#so he opens his doors to her on a semi-regular basis & ends up feeling protective of her pretty quick

[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day Four

Daddy-O

I'm taking a break from Frankie and Danse to write a little bit for Evelyn. This is her first time properly meeting Hancock and the two of them end up striking a deal that's of a rather bizarre nature. This deviates slightly from the way I portrayed their meeting in Eve's main fic, with a little added flirting because why not? Also, something about ripping the opening of Pride and Prejudice just felt right. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: smoking, chem use

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of good fortune must be in want of chems.

However little known the feelings or views of such a woman may be on her first entering Goodneighbor, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the residents, that she is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their dealers.

Hancock wasn't having it.

She'd visited three weeks prior, which was when he and a few others had taken bets on whether or not she'd make it in the Commonwealth. They'd all bet against her.

When Hancock had his fill of Jet, he liked to consider himself an optimist and, as such, he was the only one of the group to take a chance on her.

No matter his state, however, he wasn't above rigging the game. A little interference in such matters wouldn't hurt anyone. Besides, it was one of his mayoral duties to ensure the safety of both locals and travelers alike.

Hancock had spotted the glow of her Pip Boy from his balcony and took it upon himself to swoop in, plucking her off the streets before she had a chance to even consider opening her purse.

"They'll con you out of a few hundred caps faster than you can say 'Jack Robinson'."

She was wary of him, he could tell, as he ushered her into the State House and out of the crisp autumn air.

"You visited a few weeks back, right?" he asked, trying to make small talk as he guided her up the staircase.

She looked different than before when he'd spotted her only in passing. MacCready had been the only one to really interact with her during her first visit to the city. He'd described her as being 'weepy and under-prepared' and had been amongst those to bet against her.

Now, she had a neat little pistol on her hip and a rather large knife strapped to her thigh.

Oh, how Hancock longed to see the look on the merc's face as he handed over his caps.

"I don't recall."

"I do. I don't think I could ever forget a face as beautiful as yours," he said coyly, testing the waters just for the hell of it.

Bad move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, fingers twitching at her side as if she longed to grab her knife and skin his leathery hide.

Hancock put his hands up in defense. She relaxed a little.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, watching him closely for any signs of ill-intent.

"I know what you're here for. Like I said, you'll lose more than you gain on the streets."

"Yeah, conned 'faster than I can say Jackie Robinson'. I got that part."

"Jack Robinson," Hancock corrected casually. "Not familiar with a 'Jackie'."

"Oh. He was a baseball player," she explained. "The first-"

She stopped herself, her expression shuttering, as if she'd said too much. About what, he wasn't sure.

Hancock raised what would have been an eyebrow. She noticed the look and waved a hand.

She was odd, that was for sure. Then again, most people were at least a little odd these days.

"Anyway, I figured a gal like you might appreciate this, so I'll shoot straight… I have money on you. That is to say, I've done some betting and now have a vested interest in ensuring your safety."

"Betting? On… me?" she parroted.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Now in his office, Hancock gestured to one of the couches with a flourish.

"Have a seat and I'll explain everything."

He began fixing them each up with a drink, glancing over his shoulder as he prepared the alcohol.

"House special?"

"Sure," she said noncommittally.

He watched her for a moment longer as her gaze moved around the room, taking everything in. He turned back to the drinks and popped one of the drawers open, pulling out a syringe.

"Full disclosure, it's whiskey and a little bit of Daddy-O."

"You can drink that stuff?" she asked skeptically.

"You'd be surprised what you find out when you've got time to kill."

He added about a quarter of the syringe to her drink and the rest to his own. He stirred hers as he brought it over to her, handing it off and going back for his.

Hancock sat on the couch across from her and took a sip. She watched him swallow before taking a rather large swig of her own.

"So, this bet you have…"

"Right, like I was saying… Some of my guys noticed you and didn't think you had it in you to survive, started putting caps down on it."

She huffed and leaned back in her chair. He watched as she stretched out her legs, making herself comfortable.

"Did anyone else bet against the odds?"

"Not a damn one," he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head solemnly.

She hummed appreciatively and took a sip of her drink, slower this time, as she mulled over the information. Hancock didn't allow the silence to stand for long.

"I don't believe I caught your name."

"Evelyn. Friends call me Eve."

"Evelyn… I like that," he complimented, pausing to pull out his cigarettes.

He lit one and offered it to her. She didn't hesitate in taking it from him. Her warm fingers brushed his as she did so. She didn't recoil at the touch.

Hancock lit one up for himself. He took a long drag before speaking again.

"Back to business. Is there anything I can do to guarantee I win this thing?"

Something flashed in her eyes that sent a shiver down Hancock's spine. What it was, he wasn't sure until he saw it in the way the corners of her mouth turned to form the ghost of a smirk; she was a woman haunted by something he had yet to learn the nature of.

He'd met plenty of folks like her before, always running from something no one else could see. Hell, he'd been that person for a while.

Perhaps he still was, for what it was worth.

"Not unless you plan on splitting the profits with me."

She leveled him with the offer as if she was bartering at Bunker Hill, not suggesting she'd see to her own demise should he not agree to her terms.

The implication that she had that little to lose weighed heavy. Something told him that wasn't the case, but he called her bluff anyway.

"You're one crazy broad, aren't you?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"And if I wanted to?"

Her pupils were blown wide, the chems working their way through her system. She leaned forward and licked her lips. It wasn't seductive in any way, but instead spoke of a hunger that lingered just below the surface.

Hancock couldn't help mimicking the movement, leaning in toward the table that separated them.

She was calm and observant, with an edge of crazy that cut like a knife. There was a dangerous tension about her that was damn near palpable, as if she'd pounce at any moment. He wouldn't be surprised if she did. He wasn't sure he'd mind much, either.

"I guess you'll just have to come along for the ride," she purred, giving him a once-over as she did so.

Now, that was seductive.

It was also an invitation, one that would allow him into her world if he played his cards right.

He thought he'd had her, but he realized he had it backward when he found himself wanting her, wanting to know more.

"You aren't told 'no' often, are you?"

She grinned. Two identical rows of perfectly white teeth shone in the dim light.

"Not very."

Hancock considered her, leaning back and taking another sip of his drink.

"I'm not usually one to go with the crowd, but I think I can make an exception... I'm in."

She laughed at that and the sound rippled through him like the best chems money could buy, and just as addictive.

"I like the way you play, Mister Mayor."

"Call me Hancock," he crooned, tipping his hat.

She polished off her whiskey and made a sound of disappointment before placing the glass down on the table.

"Got any more of that 'house special', Hancock?"

"For you, Eve? Anything."

[perotovar]

bloody kisses — part two: i don't wanna be me

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 6.6k content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, descriptions of a crime scene/injury (bullet wound and head trauma)(not shane or tim), heavy petting, oral (male receiving), protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, tiny bit of misogyny (shane is ignorant af and it's like 2002 lol), first time bottoming, shane's internal battles, tim being a really fucking good partner, f e e l i n g s, seriously this is sappy y'all, if i missed anything lmk! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @chronically-ghosted (seriously i can't explain how much taylor has helped with this story, go give her some love!)

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

series masterlist

for updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifications ♥

Shane locked himself in his bedroom for three days after the disaster at Tim’s apartment. He’s never felt so stupid in his life. How could he just… kiss him like that? 

Why did he do that?

He thought about that moment constantly, for hours at a time. Tim’s lips, for how briefly they’d touched his own, felt so… correct. They were soft, a little chapped, but warm. It was like things clicked into place for him. He doesn’t remember any kisses with Raven ever feeling like that. Or any girl he’d been with, for that matter. 

He hated himself for how good it felt. Especially because Tim ended it before it ever really began.

Shane wasn’t sure if there was anyone else he could go to about any of this. Legally, he still lived with his mom and her husband in their downtown apartment, but they never saw each other. He basically had his own area of the apartment to himself. His mom and her husband made enough that they didn’t really notice or care what Shane did with his life. He didn’t have any goals, and he guessed that’s why he did petty crimes like he did. He was just so fucking bored.

And now he was dealing with… this. 

He stared at Tim’s business card, his thumb rubbing over the older man’s name. He was curled up on his bed, holding one of his pillows close. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. The bright green text read 2:18am. He sighed to himself and rolled over onto his back.

He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

Nobody noticed a change in Tim at work. If they did, they were professional enough not to bring it up. He felt fucking awful for how things went down with Shane. He wanted to reciprocate so badly, but Shane was vulnerable and Tim didn’t want to take advantage of him like that.

“Boss, I got those files you needed.”

Tim looked up from his desk, pen still in hand while he filled out the paperwork for a robbery he’d taken care of the day before. He’d thought about Shane and his magazine the entire time. “Thank you,” he grunted, pointing at an empty spot on his desk. “Can just set it there, please.”

The agent set it down and took off, getting back to work.

Tim looked back down at the file he was working on and sighed, losing his focus. He looked over at the phone on his desk and frowned. He didn’t have Shane’s number so he couldn’t call him. He wanted to tell Shane that what happened wasn’t wrong, or even unwanted.

The sound of heavy footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. Matthews, his partner, slammed Tim’s office door open.

“There’s been a shooting!”

Tim furrowed his brows, pushing his thoughts of Shane away for now, and focusing on the task at hand. “Where? Do we know anything else?” He asked, opening the drawer in his desk to put his gun holster on over his shoulders.

“Yeah, it was at a liquor store downtown. We have an idea of who the victim is based on descriptions from the employee working at the time, but not of the shooter,” Matthews answered, handing Tim’s trenchcoat to him. 

The two detectives made their way to Tim’s car and sped off to the crime scene.

“His name is Howard Xavier, and he’s twenty-eight,” Watson, the cop who was in the area, explained. “He’s on his way to the hospital now, but he looks to be in decent condition.”

Tim nodded, eyes looking over the crime scene. Flashes of photos being taken filled the peripheries of his vision. There were bottles of wine and hard liquor crashed everywhere. “Looks like Xavier tried to run from the shooter,” he mumbled, crouching down to look at the dirty boot prints on the linoleum floor.

“Do you think they knew each other?” Matthews asked.

Tim sighed, looking up at his partner before standing again. “Who’s to say?” He shrugged. “Maybe. Do we have any information on any relatives or associates?”

“No family, but we’ve found a couple of friends on file,” Matthews replied. “I think we’ve got them back at the station.”

Tim nodded. “Let’s head back and see what we can find.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. 

Known Associates: Tracy Wynanski and Shane Morrissey.

This had to have been the coincidence to end all coincidences or Tim had an insane amount of luck. There was a phone number for Tracy, but no address. He stepped out of his office and approached his secretary, an older woman by the name of Dolores.

“Can you get me Shane Morrissey’s file, please?” He asked, voice a little more gruff than he’d intended.

“Of course, sweetie, give me one moment,” Dolores smiled, rolling her chair to the file cabinets. 

Shane’s file in hand, he sat back at his desk and started looking through the files for Howard Xavier again. A bullet wound to the thigh, and blunt force trauma to the head.

He figured it’d be easy to get the professional parts out of the way first and called Tracy, asking if she knew anything about the shooting. She said she didn’t, since her and Howard hadn’t seen each other in a couple of months. She’d gone back home to Philadelphia after a breakup. 

“Thank you, Tracy,” he said. “Do you happen to know Shane Morrissey? He’s one of Howard’s other known associates and I’d like to ask if he knows anything.”

Tracy let out a bitter laugh and said, “Oh, I know Shane. He can kiss my ass for all I care.”

“Ms. Wynanski, please–”

“I don’t have a number for him, but I can tell you where he lives. Not saying he’ll be there, though,” she paused. “Likes to frequent this one house full of his ‘friends’ when he’s not at home moping.”

Tim felt his entire body relax, shutting his eyes as he took a deep breath. “That will be very helpful. Thank you, Ms. Wynanski. Do you have the address for the other house?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t go in there like you’re looking for him, though. They’ll all run off.”

“I can handle it. Thank you, Ms Wynanski.”

After confirming that the address Tracy had matched the one they had on file, and wrote down the other address, he called Matthews, who decided to check on Xavier at the hospital.

“He’s stable. He’ll probably stay here for a couple of days,” his partner said through the phone.

“Alright. I’ve got a lead on one of his associates. It’s fucking Morrissey, John,” Tim chuckled.

“You’re shitting me. Employee at the liquor store said Xavier looked like he walked out of the Satanic Temple so I guess I’m not too surprised.”

Tim rolled his eyes and snorted, making one last note on Howard’s file. “I’m gonna head out and look for him. Could you go to one of these addresses for me?”

