#I did the pilot design by accident but oh well; I still like the gloves

[skyedom]

I don’t watch Hazbin Hotel, but here’s an Angel Dust I drew for @tower-of-sorcerers.

Left is the sketch

right is the final piece (cut out)

[gumnut-logic]

Long Term

Title: Long Term

Author: Gumnut

7 Jul 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “When opportunity presents itself, it is best not to ignore it.”

Word count: 2334

Spoilers & warnings: SPOILERS FOR 3.17

Timeline: Episode Tag

Author’s note: For @thunderstorm-bay (you know why). Many thanks to @scribbles97 for the read through :D Little more than brothers being brothers, this one definitely did what it wanted, I had no control. My apologies. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Concrete falling on anyone was not a good thing.

Concrete falling on Virgil Tracy happened far more often than it should.

To say he shook it off every time would be a lie. He’d had bruises that had inspired paintings in the past. Okay, so Scott had looked at him very strangely, but the red and the purple had just worked so beautifully together. The crutch at the time was just a hinderance.

This time he did manage to shake it off...mostly. He had been in his exo-suit, so that had helped, but to be honest, the chunk that had landed on his right leg? Yeah, it was making it very clear that, yes, the results for that impact were going to be very colourful.

He grit his teeth and kept up appearances for necessity’s sake throughout the rescue, but as always, when the adrenalin waned and he had more than a couple of seconds to slap together, his body started in on its status report quite vehemently.

Bruising at least up the length of his right leg to his knee. Oh, and apparently he’d be using his left hand for most things for the next week or so. Thank goodness he was ambidextrous. Though the ache in his left shoulder where that first chunk of concrete had wrenched it might be an issue.

A sigh. Scott was going to be anything but entertaining.

He said farewell to Chief McCready and Penny and Parker and started making his way back to Thunderbird Two.

By the time he stepped onto her hatchway, he was limping.

That was when he remembered his exo-suit.

There were a few words said not quite under his breath.

If possible, International Rescue’s policy was to retrieve all equipment. For two reasons - security, and because Tracys weren’t litterbugs.

“John?”

“Yes, Thunderbird Two?”

Oh, okay, protocol...yeah, whatever. “Can you let the GDF know we have to lodge this site for IR security. Get one of Kayo’s battalion out here. My exo-suit is under the building and it is not safe to retrieve at the moment.”

“FAB.”

A pause and then the inevitable. “Virgil, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You do know I have access to your suit sensors. Lying is useless.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Virgil...”

“I’m fine. Just some bruising.”

“Just some bruising like 2059 or bruising like 2057?”

“Bruising like 2063, like today, John.” 2059 was the painting incident. 2057 had seen him in hospital for a week. Come to think of it, they had both been concrete.

“Well, I had to ask since your symptoms are obvious.”

“What symptoms?”

“Virgil the cranky ass.”

“Shut up, John.”

“Tracy Island has been advised.”

Shit. “Thanks, Thunderbird Five.” His tone dripped acid.

“You’re welcome. Don’t tell me to shut up.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped as he walked into TB2’s cockpit. Okay, perhaps he deserved that. “Sorry, John.”

His brother muttered something unintelligible. “Fly safe, Virgil.”

“Thanks, Thunderbird Five.”

“I’ll be watching.”

Yeah. “See you in the sky.”

Virgil sank into his pilot’s seat and within moments, he and his ‘bird were airborne and heading for home.

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy had vast experience in wrangling younger brothers. So, he made sure he was standing in Thunderbird Two’s hanger when she taxied in following the mission to London.

He had been out earlier with Alan due to yet another orbital accident. His youngest brother had had steam billowing out of his ears at the stupidity of the three pilots involved and uncharacteristically raked all three of them over the coals. Scott had been quite impressed at his impassioned speech. It was highly unlikely any of them would do something so stupid ever again.

They made it back without incident, but Alan, still fuming, had buried himself in a thorough check of TB3 as one of the cargo craft had collided with his ‘bird during the rescue. A source of fuel for the fire he had spat all over the pilots.

John was not happy and Virgil was apparently snappy. That last was unusual enough in itself to cause concern. Enough to ruffle John? Definitely needed attention.

Virgil was notorious for ignoring minor injury. Captain Safety the man was and if it was serious, he wasn’t stupid, but Virgil’s version of serious where it came to himself left much to be desired.

Consequently, Scott was standing silently beside Thunderbird Two as her hatch lowered.

Virgil didn’t hesitate to glare. “I’m fine.”

Scott stood at ease, hands behind his back, calm in every line of his body. “Report to the infirmary.”

“Scott-“

“Now, Virgil.” It was the voice of the Commander.

His brother’s expression stripped paint. “Fine.”

As if to go out of his way to prove John right, Virgil stepped off the hatchway and stumbled, his right leg giving way under him.

Scott grabbed an arm and stopped his brother from faceplanting on the concrete. Virgil swore and forced himself to straighten. The Commander said nothing, just offering support until Virgil got his feet under him. The brother inside had plenty to say, none of it polite. Idiot brothers, asshole criminals.

“I hear you got to work with Cass McCready again.”

Distraction achieved. Virgil shot him a look. “Yeah, what of it?”

Oooh, defensive Virgil. “Nothing.” Scott shrugged. “She’s an excellent responder.”

His brother looked down at his feet before straightening again and walking towards the elevator...with a limp. “That she is.”

“Got any plans?”

Virgil turned and frowned at him. “What?”

“Well, you guys get on really well, and let’s face it, Virg, it’s been awhile since you had a date.”

“What?!”

Scott held back a smile and herded his brother into the elevator, hitting the infirmary level button. He gently held Virgil’s elbow as the car smoothly slipped into motion. “She’s single, a highly skilled woman in a profession allied with ours.” Scott shrugged. “She likes you. I see an opportunity.”

“How do you know she’s single?”

Scott levelled a heavy-lidded glare at his brother as the answer was obvious.

“John or Kayo?” Virgil sighed.

“Both actually. The woman showed interest and so did you.”

“What?!” The exasperation on Virgil’s face was comical. “We saved a few lives together, that’s all.”

The elevator came to a gentle halt, the doors opening with a whisper. “Sounds like a good couple of first dates to me.” This time he couldn’t help the grin splitting his face.

“Yeah, but you once asked a girl out while hanging off a cliff.” Virgil stepped carefully out of the elevator.

“When opportunity presents itself, it is best not to ignore it.”

“Yeah, so how is that relationship going for you?”

They both knew the answer to that. He still hadn’t managed to get the red wine stains out of that shirt. “Not the point, Virg.”

“I think that is exactly the point, Scott.”

It was Scott’s turn to let out an exasperated sigh. “Virg, you’re turning into a monk.” He shoved open the infirmary door, and led his brother into the room. “I’m just concerned.”

“So now you’re worried about my love life?”

Scott ignored him. “Uniform off and sit on the bed.” He equally ignored the glare that resulted at that. Definitely cranky.

Despite his irritability, Virgil did as Scott asked, removing all but his undershirt and shorts. Scott didn’t miss the wince, or the grimace, or the sharp indrawn breath. He did his best to hover without appearing to, just in case Virgil’s face felt attracted to the floor.

Virgil’s uniform was the most reinforced of all of them. It was padded, extra thickness, designed to support his exo-suit and his gloves and particularly his boots had structural strength designed to protect the limbs within. It had done its best, but concrete was concrete.

Virgil’s right knee was the worst, red and slightly swollen, the padding above his boot hadn’t been enough. “Up there.” Scott gestured towards the bed. “Need a hand?”

His brother ignored him and with a grunt levered himself onto the bed.

What followed was a quiet examination. Beyond the obviously bruised knee, Virgil had red and purple down his leg to his foot. His ankle was tender, having been wrenched to the right by the weight of the concrete. There would be no piano for at least a week, thanks to whatever had landed on his right arm and Virgil’s left shoulder was not happy either. A gentle shove had him lying back on the bed and Scott activating the bed’s inbuilt scanner, the hologram of his brother’s systems hovering above the prone man.

“Well, you’re off rescues for the week.”

“Scott-“

“Don’t bother arguing with me, Virg, it’s obvious.”

