#Volition is in charge of kicking his ass

[unitedstates0fdakota]

Electrochemistry in Disco Elysium is so funny cuz it is literally this image

[therealyaspen]

Possessed Legend Go Brr

You know I was gonna just post a snippet bc I stopped writing this like five months ago bUT HERE HAVE A MESSY, UNEDITED BUT COMPLETE THING I GUESS?? Any grammatical errors will probably be looked over tomorrow dfnsav

So. The Lost Woods were still creepy as hell. Good to know. A dense fog still covered the area, and crows still screamed their call-and-respond at random seemingly just to startle anyone not expecting it. The same old eerie lantern-light darted between the trees, the same poes laughed at the group as they got up and dusted themselves off.

Some things would never change, Legend supposed, no matter how often you came back.

"Looks like the Lost Woods," Time observed. "Do we know whose era we're in?"

"Mine," Legend said with a glance at the pedestal in the middle of the clearing, "The Sword looks just like I left it."

Sky sighed sadly. "This place is so... different," he said, then turned to Legend and asked, "Are you going to take it?"

Legend shook his head. "Better to leave it here for now, I think." In truth, he didn't want to hold the blade ever again. Too many memories involved his hand clenched tight around the azure hilt of the Master Sword until his knuckles turned white. Without another word on the matter, he started walking. "We should probably get going before that scaly bastard can put anymore distance between himself and us. Follow me and stick close--Hyrule, no wandering off."

And so began the journey through the woos. As the group of heroes left the Sword behind them, however, it became increasingly apparent that something was wrong with the Lost Woods. The further they went from the clearing, the more obvious the signs were. The plants were wilting and turning a sickly purple grey color, the crows got to be fewer and fewer. Wild was caught trying to grab mushrooms that even Legend hadn't seen before three times. Even the poes seemed to notice that something was amiss and were avoiding the rest of the forest as much as they could.

Hyrule was the first to say anything. "Something's not right. There's magic here, but it's... wrong. Like Dark Link's," he announced, reaching up to touch a grayed leaf and recoiling with a yelp when it crumbled to dust in his hand. It almost looked like it had burned the Traveler.

"Then all we can do is stay on our toes and trust Legend to get us out of here," Twilight replied, and Legend noted the way that his pelt almost looked like the fur on the back of an animal's neck, bristling and on high alert. He nodded.

"New rule--don't touch anything. Wild, for Din's sake, put the mushrooms down!"

Wild gave him a kicked puppy look over his armload of slimy, red-capped fungi. "They look like they might be good for cooking!" he protested.

Legend pinched the bridge of his nose. "They also might be poisonous, you--" the Veteran stopped mid-sentence, and not of his own volition. He felt his arms drop to his sides, his face go slack. What the hell...? What in the actual goddess-damned fuck?! He wanted to shout, to rip whatever was doing this to him a new asshole, but he couldn't.

This was... something else. Something other.

"...Legend? You okay?" Wild asked. "It's fine dude, I'll put them down." Gingerly, he set the mushrooms on the ground, then put his hands up when Legend--or rather, the thing that was controlling Legend--didn't look away or change its expression or do anything. Get the fuck out of me! I swear to Hylia, I'll kick your ass! Legend swore at whatever it was, trying to force even just a little twitch of his finger.

Four looked at him warily. "Is he... do you guys think he can even hear us? Legend?" he asked, tentatively walking over to him. Yes! Yes, I can, and I have no goddess-damned clue what the hell's going on! Hyrule's arm shot out to stop Four. His eyes were wide, never leaving Legend.

"Don't," he said, voice cracking a little. "Something... something's really wrong."

Whatever had taken Legend's body finally decided to speak. Its voice was raspy and quiet and most certainly not his own. It sounded almost like fallen leaves scraping against the bare earth in the fall. "Trespassers... leave..."

Then Legend felt himself be thrown forward in a leap towards Hyrule, sword out and ready to attack. Move! He screamed, but again, his mouth didn't so much as twitch. Four grabbed the other hero and pulled him down just barely in time to avoid getting sliced in half, but the sound of steel cutting through flesh was as clear as Hyrule's scream as the blade struck him. The Traveler had a massive gash in his side. legend's arm moved up to deal a death blow, and he was begging now, Please, don't do this! Don't kill him, don't kill any of them, they're all I have--

Clang!

Legend would have cheered at the sound of his sword striking Wild's shield if he could. Wild pushed outwards with a shout, sending Legend stumbling back. Warriors and Time were on him before whatever had him could even think about getting up, though the thing was apparently much stronger than he was and was struggling violently in an attempt to throw both of them off. "What the hell are you doing?!" Warriors bellowed. The fury in his eyes almost physically burned, and Legend didn't really blame him. He'd probably react much the same.

"He's not himself," Time said. His voice was strained, and Legend could see that behind his neutral expression was a barrage of emotions. He couldn't imagine any of them were particularly pleasant. "Someone grab his sword!"

Twilight was just barely able to pry the weapon from his grip, which seemed to just further aggravate the thing inside him. Time and Warriors both ended up being thrown off. "Damn, that was... has he always been this strong?" Warriors muttered, getting up swiftly and moving to aid Sky in trying to grab Legend again.

It's probably whatever's causing him to act like this," Sky guessed. He blocked a punch aimed directly at his head and Legend silent-howled in pain as his fist connected with solid metal, but his body landed a blow to the Skyloftian's gut and a kick to Twilight's left knee.

He was sent downwards when Wind charged him and grabbed ahold of the back of his legs, then swore internally as his newly-retrieved sword tore through the Sailor's calf. "Fuck! I don't want to hurt him, but this asshole's sure not taking it easy on us!" the kid exclaimed.

Twilight was back on his feet quickly, though Legend noticed that he was favoring his injured knee just a little. He hoped to whoever would listen that this thing didn't see it too. Sky was a little slower to recover, but he got back up before Legend shook Wind off of him.

"Hey!"

Legend's head snapped in the direction of the shout to see Warriors. The Captain looked jarringly unsure and a little surprised, as if he hadn't meant to yell. He shook his head and the surprise disappeared, though he was clearly still uncertain. Legend was barreling into him before he could start speaking, and he hardly had time to get his shield up. "Snap our of it, Legend! This isn't--I know you're still in there!"

The thing controlling Legend kicked at Warriors' ankles, sending him toppling down. Warriors went at Legend's own ankles, hard. Fucking ow, asshole. Legend didn't even have time to think before he was on his stomach, Warriors holding his left wrist firmly against the ground and rendering the sword he held useless. The Captain's knee was in his back, and his full weight was holding Legend down. The whatever-it-was struggled, thrashing to get free, but the others were quick to secure his other limbs.

There was a beat of silence, save for ragged breathing and the sounds of a frantic attempt to get free, before Warriors spoke. His weight shifted a bit. "Sorry, Legend. We'll figure this out, I promise."