“Sure thing, Tim. Don’t get trapped in some ritual sacrifice.”

“Fuck off,” Tim laughed.

Tim decided to go to the second house full of Shane’s “friends”. He figured it was more likely that he was there, and he was right. It looked like it was a gathering of about ten or fifteen other kids around Shane’s age, all dressed in similar clothing.

The house was filled with smoke and had music playing, so he decided it was better if he stayed in his car until Shane came outside. He didn’t want to embarrass the kid.

It didn’t take too long, Shane stumbling out of the house and laughing loudly. Tim turned the key, the engine for his Caprice coming to life. Shane startled and looked over, eyes locking with Tim’s behind the wheel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shane barked, stomping over to the passenger window and glaring at the older man.

“I need your help,” Tim said softly.

Shane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you fucking stalk me here? You can’t be here– They can’t see me with you.”

“Then get in. They won’t know.” Tim looked up at him, eyes softening when he saw the clear hurt on Shane’s face. He wasn’t very angry by the looks of it. Just upset.

Shane scoffed, looked back at the house, and raised his arms in defeat. “Fine,” he grumbled, opening the passenger side door and sitting down.

“Seatbelt.”

“Eat me, old man,” Shane rolled his eyes. He lifted a leg and rested his chunky boot on the car’s dashboard. 

Tim sighed heavily and didn’t argue. He’ll just clean his car later. “You wanna talk at the station or at my apartment?”

Shane bit his lip, picking at a rip in his jeans and making it worse. “I don’t wanna go to the station.”

“Figured as much,” Tim exhaled, looking behind the car for any oncoming traffic and pulling out of the neighborhood towards his apartment.

Shane stared at Tim’s arms underneath the tight white dress shirt, the fabric pulling at the thick muscle. He wondered what Tim looked like on top of him, those strong arms pinning him to a mattress and–

“You know a Howard Xavier, right?” Tim asked, eyes squinting at the file in his hands. 

The two of them were seated at the table in Tim’s dining room, the surface in front of them covered in documents and files. 

“Yeah, that’s X,” Shane mumbled, picking at his nails so he could hide the pink in his cheeks.

Tim raised a brow but didn’t comment, nodding. “Do you know if he had any enemies, Shane?” He asked, digging his glasses out of his front pocket and putting them on. “That’s better,” he said to himself, the text on the files clearing up.

Shane blinked a couple times, the sight of Tim wearing glasses doing more for him than he thought possible. His breathing picked up a little, heart pounding in his chest when Tim made eye contact with him, waiting for Shane to answer. “U-um, I don’t think so? X was always pretty chill,” he mumbled.

Tim nodded and took notes on a sticky pad. Tim’s phone started ringing, making the older man get up and answer it. “Rockford,” he grunted into the receiver.

Shane stayed seated and kept to himself, listening to the one sided conversation.

“You’re shitting me. He did? Thanks, John. Yeah. You too. Have a good night.”

Tim exhaled and hung up the phone, clicking his pen. “Good news,” he smiled, taking his seat at the table across from Shane. “Xavier woke up and described the shooter. My partner found him.”

Shane nodded, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table. “‘S good,” he mumbled.

Tim watched Shane’s face closely, eyes trailing over the piercings and the messy hair. “I’m sorry I took you away from your party,” he said softly.

“‘S okay. Don’t like those guys very much,” Shane shrugged. Now that he was here, he was having a hard time not curling in on himself again. He couldn’t even look Tim in the eye without thinking about what his lips felt and tasted like.

Tim furrowed his brows. “Why do you hang out with them, then?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to pry, but it was sort of his job to find information. Shane wasn’t a job, though. He was much more than that.

Shane sighed and angrily looked at Tim for a second before looking away again. “Why do you care?”

Tim bit his lip, fiddling with his tie. “You really wanna know, kid?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” he rolled his eyes.

“Because I see a lot of myself in you, Shane,” Tim admitted gently, crossing one leg over the other.

Shane furrowed his brows and looked at Tim incredulously.

“It’s true. Would you believe me if I said I got arrested? Was about your age, too.” Tim chuckled as he remembered what caused his arrest.

A small smile grew on Shane’s face. “What’d you do?”

“Public Indecency.”

Shane’s eyes grew three times in size. “Did you get caught having sex? Were you streaking?” He giggled, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Uh, well,” Tim chuckled. “I was in my car at the time and having sex.”

Shane laughed, face as red as a tomato. His thoughts flooded with images of what Tim having sex looked like. What sort of faces did he make? What kind of sounds did he make? Was he more dominant or submissive?

“Were you going down on her or…?”

“Him,” Tim answered easily. “And no, we were uh… I was found on top of him.”

Shane froze, eyes wide. He looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked back at Tim briefly before settling his eyes on Tim’s tie. “You’re…?” He asked shakily. 

“Yeah, kid,” Tim chuckled. Shane looked terrified and it broke Tim’s heart. “I said I was here for you if you needed me. I still am.”

Shane squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy, shaky breath. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans and looked at Tim with wet, glossy eyes. “I don’t– I don’t understand,” he shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t seem–”

“Not every gay person is really flamboyant, Shane.”

Shane blushed in embarrassment. “Why did you turn away from me, then? Why didn’t you kiss me back?” He frowned, voice shaky and hurt.

Tim’s eyes rounded, his whole face becoming softer. “I wanted to,” he admitted, looking down at Shane’s ring-clad hands. “But it wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t… I didn’t want to take advantage of you like that.”

“Take advantage–! I kissed you!” Shane roared.

“You were vulnerable and confused. And,” Tim gulped. “And I’m a lot older than you, it’s… It’s not appropriate.” He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly at how much it hurt to say out loud.

“Tim,” Shane whimpered, biting his lip. He felt a thick lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation right now. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. It felt like he was having an out of body experience. “I don’t care about that, I’m– I’m more worried about you being a cop than being older than me. I’m an adult,” he scoffed, his bottom lip trembling.

Tim couldn’t hold in the chuckle that bubbled out of him. “I know you are. I just don’t– I don’t know how this could continue–”

“Please, shut up,” Shane begged, getting out of his chair and making his way over to Tim. He looked down at the older man, face burning, and slowly crawled into Tim’s lap, wrapping his arms around Tim’s neck. “I don’t wanna talk anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t wanna think anymore. Please.”

Tim’s hands instinctively found their place on Shane’s hips. His eyes moved from Shane’s to the younger man’s lips, then back up. “Are you sure?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumbs into Shane’s hip bones.

“No,” Shane mumbled. “Well, yes, but… No.”

Tim raised a brow and smirked. “How about we take things slow.”

Shane nodded, biting his lip. “Okay.”

Tim smiled and softly connected their lips, caressing Shane’s head, thumb rubbing at his jaw. Shane whimpered quietly as he tentatively kissed back. His lips trembled against Tim’s, soft huffs of air expelling out from between them. He’d kissed before but this was so… different. The feeling of Tim’s facial hair against his lips was weird. Good, but weird. 

Shane experimentally ran his tongue along Tim’s bottom lip. Tim took the hint and softly caressed Shane’s tongue with his own, making the younger man gasp into his mouth. Tim squeezed Shane’s narrow hips, trying to ground him, and sighed into the kiss. It built a little over time, but eventually, they found a rhythm. The soft clinking of metal from Shane’s earrings filled the otherwise silent apartment. They learned each other over the course of their kissing. Tim learned that Shane liked to nibble and bite, and Shane learned that Tim liked to encompass him entirely, like he could devour Shane’s mouth if given the chance.

When Tim pulled away for some much needed air, Shane whined in protest, his face leaning toward Tim’s to keep going. “Slow your roll, kid,” Tim chuckled, pressing his forehead to Shane’s and panting quietly. Shane blushed, and chewed his swollen bottom lip while he waited. “C’mere,” Tim grunted, tugging Shane’s leather duster off his shoulders. Shane went along with it, pulling his arms free before the sound of squeaky leather fell into a heap on the floor. 

Large hands ran over Shane’s hips and waist, but never ventured lower. Shane shivered when Tim’s blunt nails lightly scratched at the exposed skin of his lower back as his t-shirt rode up. Shane’s cock twitched in interest, making him blush high on his cheeks.

“‘s okay, sweetheart,” Tim hummed. He rolled his hips a little, his own half-hard cock rubbing against Shane’s.

Shane’s eyes grew twice their size at the feeling and looked down at the bulge in Tim’s slacks. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. His imagination was a lot easier to handle than the real thing pressing into his inner thigh. 

Tim furrowed his brows in concern and rubbed Shane’s skin underneath his t-shirt comfortingly. “What are you thinking about?” He asked softly.

Shane inhaled heavily, and slowly let out a deep breath before turning his head back toward Tim. He opened his eyes, but didn’t make contact. “Just… weird. Feeling your…”

Tim hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you want to stop?”

Shane shook his head, eyes still burning holes into Tim’s slowly rising and falling tummy. 

“Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“N-no, I don’t want to stop,” Shane whispered.

“Do you want to lie down? There’s no expectation for anything,” Tim said, sitting up a little more in the dining room chair. 

The stretch in Shane’s thighs suddenly overtook any doubts he had, making him shakily get up from Tim’s lap. He was used to having someone sit on his lap like that and being in that position made his stomach hurt.

Tim laced his fingers through Shane’s and gently guided him to his bedroom. He kept the lights low and rubbed his thumb over Shane’s knuckles. “You okay?”

Shane stared at Tim’s bed and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Y-yeah,” he croaked.

Tim chewed on his lip in thought and let go of Shane’s smaller hand. He gave Shane some space as he took off his glasses and removed the tie he was wearing. He toed off his dress shoes and put them in his closet. When he turned around after unbuttoning his dress shirt, Shane was sitting on his bed, hands curled up into fists on his ripped jean-covered thighs.

Tim sighed softly and sat next to him on the bed. “What’s goin’ through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, tugging on pieces of Shane’s hair that were sticking straight out.

Shane shut his eyes and took another deep breath. “I’m just… I’m having a hard time being… like, the female part.” He curled in on himself, his shoulders hiding his ears.

Tim blinked a couple times. “Sweetheart, we’re both men.”

“I-I know that! I just,” he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Usually, I’m in your position. Taking charge.”

“I see,” Tim sighed, getting more comfortable and turning toward him. Shane did the same, but didn’t make eye contact with him. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Shane blushed, those big brown eyes of his lifting up to meet Tim’s. 

“Alright, firstly, who told you there were ‘male’ and ‘female’ roles?” Tim raised a brow.

“W-well, uh–”

“It’s alright, I already know who. Lesson number one,” Tim smiled reassuringly. “Just because you’re sitting on my lap, letting me ‘take charge’, doesn’t mean you’re weak, honey.”

Shane gulped and nodded, taking all of this in. Tim felt like a professor. Probably the first one Shane would ever listen to.

“And women aren’t weak, so get that out of your head, too.”

Shane let out a heavy breath. This was a lot to take in.

“Did you feel good?” Tim asked, picking up one of Shane’s hands and rubbing his thumb over the scabbed knuckles. When Shane nodded jerkily, Tim grinned, his chest feeling warm at the admission. “That’s all that matters. Think of it this way,” he paused. Shane hung onto every word. “Everything we do? It’s with your say-so. You’re driving the car here.”

Shane blinked as he thought about it. He could work with that. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“You want me to make you feel good again?” Tim smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. Shane’s heart thundered at the sight.

“Y-yes.”

“Go ahead and lay back for me, alright?”

Shane nodded and got comfy, head cradled by Tim’s fluffy pillows. His entire body was buzzing and tense. He kept his eyes on Tim’s popcorn ceiling, the sounds of Tim’s belt jingling filling the room. When the bed dipped with Tim’s weight, Shane’s heart stuttered a little. One of Tim’s big hands cupped his cheek and gently turned his face so he could look at Tim again. Shane wasn’t expecting the softness in Tim’s features, or the heat in his eyes.

Tim rubbed Shane’s cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to go far tonight. There’s no rush.”

Shane nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

This time, when their lips connected, Shane eased into it a lot sooner, kissing the older man with renewed fervor. He sighed into it, the warmth radiating off of Tim being an endless source of comfort. He gripped onto Tim’s opened dress shirt and tugged it down his shoulders. Tim released Shane’s lips briefly while he shrugged the shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Shane moaned weakly when Tim surged forward and sucked his bottom lip between his own.

Shane’s head was fuzzy, all the blood there rushing down between his legs. He gasped when Tim rolled him over and hovered over him, pressing his hips between Shane’s thighs. Tim took his time with him, kissing him languidly while he unbuckled Shane’s jeans.

“Can I touch you?” Tim breathed between kisses.

