs could easily get killed, they're small and fragile, the most work they can do without a high risk of getting smashed is spying on villains.

Commander Cupcake's a different story, as I'm pretty sure that guy only helped out, like, 3 times.

#anti-supa buddies #anti-friendly friends #twinkle twinkle little star

15 notes

🪁 lalalalala89

dude imagine if we were in a book rn and ppl were posting on tumblr abt us

0 notes

🎠 supastarr

remember, calico trans toms are perfectly valid! even cis toms can be calicos, and fur pattern doesn't determine exact gender, especially with fur dying technology nowadays! :)

506 notes

[squiddleknitted]

Watching the new James Somerton apology.

Bold move monetising your apology video. The revenue will go to HBomberGuy! Or Wikipedia maybe!?

The focus on how so many people were nice to him feels like he's suggesting nobody should criticise him now that he's been forgiven by the people he personally and directly wronged.

There's an awful lot of weight being placed on "I'm a cis white man." It's like he's trying to take the blame off himself and put it onto the cisness, whiteness, and maleness. Being a cis white man means he will always be flawed, it's a way of avoiding his responsibility for his actions.

He called the fucking cops on someone. He claims the person, "Did an internet and threatened to kill me." He then follows this up by acknowledging that, "Cops don't usually have the best interests of people at heart." I'm not familiar with the Jessie topic but this video explores it and offers context.

Lots of "We tried too hard to be good and that was our real downfall" type bullshit.

On Telos: "These were not going to be unionised movies, and we were very clear about that upfront. We wanted to be able to pay actors as best that we could, but we never expected to be able to reach typical union wages." Do I even need to say it?

Lots of throwing Nick under the bus. What are Nick's pronouns? James goes from using exclusively they/them to exclusively he/him. There's a line about how him and Nick were codependent that makes me wonder if abuse/toxicity allegations are in the future?

He's talking an awful lot about how every movie he tries to do has issues and he inevitably had to move to a new movie plan. Surely he should've just. Focused on how to fix the issue?

He's getting really into the suicide topic again. In a way that would be better saved for close friends and therapists.

Supposedly several people showed up at his house trying to harm him while he was not there. I'm a little skeptical. This is the first I've heard of anyone having his address, and while I'm sure he received threats, I can't imagine anyone is so invested as to actually go to his house.

He is re-uploading videos, including new videos. The re-uploaded videos are monetised and the money will be going... Somewhere.

"I know that misinformation made its way into our past videos." Well, it didn't write itself?

He has put together a new Patreon, and claims he will not be reopening the old one.

"This video is not about promoting myself." And yet, you have spent much of it doing exactly that.

He hasn't acknowledged the ways that some of his work upheld misogynistic and racist views? 43 minute video and he couldn't manage a, "I should've been more normal about nazis," or, "I said some mean things about women."

[lassieposting]

So anyway, things I've been thinking about this morning: Garrus Vakarian probably likes foreign films

Like.

Turians are the Proud Soldier Race Guys. They have an incredibly rigid, collectivist, by-the-book kind of culture, where every single individual is obligated to spend a good chunk of their formative adolescent/young adult years in the military, where Turian Ideals are hammered into them. So they don't seem like they'd have a big media scene glorifying tropes which go against their general cultural values - specifically, in this case, an individual going outside standard procedures to Get Shit Done on their own terms.

And this is a trope that Garrus loves. When we first meet him, he's sick of being the Good Little C-Sec Cop who follows orders and gets swamped with red tape and can't get the bad guy because Procedure Says No. He clearly sees himself as/wants to be the cowboy cop, detective-gone-rogue type, and he's got a pretty romanticised idea of what that would look like in his head. Bless him.

But. He's learned about that trope from somewhere, and I can't really see it being his own people. Especially with a father like Castis, who's so staunchly exactly what's expected from a turian. He seems like the type who'd have strong opinions about what his kids are reading and watching and being influenced by, because while he obviously loves Garrus, he wants him to grow up to fit a certain mould. The Turian version of the wish-fulfilment vigilante flick is the Spectre Movie, but Garrus isn't allowed to watch those, because Castis doesn't approve of Spectres being Outside The Law.

So baby Garrus grows up lowkey feeling stifled by the way society works, and maybe that's a problem with him, so he gets his head down and does his best to be a Good Turian and make his dad proud, and then he gets his discharge papers and goes to work for C-Sec, and suddenly he's living on the Citadel by himself, and he's got free time nobody is telling him to do X or Y with. He's basically moved away from home for the first time - the Citadel is not Turian-controlled, it's a thriving multicultural melting pot with plenty of people living there who don't exactly conform to Turian standards, he's got colleagues with interests he's never even heard of, and he's gonna start seeing new things.

Human superhero films and cop movies with lots of explosions and no paperwork. Small-budget Batarian short films about victorious anti-Hegemony rebellions. Even his own people's Spectre films. Some kid selling drugs in the wards has a Batman comic in his confiscated backpack? Garrus borrows it to browse on his lunch break. Some Salarian ex-STG operative publishes a memoir? Garrus reads it on the shuttle to work. All these people who feel like he does.

Like. Give me Archangel who regularly spouts lines from Batman or X-Men or Krogan Thunder 3 (or whatever the fuck else he's been watching) as part of his Good Guy Victory Speeches, that makes at least one of his multispecies team who Knows That Franchise pull up short and go "Oh my god, you're a nerd."

[carefulfears]

literally thinking about how mulder is the softest man. and he loves beautifully. he's so focused on his quest because of how much he loves samantha, and his parents. he tries to hope, desperately, that samantha is alive & he'll find her even though he knows how unlikely it is. and without scully, it would have taken him much longer to face it. no one ever looked into the darkness with him or loved samantha with him or believed in him so much they always followed him & stayed present with him in those really difficult moments he couldn't get away from the grief. and everything scully does for him, he returns. he responds to how she cares, and her boundaries. and they talk but they don't really talk, so he toes the line. he's always checking in with her.

the x-files is about love because everything mulder does is through love does everybody get it!! god, it’s just so major to me, that he’s this iconic sci-fi hero who’s just 100% grounded in kindness and generosity. there’s nothing hiding around the corner. he’s not the bad boy in the basement, he’s not the maverick with a secret heart of gold, he’s just fucking nice. he cares about people. he sees people. he wants to help. he loves his sister. loves his shitty parents. loves his evil ex-partners and ex-wife. loves his friend. there’s always something deeper in mulder, but it’s always just pain. he’s not hiding anything away. he refuses to let go of anything, but never wants anyone to fall into the same trap, his or their own. he tells traumatized women who’ve been abused and imprisoned that he needs their help, that they’re capable of contributing, that he wants to know what they think. while every other cop tries to lock them up. he feels every loss, carries every ghost, never stops trying.

i just watched irresistible again, and god. the way that he pulls scully aside and tells her, it’s okay to be affected. it’s normal. “i’ve seen agents with 20 years fall apart on cases like this.” he doesn’t say that it’s because she’s a woman (like the cop in 2shy does) or because she’s young or because she’s traumatized. he never brings up her recent abduction. he just tells her that it’s okay to need space, that she can talk to him.

and scully is trying so fucking hard to be that perfect navy captain’s daughter. that girl who straightened before looking up at her father to say goodnight. that girl who, as her mother says, has “always been the strong one.”

and she tries to be the strong one. she takes a step back. she goes to therapy. she tells her therapist that she trusts her partner more than anyone, but she does not want him to know that she’s struggling. when she decides to come back, and calls him, she plays it off with a joke. (like he does). “besides, you could use my help.” when he responds, “always.” it’s so earnest and direct, without breaking her cover or stepping out of the box she created. yes, of course, agent scully. come help.

in the end, she can barely choke out that “i’m fine,” her signature move. he doesn’t say a word. he tips her chin so slightly, so that she looks at him. it’s one of the most special moments of the series, to me, the way she just breaks when she sees him. grabs him and sobs. and how you can just barely hear him whisper: “it’s alright.”

the police are still cleaning up the scene around them. i don’t think we ever see her do that again, in front of other people. but we do see her do it with him, when they’re alone, because she knows she can. that strong captain’s daughter. it’s like someone talked about on one of your posts before: scully has to be put together. she has to be the strong one. she’s trying to maintain a fragile place in “the boy’s club” (she talks about this herself). she’s trying to present respectability and a certain image.

and maybe she does have to be that person, for her parents, for her brother, for the FBI, the doctors. but mulder thinks that it’s okay to be affected. he just wants her to be able to talk about it. he wants to see her vulnerability, and shield it. in that house in minneapolis, his face breaks, but he just holds her and whispers. and she rarely falls into it, but she knows that she can, since the motel room in bellefleur. and that means something.

it’s just impossible not to soften around him. and that’s something really special, for scully, for the victims and witnesses he works with. he values their help, he already views them as strong, he wants them to express everything that they’re feeling. he believes it helps.

(mulder has said that line too, “you’re the strong one.” - to lucy householder when she was crying in the dirt)

this show was always realistic. you do have to present a certain image. most people are gonna think you’re young and weak and traumatized and stupid. but it also centered this whole thing around this one person that didn’t require any of that, and that’s why it works. why it’s so special.