Then there was a pain in the back of Legend's neck, and he was released into unfeeling darkness.

~~~

When Legend awoke, the first thing he noticed was the rope tying his hands together. The second was the very familiar bed, and the third...

"Oh, Mister Hero! You're awake!"

Legend groaned and gave Ravio the evil eye when he helped him sit up, but was relieved to find that he could move his body on his own now. "What the hell am I doing here, and where are the others."

Ravio gasped, placing a hand on his chest. "Oh, you wound me! And here I was, worried you wouldn't wake up yourself!"

"Ravio..."

"Fine, fine--but you did give me quite the scare, you know! Being carried in, unconscious and apparently possessed and all--"

"Ravio!"

The merchant put his hands on his hips. "Hold your horses, Mister Hero, I'm gettin' to it! Your family--" Ah. Yeah. He had called them that, hadn't he? "--didn't have time to say much at first. Mister Cape pulled out his sword--somehow, he had the actual Master Sword, what's up with that?!--and did this thing with it Something about purifying a corrupted forest spirit and getting it out of you? I dunno, that kinda went over my head if I'm being honest,... Anyways, the sword burned up his hands pretty bad, so I pointed him and a bunch of the others towards Kakariko so they could find a healer or something. Mister Scarf, Mister Armor, and Freckles headed to the castle to try and get an audience with Zelda for help, in case the whole sword thing didn't work."

Legend frowned, taking a moment to digest all that. So Sky had tried to use the Master Sword to exorcise him? And apparently it had worked? But he'd hurt himself. Now Fable might get involved, and not only would he get the ass-chewing of the century, but she'd be wasting her time she could be spending not worrying about a brother that was okay, really. Legend sighed. "I guess we're gonna have to wait until they get back, then," he said. "Think you can untie me? I'm guessing these were put here in case I woke up and was... not myself." Come to think of it, how had he stayed out that long? Had Hyrule used sleeping potions? That had to be it, there was no ay he would have been out for the entire trek from the Lost Woods to his house otherwise.

A mischievous light glinted in Ravio's eyes. "Hm... I'm not sure, how do I know you're not just that evil, corrupted spirit impersonating Link? Think you can prove you're not?"

"Fucker-- you know damn well I'm not!"

"Mmm, I dunno~"

Legend seethed. "Fine, when you started your 'rental shop' or whatever, the thing that pissed me off the most was that you moved my goddess-damned bed. That good?"

Ravio clapped his hands together, and Sheerow chirped from somewhere across the room. "It really is you, Mister Hero!" he exclaimed cheerfully, going to work at the knot holding Legend's hands together.

He would still be working at it when Time, Warriors, and Hyrule returned with Fable to the sound of Legend screaming at him to just cut the damn thing.

[pollylynn]

Title: Helm WC: 1400 Episode: Kick the Ballistics (4 x 04)

She has been wondering lately if she was meant to be a cop. It’s not something she’s been wondering very loudly, not even in the privacy of her own head, but she’s getting used to listening for the quiet things rattling around in there. She’s practicing listening for those things, because it’s homework from Burke. But it’s also homework from herself because she’s the idiot who went back to Burke of her own volition.

It’s homework from herself, because she wants to be ready. She doesn’t want to get to the end of her mother’s case and find that on the other side of the wall is an absolute mess—or worse still, that there’s nothing on the other side of the wall, because everything she was meant to be has withered and died for lack of light and air and anything. So she’s listening for the quiet things. She’s listening for the meant to bes, and it’s not clear if cop is anywhere in there.

It’s not a bad thing, at least not exclusively. It’s not simply the devastation of waking up to find herself held together with surgical tape and staples and realizing the next second that she’s wasted twelve years of her life. It’s a luxury to wonder. It’s a luxury to be alive, of course, but this goes beyond that.

The job was not something she chose. She had to be a cop. From John Raglan’s first little lady dismissal of her—from the first time he talked literally right over her head to meet her dad’s eye—she knew this was a job she was going to have to do herself. Whether she was suited to it by nature, whether it would make her happy or not, none of that had anything to do with anything. Her course was charted before she was out of her teens.

It’s worked out okay. That’s not damning with faint praise, or whatever. It’s just the thing she’s arrived at so far that’s true. Does it make her happy? It’s a question larger than she feels ready to field just yet. She gains satisfaction from it, and she finds meaning in it, even if Ann Hastings’ Nothing will ever be enough has made it harder of late to listen for the quiet things, to appreciate them. And suited to it by nature or no, she is good at it. At least she is used to thinking of herself as good at it.

She would like to lay the blame for her crisis of confidence, if that’s what it is, at the feet of the new Captain. But at the very least that sounds . . . lame. It sounds like caving, and she’s better than that, isn’t she? It shouldn’t be possible for someone else’s doubts to derail her completely.

Yes, Gates hovers and micromanages. Her tone of voice routinely seems to insinuate that she and the boys are obtusely ignoring evidence and failing to pull solves out of thin air solely to annoy her. It’s also becoming rapidly clear that she is overwhelmingly concerned with optics over all.

That’s certainly to blame at the moment. Gates, by her own admission, doesn’t care whose fault it is that Jane Herzfeld was killed with Ryan’s gun. What she says in the silence, though, is that she also doesn’t care whose fault it isn’t. She leaps on the information that Castle was in the room, and by now, that’s familiar enough that Kate has to suppress an eye roll—or she has to try at least.

But an eye roll isn’t going to get the job done, quite literally. Ryan needs more from her than the camaraderie she’s used to leaning into because Montgomery had their backs, first, last, and always. And Montgomery, if she listens carefully to the quiet things, is part of this, too. Because she still shakes with rage when she remembers him talking about the hand of God—talking about her as if she’d sprung into being solely to offer him a chance at redemption. When she’s not shaking with rage, she wonders what it means to have been the Golden Girl on his watch.

But she doesn’t have time to sift through all that in the moment. She needs all her focus, talent, and drive to be what her boys need right now. Ryan needs her to hear his confession, to let him beat himself up. He needs her not to baby him as she sometimes does—as they all sometimes do, because he’s honey milk, he’s sweater vest, he’s their lodestone, who chose this life more freely and fully than the rest of them.

So she takes him to Chinatown. She lets him take an unaccompanied run at Finn McQueen and demonstrate a way with words he definitely gets from Dad and not Mom. She has him in the room with her the first time they get their hands on Phillip Lee, and in the raw, honest pain of Ben Lee trying to lead his brother into confession, she hears everything Ryan must have said to him. She knows her faith was well placed and her course of action was wise.

Esposito needs her to kick his ass for standing by, grinning, as his partner went for Seth Carver. He also needs her to buy him a beer—maybe a whole evening’s worth of beer—because he has also showed up for Ryan. He has busted his ass and broken more leads solo than the rest of them combined, and it’s not ego to say she has always set the tone for that. They show up for one another, always.

That’s what the case of Jane Herzfeld is asking of her, too. It’s demanding that she show up in ways she is utterly unused to.

She has never had any problem with being a leader. That’s not ego, either. But what her boys need right now is for her to be a boss, even though they’re razzing her for it. They need her to step up and step into aspects of the job she’s never had to do the heavy lifting on, so she steps up.

She makes nice with Seth Carver, even though she almost chokes on her own tongue doing it. She puts herself between the boys’ ridiculous undercover shenanigans and Gates. She steps up, and if she listens close, there’s a quiet voice that says not bad . . .

That’s not damning with faint praise, either. It’s nudge that tells her the job isn’t quite done yet.

Castle needs her. He’s part of her team, and—God help her—one of the souls she’s charged with steering in this job, on this terrible case, in particular. He needs more than a non-committal shrug and, no pun intended, a cop-out: It’s a cop thing. He needs to understand that what he’s done of this case—what he always does on every case—is valuable. And he needs to know he wasn’t some kind of liability that let Jerry Tyson get away.

So, when day is not quite done, she goes to him—the last, but certainly not least of her boys. She lays out what Phillip Lee’s lawyer wants, what Phillip Lee is dangling at them for the price of what amounts to most of his life. She knows what to do—she really mostly does—but seeing the weight still hanging on him, knowing that same weight still hangs on Ryan and dims two of her very favorite pairs of blue eyes, she listens for the quiet things and knows there’s a reckless part of her that would like to jump at this. She would like to lay hands on Jerry Tyson and make him pay.

He speaks, and it’s like she’s thinking out loud. The quiet things find voice, and his way with words arranges everything just so. She’s a little smug when she congratulates him on it. It’s what he needs from her right now—the compliment and the little bit of rough-and tumble that reassures him that he’s one of them more than saying it straight out ever good,.

It’s what he needs to hear. It’s what she needs to say. He’s thinking like a real cop. So is she—a damned good one. Maybe she was meant to be a cop, maybe she wasn’t. But she’s a damned good one.

A/N: Wow. This got long for some serious career lack of morphousness.

images via homeofthenutty

[shroomcult]

@soulxmakaweek

Soma week 2021 Day 2: Healing

All too young was Maka Albarn exposed to the bitter resentment of a crumbling marriage.

She never had to bear witness to domestic violence or explosive arguments between her parents. No glasses were thrown against walls, no doors were slammed, no vitriolic exchanges that ended in another charging out the door and speeding out of the driveway.

It had been slow, and cold - like watching frost spread on a windowpane until nothing could be made out from the other side. The days when her parents loved each other, smiled while in the other’s presence were nothing more than distant and dream-like memories.

“I love you” was only something a desperate and conniving man said to get the outcome he desired. Not that it was any use. Papa could throw that phrase around all day, and yet Mama walked out of their lives all the same. 

It also meant nothing when it came from her mother’s own mouth moments before she stepped out of the threshold of their front door for the final time. If her mother loved her, she would have taken her only daughter with her instead of leaving her with a blubbering fool.

Maka shook this thought out of her head. 

No. Mama does love me - of course she does. She just has important work to do, she’ll come back for me when she’s ready. When she’s healed.

A feminine giggle could be heard from down the hall - from her father’s room. It effectively tore her from her thoughts.

So she hadn’t been hearing things. He really had the audacity to sneak a woman into their house for a little sleep-over not more than a week after the separation. As if she wouldn’t notice.

Well, she hadn’t heard the woman come in late last night, but surely Spirit was aware that his daughter was always an early-riser. 

She stepped out of her room, passed the sinners' den that was her father’s bedroom and into the kitchen to sit at the table with her book - and wait.

She wanted to make this as difficult for him as possible. She wanted to see the intruder for herself, to look them both in the eyes.

It hadn’t taken long before the snakes slithered out. She heard the master bedroom door creak open as hushed voices filled the hall leading out to the living area. She could distinctly make out the sound of her father hushing his secret guest.

As soon as they appeared in the living room and in full view of the kitchen, Maka set her book down and cleared her throat purposefully.

Spirit’s face drained of all the light that had been present only moments before. He looked as though someone had aimed a gun at his skull and demanded his wallet, his hand quickly removed from the mystery woman’s hip like it had been burned.

“M-Maka! Oh, hello sweetheart … what are you doing up so early?” he forced a smile, but his eyes conveyed nothing but guilt.

“I was having trouble sleeping. With all the noise.”

If he hadn’t already looked ready to crawl into a ditch, he certainly did after that comment.

His bedtime companion let out an airy laugh of discomfort before quickly excusing herself from the house she hadn’t belonged in to begin with.

The sound of the front door closing behind her had been deafening in the remaining silence between father and daughter.

“Maka-” Spirit tried to begin, but he clamped his jaw shut when she shot up from her seat, the chair scraping severely on the tile behind her.

She leveled him with a stare that he was familiar with as she tried to emulate the sternness of her mother to the best of her ability. He withered under it.

“I hate you.”

He stammered uselessly, his eyes glassy as she turned on her heel and made her way out the house, slamming the door with all the force she could muster.

Her vision warped and blurred as she stomped through her neighborhood and made her way out to a main street. 

She soon broke into a sprint, lungs burning along with her eyes as her feet carried her away with little thought as to where she was going. Her throat squeezed tight, making breathing all the more difficult but her pace did not falter until she came to a full stop in front of her subconscious choice of destination. 

She stood before a familiar grouping of apartments with faded but colorful walls. She’d been here only a handful of times, just to kick Soul’s ass into gear when he wasn’t studying like he should be. For the most part, she had no need to visit his apartment because he met her at the academy. 

Why him of all people? Why is he the first person I wanted to see when I feel like this?

She liked Soul just fine. Trusted him in battle at the very least. 

But she wasn’t sure how much he really fit the description of friend. They stuck close together out of necessity. They didn’t exactly play nice with each other all the time - he was a difficult person to get close to, stubborn and distrustful. Perhaps she was too.

Even while her mind continued to question her reason for coming to him, her body moved of its own volition, feet taking her up the worn concrete steps to his door towards the end of the hall.

It wasn’t fair for her to show up here on a weekend and drag him out of bed to dump her problems on him, yet she pounded on his door like she had every right to anyway.

It took him quite a bit of time, but she heard someone growl “what the fuck” from behind the door before it swung open revealing her very irate weapon partner in pajamas with his already ridiculous hair in a nest of pure bedhead.

The hostility softened from his baggy eyes the moment he recognized the wetness on her cheeks.“What’s wrong?” he tried to ask only to get crushed into a hug seconds later.

She sobbed into his shoulder and clutched the back of his Nirvana shirt like her life depended on it. She was immediately embarrassed by her behavior, but she had trouble closing the floodgates at such a point of mental volatility and decided she’d much rather bury her face against him than meet his concerned gaze. 