Shane nodded quickly, holding the sides of Tim’s head and tangling his fingers in the short, thick locks of Tim’s hair. Tim smiled against the younger man’s lips and pulled Shane’s baggy, ripped jeans off. Shane toed off his own socks before wrapping his legs around Tim’s thick waist. Tim was so much larger than Shane was and it made his head spin.

Tim’s hands played with the bottom of Shane’s t-shirt and slowly lifted it up, bunching under his armpits. He pulled away to look at Shane’s torso and grinned when he saw the small tattoos there. Both hands holding Shane’s sides, he gently rubbed at the younger man’s nipples, making Shane gasp. Goosebumps and flushed skin covered his entire body in seconds, making Shane lightly smack Tim’s shoulder. Tim laughed lightly and softly kissed his way down Shane’s torso until he was eye level with the tent in the younger man’s boxers.

Shane blushed hard, eyes wide. “W-what are you doing?”

Tim raised a brow and tilted his head slightly, tugging on the elastic of Shane’s boxers. “Said I’d make you feel good, sweetheart.”

Shane blinked. “B-but isn’t that…”

“There are no roles. But if you don’t want me to, then–”

“I do!” Shane smacked his hand over his own mouth and shut his eyes, hoping the bed would swallow him whole. 

A wolfish smirk crossed Tim’s features as he lowered his head, kissing along Shane’s pelvis. Shane whimpered at the feeling of Tim’s facial hair across his skin, his body shuddering. “Breathe, sweetheart,” Tim whispered, shutting his eyes to suck gently at Shane’s hip and leaving a mark. 

Shane forced himself to take a deep breath, shutting his eyes to center himself. When he opened his eyes, Tim quirked a brow up at him as he tugged on Shane’s boxers again. Shane nodded his consent and almost groaned at the cool air in the apartment hitting his throbbing cock. Tim hummed appreciatively and didn’t waste a second, kissing the tip, then making his way down the shaft.

Shane moaned openly gripping the sheets of the bed into tight fists. “T-Tim, what–”

“Shh…” Tim whispered, engulfing the head of Shane’s cock in his mouth. He moaned at the taste and watched Shane’s face as he slowly bobbed his head up and down. Shane’s eyes rolled back and arched his back off the bed. 

Shane felt his cheeks throb and the blood rushing in his ears, doing everything in his power to keep his hips down. When his hips bucked up on their own, he moaned weakly, looking at Tim’s face to make sure he didn’t choke him. What he found instead made his cock twitch.

This was one of Tim’s favorite things to do. Making his partner feel good with his mouth was something he always got pleasure out of and Shane was no different. In fact, this was probably one of the more rewarding times, because this was the first time a man had done this for him. He felt good knowing he got to be the first, and a little possessive side of him liked the idea even more.

Eyes shut, Tim moaned around Shane’s length, losing himself in it. He gripped Shane’s hips and rubbed the bones there to soothe him. Shane’s chest rose and fell quickly as he watched. He felt a little embarrassed to admit that this was probably the best head he’d ever received.

Tim opened his eyes, keeping an eye on any changes in Shane’s face. 

Shane felt his balls drawing up, making him moan weakly. “I-I’m gonna–” He cut himself off, gripping the sheets tighter. Tim doubled his efforts, bobbing his head a little faster. “Oh, fuck,” Shane whined, his thighs trembling on either side of Tim’s head.

Tim moved his hands up Shane’s torso and rubbed at the younger man’s nipples again, urging him on.

“W-wait, wait–” Shane gasped, smacking his hand against Tim’s shoulder as the pressure built and built. Tim watched closely and if he could, he’d grin to himself as he watched Shane’s eyes roll back. Shane’s entire body stilled and he came hard, thick ropes of cum shooting down Tim’s throat. Shane’s moans went up three octaves as he shook with pleasure, his toes curling.

Tim swallowed everything and slowly, gently, raised his head. He licked Shane clean, kissing back up his torso. Once he was hovering over Shane again, Tim smiled at the blissed out expression on his face. He chuckled lightly and kissed Shane’s cheek.

“Still with me?”

Shane shivered at the gravelly tone of Tim’s voice. It must be an octave or two lower than normal given what he’d just done. He slowly blinked his eyes open and didn’t have the energy to hold back the smile when he saw Tim’s handsome face. “Yeah, ‘m here,” he mumbled, his body feeling heavy and sated.

“Good. You should get some rest, sweetheart.” Tim’s laugh rumbled in his chest.

Shane pouted, big brown eyes glazed over, but determined. “What about you?”

“I’ll be okay. Get some rest,” Tim said, kissing Shane’s forehead. “Can I take your shirt off?” He asked, pulling the material down from where it was bunched up under his armpits.

Shane nodded, watching in awe as Tim took care of him. It was at this moment that Shane realized Tim was completely serious with him. He wouldn’t make fun of him, or use him. Shane felt tears prickling behind his eyes, but quickly blinked them away.

“Be right back, okay? Gonna get you some water,” Tim grunted quietly, crawling off the bed. Shane didn’t have the energy to argue, and just watched Tim’s broad back leave the bedroom.

When Tim returned with the glass of water, he was greeted with the sight of Shane’s sleeping form. He smiled at him, and set the water on the nightstand closest to Shane. 

He got himself undressed, making sure to be careful of his own half-hard cock. Once he was down to his boxer briefs, he crawled into bed behind Shane and held the younger man close. The day caught up with him as he laid there, eyes trailing over the messy curls and multiple piercings in Shane’s ears.

He drifted off quickly, and had a dreamless sleep.

Twitch. Twitch.

Shane groaned in his sleep.

What was that?

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he adjusted to the light. He tried to turn and feel what was poking against his back, but he was held firmly in place by… Were those arms?

Shane’s eyes snapped open as the memories from the night before came flooding back. His cheeks burned as he looked down and saw the strong, very male, hands holding him close to a broad chest. Tim huffed in his sleep, making Shane smile shyly. He couldn’t deny it, being held by Tim felt really good. It was so warm.

He tried rotating in Tim’s arms, silently exhaling in relief when he didn’t seem to wake the older man. He felt the twitching again and looked down between their bodies.

Oh.

Shane smiled at the sight of Tim’s morning wood through his boxer briefs. He looked back up at Tim’s sleeping face and decided against doing anything until he’d woken up. For now, he ran his fingers through the thin layer of chest hair on Tim’s skin. It seemed obvious when he thought about it, but it was so different than when he was with a woman. He didn’t feel like he had to hide with Tim. Tim wouldn’t judge him.

Tim made him feel safe. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

Shane startled and looked up, Tim’s soft smirk and sleepy eyes greeting him. He shook his head in lieu of an answer.

When Tim grumbled in response, it reminded Shane of a bear. 

“Do you want… You need help with that?” Shane asked timidly, pointing between their bodies. Their legs were tangled together and they were touching everywhere. The proximity and the feeling of warmth radiating from between Tim’s legs had Shane throbbing in no time.

Tim snorted and leaned forward, kissing Shane sleepily. Shane moaned into it, grinding his own cock against Tim’s. Tim pulled back and panted a little against Shane’s lips.

“We don’t have to. I’ll be okay–”

Shane cut him off by gripping Tim’s ass and squeezing. When Tim made a small noise of surprise, Shane smirked, attempting to pull Tim onto his own lap. “I want to,” he said, voice determined, but shaky. “I want… I wanna know what it feels like. I have to make sure.”

Tim blinked at him, a little shocked by the sudden change in Shane’s behavior. One of his legs was draped over Shane’s waist as he cupped the younger man’s face. Shane seemed to melt at the gesture, making Tim smirk. “Are you sure?” He asked, brows pinched in concern. He didn’t want Shane to rush into anything. 

“Yes,” Shane nodded.

There was more conviction in that one word than a lot of things Shane had ever said to him, so Tim smiled softly at him. He held onto Shane’s thighs and rolled them over so he was hovering over Shane again, and rubbed the smooth skin comfortingly. “Alright. Lube and condoms are in the top drawer,” he nodded his head toward the nightstand. 

With pink cheeks and a determined expression on his face, Shane reached over and dug out the necessary equipment. Everything really settled in his gut when he was holding everything. This was really going to happen. This wasn’t some dream he’d come up with while he was alone in his bedroom, looking at the cracks and fist-sized holes in his walls.

“C’mere,” Tim grunted, gently taking the items from him and holding Shane’s hip. “Gotta get you prepared, okay? Don’t want it to hurt for you.”

Shane nodded appreciatively and watched as Tim discarded his own underwear, kneeling on the bed between Shane’s thighs. He looked the older man over, eyes raking over the messy, gray curls and pillow creases on Tim’s cheeks. His eyes traveled down over the broad shoulders and chest, and down to the swell of Tim’s stomach. That was probably one of Shane’s favorite parts. His eyes landed on the thick cock between muscled thighs and Shane bit his lip. He had to remind himself not to pinch his arm, because this was real. 

Tim carefully got the condom secured around his cock and drizzled some lube on his fingers. “You ready?” He smiled down at Shane, chest warm at the sight of him. Shane nodded, smiling shyly up at him.

Tim curled his fingers around Shane’s cock and pumped slowly. Shane sighed and shut his eyes, lips parting. Tim couldn’t help himself and surged forward, kissing the younger man deeply. He kept his hand on him, keeping up a decent pace as he teased a finger against Shane’s hole.

Shane’s body jerked at the intrusion, making Tim soothe him gently. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle.”

Shane let out a weak noise and nodded, holding on tight to Tim’s shoulders. He spread his legs a little more and wrapped them around Tim’s waist. 

The first press of one of Tim’s thick fingers inside him already had Shane seeing stars. He panted as he looked down between his legs, trying to see what was happening. Tim cupped his face and forced him to look there instead. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he smiled.

Shane bit his lip and nodded, but gasped soon after as a second finger joined the first. His face twisted into an almost pained expression. Tim watched closely, eyes locked onto him. Tim pumped his fingers in a steady rhythm, searching for that sweet spot inside him. Shane was panting heavily, eyes glossed over, but staying on Tim’s face.

When Shane rolled his eyes back and he gasped, Tim knew he found it. Shane moaned, his cock twitching violently against his lower tummy. “H-hurry up, old man,” he groaned, toes curling on either side of Tim’s hips. “P-please,” he breathed.

Tim snorted, but didn’t argue, removing his fingers gently. Shane groaned at the loss and braced himself for the intrusion, eyes squeezed shut.

“Sweetheart, I need you to breathe first.” Tim leaned over him and kissed him tenderly. He watched as Shane let out one last deep breath and nodded up at him. “Atta boy,” Tim grinned.

Shane scoffed and rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. As Tim lined himself up, Shane’s heart thundered in his chest, watching the focus on Tim’s face mellow out. He had that same facial expression whenever he was interrogating Shane back at the station, or reading through files, or taking notes. But here, with Shane, he seemed to deflate a little. He relaxed. 

The first push in knocked the wind out of Shane. He moaned, digging his nails into Tim’s broad shoulders. Tim hid his face in Shane’s neck and kissed along the younger man’s sleep-soft skin. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart,” he breathed, hips slowly pushing forward.

Shane trembled in Tim’s arms until Tim’s hips were flush against him. Time stopped as Tim settled, letting Shane adjust. Shane had to blink a few times, swallowing around a lump in his throat. All thought left Shane’s head and the only thing left was the sweet stretch of Tim’s cock inside him. Every wall he’d built up was successfully crumbling at his trembling form. 

Tim petted Shane’s sweaty hair out of his face, kissing him on every available patch of skin he could find.

“M-move,” Shane panted, eyes half lidded and glazed over. “Please.”

So Tim did.

He built up a slow, steady rhythm. Before either of them knew it, their bodies rocked together in perfect harmony. Tim hugged Shane closer, his hips being the driving force while his arms kept Shane grounded.

The sounds leaving Shane’s mouth were so unfamiliar to his own ears, he couldn’t even tell where he was for a moment. The only thing he could feel or think about was the stretch of Tim’s cock, Tim’s heavy breathing against his neck, and Tim’s big hands holding his hips. It was all Tim, Tim, Tim.

He didn’t even feel the tear slowly falling down the side of his face until Tim gently wiped it away. He nearly sobbed when Tim kissed him, chest hitching with every powerful thrust. 

Tim grunted every time Shane clenched around him. He was so tight, which he expected, but he was having a hard time keeping a steady rhythm. He was still tired and his body was trying to catch up. He watched the younger man’s face twist in pleasure and sped up a little, moaning down at him.