“You’re short staffing us for a couple of bruises!”

Scott narrowed his gaze. “Tell me you would do anything different if our positions were reversed.”

Virgil opened his mouth to retort, but Scott knew his brother better than he knew himself. His mouth closed and his expression settled into grumpy obstinance. He tried to fold his arms across his chest, but winced when the bruises reminded him of their presence.

“Hey, if you get bored, you can always contact Cass and ask her out.”

Scott dodged the thump aimed at his arm and compounded the damage by ruffling his brother’s hair.

“You suck.”

A snort and Scott grinned down at Virgil. Brown eyes frowned up at him from the bed, but he could see the gears turning behind them. His grin widened even further. “Just being a big brother, Virg.”

A grunt was his only answer.

“Okay, time for some rest, little brother.” Those eyes narrowed. It wasn’t often Scott called Virgil his little brother. That title was usually reserved for the younger of their little family. “What? Don’t like being reminded of those couple of years’ difference?”

“Hmph.” Virgil looked away.

It was Scott’s turn to frown. “What is it?”

Virgil shook his head and sat up awkwardly, dropping his legs off the side of the bed. His posture could only be described as dejected. “Don’t you think I haven’t thought of asking her out?” His little brother looked up at him. “Don’t you think I can see the ‘opportunity’?” An exasperated sigh. “Hell, I gave her my laser.”

“What?!” He darted a glance in the direction of piled up uniform and equipment and sure enough, the laser was missing. “What’d you do that for?”

“I don’t know! You’d think I’d just ask her out.”

“You gave her a piece of equipment that can take out the side of a building.”

“Among other things.” A snort. “At least she can put it to good use.”

“It’s not exactly flowers, Virg!”

“It’s a darn sight more useful.”

Scott sighed. “So why didn’t you ask her out?”

Those shoulders dropped just a little more. “I don’t know. She’s great. She’s even got kids.” Scott blinked as his brother muttered something like ‘always wanted kids’. “How would it work? I’m not like you, Scott, I’m not...a player.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean. If it works for you, great. It doesn’t for me. If I start something, I need to look long term.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Brown eyes looked up at him, almost pleading. “Is there a long term?”

“What? Of course, there is!”

“Are you sure? We’ve been lucky, but how long is that going to last? Look what happened to Gordon.”

Scott straightened. Okay, so that was what this was all about. “Gordon’s going to be fine.”

“I know. I just...hell, I don’t know, Scott. It just doesn’t seem fair to ask her.”

“My god, Virgil.” He grabbed his brother’s shoulders, a little more gently at Virgil’s wince. “You can’t live your life like that. Cass will say yes or no. She knows what you do, she does the same thing, for crying out loud. Don’t sacrifice the now because you’re afraid of the future. That doesn’t give either of you the credit you’re due.” Those eyes wanted to believe him; he could see it. “How long have you been thinking like this?”

A shrug. “A while. I guess since last time I tried to meet up with her. Couldn’t even make my own vacation. How the hell am I going to make a decent relationship?”

Scott’s lips thinned. “I don’t have all the answers, Virgil, but I do know that if it is worth it, you’ll make it work. And so will she.”

“And what will you do when I ask her to move to the Island? Or when I move off the Island?”

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

“That’s what I thought.”

He found his voice. “We would make it work.”

“Would we? How? Do we ask her and her kids to move here? To sacrifice as much as we have? Or do I move away and let all of you continue on without me?”

“We would make it work.” He had to believe that. Otherwise Virgil was right, there was no future as things stood. They had to make it work.

Virgil pushed off the bed and managed to keep to his feet. “Yeah, well, let me know if you have any ideas, because beyond disbanding International Rescue, I haven’t solved it yet. I want a family of my own, Scott. I need to find a way otherwise I might as well become that monk you think I am.” He turned to leave.

Scott grabbed him, once again managing to hurt his brother’s shoulder. “Sorry.” Virgil grunted at him. “Virg, I promise you, we’ll find a way. We will find a way.”

Those brown eyes were desolate, but there was a spark of hope in their depths. Virgil forced a small smile. “I’m going to bed.” He slipped from Scott’s grip and grabbed his uniform and equipment. A pause. “Thanks, big brother.” That smile grew a little wider.

Then he was gone. Scott was left standing alone in the infirmary feeling as if he had lost something he didn’t know he even had to lose.

-o-o-o-

[mrsbadgers]

Overwatch Fanfiction  Widowmaker x Sombra 18+

          You Must Learn Your Place 

Written by: Hungrycollegekidd (MariaBadger)

The patter of rain could be heard over the Paris rooftops paired with the ever so gentle sound of heels clicking across the cobble stones below. A lonely traveler made her way towards an ordinary bricked building. Light raindrops ordained her black petticoat escaping the umbrellas protective covering. As she approached the large red door, she pulled off one laced glove to reveal a pale, almost purple colored hand with long, polished nails. Taking little time to unlock the door, she closed the umbrella and hung up her coat to dry. A gentle hum emanated from a couple doors down. As she passed, she peered in and saw her colleague's face pressed down on the keyboard. A half drank bottle of tequila sat next to her hand which still clutched the computer mouse. Thinking nothing of it, Widow continued to walk through the small home, and entered her own room. There, on her bed, she found a tan manila envelope with a single white rose that was purposefully placed  on top. She sat down on the bed and inspected the contents of the envelope. A picture, a location and a time. Her next target. Widow dropped the contents onto the floor and turned her interest towards the rose, shining brightly under the neon lights of the street signs illuminating through the window. Her pale fingers gripped this delicate flower. Closing her eyes, she breathed in its sweet sent. Nostalgia of better times. ------------------------ Widow was awoken by yelling outside her door. So, she got up, slipped on her slippers, silk robe and opened the door only to hear Sombra and Reaper arguing. "Where the hell did you put it!" Sombra yelled in a hungover induced stupor. 

"What are you talking about!" The grizzled voice of Reaper spat back.

"My translocator!" 

"WHY THE HELL WOULD I HAVE THAT  THING!" 

Widow clears her throat. They immediately stop and turn their heads as Widow enters the kitchen. Giving them no mind, she fills the coffee machine and lets it begin to brew. Grabbing a mug, she turns around to face them, leaning against the kitchenette. "Please continue, its not like I can go back to sleep now." The annoyance in her voice was very apparent to the others.

"Amelie, Im sorry if we woke you up but Gabe swiped my trans-locator and is doing God only knows what with it!" Sombra points a finger inches from his face, which he forcefully swats away. 

"What use do I have for some teleportation piece of junk?" Reaper hisses back.

Before either of them could say another word, Widow casually walks into Sombra's room and fishes the small metal contraption out from the bottom of her waste basket. Dropping it onto the kitchen table, Widow gives them both a shady look and yawns.

Sombra sprung up, grabbing the slightly soda stained, teleporter. "Oh! Thank you Amelie. I don’t know what i would do without you!" Widow slightly smiles and proceeds to fill up her mug with the coveted energy brew. 

"SOMBRA!" Reaper growled.

"Yes Gabe?"

"You owe me an apology don’t you think?"

"Awww poor Gabe, i so so so sorry." She chuckles in the most sarcastic manner. Reaper growls and stomps off towards the basement.

Sipping on her coffee, Widow says to Sombra; "Remember, we have a mission tonight. Transport arrives at 8pm sharp, so try not to get too drunk. After all, it is an important  contract. We cant let this target escape." Sombra sits barely paying attention, smudging off the stains on the translocator with her sleeve. 

"Do you understand, Sombra?!" Her tone much harsher now. 

"Si Si. I get it chicka. Ill see you then." She stands up and walks back into her bedroom. Not even a minute later, Widow hears the unmistakable pop of the tequila cork. She sighs but continues to sip her coffee in piece. ---------------------------------------------- The gentle hum of the Talon Stealth Jet lifts Sombra and Widow into the night sky, darting towards the marked destination. Widow glances over and Sombra. Her disheveled appearance and glazed over eyes worry her. As long as Sombra does what she is instructed then Widow can do the rest. Over their intercoms, the pilot warns them that they are 5 minutes to the drop point. Sombra stands, clutching her trans-locator as widow prepares her grappling hook. The drop doors open and both agents fall to the designated points. 