It took a few moments, but his body finally relaxed and he rested his hands timidly on her shoulder blades, letting one of his thumbs rub circles in an awkward attempt to soothe her.

She was almost caught by surprise when his uncertain contact tightened into almost a protective grip, and he allowed his entire palms to smooth over her back.

“Here, get inside,” he murmured against her ear, slowly releasing her and guiding her by the arm into the safety of his living room.

He only motioned for her to sit down on the couch before trudging to the kitchen to rustle around in his cupboards.

She felt a twinge of gratefulness for the opportunity to clear her face and steady her breathing as she listened to the sound of him starting up the microwave. She wasn’t some baby to be coddled after all. 

She didn’t get much time to compose herself before he was making his way back to her, a small saucer with a cup of hot tea rattling in his hand.

He set it down on the coffee table in front of her and took a seat on the couch beside her. He sat quite a few inches away, but reached out to pat her arm for a moment. Ah, back to awkward. 

“Uh - Tea’s for you. Chamomile, is that fine?” 

She nodded, carefully taking the mug from its place and bringing it to her lips, allowing the steam to settle into her face and relax her for a moment. 

He didn’t say anything else, just nodded and hunched his shoulders forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he stared in front of him at nothing in particular.

Either he wasn’t in the mood to play therapist and prod her for information or he was trying to respect her boundaries. Maybe it was a combination of both.

She found her voice after a few more sips of tea, offering him a vague complaint.

“I can’t stand to be around him anymore.”

She could feel that he was staring straight at her side profile, but she couldn’t meet the boy’s unnerving red eyes for the moment.

She fiddled with the cup in front of her instead, gathering her thoughts as his eyes patiently drilled through her peripheral.

“He just repeats the same dumb mistakes. Over and over again. How can someone be so stupid?” she spat, thinking of a hundred crueler words that could describe her father even better than stupid could.

Soul looked away for a moment, scratching the back of his head.

“He is pretty stupid, I’m not gonna argue that. I think I’d rather say that he’s selfish and optimistic though. He knows what he does is fucked. He knows, and he still does it because he hangs on to the hope that maybe he won’t face the consequences.”

“Well, he’s faced plenty of consequences! My mother is gone, he’s going to have a divorce, and I hate him! How is that not a consequence to him?!” she cried out, placing her mug down with enough force to send droplets of tea around the table.

Soul seemed unfazed by her rough treatment of his personal belongings, shrugging half-heartedly. “Again, not saying he isn’t a complete idiot. Just saying there’s more layers to it. Call him what he is - a bastard. Shouldn’t blame it all on stupidity, that’s lettin’ him off easy.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she said with a heavy sigh, already feeling most of the fight leave her. “I understand why Mama left. Yet, her decision still hurts so much, Soul. Did she not think about me at all?”

His lips set into a tight line and he was wringing his hands out in a clear sign of discomfort. Had she broached a weird subject with him? Did he have issues with his own parents like this?

It occurred to her that she honestly didn’t have a single clue about her partner’s personal life prior to joining the DWMA. Did that make her a bad partner?

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly towards the floor, “It’s normal to hurt from something like that. I’d like to tell you that she won’t stay away for long, but I don’t really know that, Maka. I’m sorry.”

“I know -  I’m not expecting you to have answers. It just helps that you’re listening, I guess. So, thanks for that,” she tried to force a smile, but Soul was entirely unconvinced of it, only offering a sympathetic quirk of his lips in return. Still, she continued, “There’s some messed up part of me that wishes they could have just stayed together. That somehow things could go back to the way they were when I was younger, like none of this ever happened.”

He was staring at the floor again, but quickly met her eyes with a dull, haunting sadness that seemed beyond his years.

“It’s better that they split. Nothing good comes from forcing it just to keep up an image, trust me.”

The way his voice trembled like his throat was closing up encouraged Maka to change the subject.

“I don’t want to go back there,” she whispered, drawing her knees up to her chest as she felt that familiar, unwelcome heat gather behind her eyes again.

“Then don’t. You know I’ve got the extra bedroom. It’s pretty normal for partners to live together, ya know.”

Her eyebrows jumped to her hairline at this suggestion. “Like, I can just move in here? with you?”

“I mean, yeah. Why not?”

She couldn’t really come up with many downsides when she truly thought about it. It’d be helpful to have her weapon partner close by. There was the possibility that they could drive each other crazy enough to completely ruin their already hard-earned resonance.

And yet - that wasn’t a very good excuse. What kind of flimsy excuse of partners would they be if they couldn’t maintain decent resonance rates just from spending more time together?

They were stronger than that. This could work.

Another thought tugged at her heart. “I would be leaving behind my family.”

“We could be our own family,” he asserted with confidence, but it wavered when he saw the way she looked at him - like he had suggested something romantic between them. His cheeks and the tips of his ears lit up pink and he immediately backpedaled, “Uh- like, partners? Right? We have each others’ backs … like a family,” he trailed off, scratching his cheek and looking anywhere but at her face.

For all his snark and stoicism she realized he was rather shy. It was kind of cute. What the hell did I just think?! She attempted to compensate for her own internal embarrassment by bumping his shoulder roughly with her own.

“Okay. sounds good, partner. So what’s the plan for the rest of the day? And don’t tell me you’re just going to sit around and watch TV.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that. It’s Saturday, for fuck’s sake.”

“No, that isn’t engaging enough,” she said, flicking his cheek and earning herself a scowl in response.

“Fine. I have an idea for a therapeutic activity,” he said as he got up and crouched down beside the cabinet under the TV, pulling out two game remotes.

Maka was already shaking her head in disapproval.

“C’mon bookworm. Play me in Mortal Kombat. You can pull my spine out - it’s fun and the violence will make you feel better, promise.”

“I’m not playing some brain-rotting, man fantasy, thank you very much.”

He ignored her entirely and began working on hooking up his console.

“Just pretend you’re fighting your old man,” he suggested over his shoulder.

She smiled despite herself and placed a light kick against his back from her spot on the couch. “Fine, but you have to come with me to Papa’s place later today to help me get my stuff.”

“Yeah, sure thing. How much you wanna bet I could make him cry?”

In that moment, she came to the conclusion that she had chosen a good family. 

She was going to be okay.

[cupidcreates]

Love You Equally

Chapter Eighteen - Cold Shoulders and Kisses

Part 4.2: Thursday

You jolted as the door you were just about to knock on swung open wide, a wave of heat and sound blasting you in the face and forcing you back several paces. In the doorway stood the forms of Toga and Jin, both falling abruptly silent as they noticed you, first still raised, on the doorstep. You stood staring at each other momentarily before the annoyed voice of Shigaraki sounded behind them. 

The trio moved out of the way to allow you access to their shared home, wishing you well and telling you to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Anything, save for Shigaraki's stash of foreign sodas, he was very sure to emphasize for you before departing. You hung your coat on the same hanger as last time and deposited your shoes on the shoe rack just below. It was clear Dabi had the house cleaned up because it wasn’t nearly as haphazard as the last time you were here. As you made your way down the hall you heard a soft rumbling noise emanating from the room at the back. As you drew level with the door and crossed the threshold of the room you were able to place the noise as the vacuum Dabi currently had running.

You suppose he’d been embarrassed the last time you and Katsuki had visited because instead of the room being filled with piles of dirty laundry, used plates, and crushed up drink cans it was now almost spotless with everything ordered and arranged so neatly that even Iida would be envious.

You leaned against the doorframe and watched as Dabi finished vacuuming, unaware of your presence until he turned around and spotted you observing him. He smiled and beckoned you in, winding up the cord on the vacuum and putting it away in the closet as you sat on his neatly made bed. Dabi crosses the floor and flopped down beside you, legs dangling over the edge as he huffed dramatically about the amount of cleaning he had to do for you. You rolled your eyes and told him you certainly hadn’t made him clean for you, he chose to do that of his own volition.

“Yeah but I wanted to impress you mouse,” he countered “and I can’t have you thinking I live  like a slob all of the time, now can I?” 

You grinned and pushed yourself further onto the bed, back now pressed up against the pillows leaning on the headboard. He moved up to lay next to you, resting on his side with his head propped up on his unbroken hand, watching you as you told him about your week and how finals were getting on your nerves.

He chuckled “that’s normal mouse, finals are always a kick in the teeth, you’ll get used to it as the years pass by.”

“I sure hope so,” you sighed letting your head roll back against the headboard “cause I can’t be having week long headaches like this forever.”

Dabi hummed in response, staring at you with an odd expression on his face, as if he was pondering his next move. You stared back and were once again taken by just how beautiful he was to look at; with his soft black hair, brilliant blue eyes, and jawline sharp enough to cut diamond, there was very little about Dabi that wasn’t enthralling.

“Mouse,” he said abruptly, making you start and snap out of your trance, “would you mind if I kissed you?”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sudden ask, opening and closing  your mouth like a fish out of water. You felt heat rise in your face and neck as a wide grin spread over Dabi’s face.

“Cat got your tongue, little mouse?” He teased, lifting himself up off his elbow and onto his hands and knees in front of you. Drawing just close enough for you to smell the peppermint on his breath he asked, “should I take this response as a yes, little mouse?”

You closed your mouth and nodded, not trusting your words to convey your consent appropriately. He grinned and put his hand under your chin, tilting your head up and meeting your lips in a searing kiss.

Dabi, you quickly came to find out, had more experience with kissing than your previous three soulmates; far from starting out chaste he pressed his lips against yours with just enough pressure to be demanding but not overwhelming. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip and pulled it down with his teeth to gain access to your mouth. Once open he thrust his tongue against yours, letting his piercing clack against your teeth and graze the roof of your mouth.

There was no question here who was in charge of this kiss, Dabi groaned into your mouth and grabbed your thighs, pulling you down towards his hips till your back was pressed against the bed and your ass was flush against his crotch. He gently spread your legs apart and slotted himself in between them, grinding his crotch down hard into yours and making you gasp and moan into the kiss.

The sound seemed to travel down his spine and straight to his cock, which you felt twitch and begin to harden through your clothes. He pressed his body flush against yours and began a slow, filthy grind; tongue fucking your mouth to the rhymth of his thrusts. Dabi’s natural heat combined with the warmth boiling in your stomach lit your skin on fire and made you sure you would combust.

But just as soon as it started, he pulled back from you, lifting his chest off of yours and breaking the kiss, leaving only a thin line of spit briefly connecting you both.

“We should - we should wait, I think,” he painted out “to go any further I mean. It’s just with everything going on right now I’m not sure this is the best idea.”

You could see in his eyes how much he hated the idea, pupils blown so wide the black of them almost entirely obfuscated the iris, leaving only a bright ring of blue to surround the inky darkness of them. He wanted so badly to continue, to fuck you into the mattress right here and now, you could feel it in the throbbing of his cock against you; and if your wetness was anything to go by you wanted it nearly as much as he did.

But he was right, you conceded, it wouldn’t be the best move to do this here and now. It was better to wait until the dust had settled and you were able to clear the misunderstanding within the bond up.

You reluctantly agreed, but made a promise to him that as soon as this was all clear you’d have him. He grinned and gave you one last peck on the lips.

“I can’t wait, little mouse.”

Masterlist

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[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 39 Pt 2

“Liam, Finn, bath or shower please.” He said as he walked past them to stand outside her office door. He waited until the twins were in the other room before tapping on the door. It had suddenly become very quiet in there. “Sildie?” He opened the door further and the sight broke his heart. She sat on the floor slumped against the bookshelf full of her brothers books. Broken, he thought, this had broken something inside her, crushed her. He crouched in front of her, those silent tears tracking down her cheeks, eyes vacantly staring ahead like he wasn’t even there. Those eyes of ice blue focused on him as his knuckles brushed the tears away. “Come back to me love, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“She took it.” She sobbed, those sobs that made no sound, just jerked her body relentlessly.

“I know love, I’m sorry.”

“It shouldn’t matter it’s just a stupid charm, but it does matter. It was mine, from Quinn, and she took it.” Even her voice sounded broken, defeated.

“Who were you yelling at on the phone?” He asked carefully.

“Public prosecutor. I’ll owe him an apology tomorrow, but I can’t really seem to find a fuck to give right now.” This wasn’t like her, he thought, to lash out like this.

“Why were you yelling at him?” He asked trying to get a handle of what was going on.

“She’s being arraigned tonight and I told him to deny bail. He didn’t like it when I told him how to do his job and didn’t give a shit about his opinion.”

“She’s going to get bail isn’t she?” He felt his gut plummet.

“Highly likely even though she’s a fucking flight risk.” She spat. “She’ll worm her way out of this too no doubt.”

“How could she when they caught her right there?” He struggled to keep his temper under control and his voice even.

“Two words. Prove. It.” She held up a finger at a time to emphasize her words. “She was just sitting in her car. Unless they find evidence on her or in the car she’ll walk for that. I’m hoping her hands are covered in red paint, or there’s at least some on her that they can match to the car, or a fingerprint. Fucking anything at this point. The drugs they found on the other hand...”

“Drugs they found?” He cut in, eyebrow shooting up.

“A substantial amount packed ready for a long drive, probably to a buyer. If they can prove it was going over the border they can get her on trafficking. The kicker is they’ll cut her a deal to get the buyer and she’ll walk.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snapped. She could see his fury get the better of him for a moment before he reeled it back in.