Shane wailed, one fist curling up tight and weakly hitting against Tim’s chest. “I-I’m close,” he panted, his cock dripping pre-cum onto his stomach. “T-Tim, I’m–”

“‘s okay, I’m here,” Tim groaned, curling his fingers around the younger man’s cock. He started pumping his fist in time with his thrusts, eyes glued to Shane’s face.

Shane nodded furiously, scratching his nails down Tim’s chest. Not long after that, his entire body shook like a leaf and he clenched hard around Tim’s cock, coming in waves. He moaned out loud, his back arching off the bed, and gasping for air.

Tim’s own eyes rolled back as Shane squeezed around him. Shane’s face was turned into the pillow as he breathed heavily, coming down from such a high peak. Tim slowed down some, letting Shane have a moment.

When Shane made eye contact with him again, Tim’s heart stopped. He didn’t think Shane had looked more beautiful than he had right in that moment. His hair was a mess, his face was blotchy and red, there were tear tracks down his cheeks, and his lips were swollen from all the biting. Tim was pulled out of the fantasy when Shane clenched around him again, making a moan bubble out of him.

“C’mon, old man,” Shane smirked, voice tired.

Tim huffed a laugh and hugged Shane close, hips snapping quicker now. Chasing his own release, he hid his face in Shane’s neck, sucking a dark mark against the younger man’s collarbone.

In just a few short, quick thrusts, Tim was following Shane over that ledge with a deep groan, emptying inside the condom.

Shane exhaled deeply, arms wrapped around him. Then, he giggled quietly. He was elated, he was on cloud nine.

Tim lifted his head, hair sticking up every which way. He raised a brow at the younger man and smirked. “You alright?” He chuckled.

Shane nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good,” Tim grunted, slowly moving out from between Shane’s legs to dispose of the condom. He crawled back into bed and cuddled close, kissing Shane lazily. They both sighed into it. Eventually, they had to come up for air, and when they did, Tim breathed, “You hungry? I’m hungry.”

“God, yes. I’m fucking starving,” Shane groaned.

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes and pressed a light kiss to Shane’s lips. “You like pancakes? I make some really good pancakes.”

Shane giggled, feeling lighter than he had in years.

[limitlessscion]

Weeks following the incident with the Zen'ins — Megumi answered the door with a bored expression yet offered his benefactor a semi polite bow of the head. The door was left ajar, and the barefoot child retreated into the apartment to continue the task of peeling and slices fresh apples. As Megumi worked on an additional apple to present to Satoru on a summer themed plate, Tsumiki sat rigid like a pole upon hearing the sorcerer's entrance. The girl did not move away from her cushion on the living room floor, however she did hide her face behind a curtain of hair and an upright textbook.

Satoru hadn't expected Karasu to be a pain in his ass; though in hindsight he couldn't have ever expected otherwise. Ever since he'd released the old man from binding vows that'd guaranteed his loyalty to the Gojos for decades and he'd still decided to stay at Satoru's side, Karasu had grown a fondness of speaking his mind and challenging the clan head on a regular basis. On the matter of these children, the old man had taken it seriously. Satoru hasn't heard the end of it ever since his failed attempt to make up with Tsumiki.

Just talk to her, you big oaf.

When the door opened he greeted Megumi with a smile and a subdued "Good morning" lacking his usual loud upbeat persona, he noted the rare gesture of respect returned. He brought gifts as he always did but this time it was simple and not meant to steal all the attention of his visit, only a grocery bag full of snacks that he knew each of the two children liked. He set the bag down onto the floor next to the living room table, taking a seat cross-legged across from Tsumiki.

As Karasu kept insisting, she was still scared. With all the precision with which Satoru could see cursed energy, actually reading the emotional source of that energy was often difficult and near impossible. However with non-sorcerers and their lack of control, it was easier to trace the taste of it; the shroud around Tsumiki leaked with the rot of fear. Even without that sight into an extra realm, she wore it plainly upon her shoulders.

"Hey Tsumiki," his voice was quiet, with all the softness of effort to not spook a cornered animal. Gentleness was not a state that came easy to the young man and his fingers fidgeted beneath the table with the unease of it all. The version of him that scared her so was much truer to him than this placating façade; yet effort is still effort, is it not? He hated to see Tsumiki like this, flinching at his presence where she had once welcomed him with joy and admiration. "I'm sorry I scared you."

He wished that Karasu had given him more pointers on what to say if he'd insisted on this confrontation so badly; but the old man had told him that it would only matter if it was genuine. Satoru paused awkwardly for a long moment, thankful for Megumi's sudden presence to present fruit onto the table. He thanked the boy and it gave something for his hands to do, picking up a piece of apple and watching as Tsumiki eased up enough to take a piece of her own.

He gathered his thoughts.

"I know that what happened was ugly, and that I'm much scarier than you've ever known, but want you understand that I wanted to protect you. I won't hold back if it comes to yours or Megumi's safety—" The words didn't feel like the right thing. Was this brutal honesty? Or softened too much into palpability? Why did it feel like both?

"—but all it means is that I will keep you safe. You are safe, and you will continue to be safe. You don't have to be afraid."

You don't have to be afraid of me.

[idreamofhazeleyes]

Ties in Blood -- Chapter 38

Note: So sorry it took so long to get this chapter posted. I hit a burn out spell with the story and needed a break. Hopefully I’ll be getting back to this and posting on a semi regular basis.

Tags: @optimisticpeacecollector5 @squirrelnotsam @impala-dreamer @mrswhozeewhatsis @idreamofplaid @lyarr24 @percussiongirl2017 

Chapter 38

Aaliyah startled out of her sleep at the sound of her phone ringing. She mentally cursed whoever was calling for interrupting her three hour nap.

“Not interested, whatever it is,” she said once she answered the call.

“Is that how you greet your friendly pool boy?”

Aaliyah rolled over on the bed and took a breath. “Motel’s got a pool, but I haven’t seen you around, Dean. Gotta a case you need help on?”

“Bobby hadn’t heard from you lately,” he answered, deflecting from the question.

“It’s been a week, Dean. A month since the snow storm. And Bobby’s old enough to call me himself for a check in.” Aaliyah worked herself to lean against the headboard before adjusting the cell. “If I didn’t know better, you’re worried about me.” She heard a scoff from the other end. There was something behind that scoff that didn’t sit well with Aaliyah. She pushed off from the headboard. “Dean, what is it?”

“It’s the case Sam and I are working. Seems we’re after a siren, and Sam got …”

“Got what, Dean? Are you telling me that he went and did the deed with the siren? Were you distracted?” She sighed when Dean wasn’t quite forth coming with an answered. “I’m not surprised about that, Dean. Do you want my help? Give me a minute to pack up and head out to meet you.”

“You don’t …”

“Dean Winchester, you called me, waking me up, and dropped a siren in my lap. Between my own hunts and helping Nissa and Leo with theirs, I could …” She caught herself before she said something stupid. “You called for help; I’m coming to help. Where are you?”

***

Aaliyah pulled up to the motel and parked. She didn’t see the Impala as she went around to the trunk and dug around for a useable weapon against the siren. Best thing she had was a metal bat. Armed with that, Aaliyah started for the motel as she heard a car pull into the parking lot. A shiver went up her back, a warning for sure. Her grip tightened on the bat even as she stepped into the motel’s lobby. She hit the elevator call button and resisted the urge to bounce on her feet from nerves. The main door opened and her eyes darted over to see Dean and a man she didn’t recognize walk in. Aaliyah watched a smile pull at his mouth, slowing her pace toward him and Dean.

“Here.” The man took a drink from the flask before offering it to Aaliyah.

She shot him a weary look at him before deferring the offer.

“You sure? You look like you could use some water.”

Aaliyah glanced over at Dean, who should have spoken up by now in her defense. But there was something off about him. “I’m fine, positive. I’ll wait out here for Sammy.”

“I insist.” The man came up and put the flask to her lips.

Aaliyah fought to keep her lips closed, but they were forced open and a swallow of water entered her mouth. The flask was pulled away.

“Don’t you think that Dean looks dashing?” the man asked, stepping aside so Aaliyah could see him. “The way he looks at you with those brilliant green eyes of his.”

Aaliyah’s breath hitched as the words sunk in.

“I think the two of you make a wonder couple.”

Aaliyah watched Dean move closer to her, some part of her mind screaming at her that this wasn’t right. He took her hands in his, pulling her toward him. She wrapped her arms around his waist; his arms wrapping around her body.

“Come, I have a room for the two of you,” the man said.

Aaliyah didn’t want to move from the spot, but Dean took a half step back and took her hand. His arm wrapped around her as they moved for the door, wrapping her in a protective shield even as her arm snaked around his waist to hold the shield in place. The three of them moved through the motel halls to the room. The man opened the door and insisted on Aaliyah and Dean to enter first.

“The three of us are gonna have a good life together,” the man said. “Dean, I can be your brother. You can trust me; unlike Sam.” He guided Aaliyah to sit on the bed.

Aaliyah sat and watched through a haze as the door opened and Sam appeared before Dean attacked him. It wasn’t right. Why were they fighting? A hand came to rest on one of her shoulders, bringing her attention to the owner. It was Nick, the FBI agent.

“Isn’t it great? Watching them fight for your attention?” he asked. “And like Dean, you’re all mine.”

Aaliyah blinked and Dean had Sam pinned up against a wall with a blade to his neck. They’ve fought before, but that was under their own power. Not under a siren’s power.

“You poisoned us.” It came out as a whisper. I wasn’t sure if I even spoke it.

“No. I gave Dean a reason to fight. And it was you; not some bitch in a g-string. There’s something deep in him that wants more than a brother who loves him. He’ll kill for me. And keeps you safe. Now, why wouldn’t you want that type of devotion?”

“Aaliyah,” Sam called.

A shiver ran over Aaliyah’s body.

“Come, love,” Nick said, offering a hand to Aaliyah. “Let us leave them to get things off their chests.”

Aaliyah stared at the offered hand even as the brothers start talking. She moved away from Nick, a few steps was what she needed. “I’m fine here, thanks.”

Nick glared at her. “That’s no way to be thanking me, honey. Now, we’re gonna head out.” He grabbed her arm and turned her toward the door just as a knife was implanted into him.

Aaliyah pulled her arm free as the siren fell to the floor and darted over to the brothers. Her attention went to Bobby when Sam thanked him for the save. She walked with them outside, accepting a can of soda from Bobby.

“You okay?” he asked, full attention on her.

She didn’t quite make eye contact with him at first before nodding. “Yeah, just … feel like I’ve been violated somehow.” She looked up when a hand rested on a shoulder.

“I know this life is tough, kid,” Bobby said. “I’ve known hunters who don’t last long in this life. Hell, some don’t last five hunts. You surprised me. And you still surprise me. And you got two very messed up guys over there who’ll do anything to protect you.”

Aaliyah glanced over to the brothers, who were having their own conversation. She couldn’t find a counter argument to what Bobby told her since she knew he was right. Despite all their fucked up childhoods and what they’ve gone through since she’s met up with them since Dean called for help, Aaliyah knew the two would do their best to protect her.

“Thanks, Bobby,” she said before he headed off. She walked over to the brothers just as Dean reached out and took hold of her hand.

“So…we good?” Sam asked.

Aaliyah returned the hold and nodded. “Good.” She didn’t pull away when they turned to leave, wanting to hold onto Dean’s hand just for a few seconds longer before having to let go. She swore Dean looked back at her when they were both ready to climb into their cars.

[synchronmurmurs]

12, 23, and 41 for all the girls?

Omg this took literally all day for me to do, but these were a lot of fun, so thank you Nights! 💖💖

12. What’s a skill or craft they would like to master, but haven’t?

Liviere: How to funnel demonic power into things. For reasons. 👀 She doesn’t end up having the resources/space for it, but someone else does, and maybe she ends up with a few new toys. And not the sexy kind either, but that’s not entirely off the table.

Punchy: Muay Thai. 🤤 Punchy’s never really had any formal training. What she knows how to do (which is some bizarro amalgamation of MMA, judo and uhhh various pain compliance holds) she learned on the streets and through experience... and maybe a couple movies. 😌👉👈 So really, learning any martial art in an official setting would be pretty fun for her!

Rosetta: More offensive spells. Rosetta dabbles mainly in summoning for uhhh her own purposes, so she doesn’t really have any magics on hand that could protect her if she finds herself in a pickle. That’s sort of Mynoghra’s territory. Might be something she needs to look into.

Assistant!Reader: How to crack a safe. She’s made decent headway with a stethoscope before, but it’s time consuming, and harder than it looks. When she figures it out properly, Nero says he wants to learn. He’s already a half decent pickpocket.