[buildabettermeme]

Why is no one talking about the riots and protests over the murder of 17-year-old Nahel by police in France?

This boy was only 17 years old, shot in the chest in the driver's seat by cops. People seem to think there isn't racism in France but there is. We all need to be talking about this. Nahel should not be forgotten.

The French government is attacking their own citizens with 40,000 police officers (yes, 40k cops) to quell the unrest. 5,000 cops are being sent to Paris alone.

The French government needs to realize that there wouldn't be riots if you didn't allow cops to and protect cops who kill unarmed, non-threatening, peaceful civilians, ESPECIALLY CHILDREN. French citizens won't let their government get away with this. Neither should the rest of the world.

If we all join forces to condemn this horrible tragedy, all across the world, maybe less young POC people will be murdered in cold blood by police officers. Maybe the French government WON'T sanction murder of their citizens for exercising the basic human right of free speech and protest. Maybe, one day, cops will have stricter standards and punishments. Maybe, in the future, there won't be cops at all, and no one would die by their hand. But we HAVE to work together to ever see that happen.

Blow it up. Blaze it if you want to. Find every post about this murder that you can and FORCE the media to notice.

Nahel's mother is organizing the protesting and has been photographed speaking and acting out for her son. We should also support her, because not enough parents would do this for their murdered child/ren. I know mine wouldn't. But she is, and she deserves to be recognized and supported.

Don't let children be murdered in vain, without notice, without awareness, without action. If we will not avenge our next generation, they won't be here to avenge anyone else. Don't let them die, especially not like this.

I don't know how to start a GoFundMe but if anyone did and wanted to, this would be a great place and cause for funds to go to.

Make the French government quake in their boots. Make them terrified of their own people. Make the government pale at the reality that is facing them; they will lose everything, all of their power, all of their money, if they do not get their shit together and protect their goddamn people.

This CNN article is horrifically boot-licking, however it is the most comprehensive reporting I have found in English, and my French is unfortunately nonexistent.

Don't buy into the copaganda. These fuckers are murderers, plain, cold, and simple.

Fuck the French police.

Fuck ALL police.

(Disclaimer: I am horrible at tags, I'm learning I swear)

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

chapter 6

warnings: warnings: warnings: swearing, divorce, suggestive jokes, Roman makes self deprecating jokes (mostly about his weight and money situation), kate is an asshole and drunk, mention of sex

“Kate.” Roman growled. “Don’t.” My gaze kept flicking between the two. My mind was trying to piece together how those two had ever gotten together in the first place. Especially when Kate looked like she belonged on the cover of Forbes or vogue or something, expensive clothes and jewelry paired together.

“why not?” She asked, pouting. “Never took you for the goth type.” Roman tensed and I tried to pull away from him but he held me tightly. She looked me over and Roman pushed me behind him slightly.

"What the fuck do you want Kate?" Roman asked, sighing and squeezing my arm where it was still wrapped around him. "I don't have the kids. You know that. It's your time with them." Kate rolled her eyes at him.

"But you were supposed to pick them up from Chet's an hour ago asshole." She snapped. Roman frowned and looked at his watch.

"No I wasn't." He said. "I don't get them until next weekend. Since your wonderful lawyer decided I wasn't fit to be alone with them for more than a few hours a week." I tightened my hold on Roman as Kate narrowed her eyes at him. “Thanks for that by the way.” Kate rolled her eyes.

“Well if you’re going to be such a stuck up asshole…” Kate trailed off turning her gaze to me. “Maybe I should tell this bitch…”

“Katherine!” Roman cried as loud as he dared since we were still in the hallway.

“Just what kind of man you are.” She continued, giving him an evil grin. Roman tightened his hold on me and pushed me further behind him. She started walking over towards us, swaying with every step.

“Dammit.” Roman muttered. “She’s drunk.”

“so what do we do?” I whispered. Roman kept himself between the two of us as he moved towards his door.

“follow my lead. We’ll lock her out here and I’ll call…I don’t even know who she’s dating right now.” Roman winced as Kate fell into the wall with a thud. “Fuck it I’ll call Connie.” Roman managed to get his door open and both of us inside as Kate slid down the wall.

“Roman!” She yelled as Roman locked the door, leaning heavily on it and taking a deep breath. “Why won’t you have sex with me anymore?” I raised an eyebrow at that.

“last argument we had. During the filings. She showed up drunk and I was pissed off and she wanted a friends with benefits thing. I said no. So she…started screaming about our sex life in front of the judge.” Roman shrugged.

“how she ever got custody of your kids I’ll never understand.” I shook my head.

“I lied remember? And she blamed me on the mine shaft thing. Said I was supposed to be watching them when she told them to stay in the car.” Roman responded. He finally found the phone number he’d been looking for and dialed. “Connie? Oh hi Chet. No everything…well Kate’s outside my door…yeah asking why I didn’t pick up the girls…right…” while Roman talked to his brother in law I sat down on his couch. I ran my hands over my face and glanced at the door where Kate was still yelling after Roman.

“roman?” I said softly. He looked up and told Chet to hold on. “Tell him to be quick or someone’s gonna call the cops.” Roman nodded and relaid my message.

“yeah…I guess…thanks Chet. Say good night to the girls for me.” Roman said before hanging up. “Their car broke down.” He said, smirk on his face.

“how convenient.” I said, leaning into him. We listened to Kate for a minute before I tilted my head to look up at him. “Should we be the ones to call?” Roman chuckled and grabbed the phone again.

“I don’t see why not.” He said dialing the phone. “Yes hello. I’d like to report a public disturbance. There is a drunk woman screaming outside my apartment. Late 30s. Dark hair. Caucasian. Well dressed.” Roman paused for a second before giving the building number and his apartment number. “Ok. Thank you.” He hung up and looked at me with a smile. “Not the first complaint of the night.” We both started laughing as Kate moved on to complaining about how roman was in bed.

“For fucks sake does she ever talk about anything but sex?” I groaned. Roman rolled his eyes.

“money.” He said. “Which I don’t have so she can’t complain about that.” Roman took a deep breath before taking my hand. “Come on. It should be quieter in my bedroom.”

“taking me to your bedroom already Mr. Craig? I’m flattered.” I giggled. Roman chuckled as he led me down the hall to his room.

“It was only a matter of time before I brought you here anyway.” Roman teased. “Maybe not for nefarious purposes but I mean I’ve got a tv in here and we can cuddle. Beds pretty comfortable honestly. I mean not the softest or firmest but…” I kissed Roman and cupped his cheeks.

“Roman.” I smiled softly at him. “You don’t have to sell me on it. I know we’re not going to do anything back here. I’m happy just to cuddle with you.” Roman smiled at me before kissing me softly again.

“ok.” He whispered. “I just…with Kate…” Roman sighed as we both climbed on the bed. I laid on his chest, tilting my head against his neck. Roman wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. I put my hand over his heart and closed my eyes, smiling softly as he turned on the tv. “You ok?” He asked finally. “I know meeting Kate that way wasn’t on your list of things to do.”

“I don’t think it was even on my list to begin with.” I chuckled, rubbing his chest. “Like at all. I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t her. I didn’t think I could honestly. Whenever you talked about her, I just wanted to hit her. She put you through so much Roman. So much unnecessary shit. I just…” Roman tilted my head up and kissed me hard.

My lips moved against his, hands curling into the black sweater he was wearing. I hummed as he pulled back for a second before diving back in. Roman rolled me on my back, hands framing my hips. Lowering himself, Roman’s forearms trapped me on the bed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tugged him further down onto me. I played with his hair as we lazily made out.

“Roman.” I moaned as he ground down against me. Roman paused and drew back. I stared up at him with a smile.

“spend the night.” He whispered. “Please. Spend the night.”

“I’d love to.” I breathed out. Roman smiled and buried his face in my neck. He leaned more of his weight against me. “I do need to go back to my apartment for pajamas though.” Roman shook his head.

“wear mine.” Roman whispered. I smiled up at his ceiling.

“if you think you can handle it.” I teased. Roman pulled back with a smile.

“I think I can.” He responded before kissing me soundly.

[unicornachos]

Getting tired of seeing gotcha posts on Tumblr lately shitting all over vegans. They've gotten more common over the past few years...

Usually it'll be a post criticising a choice like maybe 3% of vegans actually make, or more usually an imaginary vegan they've pulled from thin air based on their own stereotypes and assumptions, followed by vibes along the lines of' "I know better, actually you don't care about sustainability or human rights at all! You're completely uneducated about (insert any topic here). Gotcha! Who's the morally superior one now, huh" Followed swiftly by the implication that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, so why try at all.

Like yeah maybe there are some young idiot vegans who think buying pleather boots is ok for the environment, but every vegan I've ever met is more likely to get a second-hand pair of leather boots at an op-shop, because it's better for the environment. Every vegan I know has cared immensely about issues with soy and quinoa, about where their food comes from, about water use and microplastics, who picks their fruit and veg, and human rights in general. More than any non-vegans I know.

So why are we still constantly berated for not doing every single other thing that non-vegans want us to do? It's starting to feel like people have a very specific idea of vegans in their heads and need an outlet for weird anger and misery and frustration, and we're an easier punching bag than the large corporations and governments who dictate the rules of our late-stage capitalist hellscape, so why not have a go?