“I wish I was.” Her voice barely there.

“Leon said they’d charge her with everything he could to keep her locked up.” He continued and he felt his anger surge forward and banked it, hard. No, he thought, he couldn’t be angry at Sildie, none of this was her fault, but damn he wanted to rage at someone. Now he understood why she’d done exactly that at the poor souls on the other end of the phone.

“He did, I was yelling at Leon earlier about that too.” She sighed, she was so fucking tired now the adrenaline had crashed. “The vandalism charges will stick, but that will only carry a fine, the restraining orders will bite her in the ass because I had the kids with me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know where or if Elias fits into all this, Dana’s family. I’m tired Gustaf, and I’m just so fucking done.”

“You call Elsa?” He asked gently.

“She was my first call.” Scrubbing a hand over her face she stood, not able to keep still anymore. “Those violations carry a heavier punch, but it may not be enough if the prosecution decides to go after whoever she’s moving drugs for. Apparently the safety of our family means fuck all when catching a drug runner is on the table. It’ll come down to which judge we end up with and how the prosecutor goes after her.”

“What a fucking mess.” He sighed getting to his feet to stand in front of her, fingers combing through her hair.

“That’s a fucking understatement.” She snorted.

“What’s going on love? There’s something deeper here.” He asked softly. She stared at him, that flash of irritation in her eyes her only warning, don’t push. “Talk to me, please. It’s not like you to just lose your shit like this at people.” He was concerned. He’d take it if she raged at him, at least she wouldn’t be bottling it up.

“I’m reconsidering my current career path. As in today made me so angry and sick at the system I swore an oath to uphold, I’m reconsidering my career as a lawyer.” Which was the truth. She was going to watch Ana slide on so much shit it had her questioning her own ethics, her own identity as an attorney.

He expected a bombshell, but not quite one of this magnitude. “Sildie.” He breathed softly.

“How can I uphold the law when it turns around and screws you? Sure, I knew this sort of thing happened well before I passed the bar, but today just kicked me in the fucking teeth with it.” She was gutted, felt as if her whole existence was somehow all a lie. “Nothing I do is fucking good enough to keep her away from us, from the kids.” She started to wind up again and he let her, she needed to be heard and get it out of her system. “I couldn’t even keep Elias away. She fucking told him where we’d moved to. He was knocking on our door.” She gestured the space between them. “Our door Gustaf, not my old apartment door which is listed on the restraining order. Our home.” Her voice cracked and it broke his heart in two. “She fucking sent him here to hurt me to get to you, to accomplish...” She wheezed a breath and sucked it in. “I just can’t do this anymore.” She keened. “I can’t keep throwing everything I have at it and...” Her breath wheezed as she focused on not passing out.

“Breathe love.” He said tenderly. “Had this been someone else would it be the same outcome?” He asked urging her to come closer, to seek the comfort she knew he’d give her.

“Yes.” She choked, trying to regulate her breathing.

“You’re a good lawyer Sildie, don’t let her win by throwing that away and second guessing who you are.” He tugged her into his arms, felt the hesitation, as if her presence would somehow taint him, hurt him. “Together.” He murmured as his arms wrapped around her, cocooning her into him. “Breathe love.” He kissed her temple and lingered. “Just breathe.”

“I’m sorry I lost my shit earlier.” She mumbled into his chest, steadier breaths relaxing her shoulders. The warmth of him, his scent soothing the raw edges of her fury that still simmered.

“You had every right to lose it.” He kissed her temple as she held onto him, the soft knock at the door causing her to tense.

“The twins are in bed ready for a story.” Brendan said softly. “Apparently I don’t cut it.” He chuckled and Sildie snorted a laugh.

“You do just fine love.” She said and pulled away from Gustaf to hug the teen. “Thanks for taking care of them today in the parking lot.” The kid shrugged as if to say no big deal.

“Come on B, let’s go read some Harry.” Gustaf sighed as he headed out, squeezing Sildie’s shoulder as he walked past. He knew there was more to this conversation.

She watched them go and breathed out slowly, she was beat to hell and riding on that seething hatred she didn’t know she could ever feel more acutely. It had hit her hard, but she knew it had hit Gustaf harder, he’d buried it for her but it was there, a rage so volatile she wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it if he let it loose. Maybe the trip away would give them both time and space to hash it out. Sitting at her desk she emailed Lindstrom to engage his services, she had to prepare for that fight if it came, whether it was her or Gustaf in the hot seat, she’d be ready, because she just knew Ana would find some way to turn this around even if it was just to twist the knife in Gustaf a little more. And if she followed what her gut instinct was telling her, Ana would use Elias to do it. She would use him to inflict as much pain on Gustaf as she could. “How are you going to do it though?” She muttered under her breath. “That’s the sixty four million dollar question.”

He got the twins settled and sat with Brendan to ease his own mind more than anything. The kids were safe, he reassured himself, Lily tucked into bed fast asleep, the twins, B, all safe. He went into more detail with Brendan about Ana, the cliff notes version. The kids quite “that’s fucked up” making him chuckle before he agreed with the teen.

Lighting some candles in the bathroom he filled the tub, they both needed to soak and relax, Sildie more so. She was starting to distance herself, not just from him, but the kids too, and that wasn’t a good sign. With the bath full he found her in her office furiously typing, her voice as she spoke barely held restraint of the fury still simmering.

“Thanks, yes I’ll send those through as soon as I get them processed.” She hung up and ignored him, plowing through her next task. She had closed her emotions and herself off to everyone.

“Sildie.”

“One sec, I just have to electronically file these and I’ll be done for the night.” Her voice was clipped, she was on the verge of tears yet that lawyer surfaced to contain the anger she was still riding. There’s my lawyer, he thought. Strong, wicked smart, and doesn’t take any crap. My goddess in the storm.

Once the paperwork was filed she sat back and blew out a breath, hands spread out in surrender at her laptop.

“Enough for tonight love.” He said gently and closed the laptop before holding his hand out for hers. “Let it be done now.” She eyed his hand and he waited, don’t shut me out love, he pleaded silently, please.

After a long pause, when she felt she could keep it together a moment longer, she took his hand. It was then she noticed the soft jazz playing in the living room drifting to her. He pulled her to her feet and tucked her in to dance, the gentle sway and strong arms holding her making her breath shudder out. “Let it out love.” His low timbre soothed her, the tears falling of their own volition. “It hit you hard didn’t it?” All she could do was nod through the soft sobs. “Me too, I was so worried she’d hurt you, hurt the kids.”

“You’re angry.” She said simply.

“I’m beyond angry.” He kissed her temple lingering, breathing in the scent of her hair, of her. “Livid comes close, murderous is closer still. I don’t think there are words invented yet to describe it.”

“I’m sorry I scared you when I phoned. I didn’t want to call you but knew you’d be pissed if I didn’t.” The sob escaping before she could contain it. “I wanted to protect you from it, protect that peace you’d found. She has no right to take that from you again.”

“Sildie I’m not angry with you love.” He said softly and held her tighter. “I’m glad you called me and yes I would have been pissed if you hadn’t. We do this together. Stronger together remember.” He hooked a finger under her chin and kissed her tenderly when her eyes met his. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I don’t know what to feel. I’m angry and sad and terrified all rolled into one.”

“Be all three, just don’t shut me out.” He kissed her gently.

“I’m not, I’m just... I’m trying not to completely fall apart.”

“My love.”

“I felt something break inside me today when I saw the car.” She sniffed, the tears flowing freely. “It’s one thing after another Gustaf and I just can’t keep dealing with more shit on top of everything else we’re trying to balance. This is hard enough with the kids, us, our careers.” He kissed her brow as she let it flood out of her.

“Breathe love.” He said gently as he heard the tell tale wheeze of her anxiety starting to gain the upper hand again. She did, his scent tangling around her senses and knocking her stress levels down a few notches. “Come with me, I have a bath ready for you, come and soak. No more thinking tonight, switch it off, we’re all safe. You’ve done everything you can love, and more.” She didn’t speak, just nodded her head and followed him. “It’s just a car.”

“But it was the car you bought me.” She said quietly. Turning to her he kissed her tenderly.

“And I’ll buy you another one if this one can’t be repaired. There are more precious things in life to me than that car Sildie, you and the kids for starters.” He kissed her brow. “You’re safe and unharmed, that’s all that matters.”

Once in the bathroom he helped her undress and made sure she was up to her neck in hot water before heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. The knock at the door had him grinding his teeth. “For fuck sake.” He swore and stormed over to see Leon on the screen. Unlocking the door he tried not to let his annoyance show.

“Not to be a complete asshole Leon, but we’re kind of wrung out from today.”

Leon held up his hand. “I understand I just wanted to drop this off.” In his hand was Sildie’s charm. “I tried to scrub off as much of the red paint from it, but I though she’d want it as soon as possible.”

Gustaf felt his emotions choke him and he really did feel like an asshole now. “Thank you.” He breathed. “You have no idea what this will mean to her.”

“She doing ok?” Leon asked gently.

Gustaf shook his head. “It broke her today. This was the last straw. She’s been trying to deal with the grief and move forward, put it all in its place. Then with Ana and Elias on top of it. She’s at her absolute limit of additional bullshit.”

“I get it. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Just wanted her to have it back straight away.” Leon said quickly. “I’ll get the hockey mask back as soon as possible.”

“I appreciate it, this will help.” He blew out a breath, the relief flooding him as he weighed the charm in his hand before clenching it in his fist.

“I’ll keep you posted, and let Sildie know I got her paperwork and I’ve filed it already, Lindstrom and Elsa sent me a ton of stuff too.” He said fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “She’ll know what I mean.” He added seeing Gustaf’s puzzled look.

“Thanks Leon.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

He looked at the charm in his hand, the bright blue ribbon stained an ugly reddish brown. Feeling that rage rise, he breathed and calmed his mind, he was better than this, Sildie deserved better from him. Locking the door he walked back to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, scraping at the paint on the silver Celtic knot, he’d get it cleaned and restrung for her, fix it up as best as he could.

The soft stroke of her arm had her eyes fluttering open, her mind for the most part blissfully blank, she was wiped.

“Tea for you love.” He said kneeling and placing the cup on the tiles. “Lavender and thyme.”

“You’re too good to me.” She smiled softly. “You coming in?”

“In a little bit. I need to go work the bag, clear my head.” He kissed her, those lips soft and sweet. “I’m not shutting you out, I’ll talk after, I just need to get it out, take the edge off.” He added and kissed her tenderly.

“Ok.” Her wet hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into it before he turned his head and kissed her palm. “I love you, you’re stronger than her.”

“I know, so are you love.”

“Go do what you need to do, then come soak with me.” She said softly.

“If you’re not asleep by then.” He chuckled, that warm, sleepy smile on her face.

“But you like it when I’m all warm and soft and sleepy.” Her words slurring.

“I do.” He kissed her again and chuckled as she sighed and sank back up to her neck in the water. “I love you Sildie.”

“Love you too sweet man.” She mumbled.

Shutting the door to his workout room he breathed out a forced breath, shucked his clothes, and donned the shorts. Strapping on the gloves forcefully he let the afternoon flood in, fast and furious, he wanted to feel every ounce of that anger and rip it from his being. He struck hard and quick, the brutal punches landing so solidly that the shockwave rippled up his arms, bones and joints singing. As he unleashed, he brought the sight of Sildie’s face when he stepped out of the car into his mind, lost, shattered, broken.

“How fucking dare you.” He growled as he hammered the bag. “You want to come after me, then come after me you fucking coward ass bitch, but you don’t get to lash out at her. You don’t get to fuck with my woman or my kids.” His hiss fueled his rage, the burst of shackled fury ripping from him. He pounded the bag for nearly an hour, the extreme physical exertion cathartic. When his anxiety snuck up on him he dropped to his knees and sucked in a breath. “They’re safe, just breathe, it’s done now. It’s enough.” Leaning his forehead against the bag he let it roll off him, breathing through it. Stripping the gloves off he sat for meditation, that would help him more now, he needed to find that calm before he could help Sildie. There would be more tears tonight before they slept and he needed to be the man she deserved, the man she could lean on, depend on.

He smiled as he walked into their bathroom after checking on the kids. She was nearly asleep, eyes closed, drifting. After rinsing off in the shower, he drained out some of the water and refilled the tub, her eyes watching his every move.

“You look very comfortable there love.” He chuckled as he climbed in and sat at the other end of the tub so he could stretch out.

“Iyam.” Her smile was sleepy.

He reached out his ridiculously long arms and hit the button for the jets, her groan of pleasure made him laugh.

“I always forget about those and how good they feel.” She sighed. Pulling her feet into his lap those clever fingers rubbed her foot, thumbs digging into the arch. “If you stop, I may have to...” His low growled chuckle send a shiver of arousal through her. How did he do that to her, she wondered? How, after such a craptastic day could he make her feel like a queen, his queen, his goddess?

“Have to what love?” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I don’t know, I can’t think.”

“Good, your not supposed, no more thinking.” His tone that low timbre she adored.

His hands were magic as they kneaded the stress from her feet, her calves, and worked their way up her thighs until he was sitting between them, her legs resting either side of his hips. “You’re nearly alsleep.” He smiled, his eyes finding hers as they fluttered open.

“I’m wiped.” She ran a finger along his jaw before leaning in and kissing him softly. “What time do we leave tomorrow?”

“Whenever we decide to leave. After today we’re not even packed. Let’s sleep and rest, we’ll go when we’re ready. There’s no timetable for the next week and a half.” He kissed her thoroughly, the soft moan making his cock twitch to attention.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, she felt bad that she’d not checked in with him sooner, too busy having her own epic meltdown.