Evette: How to actually be completely impartial. It’s part of her job, but it’s a bit hard for her to stay out of what she sees. I mean she eventually starts to interact with Fortuna’s “””guardian angel””” on a regular basis. 👀 Also card tricks.

23. What’s the most important object they own?

Liviere: Probably Caliburn? Liv got rid of most of her older belongings because she was intending to leave Fortuna and start a new life literally anywhere else. Caliburn is the last bit of proof she has of what she used to be, but also where she’s heading.

Punchy: Easily Grendel. He opened doors for her that would have been near impossible otherwise.  He is her 100% irreplaceable partner. I’ve mentioned before that Grendel is capable of communicating to Punchy. He doesn’t actually speak often, but he does project a general feeling - anybody more spiritually attuned can probably feel it too. And in that sorta way, they understand one another on a level that doesn’t really need any real form of communication.

Rosetta: The item she used as a catalyst to (partially) summon Mynoghra when they formed their initial pact. What item is it? I haven’t decided yet kalsjdfh but she keeps it as memento of that defining moment in her career. More than anything, it’s the moment she truly felt like she was a witch. Because Mynoghra ain’t just any regular walk in the park. 👀 You gotta properly appeal to her to get her to like you.

Assistant!Reader: Okay so it’s sappy and cheesy, but maaaaaybe Credo gifts her with a cute little dangly hairpin. Her skills back on the mainland made her an important asset to have handy, but nobody really gifted her anything; everythng she owned, she obtained herself. But it’s nice to have someone go “I saw this and thought of you”. She wears it everyday.

Evette: A signed photograph from Frank West 🤣🤣🤣 He’s still her idol, even if his fame sort of dropped off a cliff after he covered the appearance of the Temen-Ni-Gru. God I cannot believe I’m taking this weird semi-crossover angle but loOK, EVETTE EXISTS AT ALL BECAUSE I BINGED A HUGE CHUNK OF DEAD RISING AND FRANK WEST GOT DONE DIRTY AFTER DR2. SO I’VE DECIDED HE LIVES IN THE DMC UNIVERSE NOW OK AND THOUGH SHE TRAVELS LIGHT, SHE KEEPS THAT PHOTO WITH HER AT ALL TIMES. 

Barring that, it’s her camera. If it’s not around her neck, it is almost always within arm’s reach.

41. What is the dumbest way they’ve ever been injured?

Liviere: Was adjusting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder once. Her hand slipped, and she ended up punching herself in the face. (Confession: this happened to me, and when I tweeted about it, some company that sells those flat rubber grips you put on shoulder straps replied to it like “if you had one of these, this wouldn’t happen! :D”)

Punchy: Since Punchy’s burned off most of the nerve endings in her hands, she has almost no sensation in them. Because of that, she’s had a few instances where she’ll grab something out of the oven, or touch the hot handle of a pan and not notice she’s burning herself until way after, and she’s like “hmm there is less skin on my hand 🤔🤔🤔”

Rosetta: She has never been injured, Mynoghra sees to that.

Assistant!Reader: Clipped some skin on her hand on the break mechanism on Durandal once. Those swords are large, and are also built for larger hands (Fortuna and all...), so she pinched some skin in that little junction where the break mechanic pivots. It hurts about as much as you think.

Evette: She hurts herself on the job a lot as it is, and is constantly patching herself up. Lotta tumbles and scrapes and bruises. It comes with the job. In this way, almost every time she hurts herself is the new dumbest way she’s ever been injured.

[promisedangel]

Fresh Meat: Confinement- Chapter 25

First

Next

Previous

Thank you so much for your patience. I figured out part of my problem was circular topics. I’m in the process of trimming and streamlining the future events of the story to prevent this from happening again.

Chapter 25- Status

Alphys turned back towards Chara with concern. It had been a long time since she saw Chara in such a state of grief and dismay. She almost felt at a loss. She wanted to say something. Anything. She thought about her words as she carefully grasped Chara’s hand with both of hers. Chara’s eyes drifted to their grasped hand, their sobs unhindered. Alphys spoke gently, “Chara. I promise it won’t get that bad.” Chara’s voice cracked through their sobs, “Please… don't lie to me.” “I’m not lying…” Chara shot a glare. They pushed their upper body up to Alphys’s eye level. They raised their voice, “You are lying!” Alphys shivered. She jumped back with a startle. Chara continued to shout at her, “You are lying to me and lying to yourself! You haven’t stopped him yet, so what makes you think you will stop him from hurting me further?!” Alphys curled inward. She raked her brain for a few terse moments for anything better to say. Chara’s expression slowly cooled back to their sorrow with the realization of what they’ve done. They laid back down on their bed and spoke quietly, “I… I’m sorry. I… should not take this out on you.” Alphys twiddled her claws and replied in a chastised tone, “No… you’re right. I shouldn’t be making promises I can’t keep.” She approached the bedside again. She got down on her knees and spoke gently, “So… instead I’ll promise I will do everything I can to mitigate your pain.” Chara sighed and closed their eyes. Their mood and tone evened out to relief, “Thank you.”

Alphys stood. Her tone brightened slightly, “Um… I’ll get your breakfast ready. We can decide what to do after. Okay?” Chara silently nodded. They watched as Alphys left them alone, only to return sometime later with a tray of food and water. Alphys carefully placed the tray down at the foot of Chara’s bed. She approached Chara cautiously. “Do you want help sitting up?” Chara affirmed, “Since I am on my stomach, I will need help slowly adjusting my leg.” Alphys went to the foot of the bed. She quickly scooted the tray under the bed. She questioned, “Okay. Did you want me to hold your leg up?” Chara nodded as they tossed the bed sheet to the side. Alphys slowly lifted Chara’s left leg upwards. Chara hissed slightly but began to turn over on the bed. Alphys helped Chara settle back onto the bed in a sitting position, including the ice pack. Once done, She gave Chara the tray. She sat on the floor at Chara’s bedside as Chara slowly began to eat.

Alphys broke the silence with a question, “Um… can I ask a… difficult question?” Chara raised a brow with their cautious reply, “About?” Alphys grimaced before she spoke, “What… I mean, why do you think he’s broken you?” Chara paused their meal. They were silent for a moment. Alphys replied nervously, “Y- you don’t have to answer if you don’t feel comfortable.” Chara recounted, “Before he broke my leg… he asked me a question. If I answered correctly, he said he would let me go before he sent the Royal Guard after me.” Alphys’s eyes widened. “He… He wouldn’t do that. Not after you were almost taken by that intruder.” “Exactly. It was a cruel trick.” Chara expression seemed distant as they continued, “I don’t think there was a correct answer. It was too vague, only asking left or right.” Alphys’s eyes narrowed. She gave a confused tone, “What kind of question is that supposed to be? Is that even a question?” “You see my point. In hindsight, I can only see it as a trick to break me.” Alphys’s expression softened. She sighed, “After everything that’s happened, I shouldn’t be surprised you feel this way. I…. never thought something like this would happen. But I think part of me is surprised something like this didn’t happen sooner.” Chara muttered dryly, “He enjoys it, you know. His expressions, his tone, his posture as he looms down at me. He enjoys every second of it.” Chara shook their head, “I should have figured that out when he laughed at me when he punished me with the laser.”

Alphys cleared her throat. Her expression oozed her discomfort with the topic. She tried to change the subject. Her tone was nervous at first, but slowly relaxed as she spoke, “Um... did you want to give the wheelchair a try? Or did you want your hair washed? Like we discussed.” Chara gave a despondent gaze. They relaxed as they slumped their body against the wall. They spoke quietly, “After I've eaten.” Alphys nodded, “Okay.”

--------------------------------------------------------

The morning passed into the late afternoon as Alphys tried to cheer Chara up. Learning the limits of the wheelchair did little to improve Chara's despondent mood. Washing their hair had just as little effect but fluffed Chara's hair to a semi-clean state. As much as Alphys wanted to stay and continue to help, Chara shooed her away quietly. She sighed, complying with Chara's wishes.

Once kicked out, she knew her next move was to confront Dr. Gaster about Chara's leg. Yet, no courage bubbled. No voice of confidence to disown this kind of behavior. As she thought of things to say, her throat seemed to close on her. Her expression lowered. She at least had to hear it from his side.

Alphys knocked on Gaster's door. She heard permission to enter, indifferent as usual. She entered and closed the door behind her, but did not approach his desk. He gave glances towards her in between his stacks of papers. He spoke evenly, “I assume the human has been tended to?” Alphys leaned against the door as she nodded. She quietly asked, “Why did you do that to them?” Gaster replied bluntly, “It was necessary.” Anger flashed on Alphys's face. Her confidence temporarily restored itself. Her mind caught up with her quickly. She bit her lip before she spat words. She shook slightly. No, even if she wanted to, this wasn't the way. She had to endure it to stay by Chara's side. Her expression deflated to a resigned sadness. She confessed, “You broke them.” Gaster rolled his eye sockets but did not make eye contact with Alphys. He retorted, “I know it seems harsh, but the human keeps finding ways to escape. All I did was ensure that it stays where it can be protected. We cannot afford any more mistakes.” Alphys swallowed the rest of her desire to retort. It showed as hesitation in her voice, “N... no, sir... I don't mean just their leg. I, um, think you shattered their mental state.” Gaster paused from his paperwork. He looked up at Alphys with hints of shock and trepidation. He questioned, “Are you saying its will is broken?” Alphys looked away and affirmed, “Yes...” Many emotions battled within Gaster. Disbelief budded first: was the human truly broken? Or was Alphys exaggerating? He had noticed the human slowly become more and more submissive as the month went on. Perhaps this was the last shock the human needed before they broke. A small smile appeared and disappeared just as quickly. He was grateful for this news. Truly. He felt more at ease with the knowledge his work became easier to manage. Just in time to take blood on a regular basis. He spoke with a calm smile, “Good. It will make drawing blood next week easier.” Alphys seemed despondent. Her tail curled around her feet. Her boss's reaction flashed by so fast for her. In the end, he only had a few calm words to say about it. She sighed, “I see.” Gaster went back to his paperwork, “Is that all?” Alphys shook her head. She replied quietly, mournfully, “Yes, sir.” Alphys turned towards the door. She opened the door and hung on the doorknob for a moment. Her desire to retort bubbled once more. If not about the cruelty, then at least about Chara's mental state. But, it was brief with the knowledge nothing would come of it at this point. Not if she wanted Chara to be somewhat safe. She exited quietly.

Alphys walked back to her room in silence. There was still time before she had to start making Chara's dinner. The day and night before had been heavy on her, she had begun to drag her feet and tail as she walked. Halfway back to her room, her cellphone began to ring. She raised her eyebrow, confused. Was Gaster calling her back to his office for something? A chill ran down her spine at the thought. She fished her cellphone from her pocket. She answered the phone carefully, “Um... hello?” “Ah Alphyss, good. I'm relieved I remembered your number.” Serol's voice calmly projected from the phone. Alphys sighed in relief. Her relief quickly switched to confusion. She questioned, “What's wrong, Serol? Did something happen?” Serol sprinted through speaking, “No! No no! I sswear nothing hass happened!” He cleared his throat before he continued, “I... I thought about what you showed me this morning.” Alphys paused. She looked around the hallway. She saw a camera a ways ahead of her on a corner. She spoke tensely into the phone, “Um... give me a minute to get back to my room.” Serol made a quick affirming noise. Alphys hung up the phone quietly. She wanted to sprint to her room, but she held back that instinct. Her eyes drifted back to the camera in suspicion. Even though he wasn't actively looking, she knew he could rewind any camera feed with any footage. She couldn't risk it.