"Sombra" Widow whispers into her ear piece "Tell me when the Omnic guards are disengaged. 

Drunkingly she replies "Si, no problem boss." Widow sighs and hops onto a ventilation pipe placed on the roof across from the target for a better vantage point. Widow sees the mafia boss, exiting his vehicle, surrounded by onmic body guards. Nervously they look around, clutching their machine guns. But Widow is submerged in shadows, safe from sight.

"Sombra, target is in my sight." 

"3...2...1... Iniciando el hackeo." 

The lights dim and the guard bots fall limp. Immediately, panic ensues. Widow presses her trigger but before the bullet can come out, Sombra's trans-locator sputters across the roof top and Sombra appears. Unbalanced from the shift, she falls over, bumping widow. Widow desperately takes the shot but misses as she is pushed over, onto the roof. 

"MERDE!" She cusses loudly. Almost immediately she gets up and pistol whips Sombra with the butt of her rifle. 

"You foolish, drunken girl! Look what you have done!" The sound of the guards rebooting followed by a stream of shots ricocheting around them could be heard.  

"Amelie I'm s---" 

"Shut up, we have to go. NOW!" Widow wraps Sombra and herself in the zip-line and they flee towards evac.

---------------------------------------------------   As soon as they entered the house, Sombra jokingly comments; "Too bad he got away huh? Oh well, don’t worry. The boss isn't gonna care as much as you think!" She chuckles

"You think this is a joke? I told you to not drink before this mission. Didn't I?"

"Sure, but-"

"No buts. You ruined the mission and now my neck is on the line! Why is it that you never take your work seriously?" Widow breaths heavily, enraged at yet another failure on account of this stupid girl. "I don’t care what other ideas are on your agenda but while you are under Talon's roof, you do as told. This is not a game!"

"I know its not a game, Amelie, I did what i was told but accidents always happen!" Sombra rolls her eyes and turns, walking in the direction of her room.  

"What will it take to straighten you up? What do I have to do to break the importance of our cause into that immature, augmented brain of yours?" But her words went unheard. Ignoring Widow, Sombra ducks into her room muttering something in Spanish under her breath. Widow closes her eyes and lets the anger pass. What little emotions she has left should not be invested into this girl. --------------------------------------------------- About an hour passes by and Widow stands from her desk. She makes her way over to Sombra's room where Sombra sits in a chair, feet propped up on her bed. She holds a glass in her left hand and is singing along to some Spanish music. Widow leans on the door frame and knocks on the wall. Sombra takes another sip and invites her in.

"Que pasa, mi amiga?" She cheerfully asks. 

"I want to talk." Widow closes the door and takes a seat on the bed next to where Sombra's feet are resting.  "I am not angry with you cheri, just-"

"Let me guess" Sombra cuts her off " your just disappointed?" Widow sighs and places a cold hand onto Sombras right leg. Sombra pays no mind and continues to hum to the tune. 

"No, I am worried about your drinking. Why do you do it so much?" 

Sombra scoffs.  "What do you want me to say? Hi, my name is Sombra and I’m an alcoholic!  I mean, what else should i do when I apparently cant get anything right? Widow glares. "Ok, how about this” she continues “I'm only here because Talon is a perfect means of finally exposing the Iris and Lumerico's corruption.So until I can hack into that information, I pass my time drinking. It helps me think, you know?" Sombra goes for another sip but before she can, Widow takes away the glass and puts it on the night stand. 

With a stern voice she says "All I hear are excuses and lack of self discipline. I know how much potential you have, Sombra. You are one of the smartest women I know. At this, Sombra looks up and scoffs. She waves her hand, dismissing Widow's compliment and turns the chair to face away from her. Widow proceeds to get up and places her hands on the arms of the office chair, face inches away from hers. "Unlike Gabriel, Moira or myself, you can still control where your life will go."

"Blah, blah, blah. Ok Amelie. You should totally become a social worker with these ‘words of wisdom’.” Just so you know, I’m not the same pathetic orphan on the streets anymore." Sombra is visibly annoyed at what Widow thinks of her. However, she plays it off as usual.

Widow stands up, giving Sombra space. "I know that. To be truthful, cheri, I could care less what happens to you. But as my partner, I want to make sure you don’t get yourself into something you can’t talk your way out of. You're a valuable asset to Talon."

Slightly hurt by this, Sombra responds; "An asset? But a partner to you? Make up your mind before you make a speech about my potential. Lying is a bad habit you know. And to think i thought of you as my amiga." Widow says nothing, just crosses her arms and continues to stare at Sombra. 

"What?" Sombra barks, breaking the awkward silence.

Widow breaths in deeply, bends over and places her cold hand on Sombras cheek, pulling her face near hers. "I think you need to be disciplined, made to listen."  

Shocked at this statement, Sombra replies "Oh is that so, then i dare you."

Intrigued, Widow places her lips teasing close to Sombra's and whispers "Don’t think I can’t discipline you in other ways than just physical pain my dear." Window backs away with a wicked grin. She grabs the glass from the nightstand and walks towards the door, downing the remaining liqour, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. 

Sombra is curiously aroused, wondering what the next night will bring. "Oh this will be interesting indead, no?" ------------------------------------------

The next day: 

Sombra, wih a slight liqour induced buzz, sits in position at the mainframe computer of an overwatch base. She quietly giggles how no one had noticed her breach. Typing away, Reapers voice comes through her ear piece. 

"How much longer Sombra? Jack and the monkey are coming."

"1.43 minutes remaining. Data downloading and virus initializing as we speak. Try not to make a scene, but do not let them in Gabe."

"Sombra, stop calling me Gabe."

"Yah ok. Whatever, Gabe." Reaper growls and logs off. Sombra begins to hear gun shots outside, Reapers shotgun blasts ripping through Winston's defenses. Soldier 76 shouts some muffled command. Winston rawrs and attacks. 

"Just 5 seconds more" Sombra whispers to herself. Suddenly the doors to the control room burst open. Sombra quickly grabs the USB drive and trans-locates before Winston can grab her. "Adios!" 

Reaper and Sombra meet inside evac.

"You got the data?" Repear growls while clutching the bleeding in his side.

"Si senior! and to think I expected a challenge, heh."

-------------------------------------------------------- Sitting in her room Sombra swigs from a bottle of tequila. She tosses the USB in air, catching it like a ball. She revels in the thought of how skilled she really is. 

"Great work today, Sombra." Widows voice cuts through her concentration.  

"Oh SURE come on in without knocking. Ill make sure to put a sock on handle next time." Sombra turns to look at Widow with a teasing grin. "Whats up?"

"I need that USB for the boss so if you would be so kind as to hand it over." Widow reaches out her palm.

"No, I think ill hang on to it for a little while longer. The boss cant just enjoy all the juicy secrets himself." She smirks and chucks the device into a drawer. 

Annoyed at this, Widow gently growls, close to becoming angry. "Sombra, that wasnt an option. The drive. NOW!" 

Working Widow up excites her. "And if I dont?" She laughs.

"Then I will rip it from your broken hands." Widow replies.

"Ooh la la, that sounds like a threat!"  Sombra stands up inches away from Widows face. "Do something, I dare you mi amiga."

In a flash, Widow takes Sombra to the ground, twisting both arms back and straddling her body, face down. 

"Get off me" Her voice was muffled against the floor. 

"No, mon ceri. C'est temps de te punir (its time to punish you)." Sombra's eyes grow wide, dreading what pain is about to follow. In a desperate attempt to get free, she clenches her fists and pulls her arms forward hard, managing to break Widow's grasp and spin around. But, annoyingly Widow still straddles her waist. With one hand, Widow pins Sombra's wrists above her head, pressing them against the cold cement floor. Sombra struggles but cant move. Widow patiently moves her face close to Sombra's. 

"No need to fear little girl, ill make this punishment quick and painless. Gently, her lips make contact with Sombra's, embracing in a soft kiss. However, becoming more aggressive when Widow slips her cold tongue into Sombra's warm mouth. Sombra gasps. But before she can kiss back, Widow breaks the kiss and sharply nips Sombra's bottom lip. Sombra could feel the warm blood drip down her lip.