It really feels like people are unconsciously mad with themselves that they can't do more to help the world and possibly have unexamined issues or guilt with consuming animals themselves, and feel better about themselves after telling vegans they're just not doing their activism hard enough, and that everything they buy from the grocery store is a human rights violation, so really you're just as bad as the rest of us.

Idk man I just. It really feels like a lot of whataboutism most of the time from non-vegans who have a weird, skewed view of militant white vegans, while the majority of vegans (who aren't all white, might I add) are just living their lives, trying to make the world a slightly less shitty place. We should absolutely criticise racist white vegans. Take them the fuck down. I don't think you think vegans are who you think they are, though. Vegans are from intersecting identities just like everybody else, and come from many different countries. And also there are some silly, uninformed vegans with misplaced ideas, just like there are silly, uninformed non-vegans with misplaced ideas. But if you imagine a vegan to be someone you'd hate, it's a lot easier to ridicule them to make you feel like you're right and good.

I just wish that the people who make these posts and the folks who join in and/or reblog, would take a look at themselves and think about what they themselves are doing to prevent cruelty in this world, in any shape or form. Like are you painstakingly making sure you're not buying clothes with plastic in it? Are you checking the label of every food item you buy to make sure you knew where it came from? Do you only buy your veg from local farms within 10km or only eat things from your own garden? If not, idk what to tell you, but it's probably that you should give vegans a break if you're not doing all the very things you tell us we should be doing.

It just feels like a lot of misplaced anger. Why are you so, so enraged at vegans not being perfect people when you could be going and protesting outside the farms of migrant workers, if you're so pissed about where our fruit and veg comes from? If you're mad about fruit and veg, wait till you hear of the human rights abuses in abattoirs.

When someone tells a vegan that there's no ethical consumption under capitalism, it just feels like a cop-out. You're not trying so why should anyone else, right? I just think people should be allowed to try to make the world better in their own ways, and not be ridiculed for not living up to an unattainable standard set my non-vegans.

Being vegan is about doing the least harm you can, within your means. It's not an on-off switch- it's a sliding scale of effort to do less harm. It's not stupid to acknowledge unnecessary suffering and choose not to take part in what's within your means to abstain from. Some vaccines still use animal products. Some of my medication has animal product ingredients. Am I going to go off my meds and become an anti-vaxxer? No. Do I think Indigenous Peoples should stop eating the foods they have always eaten, often for tens of thousands of years before colonisation? Of fucking course not. It's possible try to unsubscribe to shitty things in this world without doing it perfectly. The whole world would be a lot better if most people consumed 70% less animal products, than 2% of the world doing veganism perfectly.

I think most non-vegans are too afraid of what they might find out if they actually research animal agriculture so they stubbornly make excuses not to bother. So that's their choice, but until you're as perfect as how you claim we should be, literally shut the fuck up and find something more productive to do with your time, like actively try to fight against the very things you think we've all somehow decided to turn a blind eye to. Because I bet the majority of people consuming whatever unethical product you've decided on aren't vegans.

Coming across one silly vegan on the internet doesn't mean you have permission now to write off the crucial need for our planet to massively reduce animal agriculture, and the possibility that you might potentially be able to opt out of it. Criticising veganism doesn't mean you've absolved yourself of any harm you yourself are doing, and also doesn't absolve you of finding ways to do less harm to people, animals, and the planet.

And if you're pissed about vegans having moral superiority, I'd really like to see non-vegans examine their own moral superiority they seem to feel they have over vegans.

Ok signing off lol

[allwormdiet]

Tangle 6.8

I hate this man's vibe

Don't separate her! From her dogs! Let them get in the limo!

This is so fucking funny

Coil is trying to flex on a pack of teenagers with a coin trick

and Skitter's immediate response was "okay hang on fucker, I'm supplying the coin for this trick"

and is only satisfied after that

...Also man, when's the last time i saw a dollar coin anywhere, huh

So, having been spoiled on how Coil's power works (in my defense, I went like three or four years knowing about this series before I even considered reading it), I can't help but feel like this is simultaneously a petty means of flexing power and a melodramatic means of describing it.

I kinda suspected Tattletale was playing carefully with her word choices when talking about the boss, nice to see the confirmation.

...Now that I think about it... Hmm. Three of the six groups at the table in Somer's Rock were under Coil's command, and when Tattletale was talking about how everyone but "Grue and maybe Faultline" was planning to take advantage of the truce to advance their cause, that didn't mean that the Undersiders weren't part of those plots. It turns out to have been the opposite.

...Tattletale, I think you're my favorite, but I'm watching you like a goddamn hawk now

Taylor seems to have a lot of "not-best calls" when it comes to people, huh

Also oh boy the Travelers have some shit going on huh

and that's not just whatever is souring their teamwork and communication

...Did Coil practice this? Was there a rehearsal period for his speech, getting the timing down right for the window's speed and the emergence from the tunnel? I can't escape the feeling that he spent at least a day on this, maybe a week

And, yeah, ambitious is a word for it. Man wants to control every aspect of an entire city? He wants to play the cops and the robbers and the bankers and the... whoever else exists in this metaphor? Just play Sim City, honestly, or get into 4X games. If we could just get this man hooked on Crusader Kings or something the world would be a lot safer

I'll grant that he's making a good play at this if nothing else. Certainly not going to cry for the collapse of the Empire, fucking Nazis that they are, and none of the other criminal organizations seem both able and willing to make any kind of major play.

...Though that doesn't preclude groups from outside the city, does it. You could have people from New York or Boston or whatever decide that some expansion is in order. Hmm.

Oh he's doing a real estate scheme, okay. So now we're in a Ryo ga Gotoku main plot. This is a lot easier to follow, I just have to keep an eye out for the Millennium Tower

...Also, Taylor. Are you confident this man isn't also putting moles in the Protectorate and PRT? Like, c'mon now. Bribing government employees works no matter the agency. I'm not gonna say it's beneath the Protectorate's notice, far from it, but a web this intricate means there's no way he's not accounting for multiple angles

...Okay so in The Order of the Stick, there's a sideplot involving a group of former adventurers who realized that they could take over most of a continent through an everchanging map of alliances, conquests, and treachery, with all of them acting as the hidden powers behind multiple thrones and keeping up the appearance that there was no singular rule, so that their own control over the territory had multiple points of failure.

Coil's plan sounds... similar. He's trying to carve up the city between multiple lieutenants who themselves belong to different organizations, with him as the secret mastermind at the heart of it all. Main difference in these two plans is, of course, that Coil is only one man, and also that he's telling his puppets ahead of time that he's the actual shot-caller.

It's not a terrible plan? It's not super complicated at least, but then that's only the criminal side of the city; I'm not sure how he would expect to play all sides off each other with sufficient balance to keep all his pieces on the board (or keep the pieces in line if he decided to make a sacrifice play with one of them).

Anyway. Coil making his appeals to each individual member. Bitch gets more resources to care for her dogs, Regent... something with his old man. I don't know if Coil is reading his wants exactly right on this one.

Hmm. Guess that's the best reassurance that can be provided, not that it feels reassuring still.

Okay so Coil is offering to wave his magic wand and settle the matter of Aisha's custody for Grue, that much lines up. What's the benefit he's offering Tattletale? It can't just be money or power, that's too simple and I don't think any of the Undersiders are that simple in their wants. I don't even think it's true of Regent, much as he's trying to play the lazy hedonist role.

Little funny that Skitter being respected enough to afford silence while she thinks is the exact opposite of what she wants right now.

And it's interesting that she can't pull up a wish that Coil feels like confirming. "Bettering the city" is vague enough that there can be disagreements, and it's the kind of thing with no quick results which means a lot of patience. Obviously it's because Taylor only ever tried to become a hero and the villain thing was... I don't know if "accident" is the right word, but definitely unforeseen, but that sense of higher purpose is still firmly in place.

He's sounding entirely too cool about this, and I hate it. There's no way this man doesn't have a thousand hooks and caveats waiting out of sight, he literally described himself as being able to control destiny and wants to control all crime.

Yeah probably a huge pain in the ass to do finances as a supervillain, huh.

Also what the fuck kind of name is Number Man?

Yay, sloughing puppies

Not to steal a well-worn metaphor from another superhero story, but here and now Taylor is the dog that finally caught a car and is only now realizing "oh shit, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now"

This can only go well

Current Thoughts

Man I hate Coil's entire fucking vibe. He's scummy, entirely too sure of his abilities and resources, and I don't trust a man who acts this overdramatic and this reasonable at the same time. I also don't fully trust a guy who insists on having his meetings in a limousine, or who insists on using teenaged girls as his proxies, and I'm sure I'm going to get even more reasons to hate his rancid ass as time moves on.

Side note, Tattletale, I'm like pretty sure you could be doing better than working for this guy. Blink three times if you need help.

...Wait, shit, there's no way they can keep playing at the small fry game now, is there? They tweaked the nose of the entire Protectorate in front of a bunch of rich and important people. He made them prove their abilities in a way that involves dire repercussions in the event that they back down after the deed is done. Motherfucker.