“I’m better now I’ve got my head around it.” He kissed her sweetly. “Better now that you’re relaxed, and soft, and warm.” Hands at her hips he pulled her into his lap, her legs wrapping around him. “How about you? You ok?” Her slight nod wasn’t all that convincing, but it was a start. “We can’t change what happened love, we can only do so much before it’s out of our hands and in the courts hands. And I know...” He kissed her quickly before she could reply. “I know that it bites you seven ways to Sunday that you can’t fix it, I know that you’re at your limit. But we can’t let her win.”

“I didn’t let her see my reaction, it was only after they took her away and you came that I fell to pieces.” Her voice barely a whisper, ashamed to admit she’d crumbled.

“That’s because you’re so much stronger and smarter than she is love.” He leaned forward and grabbed the charm he’d placed by her teacup when he’d come in. “Leon came over before I hit the bag.” Taking her hand in his he turned it over palm side up and placed the charm inside, closing her fingers over it. “He thought you’d want it back as soon as he could get it out of evidence.”

Opening her hand she saw the Celtic charm her brother gave her, stained with red paint, though someone had tried to clean it.

“When we get back I’ll have it professionally restored and restrung, but I thought you’d want it in the car with us for the trip.” He wiped the tears that fell without permission, the overwhelming relief that it wasn’t lost, a piece of Quinn still remained. “Where it belongs.”

“She took it out of spite.” Her voice was barely there as she stared at it.

“She took it to hurt you, to hurt the kids, and in turn, to hurt me. And it did, she knows I’m a sentimental fool, that I feel everything others feel. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that white hot fury, the barely contained rage.” She was the one person he could talk to about his demons and not feel judged. “A few years ago that scene would have ended every differently, more than likely with myself in cuffs for grievous bodily harm when I found her.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek and kissed her tenderly. “It’s in me Sildie, to do that to another human being.”

“It’s in all of us love. Hell, I even thought about throwing down with her. It was your choice not to act on it, to be the stronger, better person.”

“I’m a better person because of you.” He kissed her again.

“You’re a better person because you choose to be, Gustaf. Giving into your demons is easier than fighting them.” Wet hands cupped his face as she claimed his mouth, devouring it slowly. “I’m proud of you love, for the man you’re trying to become. You work so hard at it, and I’ll protect that at all costs.”

“I love you.” He kissed her tenderly, only deepening it when her hands roamed his chest. “Leon said he’d filed the paperwork you sent?”

“Good, that’s good.” She said absently.

“And that would be why?”

“Complicated. I’m building the case against her and Elias if the link is there. It’s getting everyone on the same page, moving in the same direction. Pulling all the little details together to paint a picture. I’m just waiting for the epiphany. The last piece of the damn puzzle that links you, to Ana, to me, to the drugs, to Elias. Where your family fits in with Eija and Alex, Dana’s family. It’s there I just need to tug the right thread.”

“My wicked smart goddess.” He smiled. “Thank you for fighting for me, my family. You didn’t have to include them but you did, you’re keeping them safe too and that means the world to me Sildie, I don’t have the words.”

“Our family.” She corrected and he saw the steel flicker in her eyes. “They’re my family now too.” There’s my girl, he thought.

“Yes they are.” He let the soft kiss draw her in before claiming her mouth, tongue flicking, teasing, saying come play with me.

She felt him harden, his kiss stealing her thoughts and whisking them away to some unknown box in her mind, buried deep. She set the charm next to her teacup and turned back to him. Tender fingers roamed his chest, over every contour, every dip. His hands gently gripped her ass pulling her closer to slide his cock along her heat. He poised at her entrance, the soft gasp as his tip stretched her.

“You are my everything love.” He murmured, the gently thrust and pull of her hips as he sheathed himself in her soft silken walls.

“Gustaf.” She whimpered, his body pressed against her tightly.

“My Sildie.” He growled, his mouth teased hers as he rocked her hips against his, the deliberately slow movement erotic for both of them. “All mine.” His hands gripped her hips, moving her on and off him as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. They moved together, the slow rhythm, the heat of the bath, the jets bubbling around them, passion and love. Tonight was about compassion, the connection they had and strengthening it, nurturing it. Slipping a hand between them he stroked her clit, her cry into his mouth making him smile. “I love that sound.” He breathed, kissing her softly. “When you’re full with me, riding me.” He circled her clit, the torturous pace bringing her undone. “My goddess.”

“Gustaf, please.” She cried, the tears almost real as she was desperate for release, to feel anything other than the emotional rollercoaster from the day, her hands frantic over his body.

“Go over love, let me feel you.” He felt her peak and gently nipped at her throat as she tossed her head back offering it to him. Her cry as she came was music to his ears, that stunning body tensing around him before she exploded.

She held onto him tightly as her orgasm rocked her to her core, his cock feeling so thick as he continued to take her.“You’re turn.” She sighed, wanting nothing more than to feel him come.

“My Sildie.” He breathed. “My love.” His thrusts were deep and measured as he held her to him tightly, as she rocked in his lap. “Come for me love, take me with you.” It didn’t take much to tip her over the edge again with a soft cry. The clench of her pussy around his cock too much. He came hard, her mouth claiming his as they rode each other into oblivion.

He kissed her tenderly as they caught their breath. “Shall we dry off and go to bed?”

“Mmmmm.” She was so relaxed. “I think you fucked my bones to goo.” She chuckled.

“Took the edge off?” He grinned at her nod.

“I’m all sleepy and relaxed.”

“Good, that’s what we’re aiming for. Out you hop, my ass is almost asleep.” He chuckled and her smile against his lips lightened his heart, maybe the worst of the day was behind them. Fuck he hoped so.

He helped her to her feet, made sure she’d stepped out of the tub without slipping before he pulled the plug and got out himself. Wrapped in a large fluffy towel he drew her close and held her, drying her off. He took the teacups to the kitchen as she checked on the kids before they ended up in bed, all soft and warm.

He held her tenderly, the sudden need to feel her close overwhelming him. The day had finally caught up with him and he needed it to just find its own way out, he was exhausted from keeping his emotions contained. With her head on his chest those fingers moving in lazy patterns, the movement soothing and sensual, he let the tears slip free. “You’re my everything Sildie.” He said softly.

She craned her head back to see the silent tears she knew had started to fall, his lips kissing her brow and lingering. “You’re my everything too.” He had no words just looked at her, fingers raking through her hair to calm himself, willing the tears to stop. She brushed them away, her kiss soft and tender. “You’re enough for me.” She murmured and he nodded. “I won’t let her destroy what we have or what you’ve fought so hard for. I’ll help you find that peace again.”

“You already have love.” He kissed her tenderly. “You’re my home Sildie, you’re my peace.” His kiss seared her lips, all that love he held in his heart for her pouring out. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweet man.”

“We need sleep if we’re going to be up with the kids and drive to the cabin.” He chuckled wanting to get a grip on his emotions and her smile lit up his world.

“We do, but I liked our relaxation time. Or is that classed as playtime?” She giggled and his laugh eased her mind, he hadn’t completely spiraled.

“I liked it too, and I think playtime is more apt.” Squeezing her tight he kissed her again and pulled the covers over them both. “You staying there sprawled all over me?” He quipped.

“Yes. I’m comfy.”

“Me too.” His growl making her giggle again. “Sleep love.”

“You too.” She yawned, the bath time activities doing just what he’d hoped.

He felt her relax and a few breaths later plummet into sleep, complete exhaustion consuming her. “Sleep my love. It’ll look better in the morning with fresh eyes and a change of scenery.” He kissed her hair and breathed her in, refusing to let the events of the day rob him of any more of his hard earned peace. “She’s not worth the effort and I won’t let her win.” He needed to voice it, even if it was just for him to hear. “She doesn’t get to fuck with this.” With Sildie tucked in close he drifted before plunging into sleep with her.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

[lifblogs]

Whumpay: Day 4 - Ice / Fire

Stay Strong, My Love

read on ao3 2572 words mature, star wars: rebels, hera syndulla, grand admiral thrawn, graphic depictions of violence, torture, interrogation, electrocution, forced nudity, slavery mention, minor sexual assault, hypothermia, cultural appropriation, referenced rape/non-con (this is basically a dead dove: do not eat)

Hera couldn’t believe she had been captured. And by Grand Admiral Thrawn. That dirty Imperial low-life! She wanted to punch him in the face, find out what color his blood was. She tended to not think of herself as a violent person, and fought when she had to and for what she believed in. But he had rubbed his disrespectful and ruining hands all over her culture. He’d taken her family’s kalikori and kept it like it was some kind of trophy. To him, her culture was nothing but something to be collected to survive the extermination he was part of.

But her culture wasn’t a trophy, or artwork for any scum to just admire. It was hers, her family’s!

And now she was captured by this horrid man.

She was restrained in one of the interrogation chairs, the metal cold and hard against her.

Thrawn walked into the room, as poised as ever, and Hera snarled at him.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Her gut instinct was to swear at him, to tell him how horrible he was, but no, that would surely have no effect on him. Instead she asked, “Does this look comfortable?”

“Hmm… I suppose not. But that’s the point, isn’t it?” He approached her, and got so close she could smell him, could feel his breath on her face. Hera tried to shy away, but she was strapped in tight. “Discomfort. Pain. These are all things that will hopefully extract the information as to the whereabouts of your base from you.”

He caressed her cheek, and she restrained the urge to spit at him.

Keep it together, Hera. You’re better than that.

A small frown crossed his face when she pulled away.

“I wish I could say I was sorry about this, as I do respect you, and find your culture most… interesting. But, you see, you’re undermining the Empire, so there is no way we can be friends. Not unless you cooperate, of course.”

“What makes you think I’m going to cooperate with you?”

“Oh, you will,” he said in his soft, accented voice, that was somehow brimming with confidence. “In time, my dear. Now, enough pleasantries. Shall we begin?”

Thrawn went over to the desk across from Hera, and picked up a remote that was on it. He fiddled with some of the controls, and then the chair’s conduits were drawing close to her.

Hera had been in pain before, had struggled. Though this situation was new, she hoped she could get through it. She had to. She dared not even think of—

Stop. Don’t even think the name.

So Hera tried to think of something else as the conduits drew closer to her head, as there was a slight whine as they began to charge.

Think of Kanan.

Drawing up any happy memories or images was difficult with the calm way that Thrawn stood before her, ready to hurt her. He was clearly determined to get his way.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said to her.

Hera gave him a fierce grin despite how she was beginning to shake with fear, and said, “I’m afraid we do.”

A small smile upturned one corner of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s mouth, and he pressed a button.

Suddenly, it was like Hera was being stabbed a thousand times over. And then the stabbing turning into fire. Her body convulsed of its own volition, muscles spasming and aching. She had no control of the tortured sounds that left her. She forgot everything but the aching and the stabbing and the fire. Oh, the fire.

Every second was unbearable, and there was no part of Hera that could stand it.

After what was surely an eternity, the conduits were powered down. The electrocution stopped.

Hera trembled, her head aching. Her vision was blurry, and she began to feel… numb in certain places, even with the fire crawling over her face. She couldn’t breathe. Oh stars, she couldn’t breathe!

Thrawn came forward, and she started as one of his hands touched her lekku.

Hera tried to growl at him, but all that got her was drool unceremoniously dribbling from her mouth and onto her chin. To her great surprise, Thrawn wiped it away for her.

Was this even real?

She shook her head, trying to clear it. His hand was still caressing her lekku, examining the one on the left.

“Fascinating.”

“Don’t… Don’t touch me!” she got out.

And then she realized her mistake. He now knew one thing that got to her. But how could it not get to her? Only family members and Kanan were allowed to touch her there. And with Kanan it had to be in private.

Hera tried to bury the hurt under an amusing memory, but it wouldn’t come to mind. She was too groggy. There was just this scum. Hera wanted to see him crushed, even wanted to do it herself.

“So are these tattoos? I heard these are… very sensitive. How brave of you.”

“What does it matter to you? Just get your hands off me!”

Thrawn stroked her left lekku once more, and the sensations burned, but not with the same fire that was consuming her face. This was one was soft, deep, and sensual. She bit her lip against a groan, but a sound still came out—a whine.

Then he stepped back, and hefted the remote again.

“As you wish.”

This time when he pressed the button, Hera forgot where she was, and didn’t know how long she endured the agonies put upon her.

“Now,” Thrawn asked, “where is your base?”

“Kanan…” Hera breathed.

She… she needed Kanan. Where was he? Why couldn’t he be here with her?

No, no, no. That wouldn’t be good. That would mean he’d been captured too.

Was she captured?

Where was she?

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Hera looked up, her head falling back against the hard, unforgiving metal of the interrogation chair. And all she saw was Thrawn. His blue skin, his unforgiving red eyes, the makeup he wore around them.

“Go ahead,” Hera snarled. “Ask again.”

This time when the pain hit, when she was stabbed with fire, and her body was made to seize, the base came to mind. It was home for her, in a way. Just like the Ghost was.

Atollon.

When the pain stopped, in her tormented delirium, Hera began to say the name, but sudden clarity came upon her. She turned what she had started saying into a scream, hoping to fool Thrawn.

It seemed to work, as he sighed, and withdrew.

“Disappointing,” he commented. “Luckily, I know just what to do with you.”

He turned on the comms on his wrist, and ordered someone, “Jump to hyperspace. Set a course for Hoth.”

“Right away, sir,” came the response.

The smile that Thrawn gave her chilled her down to her bones. He caressed one of her lekku again, making her flinch and try turning her head to bite him. It was no use. He tugged, and gods, she wished she could kick him.

“I’ll leave you be now. Hopefully I won’t have to go to the extremes I’ve planned. I’ll let you rest, think about our conversation. It would be most beneficial for you to give me the information I seek.”

“Over my dead body.”

“No, that won’t do. Goodbye for now, Hera,” he said, making to leave. “Do think on where your base is. I’m very curious. It would save me a lot of work.

Hera tried to bare her teeth at him one last time as he left, but it came out more as a grimace.

When he was gone and the automatic door slid closed, she started crying.