"I- I dont understand" Sombra whispers.  Widow just giggles and pays no mind. Smiling mischievously, she lowers her robe to expose her black lace lingerie and laps up the stream of blood pooling on Sombra’s bottom lip. With her free hand, Widow lifts Sombra's shirt, revealing a braless pair of tan, quivering breasts. She leans in and sucks on her left then right nipple, leaving small bite marks on each. Sombra begins to protest and begs her to stop. Little to Widow’s knowledge, Sombra was still a virgin.

Widow pays no mind to her victim's discomfort and proceeds to slide her finger nails down Sombra's abs and over into her panties. 

"Purple lace. What a wonderful choice." She whispers. Sombra squirms and begs her to stop. Ignoring her pleads, Widow inserts two fingers into her moist pussy, thrusting them in and out while curling them in just the right way to hit her most tender spots. Sombra breaths in sharply, slightly moaning at this new experience. Widow lets go of Sombra's arms and places her hand on Sombra's left thigh. At this point Sombra does not protest, taking in the pleasure. Widow lowers her lips onto Sombra's clit. Gently sucking, tongue snaking around. She continues to thrust her fingers in her pussy, feeling how warmer and wetter Sombra gets. 

At this point Sombra is moaning loudly, no longer begging for widow to stop or fighting against the pleasure she was experiencing. That excited Widow. But before Sombra could wrap her head around these strange, erotic feelings, she climaxes. 

"Ohhhh Mierda!!!" She cries out. Panting heavily, she looks up at Widow licking her fingers as she rises to leave the room. 

Widow opens the drawer for the USB and walks to the door frame. She stops and turns her face back saying "I hope you have learned your lesson, foolish girl." Her eyes, before so empty, now glowing with pleasure. “Dont think I won’t punish you again.”

With that, Sombra was left in in the dark, music still quietly blaring through the stereo. Her chest burning and pussy throbbing. Was that really punishment, though? 'What was that. So wrong but yet...' She hesitates then out loud she gasps "I want more."

THE END

[agoodflyting]

That’s What We Do - (post-TLJ Kylux)

Classic Kylux  /  Rated T  / 2100 words

Mission objective: get Ren to his quarters quickly and without anyone noticing that their new Supreme Leader was drunk off his arse.

Surely Hux does not get paid enough for this.

Hux finds him in the audience chamber.

They’ve retreated back to the Finalizer after that cock-up on Crait, their new Supreme Leader shouting at anyone within earshot that he wasn’t to be disturbed. They’ve managed to rout the Resistance, reduced them to a group small enough to cram inside a single junk freighter, but the sheer fact that any of them survived at all when he had the number, the ships, the opportunity to reduce them to nothing. It was... sloppy. Poor form, given the resources expended. The casualties.

The waste of it galls at him, nagging like the sharp edge of the tooth that he’d chipped when Ren threw him into that damn console. He keeps running his tongue over it.

They would have to do better. And so, Hux takes his life into his own hands.

“Supreme leader,” the words stick behind his teeth and have to be forced out, “We need to discuss our next move. The galaxy is watching to see what you will do next.”

No response except the faint echo of his own voice.

Ren wasn’t here. Hux had expected to find him lounging on his throne, relishing his stolen power. (That ten-stone scavenger girl killed my master Snoke and oh dear I just couldn’t stop her his arse.) It’s what he would have done, anyway.

He pauses. Glances around the audience chamber for good measure. It isn’t as grand as the one on Starkiller Base, but it’s dark and suitably ominous all the same. Snoke had a very particular aesthetic.

“Ren?” This isn’t the time to play hide and seek you overgrown child, if you leap out of the darkness at me I swear to the maker I’m going to punch you in the face and claim it was an accident-

And there- a faint sinusy sound, like a cough or maybe a snort.

“Supreme Leader Ren?” Hux tries again, trying to layer honey over the words and only succeeding in making them sticky.

Another sound, this one closer to a sob.

He approaches the low dais holding the empty throne, the sound of his own boots on durasteel echoing around the empty room. Zeroing in on the sound, Hux finds him.

The Supreme Leader is sitting on his arse on the floor, wedged into the little corner between the throne and the wall immediately behind it. He’s got one long leg sprawled across the floor, the other drawn up so that he can rest his head on his knee.

Ren makes another wet sound and Hux realizes he’s crying.

“Get up,” Hux says, flat.

Ren mutters something that sounds like fuck you.

“This is unseemly. Get up.”

Ren laughs, a weak, throaty sound. “You don’ get to tell me to... what to do, Hu-cks.”

He’s slurring. Swaying a little where he sits.

Drunk.

“You are embarrassing yourself-”

“I’m Supreme Leader now.” Ren continues loudly, not listening, before mumbling into his knee, “No- nobody getss tell me... what to do.”

“Yes, you are.” Tension is building in the hinge of his jaw. If anyone saw Ren like this the First Order would be a laughingstock. Their Supreme Leader drunk and pathetic, crying over his failures- all of high command would be a joke. “And right now you’re a disgrace. Go to bed, Ren.”

Ren growls and waves an arm and there’s a momentary surge of adrenaline- of fear - but all that happens is a light pressure, like somebody had bumped into him in a crowd. Ren glares up at him myopically, eyes red and unfocused, and waves again. Sloppy. Uncoordinated.

Another bump. Hux rocks back a half-step.

“F-fuck you, Hux-” Ren buries his face in his knee again, hugging both arms around his bent leg.

Hux pinches the bridge of his nose in one gloved hand.

He could have been an engineer. The pay was decent. More leisure time-

Far less opportunity to rule the galaxy. Damn.

He takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “Alright, Supreme Leader. We are getting you to bed, that’s the ticket.” And if Ren doesn’t think he’s demanding the Grand Marshal title for this, he’s a fool. Firm, but cajoling. It’s a tone he hasn’t used since the Academy and early mornings spent coaxing drunken roommates back into their bunks before morning roll. Why did he always end up the designated driver?

Ren protests, whining like a child, when Hux lifts his arm and slings it over his own shoulder. “Up we go, that’s right-” He nearly overbalances, swinging hard to the side when he attempts to heft Ren’s weight. Something in his back makes a worrying crunching sound. Fuck, it’s like trying to deadlift a black hole. 

“Ren, your legs- legs- stand up, Ren-” he snarls, stumbling and nearly going down before Ren gets his feet under him and collapses heavily against Hux’s side. He’s warm and clammy, reeking of sweat and ozone, and under that something cloyingly sweet. Cheap wine.

Right. Mission objective: get Ren to his quarters quickly and without anyone noticing that their new Supreme Leader was drunk off his arse.

A bottle clatters and skitters away across the polished black floor when Hux stumbles into it. “Very good. This way, Supreme Leader.”

It’s no use, he still can’t make the words sound sincere.

Ren staggers along with him, leaning heavily on Hux’s shoulder. They pause at the door, and Hux wedges Ren against a wall to fish his comm out of the pocket of his coat. He’s never believed in doing things the difficult way if it can be avoided.

“Captain Tripp,” he barks.

“Yes, General?”

“Clear the halls in thresh sector, decks eleven through seventeen. Absolutely all personnel on lockdown. The Supreme Leader is heading to his quarters.” Threading a bit of casual exasperation into his voice, he adds, “He’s in a mood again. I’d rather not have any more casualties today.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll see to it.”

Kylo Ren’s tantrums were legendary on the Finalizer. This wasn’t the first time Hux had turned them to his favor.

He waits for five minutes, long enough for Tripp to evacuate everyone out of their path. Ren is slumped heavily against the wall, like the idea of standing unaided is far too difficult.

“What...” Ren says, carefully pronouncing the word. He’s struggling to keep both eyes open and focused on Hux at the same time. “Are you looking at? Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

Ren snorts, loud and obnoxious. “Right, right, right, right... nothing. That’s right, you and everybody- everybody else. That’s what you all... see... well fuck you.”

Hux purses his lips. “How much did you drink, anyway?”

A shrug and a querulous noise.