And just to think that this isn't even going to be the worst conversation in this arc.

[crowwyrmm]

I wrote an angsty blurb about Jean and Harry so I'm dumping it here. Might turn it into a full fic eventually.

enjoy ↓

"What is this? Some kind of fucking joke?" The man's eyes are dark and cold. He's leaning against the side of his door, arms crossed.

[Empathy] He seems startled to see you on his doorstep- and not overly pleased.

[Perception : Vision] He's wearing ill-fitting trousers and a dark blue shirt with long sleeves. There's something odd about seeing him without his uniform.

[Electrochemistry] It feels intimate.

"No. No jokes. I just... I was hoping we could talk? Over coffee, maybe?"

"Why do you have that?" He pointed to the small pot in your hands.

"Oh!! It's a gift- for you! It's a cute little cactus, with a flower blossom too, look-"

Jean opened his mouth to say something, but you were still going.

"You don't have to worry about watering it all the time, it's prickly-- but cool, and it's very resilient. It reminded me of you."

Jean raises his eyebrows, his lips pressing into a tight line. Silence falls between the two of you.

You feel a crushing weight in your chest. And your palms are sweating.

"Uh-huh.... thanks." There's an edge to his voice as he takes the potted plant and looks it over. His face is hard to read, but it looks like something in him caved. He sighs heavily. "Alright, fine. Come in.”

[Composure] This is going better than you thought it would. Just keep it cool, don't freak out.

[Reaction Speed] RUN before the scary man with the sad eyes makes you feel horrible about yourself again!

[Inland Empire] No. He needs this, just as much as you do.

You follow Jean inside, quietly observing the cosy wooden furniture. A painting of a horse hangs on the wall above a worn leather couch. You take a seat at the tiny dining table, nervously twiddling your thumbs.

Jean is in the kitchen. He sets the cactus on the windowsill in front of the sink and starts preparing a pot of coffee. You can hear the sizzle of the pot as the scent fills the air. He exits and takes a seat at the table across from you.

“What do you want?” His voice is as sharp as his gaze. Anger flares up behind his stoney eyes.

“I wanted to apologise to you, for all the bullshit I've put you through.” Your words are soft.

The man narrows his eyes. “Oh please!” He scoffs, “Do you seriously think I haven't heard this bullshit before?” His shoulders grow rigid.

“But–”

“Yes, I know! You're the sorriest goddamn cop who ever lived. This isn't the first time you've shown up grovelling on my doorstep.” A scowl is written across his face.

“Jean…” Your voice cracks, “I don't… I can't remember what I did to make you feel this way, just that it was horrible.”

“Oh yes. Let me help you, give you a little run-down- maybe?” Before you have a chance to object, Jean continues, “You permanently crippled a man in a fit of blind rage, a month ago. You went undercover to sleep with prostitutes and then arrested them. When a woman accused you of harassing her you tried to get her child taken away. You– you fucking leave a trail of destruction wherever you go, and it's always been my job to clean up after you.” His voice is shaking with rage, his fists clenched on the table in front of him. “I can keep going.”

God… did I really do all of that?

[Half Light] You did. You can still remember the sound of bones cracking.

“You don't need to.” There's a growing pit in your stomach. You start feeling a little ill. “I already know that I've done terrible things, I've spent weeks rediscovering every awful thing I've ever done for myself!” A heavy sigh escapes you. “Listen. I wish I could’ve been a better person, and a better partner to you– but I wasn't. All I can do now is try to move forward and… prove to you that I can be better.”

The words feel familiar and bitter in your mouth.

Jean crosses his arms tight to his body, still scowling. Silent rage radiates from him, but he says nothing.

“I have a fresh set of eyes, a new outlook on life. They say people have to hit rock bottom before they'll change. That was my rock bottom, Jean. I'm a changed man, ready to take accountability for my life.”

Jean shakes his head, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Do you think I’m a moron? That may have worked on me when we were young men, but not anymore. I've heard it all before. There is nothing left for you to say.” He pauses, briefly, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes. “Guys like you don't change, Harry. You might be able to bewitch this new little partner of yours, lure him in with your honeyed lies and empty promises. But not me. I'm not your emotional dumping ground, go see a fucking psychiatrist.”

[wardenmages]

Okay so after that "didn't die when they should have died" post earlier I just rambled for several paragraphs into a semi-coherent fic about Gavin's PTSD in Detroit Reawakening and Detroit Evolution, with some mention of Detroit Absolution/D3. This is a fair amount of headcanon as well as my interpretation of certain scenes.

So here is some musing on Gavin's presentation of PTSD and how healing isn't linear and doesn't end but sometimes the people we love make it a little bit easier to live with it, and that sometimes healing means leaving situations we didn't realize were hurting us because it was better than where we started.

-----------

Gavin startles easily and violently. One time a rookie who didn't know any better tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around and decked them in the middle of the bullpen before his brain kicked in to follow his fist. He wears a heavy jacket because it muffles the world around him into a dull ache rather than a constant prickling on his skin down to his bones.

It's easy to tell when he's pulled an all-nighter from the pile of disposable coffee cups on his desk - he didn't have time to clean out a mug every time he went back for more. He's even less patient and understanding than usual. On particularly bad days, people watch him roll his shoulders and touch the back of his head to chase away bruises that healed on the surface years ago.

He's made a name for himself handling drug cases, but he can see Fowler wishes he'd take anything else. It makes him bristle and dive even further into his cases, because fuck Fowler if he doesn't trust Gavin, Gavin earned this. As the faces become less and less familiar, Fowler stops giving him that look whenever he goes in for supervision, and Gavin doesn't know if that means he finally proved himself or if Fowler was just waiting for Gavin to run out of options to run.

He keeps just about everyone at arm's length, except Chen and Miller. He's known Tina for years, since he was still an intern and she was working three jobs to pay for college. It's easy to like Chris, who is one of the most genuine guys Gavin's ever met. He jokes to himself that he doesn't know why Chris became a cop of all things, but he doesn't know why he's a cop either, so he lets it sit. Neither of them complain when he smokes, they don't push beers or shots into his hands at the bar, and push back when he's being a shit. For about a week he has a crush on Chris and his big cheesy smile that lights up the room and holy fucking shit he's got it bad, but he pushes it back because he only has two friends at thirty years old and he knows he's not exactly fun to be around.

Sometimes kids come through the station in his cases and it fucks him up for days. He stares at their records, a mess of foster homes, charges written in and then crossed off if they didn't stick, and notes from the overloaded caseworkers who can't even spell the kids' names. He thinks about his apartment and how it feels so big but so small at the same time, there's a spare bedroom he just uses for storage that he could clean out, he has enough savings to get furniture and shit. He keeps a tab open with the sign-up to get certified to foster. He thinks about making the system better from the inside.

He knows that's not how it works, not in the real world. The kids move on to the next house or their parents, and Gavin closes the tab and tries not to look at his badge. The next time he sees their names he pretends he never thought about them and that arresting them actually means something.

He doesn't sleep much, maybe three to four hours a night. It's impossible to fall asleep when you know it's not going to last long before your own brain betrays you. He wakes up from another nightmare, body stiff and covered in sweat, and just curls in on himself until he can force his body back into submission. It's a battle of wills more than something he needs to stay alive.

Nines helps. God, Nines makes everything feel lighter, and he stops sinking from the weight around his neck. It's still heavy and he can't help but bite whatever hand is held out to him, but it's more than bearable, he's alive.

His second near-death experience, lying on the floor of the precinct clinging onto consciousness through the numbing mess of pain and nerves at their breaking point, he nearly fades out just to make it finally stop. He wakes up in the hospital hours later terrified at how easy it was to just slip away.

He won't let it happen again. He's nearly died twice - really, truly close to death, not just in danger - and it didn't take. He's too stubborn to go out, not when he finally gives a shit about his own life and the people around him do more than just tolerate him and his friends are all moving forward and... he wants to move forward too.

So he quits his job alongside his partner. He doesn't push down how he feels about it, how as grateful as he'll always be he feels used by the system that kicked him down in the first place. He works with the kids at the shelter and talks them off the ledge. He doesn't foster, he's still adjusting to living with Nines and both of them love their privacy too much, but sometimes the kids stay the night with permission if they're struggling at the shelter. A few stop by their apartment first before even approaching the shelter.

He doesn't always know what to do or say, how to help, but he tries. He tries, and he tells them he better not read their name in the news unless it's for some kind of award. Newspaper clippings aren't a thing anymore, but he prints them out whenever he sees them, kids taking time to hang out at one of the senior centers or work in one of the urban gardens or a mentoring program with some androids, anything good. He tacks them up on the wall of his small, shitty office that never gets warm enough or cold enough but Nines brought in a couple of his plants and there's some art on the walls from Tayla and a bunch of framed photos around the place so it feels more like home.

He wakes up from a nightmare, body stiff and covered in sweat, to Nines pressed against his back holding his hand and massaging gentle circles into the tender skin where his prosthetic meets his hand. He clenches his jaw and tries to focus on the way Nines' fingers feel, the gentle glow from the edge of his skin overlay, his simulated heartbeat and breathing that Gavin knows he's amping up so Gavin can feel it.