~~~

An hour passed before Thrawn came back. In that time Hera was sure she’d lost consciousness a few times, because she’d seen Kanan. She’d seen Sabine, and Ezra, and Chopper, and Zeb. The Ghost.

Ato—

Stop. If you think the name he starts winning.

Hera had to hold out. Somehow.

“I hope you’re feeling more agreeable than you were earlier,” Thrawn said in lieu of a greeting.

“And I hope you’re less of an ass.”

“Funny. Now, where is the rebel base located?”

“What rebel base?” Hera asked, trying a tactic Kanan had taught her. To not give anything away during interrogations, to respond to questions with a question.

“Fine, if that’s how you want to act.”

Thrawn waved his hand, and there must’ve been a camera somewhere in the room, because soon stormtroopers were entering.

“Strip her,” Grand Admiral Thrawn said. “Put her in binders. And, oh, bring in a shock collar. I don’t want her wandering too far.”

“What… What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” he told her.

Hera tried to fight as she was released from the interrogation chair and the stormtroopers’ rough hands were on her, stripping her. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her head was spinning, and her mouth was making far too much saliva.

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me! Get away! Stop!”

They weren’t gentle with taking off her head covering, which left her lekku with an odd ache. Her clothes were being taken off, and she desperately wanted to cover herself. But she was held steady.

Suddenly, she was punched in the gut, and her head spun, the air in her lungs leaving her. First she had just felt the pressure of the blow, but now it was beginning to throb.

Hera forgot all about keeping her dignity in front of the enemy. What dignity was there in being forcibly stripped?

When that was done, she was left shivering, the room cold and unforgiving. The stormtroopers put her in binders, and another came in with a shock collar.

Hera tried to kick at them, but it was simply unceremonious flailing with the way they held her fast. She was slapped across the burn on her face, drawing blood. Her vision went black, and she screamed.

Brain fogged with pain, she was hardly aware of when they put the shock collar on her. All she felt was the unnatural, horrible weight of it. And all of her tensed, waiting for pain that would surely come.

But none did for now.

“Take her outside.”

Oh. That’s what he was doing.

Thrawn seemed to notice the realization in her eyes, and he praised, “Good girl. I knew you were smart. You know, it doesn’t have to be this way. Just tell me where the rebel base is. This is your last chance.”

Hera, having lost all her dignity already, spit on him. The fucking bastard didn’t even flinch. He just wiped it away, and started leading the stormtroopers out.

Hera wanted to cry and hide, seek out a dark corner where no one would ever find her. Thankfully, Thrawn didn’t seem too interested in her nudity, but she couldn’t tell where the stormtroopers were looking because of their stupid helmets. She wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were… admiring her. She’d heard horror stories of what they did to her people on Ryloth. And she knew the terror of being a Twi’lek, that any of them could suddenly be captured and sold. Her people were popular in the slave trade, and she’d known of what was done to them since she was a child, having learned the hard way during the Clone Wars through seeing the torment of her people.

All that terror filled her, and the shame, and the humiliation. Hera didn’t want to exist anymore.

If she told them where the base was, maybe they’d let her put her clothes back on. They wouldn’t be doing these evil things. They might stop.

That nearly broke her.

But she knew she couldn’t tell them. Too many good people would suffer and die if she said that one word, that name. The rebellion would be over. The Empire would win.

Hera was just one person amongst all this. And she was one person who had to persevere.

Stay strong, my love, she heard in Kanan’s voice in her head. Maybe it was a memory, or perhaps it was real. Could she actually feel him? Could he reach out to her like that? Maybe she was just suffering from pain- and fear-induced delirium.

Hera was brought to the bay doors. Cold wind immediately attacked her as they opened, leaving her trying to retreat. But a stormtrooper shoved his blaster roughly into her lower back, making her grunt.

She was dragged down the ramp as it lowered, and then was tossed off of it, into the snow.

Hera’s breath was taken from her. Shock took over her body, and she couldn’t move, could barely think.

Snow, and ice, and wind attacked her. The cold was so fierce that it burned, not even acting as a balm for the injuries to her face. When her breath came back to her, she let out a strangled screech, the cold touching incredibly sensitive places on her body.

Over the wind, she heard Grand Admiral Thrawn: “Don’t try to run away. If you do…” She twisted to look at him, and through the blinding white and the excruciating cold digging into her, she saw him raise a remote. His thumb roved over it, almost sensually; and Hera was too frozen to feel sick inside. “Think on the location of your base. I’ll have someone come back to collect you… eventually.”

The ramp retracted, and the doors started closing. Somehow Hera got herself to move. She ran through the burning ice, and began banging her palms against the door, each smack feeling like it’d break skin.

“Hey!” she cried. “Hey, stop this! Please, let me in!”

Her pleas were useless, and eventually she gave up. She was so tired, so cold, and she nearly just sat down in the snow.

Keep moving.

Her motions were slow, but she trudged away from the ship. Remembering something Kanan had told her about one of the places he’d been she started digging into the snow. The stinging pain that quickly turned into numbness had her crying again. The tears froze on her face.

“Hera.”

“Kanan?”

He touched her shoulder, and she leaned against him, feeling his warmth.

“You know I’m always with you.”

“Of course, love.”

White turned to black.

Hera woke up, snow swirling around her, piled on top of her. How long had she been out here? Was she going to die? She couldn’t feel her body, or her face. Not even her lekku. There was nothing to feel. Perhaps she was getting frostbite now. Hypothermia.

How long? How long had she been out here? Since she wasn’t dead yet, surely only minutes.

Through bleary vision, and fighting exhaustion, she saw the doors open and the ramp descend. Stormtroopers came and collected her.

Hera lost consciousness as her ice cold body was dragged inside.