It took a few minutes for Alphys to retreat to her room at a casual pace. She closed the door behind her before she slumped and slid down the door with a groan. Once sat on the ground, she called Serol back. He answered quickly, “Yess?” Alphys apologized, “I'm sorry... if there was any chance he knew I let you in Chara's room, I... I don't know anymore.” Serol spoke calmly, “I undersstand.” Alphys stood up and made her way to her bed, “Anyway, what did you want to talk about? You said you thought about Chara's leg or something?” Serol's tone turned serious, “More broad, but yess. I want to help you.” Alphys blinked. She sat on the bed as she spoke in a confused tone, “Help me?” “From the little I've sseen of Chara'sssituation, I can only imagine the pain they've been through. Dr. Gasster may be keeping them ssafe from monssterkind, but the way he'ss doing it feelss wrong.” Alphys's tone turns to a slight somber, “Serol, I don't think you can help me.” He gave a nervous chuckle, “Yess, well, I am not sure how to help. That'ss why I called you.” “Again... I'm not sure you can. Not since he's increased security into the lower lab.” “I sstill have accessss while my team and I are working on the sssoul sscanning devicce. And, if I prove usseful beyond that, I could have accessss indefinitely.” “What if you can't 'prove useful' to him? What then?” “I can ssneak ssomething in the ssupplies. The hum- erm, Chara needss food, right?” “Well... yes...” “And part of your dutiess iss to check those ssupply shipmentss, yess?” “I'm losing his trust. He could check the shipments himself.” Serol paused, “Then... I can help you regain his trust.” Alphys groaned before she replied, “Serol... I really appreciate you trying, but things are too high strung now. I don't want you getting in trouble either.” She sighed, “If... I agree to accept your help, do you think you could only help when I ask?” Serol affirmed, “Of coursse, I won't be recklessss.” Alphys relaxed. She smiled as she replied, “Thank you, Serol.” “Pleasse call for my help ssoon.” Serol hung up the phone. Alphys gently set her phone on her nightstand. She rubbed her face and groaned, “Serol... you don't know what you got into...”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 A week had gone by without incident. Chara shook and held their right shoulder tightly. Their right arm was opened, elbow down along their bed. New bandages were tightly wrapped around their elbow, a tiny splotch of blood bled through the bandage. Chara watched silently, glowering at Gaster as he walked towards the door. In one hand, he held a large vial. Blood freshly stolen. He looked back one last time, a dark, satisfied smile across his skull. Chara's glower faltered as he looked back. He spoke, “If you are like this from now on, you can expect to be rewarded in a few weeks.”

Chara's eyes instinctively drifted to Gaster's pocket, knowing exactly what he meant. Their expression brightened for only a moment before Gaster opened the door. He looked to his right and spoke, “Ah, perfect timing, Alphys.” Alphys's voice rung from just beyond the door, “I didn't realize you'd be doing the blood draw this late...” Gaster sighed, “Sadly, I'm running behind today. A few meetings ran longer than expected.” Alphys spoke gently, “Well, hopefully, you catch up.” “I will.” With that, Gaster disappeared. Alphys sighed in relief. She entered the room with a tray of food for Chara as always. She spoke with worry, “Did he hurt you while drawing blood?” Chara accepted the tray as they spoke, “Not physically. He was testing me; seeing if I would react.” Alphys spoke with understanding, “And you didn't.” Chara paused from drinking their water. They squeezed their glass. They gritted their teeth and spoke, “But I wanted to. I wanted to say something. Anything. I could barely look at him. I scowled at him as he left, but I couldn't when he looked back.” Alphys nodded silently by Chara's side. She kept a sympathetic gaze. Chara continued, “I hate him. But, I don't want to hurt anymore...” Alphys spoke gently, “I know. And I'm here for you.”

Tears budded from Chara's eyes. Anger bloomed in their expression. They raised the glass above their head. They raised their voice, “I hate feeling useless!” Chara threw the glass. The moment it left their hand, they gasped and widened their eyes. Alphys and Chara could only watch helplessly as the glass hit the floor and broke into several large pieces and some small pieces. Both Alphys and Chara gaped at the broken glass, their minds at first failed to process the event. Alphys began to step towards it. Chara noticed this and began to apologize, “I'm sorry. Truly.” Alphys shook her head before she responded calmly, “It's okay. You didn't hurt either of us.” Chara removed the covers from their bed. They sniffled and wiped their tears away. They spoke, still recovering from their sorrow, “Let me help.” Chara carefully crawled out of bed. Their leg still had some pain from moving, but it was not debilitating due to the gauze healing the break. Alphys started to bend down to pick up some of the glass before she noticed Chara. She began to panic slightly, “Oh! No, no! I can take care of this! Don't... don't strain yourself!” Chara carefully crawled on the floor. They were careful and aware of the pain in their injured leg. Alphys resigned, “Okay... Just be careful. I can pick up the small pieces without worry.”

Chara affirmed. They stopped around the foot of their bed. They grabbed a few smaller pieces silently. They cradled the pieces in one hand while they picked up glass shards with the other. They grabbed a larger piece. They flinched and made a small noise. Alphys noticed immediately. “Are you okay?” Chara held the piece to their chest. They spoke nervously, “I thought I cut myself, but I’m fine.” Alphys blinked. She let out a, “Oh... okay. Just be careful.” Chara nodded. Alphys's focus returned to picking up the pieces. Chara relaxed and looked down on the newest piece of glass in their hand. The glass had cut into their palm just under their pinkie and their ring finger. Their mind drifted as the intensely looked at the piece of glass and the blood it freed. Chara looked over at Alphys. She looking in a different direction as she picked up the rest of the pieces. Chara slowly slipped the blood dipped glass shard under the sheet of their bed. Chara went back to picking up the rest of the pieces with Alphys. The two used the tray to hold the glass. Alphys sighed in relief, “Okay. That should be all of it. Thank you for helping.” Chara mused dryly, yet apologetically, “It's the least I can do for breaking it.” Alphys dismissed it, “Don't worry. It was an accident.” Alphys collected the rest of the utensils and silverware from Chara's bed, “Okay. You rest up. I'll see you tomorrow.” Chara nodded, “See you.” Alphys left without another word.

An expert from the journal of Dr. W.D Gaster

The human is far too clever for its own good. It tried one last time to escape last week. I had no choice to deal an extremely harsh punishment. But it was worth it; Alphys informed me the human's will has broken. Today, I was able to test this during the first scheduled blood draw. The human couldn't look me in the eye, let alone retort to anything said. Despite this change, I cannot take the chance it won't escape again. The new room is nearing completion. With it, I won’t have to worry about escape ever again.

[writingsbfe]

The Game Princess - Jughead Jones III

The game made him crazy, but not as crazy as you did.

Gryphons and Gargoyles, referred to by those who played it as G&G, had taken Riverdale by storm. It seemed everyone was playing the illusive game, some even bringing it to real life. And honestly, the whole thing weirded you out. Those who played it did so religiously, abandoning the real world in favor of the game. It was like a drug, and everyone was always itching for their next fix.

Ethyl Muggs was jittery all through Spanish class, obviously not paying attention and tapping her pencil loudly on her desk next to you, withdrawal apparent. You weren’t very close to the girl, but you did know that she was one of the victims of the game.

Yes, you called them victims. It only seemed fitting, considering what it did to them.

Unfortunately, one of the latest casualties was your boyfriend, Jughead Jones. He’d said that he wanted to see what it was all about, figure out who the Gargoyle King was so he could end his reign. You had to watch as him and all of your friends got sucked into it.

Jughead had asked you to stay out of it - not to play no matter what. You readily agreed - just because he was sacrificing himself to some game didn’t mean that you had to. You wished he would have stayed out of it with you, but he was far too stubborn for that.

“Here you guys go,” you passed Cokes to each of your friends seated around the game board. You hated being the Snack Mom and resented feeling so sidelined, but it was the best way you could keep an eye on your idiot friends and boyfriend.

“Thank you, Game Princess,” Cheryl popped open the can. “I promise to always protect you from the wargs whilst you sleep.”

“Whatever,” you sighed.

You didn’t remember when they started calling you ‘Game Princess,’ but now it was all they ever called you. You weren’t sure if it was a real character, or they made that up because you were dating the ‘master’ and always brought them food.

Looking at your watch, you didn’t hesitate to interrupt their game. “Jug, you ready to go?”

“Hold it, Game Princess,” Sweet Pea stopped you. “We still have to get past this tricky protection spell.”

“I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow,” you snapped. “Jughead. It’s nearly two in the morning and we have school tomorrow. Can we please leave soon?”

“Give me a few more minutes…”

“You said that three hours ago!”

Jughead stood up, pounding his fist on the table. The comparison you’d made between G&G and drugs earlier? Anger issues could be added to that venn diagram. “We need to get past this barrier and into the orc base! If we don’t, Toni’s deception spell might wear off and-”

“Fake! It’s all fake!” you cried, running your hands through your hair. “It can wait until tomorrow, but we have to get back to what’s real! This whole town has to!”

“You don’t understand!”

“Damn right I don’t understand!” Everything you’d been feeling from the past few weeks of watching your friends lose themselves to some game that nobody’s played in years bubbled to the surface. “I have to sit here, watching you all ruin yourselves! You said that you were playing this to find the Gargoyle King. We could be interrogating our parents, looking into the history of it, but no. I have to bring you guys food because you would forget to eat if I didn’t. I have to remind you all to drink water or you won’t because you’re so sucked into this! I’ve had to confiscate all of your pointy objects! And when Cheryl found that chalice, it didn’t go missing - I smashed it into a million pieces.”

“You did what-” He looked angry, which only made you more so.

“I’m trying to keep you asshats alive, Jug! I’m tired and I want to go home, but if I leave you here you’ll try teaching Fangs and Pea to fire an arrow again, and I’m not taking Hotdog to the vet again.”

He clenched his jaw, and you wished that you could drive it into his thick skull that you were right about this one. But on top of his stubbornness, he was riding on the high that the game brought, and there would be no changing his mind.

You picked up one of the pieces and threw it at the wall, everyone flinching at the surprisingly loud noise it made. “I’ll go wait outside,” you muttered expressionlessly, turning and walking out.

Jughead’s POV

He watched your retreating back, something inside him saying that he should go after you. But he looked back down at the game, and the players all waiting for him to continue narration. They already seemed over your outburst, and he peeled his eyes away from the bunker door as it shut.

“Alright,” he continued, rubbing his hands together. “You’re stuck outside the wall surrounding the orc base, and your failure to break through has alerted the orcs to your presence. They’re coming! Quick - you can either retreat and try again later, or stay and fight a match that will certainly end in your doom. Which do you choose?”

Cheryl hung her head in disappointment. “I guess we have to retreat.” The others groaned.

“Are we in agreement?” Jughead clarified.

“Yes,” Fangs said as the others nodded their head.

“The warriors retreat back into the forest, safely away from the orcs. They gather around to devise a new plan, when the elder whom Mistress Topaz helped earlier appears. He tells them that their only way to get inside the base, is-” He pulled a card from the deck, flipping it over. His blood instantly ran cold.

“What? What is it?” Toni leaned forward.

“Nothing,” he dropped the card as if it had burned his hand. “It’s nothing. Guys, we have to stop playing the game.” All of the elation he’d felt seconds ago turned to sobriety as fear laced his veins.

Sounds of protest arose from the group, but he ignored them.

“Where’s Y/N?” He stood taking his jacket off of his chair and putting it on quickly.

“What, you worried about her little blow-up earlier? She’s just letting off some steam - I’m sure you two will be-”

“No, Sweet Pea!” Jughead shouted, heart drumming in his chest as he picked up the card and showed it to them.

Kill the Game Princess.

“So?” Sweet Pea furrowed his brow. “It’s the game, and she’s not even playing. We just kill off her character.”

Cheryl, who had gone white, shook her head. “The Game Princess isn’t a character… That’s just a nickname we came up with for her.”

Jughead nodded. “Someone’s been watching us. Someone slipped this card in my deck, and that someone wants Y/N dead.”

Everyone was standing. “Let’s go get her.”

Your POV

You were standing outside the bunker, breathing in the chilly night air as you waited for his stupid boyfriend and your stupid friends to finish playing some idiotic but surprisingly dangerous murder game. Technically you could take his motorcycle and drive yourself home, but as pissed as you were, you weren’t going to leave them all alone. Hotdog didn’t need another arrow grazing his back.

You startled as the bunker door flew open, emerging Jughead and the others close behind.

“You’re still here,” he said, standing close to you and putting a hand on your arm. He looked you up and down as if checking you over.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You rolled your eyes. “What’s gotten into you guys? Did you finally finish?”

“We’re done with that game,” Jughead said, surprising you.

Your eyes widened. “You… are?”

“We’re burning that game, and every game in Riverdale. We’ll find the Gargoyle King some other way  but I’m not playing anymore.”

“What happened?” you asked, concerned.

“Someone’s threatening you,” Toni explained. “Now can we all go home?”

You froze, comprehending what she was saying. “What? How?”

“I’ll explain at home, but we need to go,” Jughead’s grip on your arm shifted as he led you over to his bike.

“We’ll head to Pop’s,” Cheryl said as Toni nodded. “We just need to talk about everything… Want to come?”

Fangs and Sweet Pea agreed, but Jughead said that he wanted to go back to his trailer and talk to you privately.

The ride home was quiet, as you thought to yourself. You weren’t overly concerned about being threatened - being a Serpent tended to put you in varying amounts of danger on a semi-regular basis, but it also granted protection.

Inside his trailer, you sat cross-legged on his bed. He sat across from you.

“Are you really done playing that game?” You broke the silence.