He resists rolling his eyes, but only barely. “Come on, Ren.” Hux gets Ren’s gangling arm over his shoulder again and steers him towards the door and out into the hall. It’s a little like piloting a freighter with the controls inverted and the thrusters misfiring. Hux brackets one arm low around Ren’s hip, to keep him from slipping to the opposite side.

He doesn’t get paid nearly enough for this.

“Never- not supposed to drunk. Before.” And oh charming, he’s reached the drunken rambling state. Ren puts on a deep nagging tone like he’s imitating someone. “ Not allowed, never- that’s not control, have to be in control- not ever, ever... not in control. But... fuck it. I’m Supreme Leader now, who fucking cares. No more fucking aesthetic...”

Hux pauses, “Ascetic?”

“That, yeah. Whatever. Fuck it! I’ll be drink if- if I want to.” He stumbles heavily into Hux, knocking him a half-step to the side. “Who’s gonna stop me...? Hmm?”

“Lower your voice!” Hux hisses, as he half-shoves, half-drops Ren into the turbolift with a grunt. “The doors are shut, but they aren’t bloody soundproof!”

“I don’t care-” he enunciates, gearing up for a shout.

“Well I do!” Hux slams his gloved palm against the button for floor 17. The door slides shut and the lift engages with a quiet rush of air. Executive residential quarters were all on the same block. Ren’s room on the Finalizer was only a few doors down from Hux’s own. He rounds on Ren. “If you want to be Supreme Leader then you need to start bloody acting like it. You represent more than just yourself. That’s what power means. It isn’t doing whatever the seven hells you want, just because you want to do them-”

“Don’t tell me- you have no idea what power is-”

“I know what responsibility is. You think I’m dragging your sorry carcass to bed because I want to? I’m doing it because it’s my duty, something you have probably never done a day in your life! I would love the freedom to run around smashing everything when I’m angry, or wallowing in my misery, except I don’t have the time! You aren’t the only one who’s had a bad day, Ren!”

The lift is silent except for the soft sound of decks passing them by.

Ren’s chin crumples. His plush lips tremble, and to Hux’s mortification he bursts into tears.

“Stop that... Stop that at once,” Hux says, alarmed. Ren cries like a little boy, bawling fat messy tears, as he slips down the wall to collapse on the floor again. Hux pounds the emergency stop.

“You hate me. I don’t... why does everyone...” the words are lost under choking sobs. Ren buries his face in his knees again.

“Ren,” Hux groans. Why was this happening to him?

“Go- just- fucking go- everyone else does.” Ren sniffs loudly. “I don’t care...”

“Please get up. Please?”

No response. Grand Marshal Hux, he thinks to himself.

Wait- what was it Brendol always said when he was upset as a child? It had usually done the trick. There- “If you don’t stop crying, I’m going to hit you.”

“Fuck you.”

After a long moment of standing there awkwardly, tapping his boot while his supreme leader sobbed brokenly into his own robes, Hux sinks down to the floor and sits beside Ren, back to the wall.

“Ren, I don’t hate-” No, that was too obviously a lie. He changes tactics, tries for a playful tone, “Oh come on- we hate each other. That’s what we do, isn’t it? You throw me into a wall, I try to shoot you when your back is turned? That’s... that’s our thing isn’t it? Hmm?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?”

“I don’t hate you,” Ren repeats, quietly. There’s a hollow edge to his voice, like the echo in an empty room. “You’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

“Ren...”

They sit there in silence, until finally Ren says, “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” and with a last, loud sniff, pushes himself up off the floor. He smashes the button for floor 17 again, still a little clumsy with drunkenness, and leans back against the wall. Closes his eyes. Under his dark lashes, there’s still a faint glimmer of wetness.

“S'fine, I can do it by myself,” Ren complains when the lift stops on their floor and Hux moves to sling Ren’s arm back over his shoulders.

“It’s alright,” Hux brushes the protest off. “Nearly there, anyway.”

He helps Ren down the residential hall, ignoring the way Ren sags against his side in something that might be relief, stopping at his door and allowing Ren to key in his security code. Hux notices, for the first time, that one of his gloves is missing.

Once they’re inside and the door slides shut behind them, Hux helps Ren through the nearly-empty living area into the bedroom. He knows the layout- it’s identical to his own. Only where Hux had placed a couch, a table, comforts, Ren has nothing but empty space.

He drops Ren onto the only piece of furniture in the suite- a low, simple bed.

“Here we are. Get some rest, Ren.” Hux says, brisk, as if that little exchange in the turbolift never happened. On the bed, Ren curls over on his side, facing away from Hux.

“There’s a holoconference with the security council at seven-hundred. Don’t worry about it- I’ll take care of it. ”

“Thanks.” Ren sounds half-asleep already. Or perhaps he’s going to cry again.

“You’ll need to make an appearance at the banking consortium gala next week, though. They’ll all want to see the new Supreme Leader, after Crait. Between that and the Starkiller weapon I think we sent quite a message.” He attempts a wan smile.

“Mmhmm.”

Hux hovers.

“Well at least take off your boots- do I have to do everything?” Hux tchs, but without any particular venom, before kneeling beside the bed, fingers going to the fastenings of Ren’s heavy boots. When he’s tugged each one off, Ren curls his socked feet up close to his body like a child.

A glance at his face reveals that he’s asleep.

Sighing, Hux shrugs out of his greatcoat and tosses it over Ren’s shoulders where the idiot has fallen asleep on top of the blankets. “All hail, the Supreme Leader,” he says wryly to himself.

Before turning to leave, he dials the lights down to five percent.

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

i need more pharah/moira in my life so maybe cocky moira offering grumpy fareeha some (intimate) healing after an embarrassing flying accident

Thenewest adjustments to the Raptora suit were finalized and testflights were scheduled for today. Captain Fareeha Amari was to pilotthe latest suit designs, the most experienced pilot for the task.Donning the armor was no easy task, but after about twenty minutes ofdressing and testing the joints, she was walking to the tarmac.Flexing her shoulder muscles, the wings lifted then fell, twisted toadjust for directional maneuvering, and a quick activation of thebooster jets had her nearly one hundred feet in the air already,pumping the jets for simulated hover flight. The FALCN displayhighlighted her fuel gauge, elevation and minor diagnostics for thetest, but what it didn’t display was any warning of faulty equipment.

Agrin raised her cheeks as the crew gave a go ahead for another boostjet, without a second thought she clicked the button hidden withinher glove and instead of going up, she began falling. The displayflickered before all her brown eyes could see was the ground belowquickly rushing to meet her. With a wince, her body crashed into thetarmac, lightweight carbon plating taking the brunt of the impact,but her ribs burned and she curled while laying on her side as thecrew rushed over.

“Damnit!”

Thecurse took her breath away as it felt as though she had been shot inher left side, barely able to breath. The crew quickly stripped herof most of the armor plating, at least around her torso and carriedher off to the medical wing. By the time they arrived, her breathinghad almost stabilized, but her ribs were grinding and the fire neverleft her chest.

“Oh,well isn’t this a surprise. The famous Captain Amari in here for aninjury. I thought you were indestructible in that armor of yours.”

Theheavy Irish drawl that dripped from those snide words was enough tomake Fareeha growl, wincing at the added pain of trying to sit up tosee that Moira O'Deorain was in the good doctor’s lab.

“Whereis Angela. I mean Doctor Ziegler?”

Theblushing that burned at her cheeks only made the pain worse asembarrassment settled in her chest.

“Shegot called away for an injured new recruit. So I get the pleasure ofexamining you today.”

Thetall Irishwoman moved closer with a hand raised to toy with the beadsthat adorned Fareeha’s short hair, making the young woman turn herhead with grit teeth.

“Let’sget this over with. I’m in too much pain to fight you today,‘iiblis.”

Thosewords made the geneticist smirk as a hand moved down to graze thoselong nails along her arm before tugging at the edge of the tank topat her hip. Pulling it up slowly, carefully grabbing at the arm heldclose to her ribs, the young soldier groaned in pain as theconfirmation of broken ribs was evident.

“Itwould seem this shirt of yours will have to go.”