When next she woke, she was in a medical bay, and Thrawn was watching over her. She started, which pulled at the tubes and wires she was connected to.

Micro-injections pricked her all over from the shock blanket they had on her, making her wince.

But she could feel.

Did she want to feel?

“Hera Syndulla,” Grand Admiral Thrawn began, “where is your rebel base?”

An explosion rocked the ship. Kanan was here. Hera would be rescued.

She bared her teeth at him, and declared, “I’ll never tell you.”

[love-sapphirerose]

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 24

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-24/.170860

Look, there was never even the slightest chance that Yashahime's 24th episode would end up functioning as a proper series finale. I knew that. You knew that. We all knew that. Over the last six months, Yashahime has rambled, meandered, bungled, and straight tumbled ass-over-elbows in its vain attempts at telling a coherent and engaging story, but never has it managed to establish so much plot and character motivation that anyone would mistakenly think that it would be a one-and-done. I was a fool for ever dreaming of a world where Yashahime might have the decency to end here and now. Still, you can't blame a guy for hoping right?

Except, we've also learned what happens to hope when Yashahime comes calling, haven't we?

In a certain sense, you'd think a part of me would be happy to find out that “Sesshomaru's Daughter” was never meant to function as a complete conclusion to this story, because that could only mean that this season finale has less responsibilities to juggle, in the long run. In spite of every attempt on Yashahime's part to sabotage itself, that last couple of episodes managed to lay the groundwork for something that at least kind of resembles a conflict for this final chapter of the season: Zero has been revived by Sesshomaru's Tenseiga, and now she's got some Rainbow Pearl-fueled demonic wrath to bring down on our heroines; Kirinmaru has also descended from the sky to do…something, which can only mean double trouble for the girls!

Haha, no. That would be far too reasonable a direction to take the story, so instead Yashahime decides to spit right in its audience's face with more of The Usual Yashahime Bullshit™, starting mere seconds after Sesshomaru revives Zero with the Tenseiga. For some reason, Sesshomaru reveals that he is no longer concerned about her mortal link with Rin, and vows to do…something to her that involves a thorough stabbing. The logical assumption is that he wants to kill her, but that makes a negative amount of sense given that she was literally just dead, so I'm just going to pretend that Yashahime is trying to trick us, and that Sesshomaru's plans are more complicated than that. Is there even a scrap of proof to that effect? Hell no, but we're only a couple of minutes into this thing, and our collective sanity can only withstand so much of this malarkey.

Meanwhile, in Spooky Tree World: Jaken notices that Rin is crying. Later on, he manages to hitch a ride with Totosai and his cow thing, claiming that he needs to fix Rin's sadness. How does he plan on doing this? What purpose does this mission serve? I sure as hell don't know, and it never comes up again. Next scene.

Before Zero has the chance to do a single thing with her twice-recovered Rainbow Pearls, Kirinmaru lashes out and magically poofs them out across the corners of the land. Yes, after spending an entire season building up the Rainbow Pearls as the ultimate artifacts of unlimited power or whatever, they served no purpose whatsoever before the script re-scattered them like the knockoff Shikon Jewels they've always been. The most reaction that anyone musters is when Moroha says, "Oh damn. There they go." Cool, show. Cool.

As for Zero? She disowns her brother and then magically yeets herself away by thwipping her spider-web onto the thin air. Then, Riku stabs Kirinmaru, which does absolutely nothing, before he flicks his little earring and poofs away too. Then , Sesshomaru goes after Zero and explains that Kirinmaru should fight his daughters as a “rite of courage and cowardice.” He then also just zips off into the sky. No, we never see Zero or Riku again. Their entire involvement in this scheme was – you guessed it – absolutely pointless!

Around this point in the episode is where you might be asking: “Wait a minute. Why does Kirinmaru tell the girls he would have let them run away if they asked? Why does he seem concerned over Sesshomaru abandoning his children? Why did he turn on his sister; does he still want to kill the girls because of that one prophecy about getting murdered by a half-demon? What does any of this have to do with the big evil comet that is going to strike the Earth in the future?” Oh, you sweet summer child. Yashahime doesn't give a shit about your questions! And no, before you even think about it again, the future comet and the Mr. Kirin subplot are not ever mentioned again, either.

With all of that out of the way, the only thing left is the big showdown between Kirinmaru and the three girls, all of whom decide to stay and fight the guy who has already handily kicked their asses without so much as breaking a sweat because…they think he's lying about being strong? And Setsuna doesn't want to back down from the rite of passage she only just learned about thirty seconds beforehand? Sure. Fine. Let's go with that. Who cares?

Now, I do want to say at least one nice thing about this episode. Even though most of the episode looks embarrassingly sloppy and rushed, the visuals really turn themselves around for this last fight, especially right at the beginning. Each of the three girls gets a delightfully-animated action cut to show off their moves, and kudos to the artists in charge of those sequences. If anything, the sequence might look a little too good, as it clashes mightily with the butt-ugly visuals that the show usually sports and serves as a bittersweet reminder of the series that Yashahime could have been.

There. That was technically a compliment, right? I hope so, because the pretty visuals can't save the back-half of "Sesshomaru's Daughter" from being almost awe-inspiring in its lameness. For one, fricking Moroha just gets whooshed out of the fight after landing maybe one or two hits. Again. Then, in order to deprive us of even the barest shred of dramatic tension, Kirinmaru loudly announces that he is going to threaten Setsuna's life in order to draw out Towa's latent power. Unsurprisingly, this leads to him murdering the hell out of Setsuna after she nicks his cheek with that Blood Blade of hers. Or rather, he slashes her from her heels to her head with his magic blade thingy, and then she falls down perfectly intact, and slowly slips away into her first “sleep” in years. Do you get it? Because Dream Butterfly.

One final almost-good thing happens when Moroha comes back with her Beniyasha face on, and she finally gets to help Towa land a major blow against Kirinmaru (it sure is a good thing that nobody ever pointlessly sacrificed their life to try and teach Moroha about the dangers of using her incredibly useful Beniyasha powers, right?). For her part, the raged-out Towa gets her own demony glow-up, and she ends up looking like a little silver-haired Super Saiyan 3 (Super Sesshy 3?). Two giant super-power blasts later, and…a slightly winded Kirinmaru admits his respect for Towa, and then flies away of his own volition. Then Sesshomaru comes back from wherever he was and offers his broken Tenseiga to Towa to help bring Setsuna back to life, finally winning that Father of the Year award he has been vying for all this time.

That's it. No, seriously, that's the end of the season. No mention of Kagome or Inuyasha whatsoever, no clues as to what any of the villains' true motivations are; we don't even get a proper explanation for whatever the hell an “Aruku's Pinwheel” is! Instead, Yashahime's first season ended as we all should have expected it would: As a slow-motion train wreck of gobsmackingly stupid writing, lame action, and a veritable mountain of wasted potential. So sure, maybe some of the series' gravest failings can get ironed out in another year or two. Lord knows that I would be ecstatic to learn that future iterations of this show ended up being halfway decent.

However, that would never change the fact that this first season was one of the most exhausting, frustrating, and disappointing anime that I've ever seen. So, with no small amount of relief, I bid adieu to our three half-demon princesses. I wish I could say that I'll miss you, but I most definitely will not. Except maybe for Moroha, who always has and always will deserve better than Yashahime. For the rest of the knuckleheads that have been leeching away at our time and our patience these last six months, there is only one rating they could ever deserve...

[sparklycitrus]

Inverted Tropes Headcanon #2 - Of M and T

This is directly related to #1 so I recommend reading that one first.

Eve Moneypenny never cared much for the double-ohs. Being almost made one herself, she was only too aware of the kind of people the job attracted. After a disastrous mission originally intended as a test to fill 008’s position, Moneypenny swore off field duty and retreated to the managerial pool, promptly becoming M’s personal secretary and the most feared gossip and organizer in the administrative wing.

She took a liking to the new Quartermaster immediately. Bond and her shared the same morbid sense of humor, similar taste in posh evening wear (gold’s her color while blue was his, a bit cliché, but complementary nonetheless), and a mutual dislike of unpredictable agents and overwhelming paperwork. They flirted like old lovers but never went beyond a New Year’s Eve kiss on the cheek (to much of the office betting pool’s dismay). Once in a while they’d go out for a pint after a strenuous day at work. She knew he liked his martini shaken and he knew she liked her beer dry. Sometimes a few others joined them. Lately, however, it had almost always included the notorious 0010.

It wasn’t that she disliked Q. He was handsome and eccentric, a beast in the field, and his skills with tech had the majority of Q-branch utterly besotted. Eve could acknowledge someone’s strengths when she sees them. Unfortunately as suave as he was during missions he was hopelessly transparent when it came to their Quartermaster. It didn’t help that Bond kept turning down the advances in the most obtuse way possible, which only made the situation even more stupid.

“At this point, James,” she said to him during lunch one day, “it’s probably best if you just sleep with him once and get it over with. Save us all the dramatics.”

“Eve, I really don’t think that’s going to solve anything. Not to mention it’s utterly unprofessional.”

“Since when do you care about being professional?” she gave him the side eye. “Wasn’t it Amelia from Accounting I saw with you last –”

“Shhh, not so loud,” Bond held up a finger. “For the record, it was just dinner, and she’s on the budget committee.”

“…Wow, James, for shame. She’s a perfectly nice girl, you know; adopted a brand new kitten last week, I was told. Just be glad Tanner’s not anywhere around to hear this.”

“Believe me,” Bond sighed. “I am well aware.”

Bill Tanner became the Chief of Staff the same day the previous M was instated. She handpicked him herself, citing his extraordinary organization skills along with an unmatched ability to keep cool under any circumstance. No one expected the admin staff to go through as many bombings and security breaches and once, a poisonous gas leak, as the ones at Six did. When she retired and the current M took over Tanner had his new boss’s agenda ready and cross-referenced by 8 am the first day. M was without a secretary at this time, juggling all of the inner workings of Six along with liaisons with Five and the CIA. Tanner earned a significant bonus for that year, but he only celebrated in the strictest sense allowed, which was to spend a deserved vacation with his wife and two small daughters in the country.

However, dealing with the higher-ups was child’s play compared to wrangling the horde of double-ohs. He watched many come and go, some lost on the job while others dropped off the grid on their own volition. The rest decided to live life to the fullest while they still could. Understandable, but they were Tanner (and Accounting)’s biggest headaches. It only got worse when Q-branch instated a new Quartermaster, who supplied all kinds of fancy new toys while being extremely easy on the eyes, and drew in the lot like fresh catnip.

Tanner was the one who forwarded Q’s resume to M with a recommendation. He genuinely liked the kid, thought he was brilliant and capable, if a bit manic. During an emergency lockdown he and Q were trapped in the same room for six hours and became friends afterwards. Q took on a habit of crashing at Tanner’s when he came back from a mission, citing his own place as uninhabitable when Tanner knew he just didn’t want to be alone. In return Tanner had one of the most secure flats among Six personnel, barring perhaps Bond’s. It gave him a tremendous peace of mind knowing his family was as safe as they could be.

Which was why he was a bit irked when Q inexplicably ditched his guaranteed haven post-mission, and tried to break into Bond’s flat but kept getting kicked out instead.

“You need to stop doing this,” he said to Q when the agent showed up again looking like a dejected rat. “Bond’s straight. And in charge of your equipment. He could make your life very difficult.”

“I know, I know,” Q slumped down on the sofa. “God, I really hope the straight part isn’t true. Not because of my own efforts, mind you, but it would be a total shame if that fine ass was not put to good use.”

“…I did not just hear that from an agent of mine about his quartermaster, for crying out loud, Q.”

“Bill, if you think that’s objectionable, you should’ve heard what Ed and Bri said about him in the lounge. It –”

Q was cut off by a towel flying at his face. “Stop talking and go wash up,” Tanner ordered. “I’ll heat you up some leftovers and there’s a suture kit in the hallway closet. But whatever you do, don’t wake the kids!”

[shatteredskies042]

NaNo Day 25

“I’m all for it,” the blonde said, “I’ve taken targets and just hung them on trees and walked back before, but a more structured range might be nice,” she agreed. “I’ll tell Cole and see when he and the guys can come out and work on it with you,” she said.

“Shouldn’t take that long to put together,” he stated while he finished cooking and started to eat. “I need a computer, too,” he told her, looking up at the blonde.

“You’ll have one,” she promised. “As for today,” she stretched on the barstool and spun lazily, toned arms reaching above her head. “We’ll do more training, keep training you with swords and with using Excalibur,” she told him.

“You want an excuse to kick my ass?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t need one,” she shot back with a smile, “but you need to train with your weapon, and you need to know how to deal with attackers with swords,” she added. “They’re more prevalent than firearms for the supernatural, something about being stuck in their ways.” She affixed him with a stiff gaze, then held up her hand, “I know, I’m guilty of it too. But think of it this way, how new are guns?” she asked. “Two or three hundred years, only in the last hundred-fifty or so they started getting good, and swords have been around for much longer.”

Michael nodded along with her explanation, although it still made little sense for him to carry a sword: He was untrained with one and would prove to be more of a liability than an asset with one. He’d go with the training, however, until he got a computer loaded with decryption software he couldn’t make a pass at the Talon drive and work on their secrets. He finished eating and began to clean his dishes, then glanced back at Allyson when she stood up.

“When you’re ready, meet me in the sparring ring,” she told him with a soft smile before she disappeared into the halls.

Michael took his time, first recovering his famed weapon from his bedroom then returning to the exercise area. He held the pen in hand, and decided he would try to surprise Allyson with it. He stretched a bit more, before he ascended on the platform and saw her waiting form.

“I’ll only come after you with one sword, for now at least,” an eager smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Not a lot of people use two anyway, but you’ll learn that too,” she promised as she raised an eyebrow. “And did you forget to bring a weapon?” she asked pointedly.

“Why don’t you come here and find out?” Michael responded with a grin, palming the pen and waiting for her charge.

Instead of charging, she slowly advanced on a curve. Michael advanced towards her and curved away from her, as not to lose territory he might need to retreat. He focused on the pen in his hands, and it formed into the sword he needed. Ally caught this, and smiled approvingly, “not bad,” she complemented with it. “Takes a bit more than fancy tricks to win a fight like this though,” she stated, before she crouched slightly and launched off her haunches at him. She drove at him, and Michael quickly parried her first attack and sidestepped her charge. Unlike the last time they sparred, he felt more comfortable, less stiff with the sword in his hands as he moved. Like some kind of intuition, or instinct.

While Ally turned to face him again, he went on the attack, and instead of thinking of his actions and executed, his body moved seemingly on autopilot. He simply watched his actions as he fluidly moved and struck, Allyson parrying his strikes without the same ease as she had earlier. When he tried to get involved, and move of his own volition, his attacks felt off, more easily parried or stopped by the angel. However, when he let these instincts, or muscle memory, guide his hand, he seemed to do better.

They danced around each other for several minutes, neither landing a strike on the other until the blonde flashed her wings enough to fly away from him. “Enough,” she called, breathing evenly and barely even breaking a sweat. Michael relaxed, and felt agency return to his body as he took back control. “Very interesting,” she mused.

“If I’m being honest,” Michael said, panting lightly, “I didn’t even know what I was doing,” he admitted.

Ally furrowed her brow as she looked at him, “what do you mean?” she asked.

“That’s the thing, I’m not sure,” the soldier said. “I wasn’t even thinking about it. I was just moving and doing,” he explained, “when I tried to act, and sort of take control, it didn’t feel right and you could probably tell the difference.”

Ally cocked her head to the side a bit, then stepped closer, “attack me,” she directed, “first with these instincts, I’ll stop you when I need to,” she promised.

Michael nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, before he stepped ahead and swung at her. They entered another game of strike, parry, and counterstrike, an almost familiar routine as he let his reflexes guide him.

“Stop,” Ally cut off after a moment, stepping back. She took a second to regain her footing and get set again, before she looked up at him, “now, do it the other way,” she told him.

The soldier advanced again, attacking her out of his own agency, the attacks less fluid and sloppier than he had been before. He tried to incorporate the things he had seen himself do before, but couldn’t execute with the same precision and accuracy. She cut him off a bit earlier, stopping and stepping back.

“Okay, swords down,” she told him. Her swords disappeared from her hands, and Michael condensed Excalibur down to the pen form and pocketed it again. “Let’s see how good you are with your hands,” she grinned with an almost teasing tone before she advanced on him, following much of the same patterns as she did with a sword in her hands.

Michael brought his hands up and adopted a defensive stance, feeling comfortable fighting like this. He’d trained for this, after all, not something he was completely out of his depth in. He advanced first, and they devolved into a game of dodging strikes and absorbing body blows. She was a bit faster than he was, and by the force of her impacts when she did strike him, quite a bit stronger.

She kicked at him, a move Michael easily caught before her other boot cracked into his face and staggered him slightly. She fell to the ground and quickly rebound, but not before Michael dove on her and pinned her to the ground. That did not last long, as with a few carefully placed elbows she was able to wiggle out of his grasp and get to her feet. She allowed him the same, smiling a bit. “Been too long since I had a good fight,” she remarked, watching him carefully.

“You must not be fist-fighting the right people then,” Michael responded with a grin before they advanced at each other again. They traded blows, but Michael managed to take her down with a leg sweep just before she could do one of her own. He backed off again, “let’s say we’re evenly matched,” he told her.

“We’re not,” she grumbled as she got back to her feet and relaxed. “But I’ll let it slide, now what I want you to do,” her sword appeared in her hand, and he prepared his own. “Try to mix that in,” she told him. “When you let your instincts take over, you’re good,” she admitted, “but you know your fights won’t be clean and orderly like ours are.”

“And I need every advantage I can get, got it,” he nodded, “it’s not new to me, but mixing it in with fighting with a sword,” he shrugged.

“It’s different, and you’re adapting well,” she promised, before she smiled disarmingly, “let’s see it at work then.”

Ally advanced on him again, and this time their fight was a bit more brutal, with both their blades being locked together and punches and strikes being thrown. By the time Ally called it off, they were both fairly bruised by the other’s hand, but it felt good. This was training, and he was learning what he could and couldn’t get away with in a fight like this.

Ally smiled approvingly at the soldier before she walked to him, “relax,” she urged, before she laid her hand on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and started to heal the soldier, looking at him after a minute when she finished. “Good work this morning,” she said quietly. “It’s actually refreshing to have somebody to spar with who can come close and give me a challenge,” she noted, before she turned on her heel and strode away. “Who knows,” she added, “maybe soon you’ll be able to make me break a sweat.”

Michael was on her heels following beside her, glancing at the blonde. He should have felt proud for having done well, but instead the only emotion was disappointment. He wasn’t good enough, not yet. That was the mentality that got him into special operations, and kept him alive until this point. He had to keep training, until he was as good as her, if not better. Once they reached the common room again, a phone rang on the bar. Ally stepped quickly to pick it up, carrying on a short conversation and quickly tapping notes out on her laptop. In short time, she hung up and looked at the soldier.

“I think Rani has a lead on the Ivory Tower,” she said, looking at the notes she’d written down. “A man named Charles Dufrane, his father was a Huntsman, was spotted in the area around the burned out coven,” she said. “Caught a flight to Chicago.”

“Could be coincidence,” Michael postulated, believing her, but playing the Devil’s Advocate.

“It could be,” the blonde agreed while she nodded, “but it’s not something we can ignore. We’ve got his home and work address, so I think it might be prudent to pay him a visit,” she said. “And I want to see you operate in a low profile setting,” she added with a bit of a smile. “Up for it, Michael?”

“Of course I am,” he nodded, “how long are we going to be working there? And what’s the temperature like?”

Ally quickly turned to the computer again and pulled up a weather forecast, “not too warm, but there’s a wind blowing. Tonight it’ll rain there,” she stated.

“I’ll bring a jacket then,” he noted before he retreated to go upstairs. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he promised. He returned to his bedroom, and put on more casual clothes, but instead chose to carry more spare magazines for his USP. He secreted the handgun on his person, as well as the tenants of his carry kit. He kept pen-Excalibur on his person, then wandered back downstairs to find Ally also dressed casually.

“I took the liberty of ordering a bunch of extra mags for your pistol, too,” she told him, “when they arrive I’ll carry a handful, just in case you run out,” she smiled. “Got everything you need?”

“I’d like to have a bit more protection, but we can talk about that later,” he said as he followed her to the garage and her red jeep.

“What do you mean?” she asked as they mounted the vehicle.

“When I was in the military, we’d do low profile missions like this,” he explained as they drove, prudent enough to bring along a pair of dark, wraparound sunglasses to shield his eyes. “Our clothing was specially made with a thin layer of body armor, not enough for a serious firefight, but enough to feel safe and catch a bullet or two.”

Ally nodded, her own sunglasses covering her eyes. “I’ll see if Andi knows a tactical tailor like that,” she smiled.

“I would appreciate it,” he remarked as they drove down the stone path to the bridge. “Some of the clothing I requested is exactly the same as what we used,” he added. Before he knew it, they transferred through a large portal from the forests of Goddess Island to the outskirts of Chicago. “Where are we stopping first?” Michael asked.

“First we’re going to scout out his workplace,” the blonde said as they approached the city. Her vehicle was probably too much for city streets, and they got an occasional look from people on the street. “Dufrane is the vice president of a shipping company, and they have an office close to the port,” she explained.

“Good excuse to move lots of equipment,” Michael reasoned, “that’s the cover James Bond uses,” he snorted as he remembered a Hollywood fact.

The blonde laughed, and in short time she rolled to a stop on a secondary street lined with shops. “It’s just around the corner,” she explained, looking at a couple of the taller buildings on the next block, “one of those.”

They alighted her vehicle and merged onto the streets, heading towards the next block where their target lay. “I’ll meet you around the corner,” Michael told her quietly, breaking away from her and walking on the other side of the street of their target as Ally made the close approach. As he walked, he peered at the buildings until he picked up a billboard advertising a shipping company, then he knew he had the right building. The doors were semi-reflective glass, but through them he could see the outlines of a metal detector. Made sense, after all. Michael didn’t pick up on any extra security measures on the outside.

Word Count: 50076