After a few minutes, he closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep to the sound of the cat scratching at the door frame, and breathes.

[crystalbeetle888]

Animal Instinct Pt.4

Charles X reader X Erik In the wake of losing a friend, you seek out revenge on Sebastian Shaw. However, you are not the only one after him, as a team of meddling mutants try to convince you to join forces. Will you give in to these persuasive outcasts, and join their family? or do it alone as you always have?

Master List Pt.3 - Pt.4 - One-shot Master List

Word Count: 6,554

Content: Violence, swearing, sexual references, possible bigotry it’s the 60s, slow burn, some angst, eventual happy ending, maybe smut?

A/N: I'm going to be doing a few one-shot type stories before returning to the main storyline. Just to give you guys something a little more dramatic and juicy.

Deciding to join the two as they attempt to recruit other mutants, the three of you sit around a circular bar inside a ‘gentlemen club’. It’s not quite a strip-club as the women entertainers technically have clothes on, although very little is actually covered, they’re still technically dressed. A young woman with tan skin and dark hair approaches you, strutting across the bar top as Erik holds out a hundred dollar bill. ‘Damn, and he’s wealthy’ you think, nursing your drink. She squats down, taking the bill “For that, Daddy-o, you get a private dance” she says saucily.

Charles and Erik look at each other grinning before following her to a more private room, you scoff continuing to sit at the bar. Charles looks back at you for a moment with a questioning gaze, you shake your head in response. He frowns, turning back around, and following the two into the ‘not so private’ private glass room.

You sit at the bar alone, until an older man sits down next to you “I’ll get her next one” he says to the bartender. “I’m not a fucking prostitute” you throw back your drink, glaring at him.

“I didn’t mean to offend, I’m just trying to buy a pretty young woman a drink”, you scoff at him “Yeah right, you can’t pay me to tolerate you like all these other women”.

He looks shocked at your words, then his face turns red in anger. He stands abruptly, taking an aggressive step towards you, before his feet are suddenly glued to the floor. “What the hell?” he mutters, struggling to move his legs.

You look over his shoulder and notice Erik standing there, his hand subtly flexing down by his side, his eyes are intense and focused. He smiles gently to you as you slap down some change and walk towards him.

Once you’re out of harms way, he releases him. You smile back at him bashfully, never really having had someone stand up for you before. Not that you needed it, you’re a tough fucker to crack.

He offers you his arm “Care to get out of here?” he smiles down at you, “Please” you link your arms together, slightly copping a feel of his toned muscles as you do. Strolling out of the club Charles meets you both outside, glancing briefly at your connected arms “I gave her the details, she’ll meet back up with us in London” he says, patting his pants awkwardly, “Shall we find a place to eat and sleep?”.

Erik looks down at you again, Jesus Chirst you can see every detail of his very well structured face. “I could go to eat” He says, “Yeah, I’m down” you smile, trying not to make your attraction too obvious. ‘God he smells good too’ you think. He smells faintly of expensive cologne and whiskey, something you don't usually like the scent of but for some reason it really suits him.

The three of you find a nice looking hotel and conjoined restaurant. It was certainly more expensive than what you were used to living in. Sensing your hesitancy, Charles gently grazes your upper arm, Erik still holding the other “Don’t worry I can cover us” he whispers reassuringly. He’s leaned in close, warm breath fanning over your ear, causing your face to heat up. You nod, not trusting your voice won't crack or stutter. Satisfied with your response, he leads the way into the reception. You and Erik stand off to the side as he talks to the front desk staff.

‘I need to be fucking sedated’ you think to yourself ‘I’ve barely met them and I’m already acting like a bitch in heat. I do need to get laid though. I should have got with that rugged hunk at the bar. Dammit I missed my chance’ 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Charles returning “Small problem, the only room they have left is a shared single and queen-bed” he awkwardly looks between you and Erik. “That’s fine,” you shrug. The two men look at each other surprised before turning back to you, “I’m assuming you two will share the queen?” you further explain. They both seem stunned, Charles opens and closes his mouth like a fish “I’m not particularly fussed” he looks to Erik “It’s only for one night I suppose” he responds. 

Making your way up to your room, the three of you drop your belongings off before heading back downstairs to the restaurant. The two men sit down across from you in the booth and you quickly place your orders.

“So now that we're going to be spending the next couple of weeks together, how about we get to know each other a little more” Charles offers, swirling his beer.

“What do you want to know?” you ask, sipping on your cocktail. “How about where you're from? You have an interesting accent, is it Australian?”, “My folks were Western Australians but we moved around quite a lot,” you explain. “Why’d you move around?” Erik asks. “My mother was a performer in a travelling circus” you throw down the rest of your drink, slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. It’s not that you’re embarrassed of your family, it’s just that you don’t care for the opinions of strangers, especially when it comes to your family. To them, the circus was filled with ‘freaks’ and ‘abominations’.

“What about you two? Where are you guys from?” you quickly change the subject. “I’m German” Erik says, “I grew up in England, but my stepfather was American and often insisted we travel to his childhood home” you nod at Charles in understanding. Just as the conversation dies off the waiter comes by with your meals. The three of you eat with mild conversations about yourselves.

Erik enjoys practising charcoal portraits and sampling craft beers. Charles believes he has perfected his chess technique, and enjoys watching nature documentaries in his spare time. And you told them, you enjoy learning new languages and trying their cultural foods, as well as people watching in the busy cities, usually as a cat. People often leave cats to do their own business, you explained to them . They laughed at that.

After dinner the three of you enjoy a few more drinks before heading in for the night, the two men slightly flushed from the alcohol. ‘Fucking lightweights’ you shake your head. They laugh heartily all the way back to your shared room.

Entering the room, you place your suitcase on the bed and pick out something appropriate to wear to sleep, given that you’ve now got two male roommates. Picking up your bundle of clothes, you enter the bathroom and lock the door. You strip, shower and redress quickly, not wanting to keep the others waiting too long.

Exiting the bathroom in a pair of loose cotton pants and a tight knit tank top, you pack away your dirty clothes into your suitcase. You sit on your bed tossing and scruffing your hair with the towel in an attempt to dry it. You watch the TV in the corner of the room, some sort of game show was on.

You turn your head towards the two men noticing their strange silence, they look back at you with an unreadable expression. “What?” you ask, “Nothing, sorry” Erik apologises, Charles turns away coughing awkwardly. You roll your eyes and place your towel down on your night stand. “Okay.. well I’m going to head to sleep now, so.. don’t stay up too late giggling with each other” you flop down, pulling the covers up and turning away from them. “Goodnight” “Night” they say, dimming the lights for you. Sleep comes easy, you were used to sleeping near others, especially in your youth at the circus, they never did have enough trailers.

Charles and Erik watch as the womans’ breath slowly evens out into a slow and deep rhythm. The two men sit opposite each other on the bed, Erik leaning against the headboard and Charles perched at the end. “So.. what do you think of her?” Charles probes his companion, slightly jealous of her touchiness towards him. Erik looks towards her sleeping form “She seems headstrong and reliable, a little impulsive, but I think she has a good heart”, Charles hums sensing that Erik is refraining from saying more that what’s appropriate. “I think there’s a few things we could learn from her too” he continues cautiously, Charles gives him a questioning look “How so?” he asks. “Shaw’s not going to fight us fairly, he will try to kill us. We should prepare ourselves to fight dirty, and I don’t know anyone better than her right now to teach us” Erik pleads his case. Charles sits with the thought as the two of them prepare for bed, scooching to the opposite side of the mattress as they settle in for the night. He can feel the body warmth radiating from the man next to him. The two quickly fall into a restful sleep. 

The next couple of days are spent travelling all across America, convincing mutants alike to join forces in the fight against Shaw. So far you have managed to convinced six more mutants to join you, all with varying powers and abilities. You even got to see that hunky man again, but he wasn’t interested in talking. 

Sitting on the steps in front of the Lincoln Memorial you, Erik, and Charles talk about the future. Well, mostly Charles and Erik, you're content just watching the sunset. “I can’t stop thinking about the others out there. All those minds that I touched. I could feel them. Their isolation, their hopes, their ambitions.” Charles turns to look at Erik, voice filled with hope “I tell you, we are at the start of something incredible. We can help them”, “Can we? Identification, that’s how it starts. And ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated” Erik rebuttals, “Not this time. We have common enemies. Shaw, the Russians. They need us” Charles argues back, “For now” you interject. Charles huffs, shaking his head at the two of you pessimists. 

The three of you travel back to London to meet back up with Moira and Platt, for an official meeting with the director of the CIA. You're picked up from your hotel by a black car with tinted windows. Charles opens the door for you, and you squeeze yourself into the middle seat. “Cozy” Erik remarks. You huff in response, used to the two mens teasing by now. 

Charles was more overt about his cheekiness, often making flirtatious comments towards the two of you whenever the chance presents itself. Erik however, liked to make more subtle quips, often leaning down and whispering it in your ear, knowing that the closeness makes you flustered. Pestering you seems to amuse them, not that you mind the attention, they’re both attractive in their own way.

You shift uncomfortably, your arms rubbing up against the two men. “Stop squirming” Charles scolds you, “You guys are squishing me” you complain “And it’s too hot” you pull at the new flowy top Charles bought you. By the end of your trip, most of your clothes were dirty, and you didn’t have time to wash them before the meeting so Charles offered to buy you something. You honestly couldn't remember the last time you had brand new clothes. Erik sighs, shaking his head at the two of you as he rolls down his window. The wind was refreshing, blowing your hair from your face and into Charles’. He sputters and grabs at the hair whipping him in the face. Bundling it up and stuffing it down the back of your top, causing you to squeal. He slaps your thigh playfully before turning away to his own window. Erik chuckles at your childish bickering. 

Arriving at the secret CIA base Erik holds the car door open for you, “Thank you”, “You’re welcome, Liebling”. Erik had recently made a habit of calling you that and unfortunately for you, you don’t speak German.

The three of you walk up to the front entrance, a well dressed man greets you “You must be Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you I’m agent Platt” he says shaking your hand hastily, “If you’d follow me the others are already waiting”. He leads you through the base, passing by many other anonymous looking, well dressed men with suitcases. They stare at you as you pass, probably not used to having a woman in the building. Platt holds the door open for you.

Entering the room, the men inside fall quiet, staring at you in judgment. You glare back, not backing down to some genetically inferior male species. Eriks’ speeches have definitely been getting to you.

Charles gently places a hand on your back, guiding you to sit down between him and Erik. One of the men across from you clears his throat “Now that everyone here let's begin the meeting. We have new intel that Shaw is meeting with the Russian Defense Chief in Moscow” he says turning to the woman next to him “Go ahead and say it” he huffs in defeat. “I’m not here to say ‘I told you so’, you know why I’m here” she replies, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Clearance to bring along your mutants. Fight fire with fire. It makes sense”. The man next to him shakes his head “Wait! You’re okay with this? Sending in a bunch of untrained, unauthorised freaks?”.

You growl lowly at him from across the table, the sound vibrating through your chest, and arms, into the wooden surface. Charles discreetly places a hand on your thigh, ‘It’s alright’ his smooth voice whispers in your mind. You stop, but continue to glare at him, “Don’t call us freaks”. The room stands still until Platt knocks his hand on the table, gaining everybody's attention “These mutants are dedicated, hard working people” he argues, “And they might be the only people who stand a chance at stopping Shaw”.

The rest of the meeting is spent listening to Platt and Moira argue with this man, and surprisingly Erik, about whether or not mutants should be allowed to join the Russia mission. Not that you paid much attention with Charles’ hand tracing your thigh. His fingers run gently across the rough fabric of your jeans, the sensation sends shivers up your spine and makes your stomach turn. You weren't used to people treating you so gently. You look at him discreetly, and he glances back at you, lip twitching slightly upwards. ‘The cheeky bastard knows, doesn't he?’ you breathe deeply trying to steady your pounding heart and racing mind.

After what seemed like hours of bickering, and hours of Charles teasing, Moira finally got her way and officially authorised you, and the other young mutants for the mission to Russia. The three of you follow Moira through the base “The plane leaves for Russia in an hour” she tells us. “I’m telling you these kids are not ready for Shaw” Erik insists, “I agree, they’re not experienced enough. They need to be trained” you concur. Erik looks at you annoyed “Then why did you not back me up in there? If you felt the same.” You’re stunned by his question, face heating up at being caught lacking.

“I think they’re gonna surprise you. They’re an exceptional group of young people” just as Charles interrupts, the four of you round the corner into the courtyard. The statue in the centre is sliced in half “What the hell?” Moira asks. Scorch lines stretch around the courtyard, and glass covers the ground where once a window stood. The four of you approach, and watch in disbelief as the young mutants dance around, music playing loudly. Sean and Alex throw chairs and hit Darwin with sticks, “Come on! You can go harder than that. Harder!” he cheers them on, his skin thick and scaled. Hank hangs from the light fixture as he dances, Angel and Raven dance around on the furniture. All completely oblivious to your presence.

“What are you doing?” Moira yells, the teens instantly jumping in fright. “Who destroyed the statue?” she asks angrily. “It was Alex,” Hank confesses nervously, the girls giggling at him. “No it’s Havok. We have to call him Havok. That’s his name now” Raven corrects him, “And we were thinking , you should be Professor X” she points to Charles, who stands there completely unimpressed. “You should be Magneto,” she points to Erik. “And you should be Beast” she points at you. You shake your head “My code name is Animal”, she smiles widely at you. “Exceptional” Erik remarks sarcastically, before walking away. Moira follows him. “I expect more from you” Charles chastises his sister before following the two. Ravens’ face falls instantly, her eyes glossy “I’ll talk to him” you offer before running after them.

It takes you a moment to follow his scent through the base. “That is insane, how did you do that?” you hear Moira ask, “I just altered what your beautiful thought you saw” you hear Charles respond, stopping you in your tracks. You press yourself to the wall, chest tightening anxiously. 

“Look I know you can read my mind, and what I want to do, and what I should do” she pauses, taking a breath “This is my job, Charles” she says sternly. “Understandable. And I want you to know that I completely respect your decision..” “Read my mind now”, “I’d rather read your lips”, “Read it”, “Alright”.

You don't bother to listen to the rest, as you tread quickly down the hall. Rounding the corner, you spy Charles staring at you in your peripheral vision. You turn your head away from him. Your face feels hot, your head hurts, and your throat feels constricted, as you try to make some space between the two of you. You can feel him knocking in your head, asking for permission to enter, but you're too flustered to talk to him even if you tried. Finding a quiet room, you close the door behind you before sinking to the floor. You can feel yourself growing uncontrollably smaller, until you are the size of a mouse. Or really until you are a mouse. It was rare for you to not have full control over your powers, but sometimes your animal instincts just kick in. You scuttle around under your pile of clothes, squeaking pitifully. You couldn't believe how Charles could tease you one hour, and blatantly flirt with Moira the next.

‘How could he do this to me? Why would he be so gentle to me if he didn’t mean it? Was he just leading me on the whole time? I should have never come here’ you mentally spiral. 

Minutes pass as you huddle underneath the fabric, wallowing in your confusion. In the distance you can hear someone calling your name, ‘It’s probably time to leave’. Mustering up as much courage as you can, you transform back into your human form and put your clothes back on, before walking out. You harden your heart and mind as you approach the three “Here” you call out. They turn to face you, “Great, now that you're here let’s move out” Moira says, leading the way towards the CIA’s private plane, “The others will no longer be joining us” she explains sharply, clearly annoyed at their immaturity

Despite feeling Charles eyes burning into the side of your head, you don’t so much as look at him. You can feel him knocking again in the back of your mind, but you continue to ignore him.

Climbing the steps into the plane, you find a seat at the back. The plane was small, with two aisles. You pick a seat facing the front, Erik sitting down across from you, a small table between you. You try to listen as he talks but it’s drowned out by your heart racing. Your mind feels like it’s filled with static. You try taking a deep breath to settle your nerves but your chest stutters. You can see Charles in your peripheral again, sitting in the opposite aisle, facing you. You glance at him briefly, his face scrunched up in concern as he watches you.

You feel a warmth on your hand, looking down Erik holds you gently “Are you okay?” he whispers. Your brief feeling of comfort is replaced by insecurity. Taking your hand back you cross your arms tightly “I’m fine” you mutter, looking out the window. If Charles was capable of tricking you, Erik probably was too. The feeling of loneliness comes creeping back in. Charles and Erik had managed to fill that emptiness after you lost Star, but just like always, you ended up hurt and alone. Tension in the plane was thick, Charles knocking in your head, Erik hurt and confused by your rejection, and you ignoring the two of them, trying not to have a panic attack.

Your stomach twists and turns as the plane rattles violently from turbulence “Fuck” you whimper to yourself. You can feel Erik staring at you in concern “It’s alright” he tries to ease you, reaching out he grazes your arm hesitantly. Your throat tickles and you throw yourself violently out of your seat. “Oh fuck” you muffle, hand pressed tightly against your mouth as you stumble into the bathroom, blowing chunks into the toilet. Thumping footsteps follow you, “Are you alright?” you hear Charles call out from behind the door, “Fuck off” you cough, head hanging in the toilet.

With your enhanced hearing you listen in to the two men talk, “Is she alright?” Erik asks quietly, “She’ll be fine” Charles brushes him off.

“She’s been acting strangely today” Erik states concernedly. Charles cringes and sighs in response, “That may be my fault”.

“What did you do?” Erik asks accusingly, Charles pauses “I may have made a pass at Moira”, “And she heard you?”, “It certainly seems like it”, “Well she does have enhanced senses Charles, she can probably hear our conversation right now”.

The two men fall silent for a moment, “You need to apologise” Erik says bitterly. You can hear him walk back to his seat, leaving Charles kneeling on the floor outside the toilet door. You can feel him knocking again, and this time you let him in. 

‘I am terribly sorry for upsetting you, this isn't how I wanted things to go,’ his voice echoes in your mind. ‘Why?’, ‘Why?’ he asks back. ‘Why would you blatantly flirt with me and then turn around and do the same with Moira?’.

He pauses ‘I suppose I didn’t think you.. reciprocated my feelings’,

‘You’re a fucking mind-reader Charles, you can know whatever you want about someone. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you’,

‘I don’t read the minds of my friends or family. I expect they’d tell me something if they really wanted me to know’. You stay silent, not knowing what to say anymore, ‘Look, I don’t want to fight with you. I care for you, and I’m sorry for allowing my insecurities get the better of me. I hope we can move past this and start again fresh’.

You sit up and unlock the door, Charles opens it just enough for his head to peek through, “I’d like that too Charles, but my feelings are still hurt. And you need to learn to cope with your emotions better” you whisper. He nods “I understand, take all the time you need. And then we can get back to being us” he softly grasps your hand. “Us?” you squeeze his hand back, his face flushing red. “Don’t tease me” he warns you, causing you to laugh “That’s more of your strong suit Charles”, he chuckles at you.

He helps you stand, your legs shaking with exhaustion “Is everything alright?” Moira asks, her head popping around the corner. “Yeah, just motion sickness is all” you reply. “Are you going to be okay to join us tonight?” she raises her brow at you, obviously most concerned for the mission. “I’ll be fine, I just need something to eat” you explain. “Okay, there’s prepackaged food in the fridge at the front. Excuse me” She slips by you and into the cubicle. Charles escorts you to your seat, which was all but three steps, “I’ll get you something to eat, just rest here” he says before heading off to the front of the plane. Erik side-eyes him as he leaves, before reaching across the table again, and taking your hand in his “Is everything alright?” he asks quietly, leaning in towards you. You squeeze his hand back “Yeah, everythings sorted”. He nods at you, before relaxing in his seat and closing his eyes, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the back of your hand. 

The rest of the flight is spent with Erik napping in front of you, hands joined together, Charles quietly chatting across from you, and Moira intensely organising the details of the Russia mission with the United States military. Once the plane lands you’re escorted by soldiers into the back of a rickety old truck, where you’ll be smuggled to the Russian military retreat. The road is rough, you bump into Charles and Eriks’ side as the old vehicle putters along, the sides of the truck were lined with U.S soldiers. A knock sounds from the panel behind your head, you scootch over, leaning into Charles as the panel flips down. He places his hand around your midsection, your back leaning against his chest. “We got a problem” the old driver says, “What?” Erik asks, “I’m so sorry. This wasn’t on the map.” Moira apologises.

Looking through the panel and out the windshield you spot a military checkpoint up the road. “No matter what happens, act normally. I’ll take care of this, all right?” Charles reassures her, before closing the panel back up. You shuffle out his lap and he turns towards the troops “Now, listen to me. I’m going to telepathically alter what they see when they open those doors, but I need everyone to stay completely still and quiet or it won’t work, "he explains. The soldiers look uneasy, “Just aim for the door and wait for my signal”.

The truck comes to a slow stop, you can hear dogs barking and the sound of the driver getting out. The soldiers aim for the door anxiously “Easy, easy. Take it easy, chaps,” Charles reassures them, readying himself. The gate lock squeaks before the driver throws the doors open, “Anything back there?” a voice calls out, speaking in russian, “Nothing. It’s empty” the soldier replies. The driver looks confused “Everything okay?” he asks “Yes” the soldier dismisses him, allowing the driver to close the doors back up. The three of you let out a sigh of relief, Erik patting him on the leg “Good job”, Charles gives him a breathless laugh.

Laying down on your stomach, the four of you peak over the hill, binoculars in hand and watch as a small helicopter lands in front of the large estate. Emma Frost exits the helicopter, alone. “Where is Shaw?” Erik asks, “I don’t know. But if she’s a telepath and if I read her, she’ll know we’re here” Charles explains, “Let me try something else”.

We wait patiently for something to happen, watching as Frost is greeted by an older looking man. They seem to talk briefly before turning and entering the building. “He’s not coming” Charles says defeatedly, “So, what now, boss?” he turns to ask Moira. “Now, nothing. We’re here for Shaw. Mission aborted”, “The hell it is” Erik attempts to stand, “Erik” she grasps his arm. “She’s his right-hand woman. That's good enough for me” he insists, voice laced with venom. “The CIA invading the home of a senior Soviet official. Are you crazy?” She argues. “I’m not CIA” he says before getting up and running off into the surrounding forest. “Erik!” Charles calls after him. “I’ll catch him” you suggest, before getting up and chasing after him. 

Catching up to him wasn’t hard with your enhanced abilities. You grab onto his leather jacket, forcing him to halt, “Erik, stop. He’s not here” you plead. “Let go of me. We need to weaken his forces, he’s too strong with a telepath” he struggles against your steel grip, “Y/N, I would never stand in your way of justice, please don’t stand in mine” he begs you, his eyes stormy with grief. Your heart hurts at the memories. You let go of him “Fine, but I’m coming with you. You shouldn’t have to walk this path alone”. He nods in relief before leading you through the forest.

Coming to the treeline Erik uses his powers to manipulate the surrounding barbed wire, wrapping the soldiers up and pinning them to the ground. Your teeth turn into fangs, your hands into sharp claws, your vision sharpened and sense heightened. You grow a large wolf-like tail and ears, with a matching pelt peaking through your clothes.  Running out into the clearing you attack any of the reminding men that Erik didn’t get. Delivering a devastating blow as you swipe at their chests, throwing them limp across the field. You and Erik run towards the building, the men guarding it raise their guns at you but Erik snatches the metal from their hands, sending them rolling on the ground. You pounce on one of them as he tries to stand, punching him hard in the face, you knock him out in one blow. Erik runs past the other, kicking him in the head as he goes, knocking him out.

Entering the building, you are met by more armed guards. Erik quickly dismantles their guns and knocks them out as he passes, striding swiftly down the hall. ‘Damn, brutal’ you think as you pass the unconscious men. “Which way?” Erik turns around, standing in the middle of the intersecting corridors. You sniff the air, nothing. “Stand still” you say as you squat to the ground. Growing a large pair of bat ears, you close your eyes and slam your fist into the floor. The vibrations create an image of the building, allowing you to see where she’s hiding. “This way” you lead him towards a large set of doors.

Kicking the door down the three of you enter, Charles finally catching up. Inside an old man sits on the bed, enthusiastically caressing the air as Frost sits idly to the side, eating a biscuit. Your face scrunches in confusion and disgust, the old man was clearly excited. “Nice trick” Charles remarks. The old man's look of happiness changes to one of confusion “Who are you?” he asks us before turning to Frost. She smiles back at him, his face growing red in anger. He pulls a gun and points it towards the three of you. Charles extends his hand “Go to sleep” he commands, the man instantly falling back into the pillows. Frost stands, changing into her diamond form “You can stop trying to read my mind, sugar.” Charles flinches, like an invincible force just hit him, “You’re never going to get anything from me while I’m like this”. You scoff at her admitting her weakness “No but we break you”.

She makes a run for the door. Leaping off the table and over your head, twisting her body and launching off your shoulder using her hands. She attempts to backflip over you. Grabbing onto her hand, you slam her body back into the table, she lets out a cry as her body lay on the broken wooden surface. Cracks splinter across her diamond back, but you’re not done with her yet. Grabbing her by the throat you throw her into the base of the metal bed frame. The decorative vines twist and grab hold of her arms, “So, then, you can just tell us. Where is Shaw?”, she struggles against her restraints defiantly.

Erik exhales angrily, a metal vine wrapping tightly around her throat, “Erik” Charles says cautiously. The vines continue to wrap around her, constricting her throat even more. Frost whimpers in pain, a crackling noise emitting from her, “Erik, that’s enough” Charles insists.

Erik shakes his head, the vine around her throat tightening further, large cracks forming around it “Erik, that’s enough!” Charles yells again, causing you to flinch. After a moment, he releases her throat and she changes back into her human form “All yours” he says walking away. You release the breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “She won’t be shifting into diamond form again. And if she does, just give her a little tap” he says, pouring himself a drink and sitting down.

You take a few steps back, huffing from the adrenaline, as Charles kneels down in front of her. Your heart beat rings in your ears. “Beautiful isn’t it?” Frost asks Charles. You turn back to him, his face plastered in fright “This is worse than we previously imagined,” he says to us. “We’re taking you with us. The CIA will want to question you themselves” he tells her, “Oh, I doubt it. They have bigger things to worry about right now” she smirks knowingly. “What is she talking about Charles?” you ask concernedly. Charles pauses before standing abruptly “They’re attacking the base, we need to warn them” he says panicked. “Well what about her?” Erik points at Frost who just smiles back cheekily. Stepping over to her, you strike her head, knocking her out instantly. Erik releases her restraints and you pick her up, throwing her over your shoulder like she weighs nothing. “Let’s go!” you bark over your shoulder as you walk past them towards the exit. 

Once out, the U.S military takes Frost from you and you are back on the plane again. Charles fidgets anxiously through the entire flight, bouncing his leg, pacing back and forth. His mood is contagious and certainly doesn’t help your phobia of flying. “Charles, please sit down” you beg him. “I can’t. Ravens there and she’s in danger, and there’s nothing I can do from here” he paces the aisle. “She’s in one of the most secure places on the planet, Charles.” Erik adds, “You should try and get some sleep, It’ll help pass the time”.

Charles shakes his head, sitting down on the long couch across from you two, “I can’t sleep. I just can’t stop worrying about her” he sighs defeatedly. A thought pops into your mind about how you might be able to sedate him. You cringe, the method wasn’t something you liked to do “I can help with that if you’d like?” you offer hesitantly. “What?” he looks up at you surprised. You shift uncomfortably, face feeling warm “I could help you sleep, or.. atleast relax” you reiterate. He pauses, not entirely knowing what you are offering, before nodding “Please” he breathes heavily. Erik gives the two of you a questioning look.

You clear your throat, taking a handkerchief from the holder in the centre of the table, and rubbing it on your neck. “What are you doing?” Erik asks. “I’ve changed my body's pheromones to better promote sleep” you explain, handing Charles the tissue, “Hold it over your nose and breathe in deeply. It should help you relax”. He looks at it hesitantly.

Reclining his seat he makes himself comfortable before placing the tissue over his face. After a few minutes of deep breathing Charles’ eyes begin to droop, his head lulling to the side as he falls asleep.

“Incredible” Erik whispers, causing you to flush. “I hate doing it,” you confess. “Why?” he shuffles closer, arm extended around the back of the seat. You look away “People think that I can brainwash them with it, so I don’t usually tell anyone about it”, “Can you brainwash people?” he asks, leaning in. His hot breath fans across your face. Your body feels warm and your mind numb, “No. pheromones only amplify what’s already there” you say softly, nervous by his close proximity. “Is that so?” his hand around the back of your seat comes to play with your hair, sending tingles down your spine. You laugh breathlessly, your face heating up, “Stop it” you playfully slap his chest. “Stop what? I’m just trying to relax” he says innocently before leaning in, his face ghosting the side of your neck as he rakes his fingers through your hair, brushing it back.

You sigh, leaning your head away and exposing your neck to him further. He cradles your head with his other hand. You can feel him smile as his lips graze your skin, leaving feather-like kisses. Everything feels hot. You can feel your heartbeat pulsing in your core. His kisses become firmer, then, he begins to trail his open mouth down your neck, to the joint between that and your shoulder.

You hand travels to his bicep, clutching the fabric of his leather coat as he finds your sweet spot. You let out a small whimper as he begins to suck and nibble on it. He groans deeply before separating from your neck completely. You face him, completely breathless. His pupils are fully blown as he gazes back at you, reddened lips parted slightly as he pants “I hope I’ve made my intentions for our relationship entirely clear now”. You nod, not being able to form a proper thought. “Which means you have to make a decision”, “A decision?”, “Between Charles and I” he clarifies. Your heart sinks slightly, “Oh.. I was really enjoying both of your company to be honest” he gives you a strange look before turning and looking at the still sleeping Charles. He continues to stare at the man with an unreadable expression on his face, “Erik?” you place your hand on his chest, gaining his attention “Are you okay?”. He smiles at you and kisses your cheek “Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort it out” he says, “You’re not going to kill him are you?” you ask hesitantly, wondering what ‘sorting it out’ means. He laughs “No. You just enjoy our company, hmm?” he kisses your temple, distracting you from his suspicious behaviour. 

Pulling up to the CIA base, rubble covers the road, the buildings front completely blown to pieces. As soon as the car stops Charles hops out, jogging around heavily armed soldiers “Raven?” he calls out. You, Erik, and Moira follow him as he approaches the remaining teens, hugging his sister tight. “We’ve made arrangements for you to be taken home immediately” he tells them. 

“We’re not going home,” Sean responds, “He’s not going back to prison” he nods to Alex who pipes in. “He killed Dariwn” he argues. Charles shakes his head, “All the more reason for you to leave. This is over”. “Darwin’s dead, Charles” Raven turns to him somberly, “And we can even bury him”

Silence falls over the group, “We can avenge him,” Erik states, placing a supportive hand on your shoulder. They turn to him, a scowl forming on Charles' face “Erik, a word, please” he strides past the two of you, Erik follows. 

“They’re just kids”, “No. They were kids. Shaw has his army, we need ours,” they whisper not so discreetly to one another. The group stare at them, Charles turning back to face you “We’ll need to train. All of us”. You smile at him, heart flushing as he smiles gently back at you. “Even if they reopen the department. It’s not safe. We’ve got nowhere to go” Hank voices his concern. “Yes, we do,” Charles responds.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Hunted

for Angstpril, Day 17: Running Away

cw: suicide attempt, adult language, electrocution

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He didn't know what he'd expected to happen when he finally ran.

Maybe the cops would hunt for him, maybe his name and picture would flash on the news, tell the city he was alive and an outlaw and needed to be taken down. But broadcasting his status as an at-large Redlined would be a death sentence, and Uriah didn't want Alexei dead. He wanted him punished.

And Lex couldn't let that happen.

He'd known what was coming, as soon as Uriah dropped the file in front of him. Something in the CEO's smile, his step. He'd known he was about to be tested, that Fox thought his hold was tight enough to make Lex do anything he wanted. His suspicions were confirmed as he scanned the targets' datapage.

Anita and Devon Rackam. Fifteen. Thirteen.

"They're children."

"They're thieves. Murderers."

"I don't hurt kids."

"You don't have a choice."

Lex had hung his head, but he'd already made his decision. Fox gave him coordinates, and he acted cowed and compliant all the way to his destination.

Then he struck. He jumped his handler, seized the remote before his collar could be activated, and he ran.

It was stupid, he knew, thinking he could actually get away. Uriah had money. Contacts. Resources. The signal for his fucking collar.

"I'm going to give you one chance to turn back, Alexei," Fox's voice sounded in his ear, low and threatening. "Or I'll do worse than send you back to the Tower."

(Cower, flower, sour.)

Lex didn't grace him with a response. Between the collar and the cybernetics, Fox could track him anywhere in the city. His only hope was to run fast enough. Far enough. Get to a place where Uriah would have no power, if such a place existed.

Spyglass's voice echoed in his head, unwelcome as the whine of a mosquito.

"Our offer still stands, you know."

No. Fuck, no. He'd go faster alone, and besides, he wasn't about to bring Uriah's hounds down on the rogues.

"It seems you've made your choice," Uriah said, after a long silence, and Lex heard, rather than felt, his arms power down, a faint buzz that had become background noise suddenly absent. Dead metal swung stiffly, now only serving to weigh him down as he ran.

Shit.

He could still get away. He could still get away. 

"Have you heard of Project Bullfrog, Alexei?" Uriah queried. Lex ignored him.

(Cog, dog, fog, hog.)

Eyes were on him as he darted through the city, taking erratic turns, launching himself through alleyways as he made his way toward the edge of town. Were the people who stared confused bystanders? Or more of Fox's cronies?

"That's where we send the lost causes. All the way to the bottom of the Tower. That's where people really disappear."

(Smear. Clear.) Lex tried to choke back his growing nausea, ignore the icy feeling in his chest that wouldn't go away.

Every sudden movement was an enemy ready to strike, every passing vehicle seemingly out to get him. And who was to say he was wrong?

"That's where you're going when we catch you. It'll make your stay in the Tower look like a fucking pleasure cruise."

"Do you ever shut up?" Lex snapped. He didn't have time for threats, he didn't have time to acknowledge the building dread.

He swore there were people following him, hiding in the sea of the crowd. Carefully closing the distance between them, hoping to snap the jaws of the trap shut without alerting any civilians. He tried to outrun the shadows, but their numbers only seemed to grow.

(Blow, flow, low, mow.)

He dodged into an alley, crouching beside a dumpster to catch his breath, just for a second. He couldn't hide when Uriah could track him. He couldn't run when enemies were everywhere. And he couldn't go back in the dark.

But he was rapidly being backed into a corner. He'd fight off the ones who got to him first, but he couldn't beat them all.

I can't go back. I'd rather die than go back. I'd rather…

Lex took a shaky breath, forcing himself to stand. He was on the north side of the city, near the river. Near the bridge.

He pushed off again, aware of the footsteps following him, no longer caring. He could see the bridge in the distance. Not too far. He could make it.

Sick of being locked away, sick of being a pawn, sick of having no choice. Well every choice he'd made today was his. Lex wouldn't go back. He'd go down on his own terms.

When he reached the bridge, there were too many people on the footpath; Uriah's men, closing in. He kept running, and their faces blurred as he passed.

Climbing onto the waist-high wall with his arms as dead weight was a pain in the ass, but he managed. Just as he'd suspected, several of the pedestrians walking near him broke out into a run as soon as they saw him step onto the ledge.

"Stop!"

Fuck no. As they all came crashing in, he glanced over his shoulder at the smooth dark blue of the water below. He wondered if it'd be cold. If he'd even care about that after hitting the surface, losing his breath, sinking.

"What do you think you're doing?" Uriah's voice hissed in his ear, and Lex shrugged, though he doubted the man could see it.

"Dying first."

He saw someone in the crowd pull a familiar remote from a jacket pocket, felt the electricity arc through his body, but it didn't matter.

He was already free-falling towards the river.

What a fitting way to put out a fire.

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