Thetaller moved to a nearby table and found a pair of scissors andgently snipped from Fareeha’s shoulder and along her left side. Thosecolds hands ran along the muscled woman’s chest and back to removethe cloth, enjoying every bump of defined muscle her fingers teased.

“Stopyou witch.”

Thosecaramel cheeks burned red as even in this pain and by this woman, shewas aroused in the heat of adrenaline. Shaking her head in an attemptto dislodge the thoughts, she glared at Moira.

“Ifyou stare at me like that, you might cause yourself to overheat.”

Thatdevilish smirk returned as she moved the scissors to now cut at thefabric of her sports bra, which as embarrassing as it was, felt muchbetter now that it wasn’t pressing at the ribs. But her firm breastsmeeting the cold air of the lab did her no favors as the devil staredher down with a hunger unmatched by even the most dangerous ofpredators.

“Getthis over with so I can retire to my bunk. And don’t even tryanything. Even with broken ribs, I’ll still kill you.”

Moiraraised her hands in surrender as she gathered bandages and set themaside. Poking and prodding at the already heavily bruised and tenderskin, her assessment came to a conclusion as those long arms circledher with bandages now covering torso.

“Nowbe careful. Don’t overexert yourself in any 'extra curricular’activities.”

Fareehanudged her aside as she moved to stand, hunched over slightly fromthe still evident pain, gathering up her leather jacket to cover herupper half.

“That’snone of your business.”

Thegeneticist tilted her head as she watched the soldier retreat tosolitude to lick her wounds, meanwhile she licked her own lips with agrin.

[annsparksthegmr]

Dangan Thieves AU - Sonia Nevermind

So here’s the lovely Ultimate Princess of the Dangan Thieves AU and… *face plants onto desk* As much as Sonia is a likable character she is more of a pain to write simply because of her “perfect character.” I had to rewrite this like… four times just so it felt like this could possibly be Sonia Nevermind and not somebody else. Why is her character designed to be nearly like a Mary Sue at points? Couldn’t she just have a few more notable ones or did I overlook them?

…

Anyway, Sonia Nevermind position as the main party Support member came from my chat with @shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl and we came to the conclusion we’d at least have two members taking that role (Being Sonia and Mahiru). As for her Persona, I’d like to thank @killr-cupcake for suggesting ideas for the Persona - and helping me narrow down the list. Though after Sonia I’m going to take a break from characters and work on other things… like possible Palaces and Mementos stuff! Be sure to take tune for that and ENJOY!!!

Sonia Nevermind

Arcana: Empress

Codename: Enchantress

Outfit: A spiked crown rests upon her head as Sonia’s blonde hair is now in a long braided style. Around her neck is a golden dog whistle and it leads into a brown and golden transformer skirt dress. Wearing brown boots underneath, the accessories on her dress are golden roses pinned around her waistline alongside the smaller ones which are pinned to her leather gloves.

Mask: A Kai Ken dog designed mask.

Persona: Hecate. (Greek Goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy.) Note: Hecate takes the form of three-headed dog mecha which she can enter and pilot to avoid being targeted by enemies. Upon the second awakening, it is rebirth into a three-headed dog-dragon hybrid mecha and it can now actively use abilities while flying through the sky.

Skillset:

Short Reconnaissance - Can reveal the basic information about enemies after defeating them.

Sparking Justice - Donning the mask itself, she yells words of encouragement. Little apple projections surround the party as they get attack buffs.

Health Reserve - Recovers 5% HP after every battle.

Upgrades to

Health Assistance - Recovers 20% HP after each battle.

Midnight Slip - Taking off one of her slippers, she throws it onto her enemies as it grows in size. Pointing towards the falling slipper, her Persona’s mouths open to reveal missiles that fire to shatter the falling object. While this does minimal damage, it reduces the enemy's Accuracy/Evasion. There are also tons of profanities flying across the battlefield.

Energy Reserve - Recovers 5% SP after every battle.

Upgrade to

Energy Assistance - Recovers 10% SP after each battle.

Royal Decree - Removes all debuffs on the party as Sonia reads a scroll that released a wave of energy.

Bad Apple - Summoning a huge apple with a green aura, she tosses it into the middle of the field, where it falls apart. Allies can gain buffs to the Attack, Defense and/or Accuracy/Evasion and the enemies will suffer debuffs matching the boosts the part received. The buffs will come at random with small changes of getting all of the current buffs.

Bewitching Torch - Has a rare chance to fully recover the HP & SP of an ally.

*All-Out Attack Card: “Bow before your enchantress!” beside the enemies getting roasted by her Persona. Sonia is happily smiling with the catchphrase “Oops. Sorry about that!”

Persona Awakening Dialogue:

Hecate: “You’ve made me wait for so long as you hid behind your title? Do you finally understand now? That using your perfect image of being a princess can no longer protect you from the despair that plagues your soul every day. Everything you love will be robbed anyway if you do nothing… have you given into despair so easily?”

Sonia: “...I… No, I still haven’t lost hope yet. Everyone’s hope being butchered into despair here by a cruel soul… Now I truly believe what they’ve said. If only I had the strength to save them!”

Hecate: “...Your heart is as pure as your intentions may seem to be… there is hope in forging the contract with you. Together, we may yet strike a chance to waver the fate and your destiny into the one desired. The contract itself can be sealed now with your new found hope rekindled. I am thou, thou art I… Let your graceful facade shatter their vision and reveal to all the true passion you crafted!”

Sonia: “Of course. And I shall no longer be a subservient bystander to this madness!! This will end with all my might and it starts today! Time to shine forth! Hecate!”

Quotes:

“All hostiles have been annihilated. Well done everyone!”

“There appears to be a safe room up ahead. I advise that we all rest before continuing.”

“I’ve appeared to have gotten stronger!” (Level Up)

“My magic’s improved!” (Skill Up)

“That shimmering shine… Ace, we’ve got some treasure to get!”

“...Have we been in here longer than we should have? I’m getting some weird readings on my end. Be careful.”

“We are on a roll! Let’s keep going!!”

“Everyone is too badly injured; I suggest we retreat for now and recover Ace.”

“Hostile Shadows up ahead; will we engage or sneak by them?”

“Huh? Did you expose yourself by accident?” or “Look out! Hostiles coming!”

“Don’t waste yourself on these ones.”

“...Shadows up ahead are quite dangerous; perhaps we should sneak by?”

“Something’s amiss here; I suggest safety protocols before proceeding.”

“Congratulations everyone!”

“Our teamwork was on point.”

ENTERING A BATTLE VIA AMBUSH: “The odds are in our favor. Let’s keep it that way okay?”

GETTING AMBUSH: “We’re surrounded!!! Keep your guard up!”

RUSH: “Eliminate them all quickly!”

ENCOUNTERING THE REAPER: “Are you trying to face Death?! Flee at once!”

ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE FROM BATTLE: “An escape route? I’ll see what I can do.”

PARTY MANAGES TO ESCAPE FROM BATTLE: “Retreat now; I’ve made an opening!”

AN ENEMY FLEES IN A PALACE: “What?! Pursue that Shadow before it raises security!!”

Short Reconnaissance: “I’ve made a record of the Shadow for future reference.”

Sparking Justice: “One morale boost coming up!”

Midnight Slip: “Oops I…” *proceeds to yell out profanities*

Royal Decree: “Cease these debuffs on my party immediately!”

Bad Apple: “Want something refreshing? Here you go!”

Bewitching Torch: “I’m dropping off some aid; who needs it most?”

WHEN SOMEONE’S HEALTH IS LOW: “Watch your health; one more move might end it all if not healed.”

WHEN SOMEONE’S INCAPACITATED: “Oh no! Somebody please help them!”

WHEN SOMEONE’S WEAKNESS IS EXPLOITED: “They found their weakness! Cover for them!”

WHEN SOMEONE MISSES: “Did you forget to aim for the target?! Be careful.”

PERFORMING 3 BATON PASSES IN SUCCESSION: “Excellent! This is just what we needed.”

ANNOUNCING ALL-OUT ATTACK: “Time for some execution!”

Burn: “...Do I smell something burning?!? Somebody put that out now!”

Freeze: “We don’t need a human popsicle! Somebody thaw them out!”

Shock: “They got paralyzed; they won’t be able to do anything until it is removed!”