“Yes,” he assured firmly. “Absolutely.”

You nodded slowly. “What changed? When I left you guys were so engrossed in it that it almost felt like you thought it was real life.”

“We found a card in the deck.” He grabbed your hand. “The instruction on it was to kill the Game Princess.”

“So?” You asked. “I wasn’t playing, anyways.”

“There is no Game Princess. It was a name Sweet Pea made up for you because I was the game master.” The hand not linked with yours pulled his signature beanie off and ran a hand through his hair. “The game… It has a way of creeping inside you, of making you believe that what’s happening is real. I think that whoever put that card in there was hoping that we were in deeper than we were, and that we would - erm - actually do it.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting around a silent gasp. “You- would you have-”

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I would never. But someone wants you dead; that’s what you should take away from that.”

You gave a low whistle. The room went silent. “When did our lives get so crazy?” You laughed. “I mean, serial killers are one thing, but murderous roleplay?”

He snorted. “How are you laughing?! You. Are. In. Danger.” He said each word slowly, trying to get you to understand.

“Then we better go investigate, huh?”

“A woman after my own heart,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you.

[stupid-jeans]

what took hold (Hannah/Xander, T)

Hello, it’s me, with a totally random ass pairing because I could. Are you surprised? By now you really shouldn’t be.

Endless thank yous to @undercoverwatermoon @chibisere23 @kyrieanne and @icarryyourheart16 for...everything? Discourse and beta and plotting and astrology and cute animals and and and.

Here on AO3

Summary: He wonders if it’s strange, wanting to go out with her, wanting to talk to her more. Maybe another version of himself would just want to sleep with her. After all, at the end of this, he’s going back to Turkey and she’s staying here.

He comes back with the team for debrief. It’s not exactly protocol, but this deployment has been hell on all of them, and for the better of the last month, Xander’s been seeing each of them on a semi-regular basis as they’ve processed everything that happened to Preach. It’s strange, really, to get such a complete view of things. Xander finds himself protective over this team, almost proud of them. So coming back with them makes sense.

Admittedly, he does feel a bit out of place here, though. With all of them together. All of them happy, relieved to be done, to put this deployment successfully behind them. They’ve stared death in the face and cheated it, time and again. Xander doesn’t do that anymore. He faces ghosts instead, the ones left behind by missions gone awry. So sitting here, with the reminder of his past, of being in their shoes, is a little unsettling.

Until she walks in.

They’re at the hotel bar, and Adam had told him their DIA counterparts were coming. But Xander hadn’t expected that to mean her. He’s not taken with women very often. He’s made peace with the fact that his work is more important than building personal relationships. Romantic ones, anyway. It’s hard to work a job you can’t talk about. The ghosts follow you home. They lurk.

But he’s still a man, okay. He’s not blind. And she...is worth looking at.

“Hannah,” he echoes her name with a warm smile, shaking her hand.

There’s a scar on her neck, he notices. Probably only because he’s spent so much time trying to forget his own (successfully, by now). It’s well shadowed in the dim light, under the collar of her shirt.

Her eyes widen a fraction at his voice, or maybe his tone, and his narrow in response. Trying to get a read on her, though, is nearly impossible. He’d venture she’s made a profession of keeping things under her hat. A profession that left her with scars. A profession before this secondary one. Like him.

It’s no real surprise that he finds himself next to her later, at the end of the long row of tables they’d commandeered at the start of the evening. He’s just been watching the team unwind, observing and studying and taking note, for no other reason than that it interests him. But now he’s focused on her.

“Having a good night?” he asks, still not sure what to make of her.

“It’s nice to have everyone here. But it’s a little strange,” she admits. “Overwhelming, maybe. Surreal.”

“You know, I think I understand that,” he laughs. “So, what were you before? FBI? CIA?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re very good at your job?”

“Dodging questions by flattery! An unexpected tactic, Hannah.” He likes the way her name sounds. The way she blushes doesn’t hurt either.

“Well, I can’t make your job that easy,” she says, twirling the stem of her empty glass between her fingers.

“No, I guess not. That’s alright, I don’t mind the challenge. I welcome it, actually. Can I get you something else? A water maybe?” He hasn’t been keeping track but the sheer number of empty glasses and bottles on the table speaks for itself.

“Water sounds good,” she agrees with a thankful smile.

When he returns with their water, Xander can’t help but note she looks a little tired. Maybe more than a little.

“Long day?” he asks, taking his seat beside her again.

“Long...year?” she tries.

“Your first? With them?”

“You keep doing that, I’ll start believing you’re a psychic and not a psychologist.” Hannah hides her smile with her glass.

“Who says I’m not.” He grins back, enjoying the challenge of her. Only because it’s a game and they both know it. He’s not being paid to analyze her. He wouldn’t want to be.

“Yes, my first year,” she says, not offering him anything new, but it’s something better than deflection.

“And before that?” He still wants to know.

Hannah’s hand goes to her neck, to her scar. It’s progress.

“Before that, apparently I worked for a secret government agency,” she says, watching him watch her. Her tongue drags over her lips and he knows she knows exactly what she’s doing. But all of this is still a deflection from the bigger picture.

“So you spent some time dodging questions from therapists, is what you’re not saying,” Xander presses, levelling her with his best professional stare.

“I’d say that’s a fair assessment. But hey, I had to convince them to let me go back to work, right? That’s something.”

“That’s more than something,” he agrees.

The call goes up for last round, and even though he’s exhausted, he can’t help but feel disappointed. This conversation is only just beginning. He doesn’t want it to end.

“I was wondering, would you like to have dinner sometime? I’ll be in town.” He wonders if it’s strange, wanting to go out with her, wanting to talk to her more. Maybe another version of himself would just want to sleep with her. After all, at the end of this, he’s going back to Turkey and she’s staying here.

“Dinner would be nice,” she agrees, snagging his phone from the table in front of him and putting in her number. “Call me tomorrow and we’ll figure it out.”

He stands when she does, taking his phone back and pocketing it. “Let me walk you out.”

As they stand on the street and wait for her cab, Xander’s hand finds the small of her back. It’s the lightest touch but she flinches anyway, and he instantly retreats. Without meaning to (maybe the alcohol got to him a little more than he realized), his eyes find the scar on her neck again.

“There’s more where that came from,” she says, without looking at him.

“For me, too.” Her gaze settles on him and if she’s trying to mask her surprise, she does a terrible job. “Before this, maybe I did my fair share of question dodging too.”

The cab pulls up to the curb and Xander opens the door for her.

“Call me tomorrow,.” She’s looking at him differently now and he realizes maybe he should’ve been less professional all along. He’s forgotten how to do that a little bit.

“I will. Goodnight, Hannah.”

“Goodnight, Xander.”

For as much as he loves saying her name, hearing his might be better. Tomorrow, he’ll call. It can’t come soon enough.

**

When he calls, she sounds surprised. Xander wonders at that.

“Do men usually not call?” he asks.

“You’re doing your creepy savant thing again,” Hannah replies, the surprise fading to amusement.

“Sorry. Hazards of the job. I don’t...do this often. The dating thing,” he explains, hoping it’s not a deterrent.

“That makes two of us.”

“But you’d still like to go to dinner?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she agrees. He can hear the smile in her voice.”I think I would.”

It’s a date.

**

At Hannah’s recommendation, they go to a local Thai place. It’s trendy and a little crowded, which surprises him. He’d figured her for someplace quieter. She picks the seat against the wall and he figures that’s the compromise.

“So, tell me a secret,” Hannah says, fingering the edge of her menu without opening it. From the way the host had greeted her, it’s obvious she’s here a lot.

“A secret? Hmmm. Believe it or not, I’ve never had Thai food.”

“Never? Well, then I’m glad we’re finally rectifying that. That’s not acceptable.”

The waiter comes and they order drinks, along with an appetizer Xander can barely pronounce, but Hannah seems at ease, and he’s enjoying that.

“I guess I shouldn’t bother looking at the menu?” he asks.

“Not unless you don’t trust me.”

“You haven’t given me a reason not to. Now you owe me a secret.”

“What, you haven’t gotten me entirely figured out?” she asks, laughing softly. At the deflection, some mild tension works back into her shoulders.

“Not by a long shot. Where would be the fun in that?”

“I met the president when I was 8 years old. I decided that was what I wanted to be when I grew up,” she says finally, glancing at him like maybe it won’t be good enough.

“You met the president of the United States when you were 8?” He chuckles. “I have no doubt you’d be well on your way to that dream by now if you still wanted it.”

“I figured out I preferred being in the middle of the action, not so much dictating it from the sidelines.” Regret clouds her eyes and Xander refrains from reaching across the table to take her hand.

“Maybe it isn’t the path you would’ve chosen for yourself, but from what I heard last night, you do an incredible job.”

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

He cocks his head and waits as the waiter delivers their drinks. Hannah orders seamlessly. And then they’re alone again.

“I had no intention of asking, no. Why, did you want me to?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs and stares down at the table for a minute. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“That would make me a bit of a hypocrite.”

“Can I ask you?”

“Firefight in Syria. Got caught up. Shot in the neck.” His fingers find the scar and he turns his head so she can see. “Almost didn’t make it. Some days, I wished I hadn’t.”

“But not anymore?”

“Not anymore,” he confirms with a reassuring smile. “And you? I mean, how do you feel about surviving.”

“It’s...getting better. This year has definitely helped.”

“But that’s work and this is personal,” he guesses, because she’s still a little tense, a little guarded.

“The scars tend to scare men away. This isn’t the only one.”

“Does it scare them? Or you?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“A little of both. I think you owe me another secret for that one.”

“I haven’t gone on a single date since Syria.” That feels like the kind of secret she’ll appreciate. And it’s true.

“Why not? I mean...you’re good looking, sweet, intelligent...maybe a little creepily observant.” Hannah winks at him and Xander might blush a little.

“I spent a lot of time working on me, you know? And then I got so focused on work.”

“That sounds a lot like an excuse.” She purses her lips and arches her brow at him, challenging.

“You have a point there,” he agrees, rubbing the back of his neck with a chuckle. “But I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are. And I’m glad.”

The waiter brings the food and Hannah’s foot slides up his calf under the table. He spends the rest of the meal trying not to make a fool of himself. From the way she’s smiling, he thinks he does a pretty good job.

**

[jbuffyangel]

Misfire: Arrow 5x13 Review (Spectre of the Gun)

This isn't going to be a typical review because, honestly, I don't even know what to do with this episode.  (Thanks for the gif suggestion @lipstickandwifi)

Let's dig in...

Everyone except Thea Queen

Back in the day, when television shows had "very special episodes" it served as a time out. The show would depart from their usual format and address a serious issue in present day society. For example, a "friend" would offer Punky Brewster drugs, forcing her to stop joking around and face a crisis. She would wonder what to do until Mrs. Reagan showed up at her front door to tell her, "Just say no." Mrs. Reagan would provide a concrete avenue to address Punky's problem and a solution to them as well.  All's well that ends well. We could go back to our regularly scheduled slapstick comedy routine next week.

"Spectre of the Gun" isn't that. Television has evolved past the kind of “very special episodes” I described above, but that doesn’t mean the endeavor is always successful. While I admire Arrow for attempting to address a relevant social issue, the episode fails on multiple levels for me for multiple reasons. It is uneven, contradictory, and characters acted out of character to become mouthpieces for political ideologies. I don't feel Arrow adds anything new to the discussion and, even worse, I don't think they offer any solutions as we move forward.

Is Arrow the right show to address gun violence? Well... yes and no. Certainly yes because gun violence is so prolific on the show, but also no for the exact same reason.  As James Edlund begins shooting up the mayoral office, and the camera closes in dramatically on the carnage he leaves in his wake, I found myself asking, "How is this violence any different than the violence we've seen in the other 112 episodes?"

The answer is simple. There isn't any difference, but this is a "very special episode" of Arrow, so now they are going to address it as an issue. But next week we'll go right back to dropping bodies with guns.

So, I do take issue with Oliver Queen hopping up on his moral high horse about gun control. I don't think he is the right character to voice that side of the debate. In anything it should be Oliver who is the silent character, while perhaps other characters like Felicity (a victim of gun violence), could argue for the gun control.

Why do I say this? Because I watched Oliver drop 12 men, without a second thought, with a gun last week during a flashback. He broke someone's neck in the premiere. 

Oliver is a killer and he's embraced that side of himself again. He's going to kill when necessary and he will determine the terms of that necessity. Not the law. I've had a beef with this for awhile, so anyone who reads my reviews on the regular won't be shocked by this attitude. I find this whole "gray zone" particularly frustrating because Arrow willfully ignores an easily achievable middle ground: Lian Yu and the ARGUS prison that holds Slade. 