Forget: “Why did you get this now? Help them to remember their Persona!”

Charm: “...Flirty with the enemy? Is that common in Japanese culture?”

Rage: “What are they doing? I can’t get through to them!?!”

Brainwash: “This isn’t good; they see us as the enemy! Break the sell please!”

Despair: “Somebody fell into Despair; somebody give them a pep talk before they lose it!”

Hunger: “Who forgot to have a snack? Get them some food stat!”

Dizzy: “This isn’t a merry-go-round ride! Get them back to normal quickly!”

Sleep: “Falling asleep on the battlefield? This is no time to take a nap!”

Silence: “Why have they gone silent? Somebody help them!”

Mouse: “Aw~ They look so adorable as a mouse~ I just want to pet and love them~!”

Mementos Chats:

“Not to seem inconsiderate Ace, but you’re driving... well… lacking in some places.”

“I’ve got to say; having a dog mecha as my Persona just like in those historical animations I used to watch is amazing! I wonder if I can find more of them…”

“Using a dog whistle to recollect my Persona is a bit awkward… but I can make do as long as I’m not in the fray.”

“Freeing the hearts of those inflicted by despair… that is what I wish of our accomplishments to amount towards.”

“Never once did I believe that a Dangan Thief would be this engaging. I can safely say that these memories I’ll never forget for the rest of my life!”

Sonia: “I’m impressed at how you’ve managed to make it for so long without somebody having a Persona like myself!”

Hinata: “Um… thanks, I guess?”

Hinata: “...Hold on, haven’t we been here before?”

Sonia: “Perhaps… then again most of this place looks the same to me…”

Sonia: “How peculiar that my Persona manifested so differently that I have to keep a dog whistle to control it… Huh?! What game are you playing?”

Chiaki: “Oh this? It’s one of those games where you take care of pets… just like this dog right here.”

Sonia: “Ah! Are you okay Heartbeat? Why are you laughing so much?”

Mikan: “Ehehe, s-sorry about that. I’m j-just having so much f-fun with e-everyone…”

Nagito: “Dearess Enchantress, your hope has truly been bountiful to our efforts. With your ravenous canine on our side, there is no way despair can stop us.”

Sonia: “Thank you… so much… I guess...”

Sonia: “Owl! I’m so delighted that we are working together. Tell me, are you up hanging out with us girl sometime? We’re planning a baking session.”

Peko: “I’d… like that very much if I have the time.”

Fuyuhiko: “Yo Enchantress, are you sure you know exactly what you’re doing?”

Sonia: “I know very well what I’m doing here Gangster. Thank you for asking.”

Sonia: “...Why is he the only one who I can’t truly identify? Is he hiding something…?”

Imposter: “Did you say something Enchantress?”

Sonia: “Oh nothing! Sorry, I was just thinking if I can make anything else with my powers to help us in the future!”

Sonia: “I’m so grateful to have another thief just like you; we’re sure to make an excellent team!”

Mahiru: “Yeah…  that is if you’re carrying your own weight most of the time.”

[chiccolofans]

Chiccolo Week Day 3: Species Swap Day! XBallZ Evolution

A/N: Sorry it’s a smidge late (especially since I’m a mod!) but here’s Species Swap – Inspired by XMen Evolution! To be possibly continued :) 

“Uncle, our mutations work in direct opposition to each other.” Piccolo rested heavily on his right palm, drawing circles in on the table with his left index finger. “Chichi’s supersonic super scream thing she does just doesn’t work with my hearing.” He glanced at Chichi, who was looking rather grim faced, staring at her gloved hands. A shadow fell across him, and Piccolo’s eyes darted up to the source. “Sure, the superhuman strength she’s got is useful as can be, but…”

“That, my boy, is why Bulma made you that helmet.” His uncle arched a brow, staring down at him. Piccolo’s frown deepened, and the teen intensified his imaginary doodling on the table.

“I don’t want to wear it, it’s stupid. My codename is ‘The Demon,’ and with that ridiculous get up on no one can see why.”

He could feel his uncle’s eyes on him.

“I do wish you would consider changing it, child. You’re on our team now, not your father’s. Such a moniker is not fitting of the Z Fighters.” Piccolo swiped his hand under his nose, refusing to meet his uncle’s gaze. “Chichi, my dear, what do you think about the teaming on this assignment?”

“I don’t love it,” Chichi muttered, and Piccolo’s long ears flicked. He tried to determine her tone. “Piccolo’s right, our powers aren’t exactly great together. Not to mention, we’re both new to the team. It would be better to have either of us paired with a more experienced member.” A pause, then, “with all due respect, Kami, sir.”

“Well, we all need to be able to work together, don’t we?”

Neither teen had an answer to that. The old mutant smiled.

  “Why do you keep your Brotherhood name?” Piloting the mini-jet was her job, and her surly partner was sitting in the copilot seat, watching radar and other charts. She supposed that it was probably a little too personal of a question, considering that Piccolo didn’t really share anything with anyone.

“I’m not creative enough to come up with a new one,” he grumbled, “Demon is easy. I like it. It matches my good looks.” He flashed a toothy grin at her, and she saw his fangs. She could certainly see where he had gotten the name, with his green skin, elfish ears, antennae… Chichi bit her lip and looked away. She still hadn’t found a codename that fit her. The others said that if your powers didn’t determine it, the first mission almost always did.

“Why haven’t you come up with one yet?”

“What am I supposed to do, call myself Banshee? I’d rather not.” Chichi smiled at him, and he offered an awkward grin back. A little alarm sounded on the dash, signalling it was time to land and begin the reconnaissance mission…

  Piccolo shook his head under his helmet. At least Bulma had made it purple. He’d yet to test it against Chichi’s supersonic wave scream; he was not exactly looking forward to it either. It wasn’t just the hearing. She could break bones with that thing. Supposedly, the motorcycle-looking helmet was specially designed to filter the wavelength from Chichi’s scream, and wouldn’t impact his superior hearing. Piccolo didn’t buy it, feeling muffled and exceptionally hard-of-hearing whilst wearing it.

“Hear anything?” Chichi asked, shuffling closer to him from their cover just outside the window Senator Satan’s office. He shushed her and tugged off the helmet, straining his ears.

“Why don’t you pull out those creepy goggles Bulma made to help with this sort of thing? You know, those x-ray ones.”

“Oh, right,” Piccolo suppressed an eye roll as Chichi fumbled around in her pack, pulling out the spy-goggles. However, he couldn’t hold back a second one when he saw the brightly colored Z emblazoned across them. Seriously? Bulma had tried to put one on his new helmet but he’d threatened mutiny if she followed through.

“You have to be a part of this team eventually!”

“I’d rather choke than wear something with the Old Man’s stupid team logo on it!”

Bulma screamed and threw the purple helmet at him, allowing him to remove the large Z stencil she had placed on it.

Even Chichi’s training suit had a big Z on the chest. It was ridiculous. “You’re not a fan, of the Z, right?”

“Not really my thing” Silence fell, and the two returned to listening and watching Senator Satan and his co-workers - or goons, Piccolo thought - go on and on about the Mutant Crisis. It was a warm day, and he was tired. There was nothing interesting to hear or see, and he felt himself drifting dangerously close to dozing off… At least when he was flying under his father’s colors, he’d never had to do something as boring as reconnaissance work. Of course… there were perfectly good reasons as to why he had left his father’s team. Many perfectly good reasons.

  Chichi, too, was feeling the effects of the warm weather, but not as much as Piccolo. She frowned, watching as he nodded off and on. How unprofessional! Reaching out her foot, she nudged her green companion in the shin. He jumped, and glared her before adjusting his position. His eyes closed once more.

“Just let me meditate.”

“You’re not meditating, you’re napping. We have a job to do!”

“Shut up. All they’re doing is talking about their ridiculous registration act. Nothing new.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, knowing he wouldn’t see it. Or at least, she thought he wouldn’t see it. He raised a lip in a silent snarl. She suddenly remembered that he was a telepath. And a telekinetic. It all made her feel woefully inadequate. Professor Kami seemed to believe that her powers were still developing, in their infancy, he’d said, gently touching her forehead. Chichi pursed her lips, staring through Piccolo rather than at him. Unlike Piccolo, and several of the kids on the team, Chichi had no physical manifestation of her mutations. She had been normal until the one day when she had become so angry, so afraid, she had snapped and screamed until she ran out of breath…and had looked around to see shattered glass and destruction. Two days later, she had left home to live at the Lookout.

  “Hey! You kids!” Chichi was jolted out of her reverie, and didn’t look to see if Piccolo had woken up. What did M.R.D. stand for? Six heavily suited agents stood before them, holding up clear shields with the acronym emblazoned across them.

“Pi - I, I mean -”

She chanced a glance at him, and for the first time since she’d known him, she saw real fear in his eyes. His hands shot out, and her attention was grabbed by the sounds of bodies smacking together. “Pi - Demon!” Codenames during missions. Codenames during missions. “You can’t hur -” She yelped, sending out a wave of energy on accident as she narrowly avoided being shot by the agents. She covered her face as she hit the dirt, more beams flying overhead. She screamed again as rubble hit her in the face, peppering her arms and back. And then… it was silent. Chichi opened her eyes, and wished she hadn’t when she saw Piccolo’s face; it was contorted in an ugly, feral snarl, his helmet failing to cover his jaw and lips. She thought she had seen why he was called The Demon. Now she did.

“Die,” he snarled, raising his hands, lifting the agents. Chichi’s eyes widened.

“No! You can’t!”

She saw his eyes flick to her face behind the eye shield before his icy eyes returned to the security agents with the strange shields.

“They’re gonna kill us if we don’t do something. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not kick it today.” He moved to throw them, crush them, or something but Chichi scrambled to her feet and clutched at his shoulder pads. “Get off.”

“No! I’m not gonna let you kill them! - Oof!” Piccolo shoved her to the ground. “Demon!” He wasn’t listening, he was going to - Wait, she had superhuman strength. She could knock him out if she wanted to! And she was not about to let him kill a bunch of people. It went against everything Kami taught them.

People were yelling, she was pretty sure a helicopter was on its way. This couldn’t be what the public saw about mutants. It couldn’t! Her fist connected with Piccolo’s jaw with an audible crack, making his helmet turn sideways as he stumbled. His would-be victims landed in a pile, dazed but alive as she hauled him up by the feet, her face twisted in a snarl.

“We. Do not. Kill.” Piccolo stared up at her through the crooked helmet, an odd expression on his face. It abruptly shifted as he wrapped his arms around her, and she felt them both lift off the ground as backup security arrived on the scene.

  Piccolo offered to pilot on their way back to the Lookout. She let him, taking the copilot seat in silence, programming in their destination. Chichi glowered at the screen, still fuming that he had seriously been about to kill those people. How irresponsible! Didn’t he know that they represented the entire race of mutants? A single publicized act of violence could put their cause at risk! At least she’d given him a nasty bruise on the face to remind him of the message.

Maybe he heard her thoughts. Or maybe he was just feeling guilty.

“What you did back there. That was pretty gutsy.”

“Yeah.”

He stared straight ahead, blue bruise blooming on his green face.

“Thanks, Tiger. Or Tigress, I guess.”

“Excuse me?”

Piccolo turned to meet her confused stare.

“I think it fits, don’t you?”

Chichi’s mouth fell open as she realized what he meant. Tigress…

  The next time they were paired up for a mission, her suit sported stripes.

[chasingperception]

Rewatching Person of Interest, s1e1

So, rewatching Person of Interest. Going to post thoughts about each episode. If you haven’t seen it, there will be spoilers. It’s been over long enough that I don’t think I need to use spoiler warnings.

Thoughts on s1e1 “Pilot”

OMG, The Machine already uses a yellow box for Reese right from the start!

Aww, the first time Carter and Reese meet!  

Oh, come on. Reese was a special ops/secret goverment bad guy. There’s no way he wouldn’t have realized that Carter was getting his prints from that cup, she was being blatantly obvious about how she was handling the cup.

Aww, the first time Reese and Finch meet!

Rye whiskey? Yeah, Reese is trying to drink himself to death.

Okay, that was a little cruel, Finch.

The library is so empty. Where are the books? Where does Finch get the books for later episodes?

Wow, the technology seems so quaint now. 

Corrupt!Fusco...so very different from the Good!Fusco at the end of series.

Love the scene where he gets the guns from Anton.

So, this taxi driver is just cool with the guy in the back seat readying a gun? Like, does this just happen in the back seat of NYC taxis all the time? ‘Cause seriously....NO reaction from the driver.

YEEEEEAH! Love love love the scene with Reese standing in the middle of the road and firing into the car. You know, I have the vague memory of this kind of scene happening many times in this series- someone standing in the middle of the road, calmly shooting into an oncoming car. Going to start keep track.

Ahh, the first tast of HR that we get.

Does no one ever see Reese taking pictures? I mean, he’s not exactly subtle. Does he tell people he’s a professional photographer when someone asks what he’s doing?

Aww, tee hee, how quaint. Actual printed photos from Reese’s surveillance. Not digital, but printed.

Aww, Reese doesn’t trust Finch yet. I wonder if I’ll be able to pinpoint the episode where he starts to trust Finch. I suppose one could argue that he never fully trusts Finch since they both keep secrets from each other until the very last episode.

Why is Finch still hiring those bodyguards? They were proven useless against Reese earlier.

Oh, I see why I liked this show so much! With all that stalking about on buildings with fancy rooftops while he spies on people, Reese is Batman! Reese= Batman, Finch=Alfred. Except, you know, he wears a designer suit instead of a batsuit, and he’s out in daylight, and he uses guns... Okay, maybe not Batman, but close enough.

Aww, the first time Fusco and Reese meet! Wow, they’re both, uh, thinner than they were at the end of the show.

Oh come on. Reese would’ve taken them all out in the alley. There wouldn’t be any of this driving to Oyster Bay shit. but we gotta move the plot along to rope Fusco onto the team eventually. And of course for the “You’re loyal....I’m going to let you live.” Reese has already figured out that Fusco just needs a good thing to be loyal to.

How did they come out of that car crash relatively unscathed? Oh, Hollywood magic plot hole. “We need our characters to live so they’re going to be invincible for a while.” Waitaminute...Why is Fusco in that position? Was he not wearing a seatbelt?? *rewatches the scene* HE IS NOT WEARING A SEATBELT!!! WTF FUSCO?!?! WEAR YOUR DAMN SEATBELT!!! Seriously, someone not wearing their seatbelt in an accident like that would be way more seriously injured or dead.

Aww, yeah, we got a standoff.

Don’t mind me kid. Just a random guy hanging out in your lobby. BTW, how did you miss that catch? Was your glove fucking closed? Actually, how did Wheeler and his kid cluelessly walk past Reese and Stills with their respective hostages in the first place? Weren’t they in the most well-lit parts of the lobby? I’ve rewatched this scene a few times and I don’t know how they didn’t see Reese and Stills. They were just unobservant, I guess. More convenient plot.

That reflection on the right side as Wheeler and his kid walk out the door... that’s got to be two members of the film crew. If it was Stills and his hostage, there was absolutely no way they wouldn’t have seen Stills.

Yeah, they were definitely unobservant.

Whoo, the patented Reese Kneecap! Without looking, even!

Was the video from The Machine always this glitchy? I remember it being really glitchy when Samaritan started attacking it. This seems out of character for what I remember of The Machine.

Oh, shiiiit. Lady, Reese and Finch busted you. You’re going to jail!

Haha, was Reese just hanging out in the back seat all day, waiting for Fusco to come along?

Why doesn’t Fusco’s new car have headrests? Were they purposefully removed for filming purposes? Did his previous car have headrests? *goes back to check* Huh, doesn’t look like it, but it had the grill to separate the backseat from the front. Wait, do cop cars have head rests? I would think they do. I mean, gotta prevent whiplash, right? Have the headrests for cars always been removed for filming and I just never noticed? Going to have pay closer attention now.

Finch, do you realize how stalkerish you sound?

Reese looks constipated.

*sobs* The symmetry of this show! This is how the last episode ends, except with Shaw instead of Reese!