Why can't we use that again? Oh that's right. Because we're not at the end of the fifth season. Sigh.

"That's not your call to make."

Oliver argues with Edlund that despite his anger and pain he does not have the right to decide who lives or dies. The Green Arrow finds himself in a similar moral debate with The Vigilante after he guns down a criminal Oliver tied up and interrogated.

"I'm you. The only difference between us is I use a more efficient weapon."

Here's the problem. Oliver is making life and death decisions on a nightly basis. He has elected himself judge, jury and executioner. 

Is killing only okay when Oliver does it? Is he the only one who has the corner on life and death decisions? Isn't Prometheus’ entire beef with Oliver that he cannot see his own hypocrisy? Yes, of course, and that is the problem in "Spectre of the Gun." While Oliver is willing to address gun violence, he isn’t willing to address his own history of violence. When the hero makes you think the Big Bad has a point, you've got yourself a narrative issue.

Perhaps this is intended to push Oliver towards an enlightened moral code that he embraces at the end of the season once he becomes the Green Arrow. That's all well and good, and wholly welcomed by yours truly, but it doesn't make Oliver's perspective in "Spectre of the Gun" any easier to swallow.

My second issue is the contradictions. Edlund's family is killed during a mass shooting. He believes if Star City had pushed through the gun registry it would have protected his family. So... he shoots up city hall and the hospital to make it happen. WHAT??? 

Then, in his face to face with Oliver, it's revealed the shooter bought his gun legally, so there was nothing the city could have done to protect Edlund's family. His response is, "I know." Again, I say...

Then why is he going around shooting everyone? It makes absolutely no sense. If Edlund is mentally disturbed, then no gun registry or gun control law is going to stop him either.  His motives are illogical and contradictory thus rendering them, from a narrative perspective, pointless.

My third issue is with balance. Marc Guggenheim promised a fair and balanced debate. We listen to Curtis lecture Felicity about the wonders of fair and balanced debate. Arrow committed itself to presenting both sides of the issues.

I don't love guns.  I wouldn't have a problem if every handgun, semi automatic, automatic, etc. was confiscated. However, I am also an "originalist" (the constitution should be interpreted as closely as possible to the way America’s founders conceived it. ) Even though the 2nd Amendment isn't my favorite amendment, I recognize the right to bear arms. We don't get to pick and choose which amendments we follow. I've grown up around responsible gun owners, friends and family alike, who use guns for hunting and sport. These people are also ardent 2nd Amendment advocates and they have legitimate points of concern, as do people who are proponents of more gun control. 

However, Arrow did not present the "pro gun" argument tonight. Marc Guggenheim is an admitted unapologetic progressive, which is absolutely his right, but what is presented is the unapologetic progressive's version of the "pro gun" argument. This is an entirely different thing.

Essentially, “pro gun control” Oliver goes head to head with a city councilwoman who is for 2nd Amendment protection. Oliver is concerned with doing the right thing, while the councilwoman is more concerned with the political fallout (a not so subtle dig at the NRA and anyone who argues 2nd Amendment rights). While she argues 2nd Amendment protection, she never quite articulates those concerns in a concrete way. I believe Marc gave it his level best, but this falls short of the balanced realm.

"Spectre of the Gun"  is essentially a PSA for gun control. However, I don't think Arrow added anything new to the argument, which is a massive missed opportunity in my mind. Rehashing points made in other forums isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I was hoping there’d be a little more new blood injected into the discussion.

My fourth issue is with solutions. Arrow spent a great deal of time talking around the concept of a gun registry, but they don't really delve into any details on how this limits gun violence.

The entire point of Arrow, the entire reason Oliver is the Green Arrow, is because he believes the system doesn't  work. That's why a vigilante is required. 

“It does need to stop, and if it's not gonna be the courts and it's not gonna be the cops... Then it's gonna be me.” - Oliver Queen, “An Innocent Man” 1x04

Now that Oliver is mayor he is the system. So, I was rather interested in seeing what solutions he was able to come up with.

Keep in mind this isn't "Earshot" on Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Buffy isn't talking Jonathan down while he holds a high powered rifle in the school clock tower. 

This isn't One Tree Hill when a student opens fire on the school. 

The entire episode takes place within the political construct of the mayoral office. The whole point is to see Oliver solve a problem as mayor. Marc and Wendy repeatedly said in promotion the concept is for Oliver to go an episode without wearing the Green Arrow suit. Although, he wore the suit, so color me mystified.

And then, we arrive at the climax, and what the episode has been building towards. Pro Gun Control Oliver and 2nd Amendment Defender Rene, come up with a gun control policy that protects people against gun violence, but doesn't limit the freedom of gun owners. Arrow beats its might chest because they manage to find a solution that serves both sides. Everybody leaves happy.

And the new gun control policies are...? And they achieve both by doing what...? 

No details are given. 

I read all the interviews before I watched the episode. I know Marc and Wendy were going for a nondescript, even debate, without providing any solutions. "Spectre of the Gun" is our Rorschach test.

Umm... or it was a freaking cop out. 

When the entire episode is built towards finding a political solution and then you fail to offer that political solution, that is an EPIC fail. 

This is a fantasy world. Make it up! If there is an easy way to achieve BOTH (gun control that protects 2nd Amendment rights) then PRESENT IT. Let some good come out of this. Throw it in the debate mix. Let's get it in front of Congress. Let's use this vehicle we call television to actually DO SOMETHING.

Here's why Arrow didn't present their mystical "everybody gets want they want" solution. It's not easy to achieve both. That's why this issue is so controversial. That's why this war rages on and on and on. At least when Punky Brewster said no to drugs, you understood how she was going to do it. Mrs. Reagan gave her the road map.  Sometimes she even brought visual aids. Arrow wants the neat bow, and feel good wrap up, Mrs. Reagan provided without actually showing the visual aids. Nope. 

If the audience isn’t meant to receive any easy answers, then neither should the characters. Instead, Oliver & company find the answer, but we don’t get to know what it is.

Perhaps, Arrow's intent is to simply spark the debate. This ties in closely with Curtis' lecture to Felicity about the necessity of healthy debate. I agree with Curtis. Healthy debate is a necessity and is the life blood of a democratic society. However, I don't agree that we've stopped talking to one another. I don't think Arrow needed to jump start this debate again. This debate has been waging for decades now. Talking isn't the problem. The problem is... we've stopped LISTENING to one another.

I didn't see a lot of listening on Curtis' part in that "debate" with Felicity. Rather, it is Felicity being lectured to. I don't necessarily think Felicity is the right character to represent the "talking about politics is impolite" group. A strong stance about gun control would have made a little more sense to me coming from Felicity, the person who uses weapons the least on Arrow, rather than Oliver.

However, Felicity can, on occasion, shut down and retreat. So, I didn't find it wildly out of character, but it is frustrating. Instead of being talked to, it feels like she was being talked at. Once again, it feels like Felicity is being silenced to prop other characters. The reason why many get particularly upset about Felicity is because she is the female lead of Arrow. We heard from Dinah, who has all of two episodes under her belt. We heard from random councilwoman. Yet, we didn't get a clear view on Felicity's perspective. She is the front and center female character on Arrow. Her silence feels a little illogical. In an episode that's all about characters' viewpoints, we'd like to hear from the primary leads.

That's not to say Felicity didn't have some legit points. She did. Healthy debate is all well and good, but it also has an appropriate time and place. That's not always the workplace for some people, or other environments in which they don't feel comfortable discussing something as personal as political views. This doesn't suddenly make them a problem. It doesn't suddenly make them less American either, which I felt Arrow implies by Curtis' lecture.

This debate is also prohibiting actual work from getting done. The work is more important than Curtis and Rene's differing views on guns and Felicity calling attention to this fact doesn't make her any less engaged or concerned about the issue.  

Diggle is also conspicuously silent too. He is too busy finding Dinah an apartment with a garden. Well, that is a crisis. Best get on that. 

I found this shocking as well. Most military people I know have strong opinions about guns. Does leaving two of three members of Original Team Arrow out of the discussion feel odd to anyone else? It felt odd to me. Perhaps this is a protective technique? They don't want to embroil some of their fan favorite characters in such a sensitive issue and risk alienating audience members? So they offer secondary characters like Curtis and Rene as sacrificial lambs? Perhaps. No real way of knowing.

I did enjoy Wild Dog. While some characters felt like they were taking a leave of absence from their bodies to become political mouthpieces, Wild Dog did not. His attitude and perspective made a lot of sense, especially when we see his flashback. Rene going for his gun in the safe is an argument I've had with many friends and family who keep guns in the home. I've always questioned the logistical ability to get to the gun and load it, when an intruder is in the home. Arrow did a good job of showing that.

That said, they lost me at the random bullet killing his wife. The argument presented is the bullet wouldn't have fired if Rene didn't fire his gun. It's an unbelievably heavy handed commentary on keeping a gun in the home in an already heavy handed pro gun control episode. Subtle isn't Arrow's strong suit, but this was bad even for them.

They've also left room for Wild Dog's exit without having to kill him. He could get custody of his daughter again and want to leave all of this "violence" behind to give her the safe environment he craves. We shall see.

While the attempt is valiant, ultimately “Spectre of the Gun” is a misfire for me. This episode is a massive pause on all character storylines and development. Hopefully, next week we can return to our regularly schedule programming. And the next time Arrow feels the urge to do a “very special episode” let’s just... not.

Thea Queen

I pledge my allegiance to Thea because she is QUEEN. Where she goes so goes my nation. Oh my darling girl, how I have missed you. Come here to me.

I live for Thea's insanely on point snark. 

Susan was the absolute WORST to Thea. So, she is well within her rights to believe Susan is shady. Also, Susan is shady. (Quit telling me she's not Arrow because she is.)

"She's a good at her job and she's a good person. So there."

I really can't even believe Oliver ended an argument with "so there." 

ARE YOU SIX? Feels like a Stephen Amell adlib.

If we're defining "good at her job" as using her sexapades with Oliver to investigate him, then Susan gets a gold star. 

While Oliver isn't comfortable leveraging his personal relationship with Susan for political gain, she has no problem leveraging their personal relationship for PROFFESIONAL gain. These two might want to have a talk.

It's a little mind boggling to me how Oliver willfully ignores the obscene conflict of interest with dating a reporter. Though, to be fair, on the list of stupid things Oliver has done, it doesn't even rank in the top 5. I can also recognize dating the exactly wrong person occupation wise is intentional on Arrow's part. Still, it's irritating.

Thea's unrelenting distaste for Susan, in spite of Oliver's increasing anger over her attitude, is pretty freaking fantastic. Thea respects Oliver's right to date whoever he wants. That doesn't mean Thea has to like her. I am pleased Thea is holding her ground on this issue. She's not interfering. She's not actively trying to break them up. Thea is just being honest and, as I've said, she has good reason to feel how she feels about Susan.

Thea is generally supportive of anyone Oliver dates, so I think the bigger misstep here is on his part. Maybe he should be paying attention to some of those red flags Thea is drawing attention to. Will there eventually come a point when Thea needs to zip it? Sure, but we're nowhere near that point. Nor do I believe Susan and Oliver will be together long enough to reach that point. Thea is essentially the audience's ambassador. She is us. We are Thea. She is our mouthpiece, so we can swallow the remaining few episodes of this Olicity roadblock masquerading as a relationship. Bless you Thea. You are doing God's work.

Stray Thoughts

I see no problem with the term Dragon Lady. Feels on point to me. Dragon Lady it is.

Curtis being the counterpoint to Rene’s perspective is a nice continuation of their evolving partnership. It builds off their opposite personalities, and their banter/bickering, shown in previous eps well.

Feel like Quentin could have remarked on Dinah thing. Cause it's a thing.

I liked that Oliver, and not the Green Arrow, talked Edlund down. It’s a step in the right direction. 

This line is exceptionally beautiful and shows how much Oliver has learned over the years. He’s starting to realize what a real legacy is about. 

How many Canaries has Diggle rehabilitated now? He should form an official non profit and take the tax deduction.

"So, we needed to find Dinah a place to live, but can someone tell me where OLIVER lives?" - @callistawolf asks the important questions y'all.

I liked Canaries (3x13) better. CANARIES Y'ALL. That's how much I disliked 5x13.

*** I questioned whether I was even going to write a review, primarily because this is such a hot button issue. My goal in writing it is simply to critique the episode and move on. Not ignite a gun control debate on the blog. If others want to continue the discussion in the comments, please keep it respectful. I will be moderating, but this is probably where I tap out. As always, thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts.