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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

Text

Daily Life - Yandere Childe, Zhongli, Xiao

A continuation of the earlier post about Kaeya and Diluc

Content Warnings: n/s/f//w mentions/themes/stuff (but not like, explicit detail), fem reader, normal yandere stuff

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Childe's a busy guy. He wakes you up every morning, usually pretty sweetly. He'll nuzzle up against your face, mumbling a "good morning" into your ear. He's sweet, but, you gotta get up when he tells you to. And you have to be the one to make food, he likes watching you walk around.

If he's gone, he is again one to give darling a surprising amount of freedom. He has the highest quality of security available and all, so he allows some roaming. That and, in a sorta terrifying thought, he's one hundred percent confident that even if you got away, he could find you, so he's not even too worried about escaping. He's so confident that you'll never truly escape him, which frankly is pretty intimidating for darling to realize. He'll get you things you like and stuff to do, stimulate your mind and all that, probably as time goes on will leave you chore lists and things you're required to do for him or else.

When he gets back, he's very tired usually, will expect you to make him food and be sweet and greet him at the door when he comes back, preferably on your knees. If you're not, he'll get irritated, especially if you're trying to hide. If you're just asleep or something, he might excuse it and find it cute. But he does a lot for you, you know, the least you can do is this one little thing. If he's had a particularly bad day, he'll be extra irritated, so it's wise to follow this command, and be ready to have all of his irritation taken out on you the moment he gets back. You're his favorite little stress ball to stuff and squeeze.

For days off, as I've said before he's one of the few that will willingly take you outside, and unlike Kaeya from the last routine post he's not in a bad mood about it either. He likes to show you off, likes walking in public holding hands or with his arm around you so that people can see, it gives him a sort of pride, and honestly he likes mimicking a "normal" relationship. But just know you're on a tight leash. Not literally of course... yet. He lays it out very clearly exactly how you are to behave when going outside, not speaking to others and not going out of his sight. Any attempts to make a scene, try to get a stranger to help etc will be dealt with fairly harshly. And don't think about pulling some covert, sneaky shit like trying to look at a stranger with the "help me" facial expression or trying to silently mouth something, slip a written message to a waitress etc -- he'll be watching you closely enough to pick up on any of that, and honestly that will set him off more than blatantly trying to make a scene. You will be immediately headed home to get an attitude adjustment since you can't behave.

Later on, he'll want you to accompany him to his work sometimes, on those days that whatever he has to do involved more sitting down than fighting - paperwork, important meetings, etc. He likes your presence, of course, you make the time pass more quickly. But really this is, more than anything, because he's an arrogant show-off. He'll give you something to fiddle with but will just sit you on his lap throughout the whole time, gently stroking your thigh or resting his head on your shoulder, making you wear embarrassingly revealing things and making sure everyone sees, be it the entire group in a wide meeting hall or some subordinate come to have a one-on-one talk, or even his superiors, thanking them for them letting him bring his pet to work. It even allows him to get in some good de-stressing during the middle of the day when no one else is around. Expect lots of bring-your-fucktoy-to-work days like that.

Of course, not every day is spent out, though. He also has days he'd rather just stay at home. These days are usually after a long period of difficult work and late nights, so he's exhausted. Expect lots of naps, just cuddles and an arm wrapped around your waist (with a solid iron grip, of course). May or may not progress to slow cuddlefucking, who knows (yes it always does). He gets all whiny and demanding because he's soooo tired, so he'll make you get on top after a few rounds.

-------

Honestly we all envy my Zhongli's darling already, but God he's the best to wake up to. He just softly kisses the side of your face, running his hands down your sides. He can't let you sleep in too much, it's bad for your health! You can probably beg for a few minutes extra. And God, is it the best to wake up to. He's already got someone (probably one of the other adepti, a person, who knows) to make you food, and it's never skimping out either, it's always tons of food and your favorite things, too. Within limits, of course, can't have you eating nothing but things that are bad for you. He's also one that will get you tons of things to do throughout the day, virtually anything you ask for, he'll pay for (well... someone will, but you'll think he did, at least). He actually might also give you a list of very simple tasks to do, just to give you some motivation, since even if you have a lot to do, having no tasks and only play can get depressing without the sense of accomplishment. But he's much more lenient on your completion of all of them.

He's always reluctant to leave and gives you a lot of headpats and kisses before finally heading out for the day, always taking time to contemplate whether or not he can just take the day off. During the day you'll stay in the confinements of your cage, be that an abode or a building somewhere, making sure you stand zero chance of ever getting out. If you force his hand (read: multiple escape attempts), he'll reluctantly have to limit your roaming abilities, but once you're confined to a smaller cage and have some privileges taken away, he's certain you'll be on your best behavior to get out again, and maybe be a little more grateful and understanding in the future. Once he gets back, it's generally a very nice time, he likes to lead a quiet life and will want to hear all about your day, what you did, see the progress on all those little projects you've been working on for art or music or whatever hobby you've taken up to pass the time. If he's had a bad day, he'll probably tell you about it, but you know, put it in terms simple enough for you to understand, since you wouldn't normally get such complicated matters.

On very very rare occasions, not nearly as often as Childe, he might take you to on his day with him, probably not during normal workdays, but for some kind of special day -- a large meeting, or the opposite, a day where he has nothing to do but slow paperwork alone in an office. The sunlight is good for you, and he'll bring stuff for you to do too. To be honest, it's not as obvious nor as obnoxiously vocal about it as Childe, but he also does enjoy having your presence in front of others, letting them see you. The things you'll have to wear aren't nearly as obscenely lewd as Childe's either, but they're not entirely wholesome either.

He really likes having off days. On those days, he'll probably want to take you somewhere, generally will do whatever you want to do. He's incredibly knowledgeable on everything in the area, and would probably also really like going out somewhere secluded in nature, rather than in the city, like a nice view from the nearby mountains or the like, and just spend a day there. It's nice, and far away from prying eyes that can't recognize your face off the missing person posters or witness the obscene things that may or may not take place up there.

Spending time home is always nice too, though, just quietly going about the day and doing whatever you want, although inevitably taking breaks for much-needed... displays of physical affection. And he tries so hard to be gentle, but he also has a lot of stress pent up that may just come out and result in being a bit rougher than usual, but he's always apologetic afterward, making sure you're alright. He's also pretty strict about the time you go to bed. Making sure you get enough sleep and all that.

-------

Xiao's poor, poor darling. You always wake up to him shaking you awake. He's impatient. Once he feels you've had enough sleep, he'll get you up like that. Don't try to get more sleep-in time, he's not very gracious on that, will simply huff and yank you up. Otherwise, the mornings can be... Sweet. It's not like he's trying to be so cold all the time; if you're well behaved he can be pretty loving, even if he doesn't quite know how to be gentle. He just has... Low tolerance.

Xiao is very quiet for the most part, and the mornings have a sort of silent peacefulness provided it's one of your days that you don't choose to be difficult. He likes to watch you go about the morning. It's a little creepy to be honest? He just sits there nearby and watches you move around, make food, brush your hair or teeth or whatever. He'll eat whatever you make him, even if it's not one of his extremely limited liked items. He might complain, though.

During the times he IS gone, well, it's extremely boring for poor darling. Early on, or if you've done something to warrant it (read: literally the slightest word of disagreement, a tone of voice he doesn't like, even a facial expression he deems defiant) you'll be bound to the bed, hand and foot. Nothing to do whatsoever but stare at the ceiling. It's your own fault, if you were good maybe it wouldn't be like this, he says. When you are good, and have a nice long-time record of being extremely pleasant and sweet to him - and I mean a LONG time - he might - might - finally let you be unbound aside from a long anklet chain connecting you to the bed. Not like you have much else to do, though. Maybe he'll get you books if you ask nicely and grovel at his feet. But that's it. He doesn't like the thought of giving you too much entertainment. If being alone is mind-numbingly boring, well, you'll enjoy time with him that much more. Eventually you'll reach a point where you're begging him not to leave, he hopes, even if he would never admit to that. So what he'll do is balance it, give you just enough to keep your whining down, but keep making sure you're miserable when alone. He only allows you "activities" (read: a book) on certain days of the week, or every other day, every third day, something like that. And you can only get a new book once a month or so. And it's whatever he finds, not just what you want, so he'll start dropping you with encyclopedias and textbooks and other dull things. You can't complain, after all he IS giving you something to do. If you're gonna complain, well, how would you like to have the reading privilege revoked entirely? And that shuts you up. So, really, poor darling's days are very very bleak, dull, and empty, when alone.

He doesn't really have a "end of the day." His "job" is more or less a 24/7 thing, he goes when he's needed and when he's not needed he'll be with you. Usually it's a semi normal schedule but it can lead to odd intervals - you may have times he's gone for a full day or so, and then times where he's there for a whole day, etc. Spending time together is quiet, but he's surprisingly fond of physical affection. He spends a lot of time just... alone with his thoughts. Spacing out and thinking, looking up at the sky, except, well, now it's him, his thoughts, and you. You'll spend it with him too, iron grip locked around your waist so you can't pull away from his lap. He's also one to need to get out the... frustrations of life through physical activity at night.

Days he's there, again, it's pretty quiet, he's not much one for extensive conversation, of course. If you talk, he'll listen, but don't expect him to say much back. He likes the sound of your voice, one of the only people he doesn't prefer silence to, so long as you're not whining about wanting to leave. He doesn't really have a lot of sitting-down type of work to do, so if he's spending a whole day time with you, it means he's specifically worked it out so that he's able to do so for that purpose. He'll probably prompt you to speak, it's super awkward really. An awkward comment about this or that that he clearly wants you to start talking about, and he'll talk back just a little bit, with his own brand of harsh pessimism -- but that's just the only way he really knows how to communicate, he's not actually trying to shut you down when he responds to everything negatively. It's the most bizarre bonding time, but bonding nonetheless. He also likes to watch you do tasks -- to make food, even if it's just for yourself, to clean and walk around doing your little tasks. He may or may not eventually discover a fondness for forcing you to walk around naked, poor darling.

I've mentioned before that his drive is reactive - it gets heavier when he's with you. So really, your day will be filled with little fun intervals of very spontaneous fucking. Like, he has no sense of mood or timing. It's completely random, very forceful, will just loop his hands under your arms and scoop you up and carry you over to bed at any random moment, interrupting your speech even. Or, sometimes the bed is too far, and just bending you over is easier. And then, he'll just carry on like nothing happened.

He's not one to rant and rave about his day by default, and especially not early on. In the later stages, though, once he's comfortable with you, you might find him slipping out a frustration here or there, a passing comment about something upsetting that happened, and if you pry at it, he'll end up talking, much more than usual. He kind of doesn't even realize he's starting to ramble a bit, and if he catches himself he'll stop and mutter something about it being unimportant anyway.

Bonus little hc: He asks you how your day was. Every day that he's not with you. It's a routine - he started doing it because from his limited knowledge of human relationships, it's the "normal," so he tries to emulate what he feels like is normal in a relationship. It's kind of funny, well, not for poor darling, it feels mocking. Like, how do you think my day was, Xiao? All tied up and left only to stare at the ceiling? If you get all sarcastic with him like that, though, he might see it as grounds for punishment, so, be snarky at your own risk.

#yandere genshin impact #lena's asks

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

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nightmare, recalled

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: the hearing. next part up is the slave of duty. we are reaching the end of this arc, and we will do some healing, i promise. thank you all for waiting on this part! it’s a little short breather before we get slave of duty tomorrow night.

words: 2k warnings: discussion of violence, language

summary: “when someone you loved was depending on your lie, it was perfectly easy.” - liane moriarty, big little lies

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You arrive at the office in the early morning, not looking half as exhausted as you feel. It was your own fault - you begged and begged to be the first in the back-to-back team testimonies today. If you were first, you reasoned, you never once had to leave Jack once he and Aaron arrived.

Jess is taking care of the final arrangements today - handling the catering for the wake with her parents, sourcing roses, all of the wretched little tasks you’d much rather take on yourself - for the funeral this weekend.

But alas, Strauss needs to continue her warpath on Aaron, and you need to defend him.

You sit outside of the eighth-floor conference room, just down the hall from Erin’s office. You have tissues tucked in your hand, not trusting her to provide them and saving your pride in the process. You keep your eyes down as she steps into the room and closes the door behind her.

As you expected, about three minutes later, she pops her head out. “We’re ready for you.”

Inside the room is one of the deputy directors, in addition to a lackey from the inspector general’s office.

Gang’s all here...

You take your seat opposite Erin, keeping your hands in your lap.

“Please state your name and rank for the record.”

You do, clear and steady.

“How long have you worked in the BAU?”

“I was assigned to the BAU as a New Agent Trainee in the summer of 2007, and was assigned to the unit as an agent at the end of that year.”

“So, two years?”

“Just about, ma’am.”

The other people in the room start taking notes, but Erin keeps her eyes on you. It’s unsettling.

“How was it that you were assigned to the BAU as a NAT?” There’s something hidden in her question, so you answer somewhat comprehensively.

“I requested a unit assignment based on a recommendation from Jennifer Shepard, the late director of NCIS. I was intrigued by the guest lecture given by Agents Hotchner and Gideon and requested the BAU.”

“Who approved your transfer into the unit?”

Your brow crinkles. “I’m not sure of the specifics ma’am, but the SSAIC informed me that she’d spoken to Agent Hotchner prior to my assignment.”

“Do you feel indebted to Agent Hotchner?”

Ah. There it is.

“No, ma’am.”

She narrows her eyes. “How can that be? He was directly responsible for a massive acceleration of your career within the bureau.”

“All due respect, ma’am, I believe my academy coursework and the Director’s Leadership Award on my desk speaks for itself. Agent Hotchner and Agent Hemingway both recognized my potential and made their decisions accordingly.” You try to keep the sass out of your tone, but you have to throw her off this train of thought somehow.

She hums - once, staccato. “Given that...recognition, do you feel obligated to defend Agent Hotchner?”

“No, ma’am. I do not feel any obligation or debt to Agent Hotchner.”

She narrows her eyes again, but makes a note in her small notebook before speaking again. “How would you describe Agent Hotchner’s recent behavior in the field?”

Without hesitation, “Motivated.”

She’s not impressed. “Would you say he’s been taking unnecessary risks in the field?”

Lady, if you only knew the half of it.

“No, ma’am. I believe his choices in the field have been effective.”

She chuffs a little laugh, unamused. “Very cute, agent, but that’s not what I asked.”

You blink at her, waiting for another question.

“Why did Agent Hotchner step down from his position as unit chief?”

Careful. Careful.

“He promoted Agent Morgan so the team could continue our work unhindered.”

“What were the hindrances?”

Shit.

“By transferring his responsibilities, he had the opportunity to explore more investigatory avenues regarding George Foyet that he would have been unable to prioritize while in his post as unit chief.”

Good save.

“Can you characterize the transition of power?” She raises an eyebrow. She’s baiting you.

You don’t take it. “Amicable. Seamless. Peaceful.”

“So you wouldn’t say there was tension between Agents Hotchner and Morgan regarding the division of responsibilities?”

“No, ma’am. I did not experience or witness any dysfunction arising from the transition. Agent Hotchner was exceptionally respectful and deferential to Agent Morgan following the promotion. There was never any confusion about the chain of command.”

And that was actually true.

She pushed and pushed and pushed you to say something that would condemn Aaron for his behavior in the previous eight weeks. Though you were plenty frustrated with him, you didn’t budge.

Soon enough, she asked about what happened on the afternoon of November 23rd, 2009. You started from the beginning - The Fox, the letters, the medication.

+++

“Who made the decision to breach Foyet’s apartment?”

This was wearing on you, well into the second hour. “Agent Morgan, ma’am.”

“Didn’t Agent Hotchner have anything to say regarding the tactical plan?” Strauss looks tired too, but she better rally - her efforts are getting weaker as you continue to answer her questions with steady candor and she still has seven more interviews to conduct today, not to mention the paperwork.

“No, ma’am. Agent Morgan, even in normal circumstances, is the established tactician of the unit. In this instance and others even while he was in the unit chief position, Agent Hotchner deferred to Agent Morgan’s expertise regarding SWAT deployment and tactical decisions.”

+++

“Do you believe it was Agent Kassmeyer’s fault that Agent Hotchner’s family was compromised?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m sure you’ll hear it more than once today, but torture is seemingly endless. Agent Kassmeyer took everything Foyet threw at him and still refused to compromise the Hotchner family’s location. There was nothing more he could have done to prevent Foyet from making contact with Haley Hotchner.”

+++

“Did it occur to you to join Agent Hotchner as he separated himself from the team?”

“No, ma’am. And I disagree with your characterization of the situation - Agent Hotchner did not separate himself from the team. He pursued a lead with Agent Kassmeyer, who requested his presence as he was dying in the back of that ambulance.”

She purses her lips. “What was your next plan of action?”

You take a moment.

This is the hard part.

“Once the scene was in-process, I took a car and followed the ambulance to the hospital. When I arrived, Agent Anderson had already found Agent Hotchner a car, and he was in touch with the team regarding the next plan of action.” You wet your lips. “He then received a call from Foyet.”

+++

Her eyes remain cold and detached as you walk her through the conversations with Foyet, with Haley. With a certain degree of frustration, you push through your tears as you relay her last words, the gunfire.

“I don’t remember exactly what happened after that.” You stare down at your hands, focused on the way the pad of your thumb feels against the side of your middle finger. “I remember pulling up to the house and getting out of the car...The - the door was open. I found Agent Hotchner while I was clearing the ground floor. Foyet was dead, at that point.”

“What had happened to Foyet?”

“He’d been...beaten.” Your voice cracked. That was an understatement. “I subdued Agent Hotchner until the rest of the team arrived.” You press the tissue to your eyes for a second. “He was...understandably distraught.”

Strauss examines you across the table, sees the emptiness in your eyes behind your tears, the grief, the sorrow, the horror of having to relive it. “What happened after that?”

“I realized,” you continue, “that I hadn’t found Jack. I remembered what Agent Hotchner told him, and we both got up and ran to his home office, off the kitchen. I found Jack Hotchner in the storage trunk beside Agent Hotchner’s desk.” You look up at her. “I can’t begin to articulate the relief I felt at seeing him alive.”

+++

“When Haley’s sister, Jessica Brooks, arrived, I kept her away from the crime scene for the sake of her health and safety. She met up with Agent Jareau, who had Jack at that point. I -” You stutter and swallow before taking a breath. “I returned upstairs.”

Your voice shakes, and tears make their way down your cheeks again.

“I returned upstairs, where Agent Morgan was sitting with Haley’s body. There wasn’t - I couldn’t, um - I couldn’t do anything for her. She was gone even before Aaron - Agent Hotchner - arrived.”

The representative from the IG’s office looks a little misty now, as does the deputy director. You press your hands to your face.

“It was... She’d been shot at least three times - that much we heard over the phone.” You voice breaks, but you forge ahead. “She had also been stabbed...There was…” You take a quick breath, but it’s not enough. “...so much blood.”

Strauss’s voice is quiet when she asks. “What was the nature of your relationship with Haley Hotchner?”

You look her square in the eye, not shy about the grief washing over you in waves. “She was one of my best friends. My boss’s wife, the mother of a boy I consider my family.” You turn your gaze to the table, the fake wood grain suddenly very interesting. “I will miss her beyond measure.”

A breath echoes around the room as the others collect themselves.

“I have one last question for you.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What do you think would have happened if Agent Hotchner had allowed George Foyet off of that floor?”

You level her with a look that makes her sit back. “He would have killed Jack. He would have killed me.”

“And?” There’s one more thing you have to say.

“He would have let Agent Hotchner live, and he would have told him it was his fault.”

The rest of the room looks shaken, and you know you’re right. Even beyond the profile, Foyet’s obsession with Aaron was clear.

Why can’t they see it?

“Thank you, Agent. No further questions.”

+++

When you get back to the roundtable room, JJ is there with Derek. You offer them an approximation of a smile.

“What are you still doing here?” Derek asks. “You can go home, if you want.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be here until Aaron’s interview is finished.”

+++

You can’t help the way your face lights up when Jack sprints across the bridge in the middle of the afternoon, leaping ahead of Aaron.

Rounding the table, you kneel and open your arms to him, letting out an oof when he runs into you full-tilt. You can’t help but smile.

But then again, Jack has always had that effect on you.

“Good morning, bud.”

He wraps his arms around your neck, still impossibly tight. “Hi.”

You stand in the doorway until Aaron gets there. Jack’s familiar travel bag is slung over his shoulder, and he tosses it down in the corner. “Emily’s in right now, and then it’s you.”

Aaron nods, taking a seat. You follow suit, reclining in your chair so Jack can relax against your chest. The rest of the team watches you both, equal parts mournful and hopeful.

JJ watches the way Aaron presses a kiss to the side of his son’s head right before he sits down, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder for balance.

Penelope watches the way Jack clings to you, playing with the buttons on your shirt, comfortable and safe.

Derek watches the way Aaron watches you, brown eyes soft and absent of concern.

Dave watches the way you watch Aaron, can see the way your fingers ache to reach out for him, to take care of him.

They all watch the three of you - understanding, but not knowing.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali talks cm #a joyful future #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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swtorramblings · 4 years ago

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How did you decide Elara would be Anon Vaylins companion?

anon vaylin working with Elara Dorne.

I wandered a bit, but I marked with an “*” the part that most directly answered your question, if you want to skip ahead.

I actually started with a long-winded “it just happened” explanation, but it was both long-winded and not ultimately the whole story, once I’d thought about it. She does end up with a lot of companions, simply by virtue of going through multiple class stories, but that’s not really it. And I could trace it all through the process that eventually caused the whole “anon vaylin as various classes” thing, but that’s not really interesting. So, an answer in a few steps.

Not that the final answer wasn’t long winded, too.

The basic, in-story reason for most of anon vaylin’s companions is that one of her many conditions of parole is that she has to occasionally do favors for the Alliance, especially when it’s an attempt to fix what she helped break in the first place. She’s often used as a force multiplier (pun intended), in which case someone else is in charge of her activities and she acts to help a larger force rather than just being sent to cause havoc on her own. She gets a minder for the specific mission, someone who can see it coming if she were to turn back to her old ways and possibly stop her before it goes too badly.

When she does these tasks, she often has to do something to protect her real identity, usually by pretending to be a member of whatever force she’s working with. So, sometimes she puts on some heavy armor (which she hates), picks up a blaster cannon (which she hates), and pretends to actually be able to shoot it straight, using the Force to cheat. She used Mind Tricks to get information as an Agent, and so on. Sometimes, she doesn’t even put on the armor, she just Mind Tricks or uses holography to make people see her in it.

She prefers the lighter blaster rifles, especially the fun ones that throw lightning, but she does what she has to.

Which is still not answering the question, it just seemed like a good time to explain the multiple classes thing as it’s evolved to be.

* Why Elara specifically? Mainly because she’s another one I think might have something in common with her, however slight. Not like KIra, but she still went through some stuff because of the Emperor, but eventually broke free. She saw what the Empire was from the inside, saw what the Emperor had created, and rejected it. So, anon vaylin is already inclined to like her. For her, Dorne is a person who, without any power of her own, opposed Valkorion. Elara also had to go through a period of distrust and hostility, and certainly endured some form of indoctrination that she has since broken free of. Vaylin sees them as having that in common.

Plus, all of that left her with attitudes and discipline that anon absolutely loves to poke at. Because it’s fun. That’s why she so often requests Dorne as her superior officer.

For Elara’s part, she doesn’t see Vaylin at all as a kindred spirit. She broke free of her past to do the right thing, Vaylin did not. Knowing the specifics of the outright mind control techniques used, she is willing to give her a chance, but does not trust her. She doesn’t trust Arcann or even Senya much, either, for that matter. And she often has to roll her eyes at V’s often childish behavior, especially about regulation and chain of command and “all that nonsense”. She thinks Vaylin should be in jail or dead, if she proved to be too dangerous to contain, but she’s worked well with her and, so far, has to admit that the Commander may have actually gotten this right, as terrible as her charge was in the past. She still thinks V should be contained when not in use, but also sees how that could cause problems, so she’s torn.

She does get some back at her by actually forcing her to try to learn how to fire a weapon (as does Jorgan) and help with the paperwork (Jorgan doesn’t do that). Hope that eventually answers the question, and thanks for making me think about it.

TL’DR: Because my already somewhat fevered brain saw something, however slight, in common between them, and I went with it.

#@swtorpadawan #elara dorne #anon vaylin #ask

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duker42 · 5 years ago

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Hello! How about an scenario where reader is dating Erwin, they are starting out, but Mike is reader's exboyfriend. It was a really intense relationship, didnt last long and Erwin did not find out until Hanji told him when he saw him joking around Mike normally. They talk and reader puts Erwin at ease but he can't help to be jelous around his friend and not see him in the same light!

OOOOHHHHH Jealous Erwin 😲😲😲😲😲

💜The Ex💜

“I’m surprised you are taking this so well.” Hanji commented as Mike walked off to gather his squad for training.

“What?” Erwin looked over at the bespectacled Section Commander in confusion. “What exactly am I taking well?”

“You are still buddy-buddy with Mike since you’ve started dating her.” Hanji’s eyes were wide behind her glasses.

“And????” His tone was slightly exasperated as he tried to figure out where she was headed with her comments.

Hanji cocked her head to the side. “You didn’t know that her and Mike dated? They were pretty hot and heavy for a few months.”

Erwin kept his expression schooled but inside his mind was scream a thousand different questions. How serious were they? How long had they dated? Had they slept together? Who ended things? Why did it end? He tuned out Hanji for a bit longer and then fled back to his office to think.

He didn’t get to talk to Y/N that night, his paperwork keeping him chained to his desk far past a reasonable hour to intrude on her personal space. They weren’t quite to the stage where he felt comfortable just walking into her room, and he didn’t want to start a serious conversation at 3am.

When he walked into the Mess Hall, the first thing he saw was Y/N and Mike talking together next to the table. Mike looked down grinning as Y/N laughed and elbowed him in the gut. It made him grit his teeth as a jealous envy washing over him.

“Oi, you need to take a shit?” Levi asked, raising an eyebrow over his cup of tea.

“No, just thinking about something.” Levi followed Erwin’s eyes and hummed when he saw where the Commander was intently staring.

“Talk to her, idiot. If it bothers you. I’m surprised that it does though.” Levi bluntly stated as he looked smugly at the taller man. “She’s in your bed now. I wouldn’t get jealous, I’d just make sure it was my name she was screaming every night.”

Erwin rolled his eyes at Levi’s crass, but sound advice. He needed to talk to Y/N and right now.

Marching over to the pair, Erwin didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty as he interrupted their conversation.

“Hey, Erwin!” Y/N smiled brightly at him, making him wonder if he actually had anything to be jealous of.

“I need to talk to you in my office.” Erwin made it sound like an order, but the conversation he needed to have was anything but professional.

“Okay. Bye Mike, Sniff ya later!” Y/N cackled at her own joke as she gave a friendly wave to the towering giant.

They didn’t talk as they walked the corridor to Erwin’s office. When they got there, he let her in and closed the door behind them. Walking to the couch instead of the desk, Y/N trailed behind him happily.

He sat down and came right out with his concerns. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Mike had dated?”

Y/N furrowed her brow in confusion. “I thought you knew? It wasn’t a secret.”

“Okay....but why did things end? How can you be so friendly to him? What happened between you two?” His jealously started making him rapid fire questions at her as she blinked in stunned shock.

Y/N stared and the normally calm face of her lover. She had never seen him get so upset about a personal matter. It was disconcerting but kind of sweet. But she didn’t want him to have any doubts about how she felt about him.

“Mike and I only dated for about three months Erwin. We found that while we were great friends and there was sexual chemistry, we had opposing ideas on what would make us happy in the long run. We just didn’t fit together as a couple. We both knew it and decided to part ways as friends rather than make each other miserable.” Y/N laid a hand on his arm as she explained. “I never brought it up because I honestly thought you knew.”

Erwin frowned, he trusted Y/N but he didn’t like the idea that her “friend” had seen her naked, had sex with her. He found that he was a bit more possessive than he thought he was.

“I’m still not sure how I feel about “the ex” Y/N, but I trust you.” He murmured.

She laughed at him and pulled him down to lay on top of her on the couch as she lay back. “Believe me Erwin, you have nothing to worry about. You’re the only one I’ve told I love you.”

“Wait, who else have you dated?!?!?!?”

#commander erwin #erwin smith #aot erwin #snk erwin #erwin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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shy-magpie · 4 years ago

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RQG 154

Wherein red stringing occurs. Liveblog under the cut:

Not much hype this week, just a lot of being quietly thrilled RSB got the beginning of the episode dedicated to us. I hope the rest of the fandom doesn't feel like Bryn plays favorites. Its sweet he back reads and answers questions but its nothing he wouldn't do in official. Last week was such a gift that I think it cut down on hype for this week because even if (Alex forbid) they immediately time skipped to the end of the week, quarantine still got us amazing backstory and character moments. Unless Alex gets truly desperate and has someone attack the inn or infects both the new kids, the characters are safe from physical danger so no fear hype either.

Yes I want follow up on that Hamid & Zolf conversation: I am so proud of him for calling Zolf out on being patronizing (I can't believe I didn't see earlier with his family, of course that's the aspect that got to him) and they need to figure out how to deal with the chain of command. Zolf already seems more willing to get input on his decisions so its mostly losing the attitude when things happen like Hamid casting lights. Yes I also want Cel to talk about themself more, but I am fine with waiting until they aren't locked up with no privacy. Azu's backstory is coming out at a decent pace and Helen spoils us so not even worried about not hearing more about her becoming a paladin. I am curious if Alex thinks its worth bonding with the new kids and this better not be a set up for splitting the party. So enough pre episode babbling, final bets on if they play with the brorb now or wait until they can take it to Cel's? Gotta love that music. Oh they do want to get back to things! Listen to how fast they're talking. That's nice I wouldn't have thought they'd be as excited about the pure RP backstory and character bits as they get about a boss fight. No Alex neither players nor fans want to skip anything. I will concede that further conversation was unlikely to be productive that night so the morning makes sense. There was only one corridor! Barnes is still using the stairs to get some space. Some might see it as a sign he is infected or afraid of infection but honestly not wanting to puppy pile with a group as tight knit as the party especially while they are shaking out their issues is valid. Azu checks on Carter who passed out drunk face down. Zolf is sleeping in. With Hamid's family issues, Bryn being so careful to specify he has a healthy relationship with alcohol every time makes it a lot easier to not tense up listening. Oh My God thanks Bryn! I know he said the beginning of the episode was dedicated to us but I was expecting a throw away line not a proper red stringing scene! I am grinning so big right now. Azu is watching Hamid Cel is sleeping curled up with the sealed bottle of elvish mead. Because Lydia is as much a criminal as Bryn just plays a longer game. Speaking of criminal, Ben really plays up this rivalry from Azu & Zolf covering similar roles and its a really close second to the rank thing between him & Hamid in character arcs I'm interested in. I think both are aiming towards a happy ending but no idea how the middle is going to play out. I don't think it's aiming for a "this party isn't big enough for two of us". Alex is encouraging this. This is great just going to get a clip of this rather than attempt to transcribe on first listen. Bryn/Hamid is laying this out so clearly: The knowns, assumed, and questions are being labeled nicely. (I wonder if our little discord helped him refresh his memory so he'd be able to match how much Hamid would remember in character.) Bryn also goes 3rd person? Hope it isn't a stress tell like Alex. Yes Bryn is obsessed and as a listener its is utterly charming when he shows up in RSB or Official and is unabashedly as big a fan of the show as us. Zolf wakes up to Hamid red stringing. Thank goodness he isn't letting security concerns lead him to putting the brakes on. I know there was some concern that if one of them was infected sharing they could pass on anything they talk about. As long as they don't get too specific about classified info, using the time and frankly just having a project to distract them is a good idea. Plus in my mind Hamid always looks so hurt when Zolf pulls on the reigns. Lilliana is not allowed to be the connecting thread. Oh seed is finally being addressed. Aw Hamid handed Cel a glass of water. It really is the little things I love about this show: 1)told you he has a knack for leadership: anticipating the needs of team members even as they diverge from his own 2)He does see Cel as a team member not just someone he worked with, you don't hear him cooing over Carter 3)does it quickly then moves on, because as a gentleman he thinks it's what anyone would do. 4)speaking of, I wonder that Azu & Zolf haven't done rounds. its not like they have anything to save the spells for and the field is only in the cell.

Svalbard! Do not taunt us, does Ben have any idea how much we want to see the science dwarves of the north? Um hmm, vindi-fing-cation. I know it wasn't exactly a huge insight but the mixture of science and various schools of magic is key to my theory on what “Erasing The Line” refers to. Oh Frankenstein in this world is such a concept. Plus it makes Mary Shelley canon. Aw Alex thought we'd never get to this bit of lore. Thank you Blue Veins info being given as whole instead of bits & pieces. Ooh and Barnes is taking it. Time to get a sense of who he is when he's not swinging a sword. Navel engagement with Blue Veins? Hive mind! Minimize harm? Not dead. Paladins are complicated, maybe a rumor, maybe transfer of allegiance. Cyborg kraken Cyborg Zolf Oh splitting the kraken to make more Barnes just checks out as the conversation goes over his head Called it I told you it was a sensible test. (ETA Zolf’s fart test) (ETA: Re: people with Blue Veins) No lies, no embarrassment, very literal. Other instances? Riots London->Paris->Europe Not safe to go to London If you're in their presence you are highly likely to be infected, mass infections, not passed by corpses? Memetic effect? Tick tock. Ben and Alex have one of their friendly tussles as Carter decides its a me may Yes he did! And Helen name dropped us! I know I'm just a little part of the brigade but I'm going to to be smug for at least a week that we are so good at what we do one of the actual players looked to us. Hey Lydia is welcome too. Paperwork time! Yeah yeah I knew security was going to be used to undermine Hamid. At least it isn't Zolf and they aren't trying to make him look rash for the whole idea. Getting new info from the paperwork is a bit different than talking about what they already know. Make the place bigger? Nice spell Zolf. If this leads to Animorphs again... Oh I was thinking more like a big horde somewhere you could check stone in & out of a stone plane of existence ties in with elemental lore right? Seriously "Cure Hangover" isn't a spell? Or do Zolf & Azu just not approve of using their magic that way? Intoxicants have to fall under mild poisoning, right? Do the studying later in the week? That's a fair compromise; even if Zolf is still presenting it as an order he is explaining instead of giving his advice or IDK putting it to a vote. I'm not positive but I think Lydia is suggesting they go over their character sheets in character. Alex is not amused. Lydia sounds pleased with herself. Perception check? Azu hears someone knocking something over upstairs. Azu tries to not wake Carter as she listens at the door. It had to be her foot in his mouth. Multiple people in the inn. Carter tries to pick the lock. Azu & Carter start bickering. Carter is perception penalty. The inn is being searched Zolf suggests they wake Wilde up by making a racket. Cel hears the door being unlocked. Voices speaking muffled Japanese. Cel just shouts "Hey what's going on?". Zolf joins in. Azu uses her armor to make noise. Thump of someone hitting the floor! Wilde's voice! Lots of feet? Yes Helen, what if it is the kobolds? Oh god what if Skraak checked on them and found out they were in cages underground? Poor guy would think Wilde is their Shoin. Bryn clarifies Hamid shouts out to Wilde Zolf forbids them leaving the basement Cel shields themself. Azu goes for her armor Barnes is keeping Carter from going for the lock again. Hamid casts Fear (!oh that’s a new one isn't it) I assume #jail is already full of angst criminals connecting Hamid's bully days and him going from S1!Hamid scared of every fight to now casting fear as a way to control his enemies). Also these better be his enemies because I still don't put it past Alex to set us up for a tragic misunderstanding. Dragon roar and dragon face is how he casts fear Ok Rusty Quill LOTR night sounds awesome Zolf helps Azu put on her armor The other feet flee Zolf cries out for Wilde as loud as he physically can but still won't let them risk infecting Japan by leaving quarantine early. Oh if that ain't a fic and a half. A set of small claws! It is a kobold End the episode with the kobolds?

#Rusty Quill Gaming #RQG Spoilers #live blog thingy #RQG 154 #RQG season 4 #long post

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themyskira · 6 years ago

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The Life of Captain Marvel - issue #5

This is it; the final part of this embarrassment of a comic.

Through sheer incompetence, Carol and Marie have set a Kree cyborg assassin on an unsuspecting town.

This issue they face off against the attacker and, through sheer incompetence, are soundly defeated.

Along the way, Margaret Stohl also manages to retcon the 1960s Captain Marvel continuity to give Carol even less agency.

The issue opens on a flashback. Carol is an Air Force Colonel and she’s finally where she always wanted to be: flying spacecraft for NASA. Well, technically she’s there on loaner from the Air Force to test pilot a new prototype, but that doesn’t stop her disobeying direct orders by refusing to slow down, thus jeopardising a billion-dollar spacecraft and everything she’s worked her entire life for.

Carol: You getting this, NASA? NASA officer: Affirmative. Now slow it down, Danvers. Carol: Speed is all relative, Doc. Relative to the Earth, I’m going fast. But relative to… a quasar? I’m wastin’ time. NASA officer: Just don’t waste that billion-dollar prototype. You’re burning up fuel. Carol: Just a little higher. NASA officer: Direct order, Colonel. Carol: Just to the other side of those clouds. NASA officer: Do they not do direct orders where you come from Air Force? Carol: With respect, NASA, I’m a loaner. Until they stamp the paperwork, you’re not even in my chain of command…

(To be fair, Carol is a speed-jockey, and her pushing a prototype beyond the original test parameters is very much in character. But written poorly, a hotshot pilot can become a reckless jerk, and this is how she comes across here. A smug asshole who’s made it to NASA and thinks she can now do whatever the hell she wants.)

Page two delivers an abrupt right turn. A second spacecraft appears in frame; its pilot, we discover, is the NASA officer Carol has been speaking to. He keeps telling her to turn back and Carol becomes increasingly insubordinate and unprofessional, challenging him to race her. Again: this is the only job she’s ever wanted, and now she has it, she’s behaving like a friggin cowboy?!

Fortunately for Carol’s career, it turns out that NASA guy’s commands to slow down were all some convoluted form of flirtation, and he leaps at the challenge.

Later, Carol and NASA guy get cosy with each other on the bonnet of a convertible. And now we learn NASA guy’s name: Doctor Walt Lawson.

Otherwise known as Mar-Vell.

Carol: It’s… it’s like I’m waiting for the universe to show its face… or show up and… I dunno… Mar-Vell: …recognise you? Carol: Sounds crazy, I know. Mar-Vell: No. Sounds familiar.

oh, you fuckers.

I talked a lot in the issue four recap about Carol’s lack of agency in the 1960s Captain Marvel, the series in which she originally (albeit via retcon) got her powers. About how the creators of The Life of Captain Marvel recognise this lack of agency, but attribute it to the maleness of her legacy rather than the fact that her role in her own origin is entirely passive.

Given that, I was surprised Stohl decided to include Mar-Vell in the story at all — she’s been working hard up till this point to distance Carol from him — but not surprised at all by the way these flashbacks play out: with a passive Carol who does nothing to further her own story. A Carol who, in fact, does even less than the Carol Danvers of the original 1960s Captain Marvel comic.

What do I mean by that?

This is Carol in her first-ever comic appearance in Marvel Super-Heroes #13:

Mar-Vell: By the way, Miss Danvers… Just why did you oppose my seeing the robot? Carol: Nothing personal, Dr Lawson… but your dossier is still being examined by my security division! If you must know, you’ve always had a reputation as a recluse… even an eccentric! And frankly, after seeing that strange briefcase of yours…! Well… General Bridges: That’s enough, Miss Danvers! Coming, Lawson? Mar-Vell: Yes, sir! Mar-Vell [thinking]: An eccentric! If only that’s all she suspects! Carol: I’ll see you both later! Carol [thinking]: Somehow I can’t help feeling… that Walter Lawson is hiding something! If he is, I won’t rest till I find out what… and why!

This is characteristic of Carol’s early appearances in Captain Marvel. She distrusts “Walter Lawson” from the start, suspecting him of hiding something even as her superiors welcome him, and she goes to great lengths to try and uncover his true identity and intentions. The writers never allow her to get very far, but it’s an early indication of her intelligence and tenacity.

As Stohl tells it, though, Carol suspects nothing. She’s too busy swooning over his chiselled jaw to notice anything else.

Back in the present, thanks to Carol and Marie’s incompetence, Blue, Busty and Naked is holding JJ hostage. It’s surrounded by murderdrones and also flying, which is new (were we supposed to know it could fly?).

Tide Pod informs Marie that she has been tried in absentia, found guilty of high treason and sentenced to death. Evidently the Kree assassin units were programmed to respond to Marie’s locator beacon, and when Carol inadvertently switched it on, Kleenex was automatically deployed. Well done, Carol.

Carol goes to deck Dishwasher, before Marie points out that maybe attacking the being currently holding her brother by the throat isn’t the greatest idea.

Bargain Basement Mystique flies off with JJ, leaving its drones to rain down destruction.

The two women fly into action. Marie is struggling a little, being out of practice.

“Look at that. I’m the worst thing that ever happened to this town. This is all my fault…”

Aw, don’t be so hard on yourself, Carol. This is at least fifty percent Marie’s fault.

They split up. Carol finds JJ in town, hanging from a burning building. She flies to his aid, but Joe yells out, “No no no, Carol, it’s—“

Klinger: —A TRAPPPPPP!

What is this?! How shitty an assassin do you have to be to announce your own ambushes?

So Admiral bloody Ackbar lands on Carol and starts beating up on her, while she starts having a panic attack because who the fuck knows anymore.

Carol: Get— [wheeze] offa— [wheeze]

Marie, who last we saw was zooming off to the other side of town, is inexplicably on the scene. She flies up to rescue JJ, scooping him into her arms just as the burning building collapses.

Before I move onto the next page, I want to just take note of everybody’s positions. Carol is lying on her back, hyperventilating, as Janitor holds her down and beats her. Marie is in the air, cradling JJ in her arms.

Because this is the next thing we see.

Marie, hovering alone in the sky, is struck by some kind of beam.

Carol flies up from behind to catch her.

What happened to JJ?! What happened to the blue fucker?! What happened to the goddamn panic attack?!

Anyway then Carol is like LET OUR POWERS COMBINE and she and Marie go full Care Bear Stare, and I know I’m mixing my early nineties cartoon metaphors, but it is what it is.

I mean, it’s supposed to be a photon blast, but what else would you call this?

[Carol and Marie sparkle furiously] Marie: It’s working… keep it up!!! Carol: Ugly Space Face… is falling back!!! …with the power of all Hala… Marie: …with your strength, and with mine…

(btw, somebody needs to ban this woman from using exclamation marks.)

But oh no! Something goes wrong! Carol manages to sparkle too hard!

Carol and Marie, in unison for some reason: Don’t… let… up!!! Carol: Wait— Ma, it’s— it’s too much! Can’t… control… Pull back!

They sparkle so hard they make an explosion!

They sparkle so hard they get thrown up into the air!

They sparkle so hard that Carol sees her life pass before her eyes!

I wish I was even partially kidding.

We flashback to Carol and “Walt”, aka Mar-Vell, in full astronaut gear on the outside of a space station. Mar-Vell says there’s something he’s been trying to tell her for a while, and then takes off his helmet.

(For those keeping score: Yes, this is one of Mar-Vell’s powers, but it’s not a universal Kree power. Neither is half the stuff Stohl attributes to Carol and Marie’s “natural” Kree abilities.)

Mar-Vell: You want to know the truth about starstuff, Carol? We’re all made of stars… just not the same stars. Carol: I… I can’t believe it… Mar-Vell: You have to. Because I’m not the only one. We’re in danger, Carol, and if they come for me, I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you…

In the original Captain Marvel, Carol never quite manages to uncover Walter Lawson’s true identity. It’s Mar-Vell’s show, she’s just the love interest, and he always outsmarts her in the end.

In this version of events, she never even suspects him of duplicity. She just stands there gawping while he tells her everything, because he’s afraid his enemies will target him through her.

Which they do.

“Mar-Vell was right. The enemy struck. And when Yon-Rogg couldn’t get to him… he got to me.”

You fuckers. You had the power to change this. You had in your hands the opportunity to give Carol an origin story that was actually about Carol and not a just dick-measuring contest between two super-powered men.

You could have done so much, and what you decided on was ‘yep, that’s exactly how it played out, except Carol was less capable and intelligent and active and also she already had superpowers to begin with.’

You. mother. fuckers.

“[E]ven then, the Kree didn’t see me as a threat. I was just a weak human. And when the Psyche-Magnitron hit, it was easy to believe the powers I gained were Mar-Vell’s. Nobody knew the truth… my secret birthright. Not even me. […] Just as nobody ever knew the reason I’d always flown higher or pushed further or run faster or given more: to let flow the awakening stars beneath my skin, though I didn’t know why I craved them, or what they were.”

So again, all of Carol’s dreams and ambitions? All her drive and grit and perseverance? Her hunger for speed and flight, pushing herself to go higher, further, faster?

None of it’s hers. All of it, all of it, is explicitly attributed to her alien blood. Not her accumulation of experiences, relationships, successes and failures. It’s simple genetics. Base instinct.

Fuck you, Margaret Stohl. Fuck everybody who had a hand in this colonoscopy of a miniseries. Carol deserves better.

Meanwhile, the Khambermaid has decided that it might have an easier time killing somebody if it’s wearing clothes.

Janitor: Upgrading combat suit… [manifests armour] Carol: Coming, Ma! Janitor: …and weaponry! [manifests a giant spear]

Why did you not start with this, then?

For that matter, why did you not just send your drones to bomb the Danvers house rather than theatrically announce your presence, take JJ hostage and formally announce Marie’s death-sentence-in-absentia?

So of course Mopster throws the spear at Carol, and of course Marie throws herself in front of it, and of course Carol cradles Marie in her arms and begs her to go because “I just got you back”, and of course she dies while telling Carol how proud she is.

Carol asks Marie what her missions was, why she came to Earth from Hala. And Marie, the woman who as we have established has made her daughter feel alienated and neglected and undervalued for her entire life says “It was… you. My mission was always… you.”

(The Karpet Kleaner has already fucked off back to space at this point, btw.)

Two weeks later, this is how Carol reflects on her feelings about her mother:

“When I look for Ma in our family albums, I don’t even see her face anymore… now she just looks like some kind of bright star to me. Captain Mari-Ell, daughter of Hala. A ball of cosmic dust and burning light… But as much as her light hurts my eyes, I can’t look away, and I can’t outrun her or even outfly her… because nothing’s faster than light.”

what.

Marie has done nothing to earn this mythic status. She’s a terrible parent who, as best I can tell, had two real conversations with her daughter in Carol’s entire life, and both of them happened in the last six hours of her life. She’s not a ball of radiant light or whatever, she’s a snazzy costume with all the personality and heroism of a potato.

What are you doing chucking perfectly good photos into the void of space? There’s no logical symbolism to it. You scatter her ashes in space, you’re returning her to the stars, taking her on one last flight, etc. You scatter family photos in space, you’re just littering.

You already did the crying-tears-that-turn-to-ice-in-the-vacuum-of-space. Just because you wasted it on a hacky moon tantrum back in issue two, doesn’t mean you get a second go at it.

Carol meets Tony on the Moon and tells him she needs to get back to work.

Carol: I feel closer to her when I’m Captain Marvel than when I’m… not. Tony: You know what you are, Care Bear? You’re hers. Maybe that’s the thing about all this ‘daughter of light’ stuff. That light is in you and she’s in you— Car-Ell, daughter of Mari-Ell— yadda yadda yadda mumbo midichlorians jumbo— you catch my drift.

what ‘daughter of light’ stuff? NOBODY HAS MENTIONED ANY ‘DAUGHTER OF LIGHT’ STUFF.

Then it’s back to Maine to farewell JJ and Nice Guy Louis — who finally gets his kiss, though not without passing up the opportunity to complain that he’s been waiting fourteen years for it. I cannot believe this fucko was the love interest.

Finally, Carol flies off amid more wanky narration about how she is truly her mother’s daughter and her story will live in Marie’s legend (what legend? Marie only did two things in her life, become a Kree military officer and have a daughter, and she couldn’t be bothered following through on either one of them) and Marie will live in her heart.

Writing tip from Margaret Stohl: Having trouble building a believable relationship between your characters? Try not doing it and saying you did! Marie may be an empty shirt of a character, and her neglect may have caused Carol lasting scars into adulthood, but the important thing is, Carol tells us that they had a rich and meaningful relationship. That means it must be true!

#comics talk #carol danvers #the days of our lives of captain marvel

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truthbeetoldmedia · 6 years ago

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Brooklyn Nine-Nine 6x08 “He Said, She Said” Review

The detectives of Brooklyn’s 99th precinct have solved plenty of gory murders, drug rings, B&Es, and cases of identity theft, but one area the show has steered clear of — until now — was the subject of sexual assault. And with good reason: how does a comedy find the humour in a situation that is all too distressingly real for the majority of women?

In the wake of the #MeToo movement (it’s worth mentioning that Terry Crews, who plays Terry Jeffords, has been one of the most vocal supporters of the movement since the beginning, sharing his own story of sexual assault), it seemed it would only be a matter of time before Brooklyn Nine-Nine turned its attention to the sensitive subject; and, in the same vein as episodes such as “Moo Moo” and “Game Night”, manages to make its point authentically and succinctly, while still providing laughs.

During the morning briefing, Captain Holt tells the squad about their newest case: Seth Haggerty, who has had his penis broken by a golf club. Jake’s game of guessing how such an injury could possibly occur is ruined when Holt somberly informs them that Seth was attacked by a female coworker who claims he had sexually assaulted her.

Jake is assigned to the case and Amy, who is somehow three weeks ahead in her paperwork, offers to jump on with him. As we learn later, Amy has ulterior motives for wanting to work the case, outside of getting back in the field: it hits close to home for her, as she, like many, has also suffered through workplace harassment.

First, Jake and Amy interrogate Seth, who is wearing a comedic diaper cast. Predictably, he claims that he did nothing wrong. Next, they bring in Keri, who tells her side of the story: Seth had been drinking, he got her alone and tried to take her clothes off, so she took his golf club and hit him in the “cookie monster” with it.

Right away, this episode did something I was impressed by: it would have been easy for Jake or someone else to want to take Seth at his word, to question Keri’s version of events, or to suggest that her response was the wrong one; but no one does. (In fact, the show sends Hitchcock, perhaps the one most likely to make any such comments, home for the week in the cold open, perhaps realizing that such a storyline is one Hitchcock can’t live in genuinely.)

It’s one thing to say the woman needs to be believed; it’s another to show it, and show it without saying that that’s what you’re doing.

After discussing it, Jake and Amy decide that Keri should file charges against Seth for sexual assault. But she refuses, because her company has already offered her a $2.5 million hush money payment and a promotion in exchange for her silence.

It seems like an easy decision to make: $2.5 million to pretend nothing ever happened; or open an investigation which has little chance of finding any damning evidence, relive the assault, and open yourself up to being disbelieved, ostracized, and punished for telling the truth.

Except.

Assaulters don’t deserve to walk free.

This is the crux of Me Too: it takes an inordinate amount of courage to make oneself so vulnerable in order to stop the same thing from happening again, to someone else, when there seems to be so little possibility of success.

After some encouragement from Amy, Keri decides to press charges and an investigation is officially opened, but it doesn’t get off to the most auspicious start: Jake and Amy arrive at Keri’s workplace to conduct interviews with her coworkers, hoping someone else will corroborate her story, but everyone seems intent on toeing the company line and insist that Seth is a “great guy” and the company is a “very professional place.” (This, while some employees are openly drunk.)

Not only do Jake and Amy not get the evidence they need, they find out that Keri has been fired and her settlement retracted because acts of violence won’t be tolerated. Distressed, Amy throws herself into the case, desperate to find evidence so that Keri doesn’t lose her job because of Amy’s advice.

Later, Amy comes clean to Jake about why exactly this case hits so close to home for her: at her first precinct, she was approached by her commanding officer after being promoted to detective, because he seemed to think she owed him something in return for her career. Amy never told anyone about the incident, in which her boss tried to kiss her, because she felt that maybe her promotion hadn’t been earned in the first place and that any future promotions wouldn’t be offered to her. (This particular backstory seems to be lifted right from the Harvey Weinstein scandal that started the whole Me Too movement in the first place.)

Another thing this episode did very well — as it did in the aforementioned “Game Night” episode, also — was let Jake sit back and be a comforting presence and ally rather than an active participant. As “Game Night” was Rosa’s episode, “He Said, She Said” is Amy’s. (Jake himself brings attention to the role of men in this topic while Rosa and Amy are having a back-and-forth about the merits of pursuing a sexual assault charge: should he leave the room, or should he be a part of the conversation? In the end, he decides to be an active listener and stop interjecting, which is exactly the right call.)

Because this is Brooklyn Nine-Nine and, above all, it’s a show that’s meant to make you feel good, Amy and Jake do end up with the evidence they need: one of the employees at the firm comes forward with a text chain in which Seth tells the same story Keri did. However, even with the conviction, Keri still quits her job because she knows she’s being isolated from her other coworkers and that will have ramifications of her career.

Two step forward and one step back. As the show is sure to iterate, doing the right thing isn’t always easy.

It’s not all bittersweet, though; the episode ends with Rosa revealing that another female employee from the same firm has come forward to share her story, which leads to my favourite line of the episode: “Two steps forward and one step back is still one step forward.”

If this plotline does all the heavy lifting of the episode, the B-plot works hard to add in some levity: Captain Holt learns that one of his greatest-ever collars, the Disco Strangler, has died when his transport van flipped and caught on fire. (This is a reference that goes waaaaaay back: the Disco Strangler was mentioned in the show’s pilot episode, when Terry uses the story of his capture to convince Jake that their new captain is the Real Deal.)

Although all evidence — including a charred body and the word of a badly injured van driver — points to his old nemesis actually being dead, Captain Holt refuses to believe it, thinking instead that this is the Disco Strangler’s great escape.

Is this a case of Captain Holt’s detective senses being right despite having no evidence to go on, or is he making up a case because accepting that the Disco Strangler is dead would also mean accepting that his best years are behind him?

Terry and Charles seem to think it’s the latter, and as Holt investigates and the evidence mounts against him, it seems they’re right: Holt’s main clue, a piece of string that he believes belonged to a yo-yo, turns out to be part of the sign the Strangler had to wear that declared him a fall risk, and seeing the van driver badly injured in the hospital makes it seem ridiculous to think that she could be in cahoots with the criminal.

Just as Holt is ready to admit that he’s wrong and he is no longer the young cop he used to be, he receives aerial footage from a helicopter of the Disco Strangler walking along a highway. Holt orders a team be dispatched to pick him up. The thirty-odd intervening years since Holt last caught the Disco Strangler make themselves known though, as Holt’s triumphant moment is somewhat ruined by the fact that the old Strangler is too deaf to hear what he’s saying.

Working off a reduced cast for this episode (as previously mentioned, Hitchcock is sent home in the cold open, Scully only has a minor role to play, and Stephanie Beatriz, who directed the episode, only appears as Rosa a couple of times) works in the show’s favour: the two main plots balance each other nicely, and each is given room to breathe, with especial attention given to Amy’s story in a way that doesn’t feel rushed or overbearing. As usual, the show handles delicate subject matter with deftness and finesse, and I’m grateful for it.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine airs Thursdays on NBC at 9/8c.

Sam’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝.5

#Brooklyn Nine-Nine #He Said She Said #Me Too

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kpopfanfictrash · 7 years ago

Text

Rookie

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Sehun

Rating: 18+ (Explicit sex, violence)

Word Count: 5,179

Summary: Sehun is the youngest cop on the force. By night though, he’s someone else entirely. When both his worlds threaten to overlap, what will he do to keep the woman he loves safe? [HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @igot7bangtanbaes ! ] + Superhero!AU

“Unit 546 to Lower Washington and Peach Street. Repeat, Unit 546 to Lower Washington and Peach Street. A suspect is fleeing the scene on a motorized vehicle, heading north on Washington with two units on his tail.”

Sehun pushes up the brim of his hat, peering down at his radio. The sound is full of static, crackling every other word but Sehun supposes this is to be expected, being the youngest police officer on the force. He always gets last pick of lockers, last pick of bunk beds and last pick in any and all forms of equipment. Which explains why his uniform doesn’t quite fit, why his radio is a piece of crap and why the car he’s driving has several, suspicious-looking stains in the backseat.

Honestly, Sehun doesn’t mind. Ever since he was little, he’s wanted to be a cop. He’s wanted to be part of this fight, this ever-ending battle between good and evil. If this is what he needs to do to get there – so be it. Unit 546 isn’t Sehun, which is why he hasn’t responded. Sehun is unit number 333, rarely paged other than as a last resort.

Sehun fiddles with his seatbelt, staring aimlessly up at the side of a parking garage. He knows his skills, knows how capable he is – he also knows it’s completely impossible right now, to reveal who he is. The other officers fear – some even despise – the Shadow Angel, meaning no one can know how Sehun and he are connected. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Sehun sighs. He didn’t mean for things to happen like this, didn’t intend for things to get out of hand – but when he started working and realized just how long it would be before he actually got to help, Sehun decided to do things on his own.

“Unit 333. Repeat, Unit 333 – do you copy?”

Sehun jerks, nearly dropping his walkie-talkie in his attempt to answer. “Yes,” he blurts, nearly hitting himself in the forehead. “Unit 333, I copy.”

There’s crackling from the other end as Sehun waits – and then a voice blurts, “They’ve made a detour. Heading your way. Go to the intersection of Oakbrook and Pine, ASAP.”

Sehun nods, barely remembering to confirm out loud before throwing his car in reverse. His heart hammers in his chest, loud while Sehun speeds onto the street. A horn blares on his right, pissed at being cut off but Sehun is already gone. He grins, grip tight on his steering wheel. This is what Sehun loves; this is what he’s good at.

The streets flick past, each light turning green, since Sehun has his Bluetooth on. The tires skid beneath him, turning onto Pine Street and Sehun winces in response, but continues. Other parties talk on the radio, shouting instructions and guidance to anyone who can listen.

Sehun’s foot slams down on the gas, pushing him into a sharp turn – cutting off the intersection entirely. The black Mercedes sees him entering and swerves, nearly running over a fire hydrant as they ride up onto the curb. Their car tilts, hovering for a second before crashing back down. Sehun grins, shutting off his engine while the sounds of sirens wail in the distance.

The Mercedes is stopped, engine still thrumming as its driver scans for a way out. There is none though, nowhere to hide – which is why Sehun exhales, securing his gun as he opens the door.

Technically, he shouldn’t get out. Technically, Sehun should wait for a more seasoned police officer to arrive before engaging any criminal. Sehun has never been one for waiting though, so he barrels outside without taking the moment to think.

The Mercedes is silent, impossible for him to see beyond its tinted windows. Sehun thinks someone yells on his radio, but is too far away to be sure. He should have taken it with, Sehun realizes – it’s too late for that now, though. Moving carefully, Sehun angles his body behind street signs and vehicles. There’s a hiss of steam from a grate on his left and wind buffers his hair, as Sehun continues. His police jacket flaps open, the sounds of honking and traffic loud until –

“GET DOWN! HE HAS A GUN, YOU IDIOT!”

Sehun drops, rolling as the Mercedes door flings open for a gunshot to ring in his ears. Sehun’s head buzzes, overly loud as he twists to shoot in the attacker’s direction. Gunfire is exchanged between them; Sehun isn’t sure how many rounds. All he knows is the cold press of metal in his palms, the sharp reverb of his gun, struggling to control the weapon. Sehun’s mind is flat, filled with precision and reflex while squinting over the top of the minivan – on his second look, he sees the criminal running.

Swearing aloud, Sehun shoots – groaning, when he finds his gun empty. His extra clip is in his car, and Sehun berates himself as he breaks into a matching run. It’s odd, he notes – the criminal is wearing a red hoodie. It’s overly bright, against the building behind him. On the back is writing, though Sehun can’t make it out from this far. It looks like symbols, and he picks up speed – before a hand appears out of nowhere, to yank him from behind.

“Ah!” Sehun yelps, nearly smacking his attacker as he whirls.

The man ducks, grabbing Sehun’s arm and twisting. “Are you crazy?” Officer Creighton yells, face red with anger. “We almost had him. If you’d just waited, for appropriate back-up – we could have surrounded him, and he wouldn’t have gotten away.”

Sehun freezes, staring at him. His gaze darts from the Officer to the alley, to where the criminal has long since disappeared. “Sir,” Sehun pants, trying to remain calm, “Sir, I understand but he’s getting away. We have to follow, we –”

“We,” the man interrupts, “do nothing. You, will return to the station. You, will file the paperwork for the errors you made today. I, will be the one who stays to supervise the search you botched up.”

Sehun stares at him, then the alley. Anger curls within – at himself, but also at the situation. He should have waited. He should have followed procedure – but if his officer would just trust, if he’d just let Sehun prove himself. Sehun closes his eyes, attempting to control his anger.

“Yes, sir,” he says sullenly, opening his eyes. “I’ll return to the station.”

“Good.” Officer Creighton releases him then, shaking his head while stepping away. Seeing Sehun’s expression, the man sighs. “Listen,” the Officer intones, his voice quieter. “You have good instincts, kid. I don’t want you to get discouraged – but this is life and death. You can’t break the chain of command. Rules exist to protect you, as much as everyone else.”

Sehun nods, not wanting to argue. Out of everyone here, Sehun knows about life and death. He knows Officer Creighton is only acting in his best interest. It makes sense, it really does – but the things he says aren’t really applicable, to him. Sehun doesn’t need protection but rather, the other way around.

It’s then though, that Sehun’s head snaps up. He looks again at the alley, gaze narrowing when he remembers the writing. He recognizes it now, remembers where he saw it and finally, Sehun understands what’s going on.

“I understand,” Sehun rearranges his features to those of contrition. “I’ll be more careful, from now on.”

Back at the station, Sehun ignores the whispers and looks he gets upon entering the room. He ignores the buzzing which follows, pretending none of them exist as he heads directly into his cubicle. Flopping down in his swivel chair, Sehun opens his computer and boots up the hard drive.

Glancing once over his shoulder, Sehun makes sure no one is watching before searching his files. Abyssus abyssum invocate, or, hell calls to hell. The motto of one gang in particular – one whose true nature and purpose is largely unknown to the public. Sehun knows, though. Sehun knows and Sehun understands, as he scrolls through murders of several weeks back.

He finds what he’s looking for on page nine – an interview, from a witness most dismissed as hysterical. A lot of the officers thought the woman incomprehensible; babbling on about her dead husband. When Sehun read her account though, he was unconvinced that the woman was lying.

Officer: Can you describe what happened tonight, ma’am?

Witness: It was … horrible. They came dressed in black, they came from the shadows

Officer: Who did? Who came from the shadows?

Witness: I don’t know. They were cold, they… said greatness couldn’t be trusted. Said men like my husband couldn’t be trusted.

Officer: How? In what way?

Witness: I don’t know. They wouldn’t explain, and I didn’t know what to ask. I couldn’t breathe, when they cut into him. They just kept – stabbing. Bleeding him out. One kept repeating words – words in Latin, over and over.

Officer: Do you remember what they said, ma’am?

Witness: I – I don’t speak Latin. Something about an abyss? It’s all fuzzy, I’m not sure.

Officer: Alright. Let’s try something else – did you notice any distinguishable characteristics of the criminals?

Witness: No. There were wearing masks and at the end – one… No, no, I can’t say.

Officer: What do you mean? Did one threaten you, if you spoke?

Witness: No, I just – you’ll think that I’m crazy.

Officer: Ma’am, we want to help. Please tell us all you know.

Witness: At the end… one of the men pulled down his mask. I remember him looking at me – but everything is fuzzy, as though he somehow… changed things. As though he reached into my brain and… took things. The thoughts I had of him.

Officer: I don’t understand.

Witness: Neither do I, he just –

Officer: There, there. It’s okay.

Sehun leans back in his seat. The interview continues, but this is the important part. This is the part which confirms Sehun’s theory that this gang – the Black Night – have a hero amongst them. Well, not a hero – now, they can only be called a villain. Their leader seems to have some superpower: that of altering memories, of changing reality and perception.

Exhaling darkly, Sehun closes his eyes. He’s been tracking the Black Night for the past month, trying to figure out more about them, to understand what they want. All he’s found out so far is a name and purpose. Hell calls to hell; which the gang seems to interpret as, the upper class will die.

Sehun isn’t an idiot. He knows not everyone who’s rich is good. On the contrary, they’re usually bad. Money, power, influence – all of these lead to a warped sense of reality. It makes people bend, even break the rules. Life becomes a game for them as, with time, they see themselves above it all.

Despite this, no group is bad. Just as no human, no race or religion is completely evil. There is good and bad in all, and each deserves the chance to prove themselves.

To think that they don’t is a dangerous philosophy, one which has led to a recent string of murders within the city. Sehun’s eyes open, realizing what this means. The man today may have escaped; Sehun may have failed in catching him, but in the process he revealed something much better – a potential hideout.

During the police chase, the man disappeared between State and Lambert. He vanished into thin air, which makes Sehun smile. A hideout. Which means – Sehun leans forward, scanning – he has a place to stake out tonight. Sipping on coffee, Sehun slides lower in his chair. Just two more hours, until his shift is complete.

Two more hours, until he can finally be of use to this city.

The alleyway is dark, empty and Sehun watches the building from across the street. His attention is on a black door, nondescript, with a plain, silver knob. A woman entered earlier, her sweatshirt black instead of red – but boasting the same, Latin markings. This confirms to Sehun that he’s in the right place, that if he waits long enough – he’ll find his criminal.

Exhaling, Sehun’s breath fogs the air. His hand rests on the holster at his hip, though he has no real need for it. The gun is for show, more than anything. The man from earlier has yet to emerge, which makes Sehun wonder if he’s made a mistake. Perhaps he’ll be too cautious to come out tonight. Perhaps he’ll wait for days, biding his time until the commotion has died down.

It can’t be longer than an hour, before the front door opens and a face peers out. He’s wearing different clothing – a leather bomber jacket, jeans – but it’s definitely him. Sehun recognizes the face, making him think this man isn’t their leader.

The criminal steps outside, door falling shut behind him as he glances furtively down the street. He turns, slipping between the buildings and Sehun stands from the ground – he makes certain his ski mask is firmly in place before picking his way across the courtyard. He doesn’t want to be seen, not yet.

Midway through the alley, the man turns. He shoves both hands in his pockets, disappearing between two, large green trash bins. Sehun hurries after, slipping past silos, shrugging his arm free when it catches on a bin. He winces, continuing forward – freezing, when he turns a corner and finds himself face to face with a gun.

The man tilts his head, expression thoughtful. “You seem… familiar,” he mutters, meeting Sehun’s eyes. Sehun wishes he’d thought to wear sunglasses, but he didn’t remember – also, it’s fucking dark out. “Are you one of those cops, the ones who chased me?” When the criminal snorts, Sehun flushes. “It wouldn’t be the first time a newbie cop decided to go renegade on me. Dumb move, that rookie – never engage in a chase, before you confirm you have back-up.”

Sehun’s lips tighten, eyes refocusing on the barrel. “It’s also widely considered dumb, breaking into someone else’s home wearing a bright red hoodie. Nice motto, by the way,” Sehun remarks, overly casual. “Did your boss pick that out himself?”

The guy’s eyes harden, gun clicking as he removes the safety. “That’s none of your business. I’m the one making the demands tonight, bud.”

Sehun doesn’t speak, posture stiffening in response. In the lining of his pockets, his fingers splay and Sehun inhales, drawing breath from his surroundings. When Sehun releases the sound to the dark, the tiniest of smiles curves his lips.

The man blinks, suddenly uneasy. “Who are you?” he asks, curious.

“Would it be cheesy,” Sehun muses, eyes bright, “to say, your worst nightmare?”

He explodes.

Energy slams outwards, radiating to form a purple-blue shield – just as the man pulls the trigger, bullet exploding to spiral dangerously towards Sehun. It happens too fast to see, a screech of metal on sparks as the bullet ricochets backwards. The man screams, collapsing to the ground while Sehun rolls his eyes. He knows the injury is nothing more than a flesh wound. Still, he drops – keeping his ski mask in place as he meets the criminal’s gaze.

“Who do you work for?” Sehun asks smoothly. He’s wearing leather gloves – reaching calmly, opening the man’s jacket to pat down his pockets. “Why did you break and enter that home, not kill?”

The man groans, clutching at his ear. A thin trickle of blood seeps through, spilling between fingers to the pavement.

“Nod,” Sehun demands, eyes crackling with energy, “if the answer is yes. Shake your head, if the answer is no.”

The man struggles to focus on Sehun’s face. Realization dawns then and he twists, searching for something – anything – to fight with. “Shadow Angel,” the man grasps, groaning as the pain hits him again.

Sehun stiffens. Shadow Angel is what the newspapers dubbed him, ever since a slightly hysterical man gave an interview to the press. Sehun stopped the man from being mugged and was dubbed the Angel for his troubles – the Angel of Shadow, since his face was never seen. The public has followed him since – fascinated, by to the supernatural accounts surrounding his stories.

Superpowers, magic, trickery. There’s a lot of debate, on whether Sehun actually has powers or not. These are the accounts he usually laughs at, declining to even read since Sehun knows who he is – and that’s enough.

The man before him knows, too. He stares at him fearfully, leaning away from his hands. “Please,” he begs, voice breaking on the word. “Spare me.”

Sehun tilts his head. “Who do you work for?” he asks again, ignoring the request.

“The Black Night,” the man answers immediately. “I work for the Black Night.”

Sehun inhales, hardly daring to believe his luck. “And who,” he pauses, leaning in, “is the leader of the Black Night?”

The man hesitates, suddenly unsure. “I don’t know his name,” he admits, swallowing. “We only call him the Abyss. He has powers... like yours.”

“Like mine?” Sehun holds out a palm – above, dances a dangerous storm of electricity.

“Well, no,” the man agrees, eyes wide. “His are more … mental. He can make you see things, do things. He can do just about anything, by looking into your eyes.”

Sehun takes note – the villain’s powers are somehow linked to the ocular. This might come in handy, later on. Refocusing on the man before him, Sehun’s light burns brighter. “And today?” Sehun whispers. “Why did you only break into the mayor’s house, then leave?”

Again, the man falls silent. He stares at Sehun, lip trembling. “I – I can’t,” he whispers. “They’ll kill me.”

“Well,” Sehun feigns concern. “It appears you have a problem, then. On the one hand, I could kill you now, if you don’t tell me the truth. On the other hand, the Black Night could kill you – but only if they find out you told me. And I won’t tell a soul,” Sehun smiles, resoundingly brilliant.

Sehun would never kill this man, of course. He has hard and firm lines for himself – one of which, is do not kill. This man doesn’t know this though, and he looks with fear at the crackling energy Sehun holds.

“A scouting mission,” the man breathes, frantic. “It was a scouting mission, to determine the layout of their house. The mayor and his family won’t be attacked – not yet. Not until the Abyss is sure he can succeed, is sure he can win.”

Sehun doesn’t react, not yet. On the outside he remains calm, but on the inside – Sehun takes a breath. He can’t think about it, yet. Can’t process this piece of information, because right now – Sehun needs to go. He needs to get out of here, needs his secret to remain intact.

“Good,” he nods. “Thank you for the information.” Standing, Sehun wipes the dust from his palms. He glances around, searching for witnesses. “I’ll be going now,” he looks back at the man. “Be careful with your gun, next time you fight.”

The man opens his mouth, about to respond – and Sehun reaches out, shocking him to silence. The man’s eyes roll back, body slumping when Sehun sends fifty volts straight through his frame. It’s enough to stutter his heart, render him unconscious – likely it will be hours, before the man wakes up. Even then, he’ll be groggy, with little to no memory of tonight.

Turning away from the dirt, Sehun releases his breath. Now that the criminal is taken care of, he can finally process – the news is enough for Sehun to pause, grabbing onto the wall in his nausea. The Black Night wants the mayor’s family.

The Abyss is after you.

Sehun barely pays attention, driving through the streets of the city. His actions are manic and he’s lucky it’s the witching hour because he’d be immediately pulled over, otherwise. Which would be rather awkward, given he’s a cop. Not to mention his current attire, a dead giveaway for his alter ego.

Parking in the spot he always does, Sehun makes his way to you on foot. The building across from yours has a fire escape, nestled against its ancient side. Sehun’s powers are tricky, mostly electric in nature. He doesn’t know where they came from, nor how he acquired them. Sehun spent most of his adolescence in foster homes, moving around before he was adopted by his mom and dad.

Aside from electricity, there are certain parts of Sehun’s body nimbler than others. He has an increased tenacity to skin, heightened reflexes – adjustments, he thinks, for extra voltage within. It makes him more agile, enables Sehun to do things others can’t – which explains his speed now, scaling the side of the building. At the sixteenth floor he jumps, pushing off a drainpipe, twisting in mid-air to grab the base of your balcony.

Sehun yanks himself upwards, swinging one leg over your railing – wincing, as he nearly tumbles into a plant. He whirls, catching said pot before smashing the ground and exhales, lowering his forehead to smooth ceramic. That wouldn’t be the first time he’s broken one of your plants, but the last time he did meant no sex for a week.

You were livid, since it was some pansy you’d been growing since you were a child. These are the odd quirks Sehun loves about you, though. He loves how much you care for your plants, for people – and for him, for Sehun. You ground him, make him feel wanted, make him feel sane and stable and whole.

The two of you are a secret, since in real life, Sehun is a lowly police officer. At night, he may be the demon renegade who protects the city – but by day, he’s a nobody. Even his alter ego is distasteful to some, including your very prominent father. To the mayor, Sehun is a demon renegade who loves throwing a very distinct middle finger at authority. He represents a direct threat to the city, and to rules in general.

Sighing heavily, Sehun eases open the door to your room. The space is silent and Sehun closes the glass behind him, shutting out the sounds of the city below. When he turns, he sees you’re not beneath your sheets. This is followed by panic, Sehun’s heart leaping as he considers whether he might already be too late. The Abyss might have you – but then Sehun sees your bathroom light on, yellow light spilling beneath your door.

Exhaling again, Sehun turns to the windows. Moonlight enters the room – wooden floorboards beneath his feet, thankfully. Sehun has the worst habit of visiting you late at night, his boots covered in the muck and grime of the city. Wincing, Sehun leans to pry his shoes off. He removes his ski mask off as well, nearly toppling over when he hears the sound of your laugh.

“Y/N,” he breathes, turning around – barely thinking, crossing the room.

You smile back at him, somewhat sleepily and, when he reaches your side, Sehun isn’t sure which of you moves first. Your lips meet in the middle, your body pulled roughly to his. Sehun kisses you eagerly, exploring every inch because you’re here, you’re warm, you’re wanting. You’re also safe and alive, which means Sehun can’t help but be grateful.

It was an accident, the two of you meeting. You found him on the night of his third raid, having just managed to intercept the murder of a well-known judge. Sehun was fighting off the criminal in some alley, shocking him into unconsciousness before collapsing against a wall. The hour was late and fighting made Sehun dehydrated – he wasn’t used to using his powers yet, not in that capacity.

Pushing his face mask up, Sehun drank from his water bottle – until a voice coughed pointedly behind him. Sehun whipped around, nearly tripping in haste to spot you. Your mouth was wide with disbelief, lips parted and you quickly glanced down, to the body behind him.

“No,” Sehun took a hasty step towards you. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Your fear turned to awe though, as you explained you’d seen the entire thing. Walking home from the library that night, you meant to cut through the alley – you saw, when Sehun confronted the would-be murderer.

Sehun relaxed when you said you understood – but then realized you knew his face. You knew who he was, knew of his power – you could easily ruin everything, for him. Especially with your name, your family – your father, who hated him, Sehun’s most outspoken opponent. What you should have done, was turn Sehun in. Instead you hid him, protected him and in return, Sehun fell in love with you.

Now the Abyss is trying to take that love away. Sehun pulls back, breathless while resting his forehead to yours. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, watching you smile.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you tease. “Such irony, coming from you.”

Sehun offers a sheepish grin. “Fair. It’s just,” he sighs. “You know that I worry. Especially on a day like today,” he breathes, grip tightening on your waist. “I know you texted earlier, saying you were okay – but,” he gulps, a quick breath, “I felt so fucking helpless.”

Your smile falters. “It’s okay,” you reassure, leaning to press your lips to his. “I’m okay, my dad is okay – everyone is okay.”

Sehun nods, once. He debates whether or not to tell you – deciding no, at your tense expression. You’re putting on a brave face for him but Sehun can tell that you’re scared. Today was overwhelming, draining and whatever evil is coming, it can wait until the morning. Tomorrow, the two of you can figure out how to alert your father. Tomorrow, Sehun can increase your protection – right now, he just wants to be with you.

Sehun drags his thumb over the indent of your lips. Your gaze darkens, looking up and Sehun feels his body tense in response. It’s unfair, that just the sight of you – in a ridiculously flimsy nightgown – has the power to send all the blood in his body straight towards his dick. Already, Sehun can feel himself rising, feel his cock half-hard against the fabric of his pants.

“Sehun,” you exhale, winding both arms around his neck.

Your first kiss is gentle, exploring while his hands slide down to cup you from behind. Sehun pulls you closer, letting you feel how badly he wants you. When he bends, grabbing the backs of your thighs, he lifts you higher. “Bed?” he whispers, since sometimes you like it against the wall. Sometimes you like him to slide into you, spread your legs and fuck you like that – but tonight, you shake your head.

“Bed,” you agree, wrapping your legs tighter.

Sehun’s mouth opens yours, walking you backwards. Your ass hits the mattress first, then your spine – Sehun quickly following. His hands find your body, one sliding between your legs to pull your panties aside. One finger enters, withdrawing quickly to rub his thumb against your clit.

You whimper, pushing upwards, breasts brushing his chest as Sehun instantly hardens. Just the touch of you, the feel of you clenching; that breathy, little noise you make – Sehun already knows he won’t last long. He removes his shirt, pulling your nightgown off just as quickly.

You’re naked but for your underwear, which Sehun also slides away. His pants are next, unbuttoned hastily by your fingers – and you grasp him firmly, making Sehun freeze in place above you. Your eyes glint in the darkness as you lower yourself back, hand stroking smoothly up and down his shaft. Your smile is wicked, completely incorrigible as you rub your thumb over the tip of his cock.

“Sehun,” your gaze darts to his face. “Do you want to come in my mouth, or inside me?”

“Inside,” Sehun groans because, though your sweet-shaped lips are tempting – nothing can beat the feel of you around him. The feel of fucking into you, of your limbs and body tight around his.

You nod and when you spread your legs, Sehun groans out loud. The two of you stopped using condoms months ago; as soon as you went on the pill and Sehun provided you with a credible bill of health. It’s hard to imagine being inside you any other way, now.

Sehun teases for a moment, pushing his cock against your clit, around your entrance before sinking inside. You gasp, biting his shoulder when he fills you. Sehun loves the feel of you like this, trembling and tight. Your body is so responsive, so in tune with his own – that when he starts to move, it’s hard for him to hold himself together.

You’re so eager, hips pushing up to match him thrust for thrust. You clutch his back, fingers dragging along the seams of his body and when Sehun picks up speed, moving faster – you thread your fingers between the roots of his hair and pull. Gasping, at the sight of his ass between your legs – nearly losing control, when Sehun gathers you closer.

Sehun fucks harder, drives deeper – pace turning insistent, bruising while his cock hits your walls over and over. He knows when he finds your g-spot, because you suddenly cry out – yanking his hair so hard, Sehun winces. “There,” you gasp, arching upwards. “Right there – oh, god.”

Sehun nearly loses it at the sight of you beneath him, expression fucked-out and blissful, driving you over the edge. When you come, Sehun feels you tighten around him. Nothing ever feels as good as this does, your body trembling beneath his, and Sehun lasts only a few more strokes before coming as well. You moan in response, feeling him fill you and Sehun smiles with pride, when your legs tighten on his waist.

You’re fucking filthy like that, love having his cum inside you and refuse to let him leave, so long as you possibly can. Sehun obliges you in this, keeping his body still, dropping soft kisses to your cheekbones. Eventually you open your eyes, meeting his lips in a kiss of your own – and nod your head, when he pulls himself away.

This is his cue to leave, and Sehun disappears into your bathroom. After a quick wash he returns and you hum, letting him take care of you – wrapping your arms around him, when he falls onto your bed. “Do you have an early day?” Sehun yawns into your hair, body skin still warm from your heat and sex.

You nod, lips finding his chest. “8:00, breakfast interview with the Post.”

Sehun sighs. “I’ll make sure I leave before then.”

Pouting, you pull him close. “I don’t want you to go.”

Sehun chuckles lightly, kissing your forehead. “I don’t want to go, but it’s how things need to be, right now.”

“Right now,” you agree, looking up with warm eyes.

Sehun nods, serious. “For now,” he agrees, when you lay your head down on the pillow. In the morning, Sehun decides, own eyes closing. He’ll tell you everything in the morning – the shadows can wait until then.

Author’s Note: WOO, happy birthday TY!

#NotYourTYpicalBirthday #noonanet #kwriterskollection #kpoptrashtag #sehun smut #exo smut #sehun fanfiction #exo fanfiction #sehun au #exo au #sehun superhero #exo superhero

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verdigrisprowl · 7 years ago

Text

Jan 12 random movie night - Star Trek Discovery Ep 2 & 3

Tarantulas didn’t like it until they finally got to the science in episode 3.

More importantly: Prowl asked Soundwave if he happens to know what a “covenant” possessing historical and scientific data might be, Smokescreen mentioned he has one.

Soundwave.

Is.

Livid.

Naturally, they’re already plotting a way to get it from Smokescreen.

Yesterday ItsyBitsySpyers 9:46 pm *Soundwave's got it all set up again, this time with two cubes of random energon, metal, and crystal slivers at his side. Tarantulas already knows he has a mouth. It won't harm anything to lift his mask up juuuust enough to slip them under it.* Tarantulas 9:52 pm *tarantulas is gonna eye that array of snacks as he gets settled again* *he didn't bring anything, never remembers, never thinks to* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:54 pm *Soundwave points to the bar. Tarantulas is welcome to take some, if he wants.* Tarantulas 9:57 pm *is stuff just sitting out? otherwise he's actually got the politesse not to take* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:58 pm *There are things visible behind the bar itself, and Ravage is there. Besides, he pointed. It's fine.* [[Shall we?]] Tarantulas 9:59 pm *nnnnnnnah tarantulas hasn't ever talked with ravage so he's gonna pass on that* ...Is Prowl not coming? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:00 pm [[He started work today. Might be late. It is the nature of government jobs.]] Tarantulas 10:01 pm Today was his first day? *genuinely didn't know* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:01 pm [[...It should be. He was certain he saw paperwork to that effect...]] Tarantulas 10:02 pm Ah, well - I suppose that makes sense, then. *plans to comm him in like, ten minutes if he's not here* Might as well begin then, since he's seen it already, correct? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:03 pm [[He has. Very well; let us continue.]] Tarantulas 10:04 pm *gently floofs his fur and settles in* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:05 pm *Pats leg. Would Tarantulas care to be a spider or is he fine being himself?* Tarantulas 10:08 pm *brief snicker* Either way. Do /you/ have a preference? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:09 pm [[It /would/ be warmer for both of us. And,]] tiny bobble, [[he suspects he will lose the opportunity to Prowl should Prowl show up.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 10:12 pm [[The one who resists is a fool. They are fearsome individually. They would be more so together.]] Tarantulas 10:13 pm What opportunity? And *huff* I suppose so. The posturing and politics of all this is... not my favorite part. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:14 pm [[The stage must be set for the long drama to come. There will be science when it is finished.]] Tarantulas 10:16 pm Very well, very well. But they /could/ just give us a summary. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:17 pm [[He supposes so.]] [[He /was/ closer to these decisions for the duration of the war. That may be why it fascinates him more.]] FakeProwl 10:18 pm *appears* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:18 pm [[Ah. There, you see?]] Tarantulas 10:18 pm *jumps, floof* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:18 pm *Is accustomed to that by now. Mostly.* FakeProwl 10:19 pm Sorry I'm late. Work. *oh, that feels so good to say. "Sorry I'm late. Work."* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:19 pm [[It is good to have you. Do join us.]] FakeProwl 10:20 pm *is there room to sit between them?* Tarantulas 10:20 pm *not quite enough, he'll have to nudge them* FakeProwl 10:21 pm *he's not going to be rude and butt in. he'll stare at the not-quite-big-enough space to see if they decide to make it bigger for him. if not, he'll sit on the outside.* Tarantulas 10:22 pm *it's alright, as soon as tarantulas unfluffs he's jumping up to hug prowl anyhow, purring his name* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:22 pm *Soundwave will scoot to make the room* *...Providing Tarantulas doesn't bind him in a little cocoon and hug it all night.* FakeProwl 10:22 pm *oh! okay. hugs back.* *... hugs back very tightly.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:25 pm ((god i love that shot)) Tarantulas 10:25 pm *oh! okay. hugs back tightly also, picks him up a bit* How was work, hmm? *is stepping back and sitting him and prowl down* (( also WAT FakeProwl 10:26 pm *oh! okay. is carried. lifts his knees up to either side of Tarantulas's thighs to make himself easier to carry.* FakeProwl 10:29 pm ((why does klingon always sound like they've got something in their mouths)) Tarantulas 10:29 pm (( marshmallows. too many marshmallows FakeProwl 10:29 pm ((Yes)) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:31 pm [[Is it classified...?]] *To Prowl.* *Obviously it isn't to him, he's still head of things, but Tarantulas is here, and all.* FakeProwl 10:31 pm Oh—no. Sorry, I was distracted. *he was surrounded by fluff and picked up.* FakeProwl 10:32 pm Just first-day orientation. Touring the headquarters, meeting all the teams. *ugh, second time prowl's seen this scene, and he still hates it.* Tarantulas 10:33 pm (( (whooshing) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:33 pm [[No unpleasant incidents?]] FakeProwl 10:35 pm None of any importance. It's obvious a great many of them don't trust or respect me, but for now they're willing to listen to me. Almost all of them were soldiers, they known how to follow the chain of command and I haven't given them a reason to mutiny. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:36 pm [[Good. He trusts you will inform him if that changes.]] Tarantulas 10:36 pm It won't. *happy churr* Prowl's already doing splendidly, I'm sure. FakeProwl 10:37 pm One mech in burglary called me "terrorist." I called him "bloodsucker" and that was the end of that. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:37 pm *Visible shaking. Oh, that is good to hear.* Tarantulas 10:37 pm Bloodsucker...? FakeProwl 10:38 pm He worked at a pink alchemy facility. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:38 pm [[Ah. The... meat energon.]] FakeProwl 10:38 pm Yes. Tarantulas 10:39 pm *snort* I see. FakeProwl 10:41 pm ... Upon watching it a second time, I am still convinced that her mutinous actions had absolutely no bearing on the beginning of the war. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:42 pm [[As is he. But scapegoats are handy.]] FakeProwl 10:42 pm Yes. Unfortunately. Tarantulas 10:43 pm *is patiently waiting for when things will actually get interesting for him* FakeProwl 10:44 pm *... wriggles around so he can sit sideways on Tarantulas's lap* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:44 pm [[Note to self. Avoid that species.]] FakeProwl 10:45 pm *okay. good.* Tarantulas 10:45 pm *snuggles in with arms around prowl - however his darling wants, of course* FakeProwl 10:46 pm *puts his feet in soundwave's lap* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:51 pm *Oh? He can do with this. The sensors in these probably map well enough to Prowl's physical legs and feet; he'll work on kneading and flexing what he can reach on the outside and rubbing what cables he can get to with his skinny fingers. Hopefully, a soothing reward for a fine first day.* FakeProwl 10:53 pm *Ooh. He'll take it.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:54 pm *See, Tarantulas. You should have taken his lap offer earlier. Now you'll have to wait until tomorrow at least.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:57 pm [[Suspicious Activities, clearly. Capitalized.]] Tarantulas 10:57 pm *is perked up now, ooh* FakeProwl 10:57 pm *long narrow fingers in his legs and fuzz all around his torso. he's going to melt.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:00 pm *If he melts, can he at least notify Soundwave first so he can fetch a bucket? Melted metal's no easy thing to clean up once it dries.* Tarantulas 11:01 pm *silly soundwave, hard light can't melt* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:01 pm *True, true.* FakeProwl 11:02 pm *then prowl will boldly go where no holomatter has gone before* Tarantulas 11:03 pm *squint squint* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:07 pm *As his hands are busy, extrudes his feelers so he can clasp them. He wants to watch the next part a little closer than before.* Tarantulas 11:09 pm (( I LIKE THIS ItsyBitsySpyers 11:09 pm ((thought you might)) FakeProwl 11:09 pm ... He's too obnoxious for his intelligence to be enjoyable. He's arrogant, condescending, and impatient. Tarantulas 11:10 pm Pfft, most scientists are. FakeProwl 11:10 pm Most scientists are tolerably obnoxious. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:10 pm [[He is also angry. Some of it is forgivable.]] FakeProwl 11:10 pm I'll forgive him when and if he stops being intolerably obnoxious. Tarantulas 11:11 pm I must admit I find it strangely charming, hyeh. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:11 pm *Plucks some of the slivers out and slides them beneath the mask. Munch munch.* *And back to clasp.* FakeProwl 11:12 pm *... sssideglance* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:12 pm *Nothing much to see, sorry. There's just a tiny gap at the bottom.* FakeProwl 11:12 pm *hot.* Tarantulas 11:13 pm *mandibles fluttering excitedly* FakeProwl 11:14 pm *... also hot.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:14 pm *Amuses himself while the beast runs by sticking a sliver up near the mandibles to see if they catch it on accident* Tarantulas 11:15 pm *u better believe his chelicerae reach out and snatch it* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:16 pm [[...He should show more of the Alien movies.]] *The scene reminds him of it.*

*Oooh. Fascinating. He'll have to do that again some time.* Tarantulas 11:16 pm *giggling* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:17 pm [[And the Alice human in her Wonderland.]] [[It is fantastically nonsensical.]] FakeProwl 11:17 pm How nonsensical? Tarantulas 11:17 pm It's a lovely and masterful piece of work, that's what. FakeProwl 11:18 pm ... I hope they can reconcile. Tarantulas 11:19 pm I rather like the tension their interactions bring. FakeProwl 11:20 pm *then Tarantulas has never experienced that kind of tension.* Tarantulas 11:20 pm *nnnnnope* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:21 pm [[Quite nonsensical. But intriguing. He suspects he would understand it better if he were more versed in human history.]]

[[...As for the tension, it is good to see it be on someone else's plate.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 11:22 pm *Watches Tarantulas' reaction to this.* Tarantulas 11:23 pm *the mandibles are still now* Tarantulas 11:25 pm Oh /please/, not the damn fortune cookies. Please tell me that won't become a theme. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:25 pm [[It isn't.]] FakeProwl 11:25 pm That's a cookie? Tarantulas 11:25 pm Good. Because they have /much/ better content to focus on now. FakeProwl 11:26 pm I thought it was a nut. Tarantulas 11:26 pm And yes, it's a fairly simple confectionery. (( i've made fortune cookies before heee FakeProwl 11:27 pm ... You can't learn that the "real world" doesn't adhere to logic from a fictional book. Books are not the "real world." And the real world ALWAYS adheres to logic. Tarantulas 11:28 pm *taps claws together* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:29 pm [[We have one more before we are caught up to Bevel's schedule, but we will have to fit it in tomorrow.]]

[[Books can /reflect/ the world.]] ((cause i could squeeze it in and only run 15 over but puff was talking sleep deprivation earlier so i don't wanna do that)) FakeProwl 11:30 pm If a book teaches a lesson of which one cannot find evidence in the real world, then that lesson is highly suspect. Tarantulas 11:30 pm I'm so /pleased/ they kept the specimen. The tissue distortion, it must be - *excited rambling to no one in particular* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:30 pm *Casually recording the rambling* FakeProwl 11:30 pm *same* Tarantulas 11:31 pm *he's off in his own world now, eventually pauses to think of something and just ends up silent, with a clawtip to his mandibles* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:32 pm *Looks to Prowl and bobs his helm, looks at Tarantulas, and back to Prowl. That is oddly precious, no?* FakeProwl 11:32 pm *EXTREMELY.* *do you see. do you see why he's so irresistible.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:34 pm *He has been starting to pick up bits and pieces of it. Certain habits are more irritating than the others, but things like the scientific rambling and the lost silence are attractive enough.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:35 pm *Lets go of the leg with one hand to hold one finger up - not high, just above Prowl's leg - and tap the air twice. Perhaps Prowl should conduct an experiment of his own and see what happens if he touches them right now?* FakeProwl 11:36 pm *... what, touch tarantulas's legs? he's already sitting on tarantulas's legs. or is prowl supposed to move his legs?* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:36 pm *Touch his /mandibles/.* *Points carefully in their direction without moving his hand overmuch.* FakeProwl 11:37 pm *yknow what, prowl's been fighting the urge for the past hour. why not?* *caaarefully reaches up. delicately taps.* Tarantulas 11:38 pm *yanno those cartoons where the characters startle and ripple up vertically in waves. that's tarantulas's mandibles and fur right now* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:38 pm *Huffing.* Tarantulas 11:39 pm *grasps at prowl's hand* W-what? Were you saying something? FakeProwl 11:39 pm *his face may be poker but his shoulders are trembling.* Ah—no. Sorry. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:40 pm *Pings Prowl gratitude and amusement.* FakeProwl 11:40 pm ... Although, on the subject of interesting specimens—I'm so sorry to hear you never got that snipe you requested. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:40 pm *Puts his hand back on the leg all innocent-like while listening. He never encouraged a thing, no sir.* FakeProwl 11:41 pm *... laces fingers through paw fuzz. ahh. good.* Tarantulas 11:41 pm *a split second, then a sudden snort-laugh* How did you even hear about that? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:41 pm [[...What do you want with a sharpshooter?]] Tarantulas 11:41 pm Maybe we ought to have Soundwave retrieve one, since Smokescreen couldn't. FakeProwl 11:42 pm Hff. No, no. He apparently saved your name on my comm frequency. I let him ramble. Tarantulas 11:42 pm *raised visor. wwwwhat else might he have heard* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:42 pm *Retrieve a sniper? Not his usual fare, but he supposes he could dig through his files. He knows a Bluestreak that's... well, they're touchy about his past, but they do owe him from several past favors...* FakeProwl 11:44 pm On a related note—do get that tranquilizer from him. We need the formula and the specifications for the injector. Kindly don't let him know I'm interested, he might just refuse out of spite. Or, worse—call me. Tarantulas 11:45 pm I wouldn't, of course not. Pft. Though I doubt he's about to find the tranquilizer anytime soon based on the state of his quarters. ...I might could... FakeProwl 11:45 pm Oh, he said he's getting Bumblebee to help clean it. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:46 pm [[Tranquilizer? One moment. He thought you were done planning to do things like sedation assassinations.]] FakeProwl 11:46 pm I am. It's formulated to take out Phase Sixers. It's a defense measure, that's all. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:47 pm [[Then the sniper is only on standby?]] Tarantulas 11:47 pm Oh no, a /snipe/. It's for an experiment. FakeProwl 11:47 pm ... The wh... Tarantulas, no! Tarantulas 11:47 pm *copious snickering* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:47 pm *Looking between them, more than a little confused.* FakeProwl 11:48 pm Snipe hunt. Sending someone on a "snipe hunt" means sending them on a fruitless search for something that isn't real. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:48 pm *Helm tilt. Proceeds to display at least a dozen varieties of the Earth bird called a snipe.* FakeProwl 11:48 pm Tarantulas asked Smokescreen to retrieve a creature that doesn't... Huh. Maybe it DOES exist. That's not what the phrase means, though. Tarantulas 11:49 pm That's the irony of it, hyeh. But I wouldn't say snipe hunts are fruitless. They certainly produce hilarity, that counts for something. FakeProwl 11:49 pm Really? Snipes are real? Tarantulas 11:50 pm Would you actually believe me if I said yes? *visor quirk* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:50 pm [[Smokescreen produces hilarity every time he attempts to process so much as a single thought.]] *Fuzzy-thought muttering.* FakeProwl 11:51 pm ... I honestly don't know. Well. One mech's hilarity is another mech's unceasing frustration. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:52 pm [[Oh, it's both.]] FakeProwl 11:52 pm ... Mm. *focuses on Soundwave* He mentioned something else of interest. I didn't recognize it, maybe you will. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:53 pm [[Unrelated to snipes and tranquilizers, he takes it? The latter being something he would like to hear more about soon.]] *Glance at Tarantulas. What are you planning to do with it in the defense preparation sense?* *Your wiggly-legged spidery mind is still somewhat of a mystery at times.* Tarantulas 11:54 pm *good, just as intended* FakeProwl 11:55 pm He's made reference a couple of times now—once to a Constructicon, once to me while he thought he was talking to Tarantulas—to possessing some sort of covenant? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:55 pm *SNAPS BACK TO PROWL*

[[What.]] Tarantulas 11:55 pm Oh, *hff* That. FakeProwl 11:56 pm He thinks it's important enough that it was worth mentioning while trying to convince Scavenger of how absolutely important he was, which is reason enough to think he might have been lying—but he also mentioned it to Tarantulas. Whatever it is, it apparently possesses historical data and something of scientific complexity? Admittedly, scientific complexity beyond Smokescreen's understanding, which likely isn't very complicated at all. He's from a universe like yours, have you heard of it? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:57 pm [[/Has he heard of--!?/]] ItsyBitsySpyers 11:58 pm *No. No. Calm the thoughts. Nice and still. Icy cold. Peace and tranquility.*

*Long, long vent. The kind you perform when you are attempting to hold on to your composure under very trying circumstances.* Tarantulas 11:58 pm *tarantulas is highly amused by this for whatever reason* FakeProwl 11:58 pm ... I take it you have. Today ItsyBitsySpyers 12:00 am *Gonna just. Clip his mask down.*

*This thought is slow and as crystal clear as someone else translating them can get.*

[[Do you mean to tell him that /boundlessly idiotic/ mech claims to have gotten his citrus-infested hands on the Covenant of Primus?]] Tarantulas 12:02 am Oh, no, it's not a claim. FakeProwl 12:02 am I take it it /is/ important. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:02 am *Holds a finger up. Hold on, Prowl.*

[[What do you mean, it's not a claim? How do you know?]] Tarantulas 12:03 am You tell me more about it and I'll tell you what I know. *visor smileeee* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:03 am [[Tell him what you know first and he will tell you twice what you would get the other way.]] Tarantulas 12:05 am *snickering* Very well. He's shown it to me and read from it for me upon request, a very small and selective excerpt though. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:06 am *Soundwave carefully extricates his hands from Prowl's legs and settles them on his own knee guards.* Tarantulas 12:06 am I have a raincheck on asking him more about whatever I like at any time, of course. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:06 am *This is good, because they squeak softly in protest seconds later.* FakeProwl 12:06 am *he thinks he should withdraw his legs. soundwave's having a moment.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:06 am [[Please wait. He has recent footage to double-check.]] FakeProwl 12:07 am ... If you need knees to crush that can't actually be injured, mine are available. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:11 am *Places them back on Prowl's legs. He is not /crushing/ the avatar's knees - that would be unnecessarily cruel, what with the sense transfers and all - but they are definitely being held in a high tension grip.*

*Aaaaand now his armor is flared out just a tad.*

[[Smokescreen. Has. A Primal relic. /Smokescreen./]] *Little bit more.* [[The mech who thinks everyone is his friend, defines the word gullible with his presence, and has absolutely /no sense of discretion./]] FakeProwl 12:12 am What's the significance of this relic, exactly? ItsyBitsySpyers 12:12 am *Some days, he finds his oath sorely tested. This is one of the worst.* FakeProwl 12:13 am ... If you need, I can turn off my tactile receptors. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:13 am [[It belonged to Alpha Trion. Here, before his death, and before Shockwave lost it. He does not know the status of theirs. It is--]] *Pause.* [[Yes, please.]] FakeProwl 12:13 am *and off.* Go on. *to both the explaining and the squeezing.* Tarantulas 12:16 am *listening intently and with barely-constrained amusement* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:17 am *CRUNCH.*

[[It /was/ Alpha Trion's duty to act as an--]] *Glance to Tarantulas. Apparently Smokescreen was stupid enough to read to him from it and promise more. Might as well now.* [[As an unparalleled chronicler. Before he became invested in meddling with Orion Pax. The Covenant and Quill were his tools.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 12:19 am [[No ordinary mech may use the Quill and the Covenant is difficult for any mech to read. Shockwave gave him fragments of languages he has never even heard of before, taken from the earliest pages.]] FakeProwl 12:19 am *winces. he's going to just, not look at his legs, at all. he doesn't want to know.* So, it's what—the best history textbook on Cybertron? ItsyBitsySpyers 12:20 am [[You could say that.]]

@Prowl: [[And the best deposit of knowledge of the future.]] FakeProwl 12:21 am @Soundwave «Come again.» ItsyBitsySpyers 12:22 am @Prowl: [[It is a relic of the Primes. It contains information on what has not yet happened. The few segments that could be understood have all since passed.]] FakeProwl 12:22 am *... prowl wants to interface with it.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:22 am *WHAT DO YOU THINK /HE/ WANTS TO DO* *...Among other things.* FakeProwl 12:23 am ... Hmm. An extremely valuable repository of knowledge, then. FakeProwl 12:24 am And a /moron's/ got it. Does he have a legal right to it? I'd think that, with something like that, there might be laws in place that declare it property of the public. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:25 am [[He has sought rumors of it and the Quill's locations since its loss.]] *And ached to be responsible for it should it be rediscovered.* [[That /that/ mech should be allowed to--]]

*He's having a realization.*

[[He's had it for weeks. The argument on the datanet--]] Tarantulas 12:25 am *tarantulas is sneaking a peek at prowl's knees, the crushing was distracting for some reason* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:26 am *Those holoknees are Gone, Tarantulas. Strength 8 and small points of pressure because thin fingers.* FakeProwl 12:26 am Argument? *he's kind of. got his head tipped up. so he can't see.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:30 am [[Smokescreen taunted him with claims that he was unworthy of finding or maintaining the Covenant himself and said that he had secret knowledge of the rules surrounding its existence. He thought it was Smokescreen talking out of his aft with the usual immaturity...]] FakeProwl 12:31 am *sneers* It probably still IS talking out of his aft with immaturity. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:31 am [[Smokescreen has been /bringing it to movie nights,/ in fact. Knowing that it would slip under his radar because he didn't believe it possible. More taunting.]]

*More denting.* FakeProwl 12:32 am He worked for Alpha Trion. It was probably phased into one of his doors millions of years ago and he just now figured out how to get it out, and he thinks that this makes him "worthy" of it and privy to deep secrets about its nature. Tarantulas 12:32 am *staring at prowl's legs, but hums* I could steal it, you know. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:32 am *SNAP* *Your turn to be stared at, spide.* FakeProwl 12:33 am ... No. Hold on. Who has a right to it? What laws pertain to its ownership? Tarantulas 12:34 am Primus, I could probably ask him if I could borrow it and he'd lend it to me, laws aside. FakeProwl 12:35 am If he does, then that's fine. That's perfectly legal. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:35 am [[There are none - at least, not here. It was only a rumor until Shockwave acted on his theories, stormed the Hall, and took Alpha Trion prisoner. He only had it a short while, and...]] *Shakes his helm.* [[Nobody else has owned it. What laws could there be?]]

[[It shouldn't have to be borrowed. It shouldn't be given back to that rustbug at all.]] FakeProwl 12:36 am If there are no laws about it—then, as Alpha Trion's last student, he DOES have the strongest legal claim to it. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:37 am *UGH.* FakeProwl 12:37 am He doesn't deserve it, but he's got the right to it. Tarantulas 12:37 am Borrowed and conveniently lost, maybe? That's breaking no rules. FakeProwl 12:37 am That's stealing, Tarantulas. So buy it from him. Trick him into a disadvantageous trade. Whatever. But do it legally. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:38 am [[...The Quill. Does he have the Quill? Has he mentioned it to either of you?]] FakeProwl 12:38 am A moronic legal trade is still a legal trade. He hasn't mentioned a quill. Tarantulas 12:38 am *a shake of his helm* Unfortunately not, hyeh. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:39 am [[That is a small comfort.]]

*But only a small one. Who knows what he's reading to everyone?* FakeProwl 12:40 am *mutters* It's phased up his aft, maybe. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:41 am [[He wouldn't wish the company of Smokescreen's brain module on anyone.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 12:42 am *Vents, harsher this time.*

[[His helm aches.]] *Putting it mildly. He's about to have some kind of aneurysm or something. He knows it. Twenty-five million years of bullshit and this is finally the ruby on the slag cake.* [[He should - recharge.]] FakeProwl 12:43 am ... Do you want company? Tarantulas 12:43 am *if sw's actually gonna recharge tara will eat his... something* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:43 am [[Yes. Yes, he does.]]

*Tara can take the unfinished cube, if he wants it. Soundwave didn't get around to it. Too busy being entertained by Tarantulas' reaction to the Science.* FakeProwl 12:44 am *right. he'd probably better reset his legs, then.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:44 am *Everything else here is off-limits for eating. Ask Bob the Insecticon. And that one Predacon. Chairs are forbidden snacks.* Tarantulas 12:45 am *oh booo. tarantulas was hoping he could snatch prowl up after this* *he'll take that cube, thanks* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:46 am *Moves to pull his hands free of the knees.*

*Does not move far.*

*Looks down.* [[...Hmm.]] FakeProwl 12:46 am *what's soundwave looking at? prowl already fixed his...* Oh! Sorry! *switches to normal hologram. poof, he's a ghost.* Tarantulas 12:47 am *shuddering with hushed snickers* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:47 am [[Thank you. That was... an unpleasant sight.]] *Also shuddering a little.* FakeProwl 12:48 am Sorry. *... now he's incorporeally on tarantulas's lap. he's going to catch some fur in his thighs if he goes back to solid* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:48 am [[He prefers to leave phase shifter messes to mechs who /don't deserve vital relics/.]] *Which is not to say he does, because he's often convinced he doesn't at all. But he damn sure believes Smokescreen doesn't.* FakeProwl 12:49 am *he's going to... just, flicker off and back on standing in front of the couch* Tarantulas 12:49 am You know, I could probably borrow that, too. The phase shifter, I mean. I don't know why I /haven't/ yet, actually. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:50 am *Anyway. He stands and nods to them both.*

[[He will be upstairs. Tarantulas, there is one more tomorrow. And no need to borrow it. Smokescreen owes him a use.]] Tarantulas 12:50 am *stretches out when prowl flickers off* FakeProwl 12:50 am Don't push your luck. By the sound of it, the covenant's more important. And don't borrow the covenant, either, until we come up with a proper plan to ensure he won't have a right to ask for it back. Tarantulas 12:51 am Of course not, I'm not that foolish. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:51 am *Fuzzy thought muttering again.* [[We could go to the Core and question Primus' life choices.]] Tarantulas 12:52 am *gets up and starts to waltz off with the cube* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:52 am *He knows better than that, though. Another nod to each, and a small bow for both for putting up with him - a thank-you ping for Tarantulas' confirmation as well - and he's trudging upstairs.* FakeProwl 12:53 am We have no evidence Primus had anything to do with it. It's more likely terrible luck. *follows after Soundwave* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:53 am *Terrible, horrible, awful, rotten luck of the most forsaken variety.* Tarantulas 12:54 am *bids them goodnight and is out - he'll try to comm prowl later, most likely*

#chat

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asiifisms · 7 years ago

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tell us more abt braigs dad??

Hoo boy, ask and you shall receive, nonnie.

Eadric Wulfsige Ellery is Braig’s father, and holds the rank of Commanding General in Radiant Garden’s armed forces, placing him as one of the highest ranking officers there is; He specialised in swordplay, personally, before an injury in the line of duty made such fieldwork for him very difficult, if not impossible, and since handles administrative work, inspections, supervising and organising training regimes, general supervision of the Royal Guard, and, during times of war, commanding all operations within the geographical area assigned to him - mostly, a lot of paperwork, and a lot of being very intimidating to subordinates. And, he and Braig… Don’t get along. Haven’t for years.

I’m writing you a biography. Literally. So, read on to understand what I mean by that, if you’d like; you know me. Tangents and word vomit to follow. (If you’re wondering why your question took me a week to answer, it’s because I’m literal HC trash.)

Eadric is very strict, very proper, and has, on occasion, been described as ‘uptight’, and that very much stems from his upbringing. The Ellery family is old money. So old, in fact, I probably should have capitalised that: Old Money. They’re also Old Military - it’s a saying in their family that ‘there’s always been an Ellery in the ranks’. Eadric’s father, Wulfric Goddard Paxton Ellery, was a chief tactician in the army, Goddard’s mother, Alvina Cederica Ellery (who, like most women in the family, kept her name - it’s a legacy, after all) was a spy who refused a number of promotions because she wanted to avoid being stuck behind a desk, and to stay out in the field (depending on who you asked, this was either something to be proud of, or a horrible disgrace), and so on and so forth. In spite of this, they aren’t usually the type to just insert themselves into the upper echelons of martial society. If you want that rank, you will start from the ground, and you will earn it; And you will earn it, because you’re an Ellery. Soldiers, born and bred. If you don’t succeed in the military, in some generations, there was a chance you’d get written out of the pretty substantial will, when your parent(s) kicked the bucket.

And Eadric, here? He almost got written out.

Not because he wasn’t good at being a soldier - He was, there are borderline legendary war stories about him, one of which is floating around his tag on this blog - but, he was a bit of a rebel. Braig gets a lot from his dad (this will also be discussed later. Or, sporadically, throughout the post).

Eadric didn’t rebel like Braig did, though. He willingly and readily joined the military; He was a good student, did well in his classes; He’s always been a quiet person, very introverted, preferred books to people when he was young. Whereas, in high school, Braig was the type to throw wild parties when his father was away, Eadric would hear of a party and think to himself, alright, I know what street to avoid if I go out today. (Not to say he didn’t get into misadventures of his own; he did, but those were more during his martial exploits than his day-to-day life.)

No, Eadric rebelled by marrying Braig’s mother.

(And this is where it becomes about both of them, mostly).

Her name was Siobhan Peilla Whelan-DeRosa, and they met when she was sent to take care of Eadric’s platoon after a rather nasty skirmish. She was a medic, and he was injured, and if you’d cared to look you would have seen Eadric’s usual aloof demeanour vanish in a puff of ‘Oh.’ the minute he set eyes on her. He wouldn’t say it was ‘love at first sight’; He didn’t know anything about her, so he couldn’t be in love. But it was definitely a case of ‘this is arguably the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and right now I am half-dressed, covered in filth, and caked in blood that may or may not be mine’.

To his credit, he kept things professional; He was of the impression that this poor woman was just trying to do her job, looked rather tired, and the last thing she’d want was some ridiculous stranger making a pass at her. He was right, of course, but Shiv did wind up finding him rather charming, if not a bit awkward. (The awkwardness was likely caused by the fact Eadric was repeating ‘Don’t say anything foolish, don’t say anything foolish,’ over and over in his head throughout the entire conversation). They managed to have a nice conversation, Shiv got Eadric patched up, and went on her way. They’d meet again over the course of the- Campaign, for lack of a better word, usually because Eadric got himself injured (he wasn’t high enough in the chain of command, way back then, to be the one checking in on all of the downed men, so this was really the only time they’d ever meet). After the first meeting, thankfully, Eadric wasn’t so taken off-guard by her, so actual conversations were less clunky. They would occasionally run into each other over the next few months, and, eventually Shiv invited Eadric out for coffee (usually, their ‘meetings’ took place after he got injured, somehow, and she was almost worried it was on purpose. It wasn’t. Mostly.).

Now, as I said before, the Ellery family is Old Money. The Whelan-DeRosa clan was middle-class. They didn’t have a lot, but, they were happy, and they lived what they would call a ‘good life’. They weren’t Old Money, or Old Military, or Old Anything, really. Just your average family. Eadric only had one sibling - His younger sister, Clarissa Everild Ellery, who will be discussed later; Shiv had a fluctuating number of siblings, the majority of whom weren’t related to her. By this, I mean her parents had the habit of taking in neighbourhood kids who needed a place to stay for the night, needed a hot meal, etc, etc (Which, if you’ve ever had to feed a bunch of kids, you know is pretty costly). There was always an extra chair or two at their dinner table, always some little head tucked away in their guest room getting the first safe rest they’d had in who knew how long.

So, Wulfric looks at the object of his son’s affections, and thinks that, well, she’s military, which is good, but her family isn’t, and, she’s not exactly in the same class as we are, you know, so, what were you thinking, son? And Eadric replied that, well, he was thinking that he loves her, sir, which lead to a lecture about the duties Eadric had to his family, and a reminder that, if he wasn’t fit to be the next patriarch, or whatever, then he’s stricken from the will, and everything goes to Clarissa. If you want a mental image of this, please imagine the dignified old man of your choice, near the end of his life, sitting up in bed and dressing down his late-20s 6′2″ son who’s still in his fatigues from work. And Eadric nodded, once, and said ‘fine’, and calmly left without a word. Wulfric took this as a sign of Eadric’s consent, because, of course his son was always so well-behaved, right?

…

Eadric had left to go ring-shopping.

He proposed the day before ol’ Wulf kicked the bucket, and never told his dad. He just figured someone would have mentioned he was still seeing Shiv, but, nobody ever did. Wulfric’s will left the family estate to Eadric, ‘on the condition that he uphold the family values for the rest of his days’.

Eadric’s sister, Clarissa, decided that Eadric marrying Shiv violated this term, and thus their father’s final wishes, and therefore he shouldn’t be allowed to keep the inheritance. Eadric’s response was that the condition was extremely vague, and that he believed being true to himself was, indeed, upholding the family values, and, by the by, how did it feel to be his subordinate, and would you please get out of my office?

To be fair, that was really the only way he strayed from ‘tradition’. He’s a very dedicated soldier - always has been - and takes his duties very seriously. Like the rest of his family, he earned his way to his rank by being damned good at what he does; He assumes he’s well-respected; he maintains the family property to the best of his abilities… Still, the feud between himself and his sister has lasted through the ages. They don’t hate each other, and are usually civil, but it’s a tense sort of civility. (They got on a lot better when they were kids, and not quite old enough to understand all of this mess.)

But, yes, Eadric and Siobhan got married after around three to three and a half years of dating, and they were happy. I’m not gonna lie and tell you they were the fairy-tale couple that never argued or had any problems, but they were the couple who would realise when things were getting out of hand, could go to separate rooms to cool down, and come back again a few minutes later, apologise, exchange ‘I love you’s and work through whatever had upset them, in the first place. They communicated, I guess, is what I’m saying, and that kept any disputes minor, and kept them happy together. (Which, I think, is very impressive, since Eadric is terrible, intrapersonally. He doesn’t even know how he’s feeling, half the time. He could be in a grouch, Shiv would ask what’s wrong, and he’d say he didn’t know, and she’d say something like ‘oh, are you stressed about [XYZ thing]?’ or ‘have you not eaten today?’ and she’d be right on the nose, nearly every time. Knew him better than he knew himself.)

It was Shiv’s idea to have kids; Eadric eventually agreed to one, both because he was by his own admission clueless with them, and because he wanted to avoid the whole ‘who inherits what’ song and dance he went through when he was young. So, they had their one child, and that was Braig, That was also another one of those moments that changed the way the good- Well, he wasn’t a general, at the time, but, he was a father, now.

I’m not going to lie and say he was a great dad. I’m not even going to say he was a good one. As I said, he’s reserved, not great with emotions, pretty formal. But, damn it if he didn’t give it his best effort. Whines of ‘I’m bored, dad’ would be met with ‘don’t you have homework to do?’ (’Yeah, but I don’t wanna’ ‘You could do chores,’ ‘I don’t wanna do those right now’ ‘Then, don’t complain about being bored’), coming in messy after running around outside was met with sighing and being carted off to get clean, and you’d sooner find him dead than running around playing tag, anyway. Not to say that Eadric didn’t have his reasons for it all, of course: He wanted Braig to focus on his studies to do well in school, he wanted him to focus on his chores so he can learn responsibility and discipline, which are, as you can imagine, important skills for any young man to have, growing up; Getting Braig clean, well, that goes without saying; And, as for not going out to run around himself, well, he may not have been a general, yet, but he was moving up in the ranks. He had a lot of work to handle, both to keep his country safe (and, by extension, his family), and to keep the paychecks coming in (so he could continue to provide the same quality of life he assumed they’d grown accustomed to). Either he was too busy or too tired to run around, and, to be frank, he never really saw the appeal.

That’s not to say he didn’t have his moments where he got the whole parenting shtick so right; There’s one (very faint) memory Braig has, of when he was really little, he had a rough night, where he thought there were monsters in his closet, or under the bed, or wherever, you know the drill. Shiv carried the little one back to bed, tried to assure him that, hush, dear, it’s okay, there’s nothing there, do you want me to check?

Eadric said nothing, simply picked a few of his favourite swords off of the rack in his room, sat on the floor next to Braig’s bed, and spent the next few hours buffing out any scratches in the blades and making sure they were properly polished, every so often holding them up to the nightlight to be sure. Braig’s thoughts went rapidly from ‘I am scared of monsters’ to ‘I wonder how you clean monsters off the floor’. Kiddo got a good night’s sleep, felt very safe, and Eadric got many cuddles from a tired and appreciative Shiv when he went back to bed. Also, as an added bonus, got some housework done. Have to make sure the blades don’t tarnish, after all.

But, yeah, that was probably one of his high points as a father.

And then, when Braig was just about to turn ten, Siobhan was killed in action, and it tore her boys apart. It actually took Braig a few days after the funeral to come to terms with the fact his mom was gone; Before that, it was just outright denial. And not in the ‘no, my mom’s not dead, shut up’ kind of way, but in the ‘oh, well, she’s not home, yet, but I’m sure she will be, soon’ sort. And then it hit him like a train, and he was a wreck, and that’s the last time he remembers getting a hug from his dad. (The funeral was also the first and only time Braig could ever remember seeing his dad cry. It was a really weird time, for him.)

After Shiv’s death, Eadric got even more closed-off than he already was. Part of him went, what kind of war hero are you, if you can’t keep your wife safe, and another part went, hey, want to become weirdly aware of your own mortality? And yet another part pretty much zeroed in on the fact that this could very well happen to him, and that would be bad, sure, but what would happen to his young son, if he were to pass on?

This is one of the reasons he pushed so hard for Braig to join the Guard. It was family business, yes, but it’s also a steady job, and, if he could get into the palace, as an actual guard Guard, it’d likely be the safest place for him to work (HAH), it’d be one of the better options for him (even at a young age, it was quickly becoming obvious that Braig wasn’t really- meant, for a formal education, though Eadric made sure he at least got his high school diploma, to keep some options open, just in case), it would give him a network to fall back on, it paid well, etc, etc. It just seemed like the best route for Braig to take. (And, as the kiddo grew into his rebellion, Eadric had hoped that it might chill his son out a bit).

As for why he’s so tough on Braig, well, there are a few reasons for it, as well. Firstly, he looks at Braig and he sees this cocky, overconfident young man, and thinks to himself that that’s exactly what’s going to get you killed. If you think you’re the best, you start to think that you’re immortal. You start to take unnecessary risks, you start making shortcuts, you start doing all sorts of things that you think you can get away with until you realise all too late that you can’t. And, if he feeds that confidence? He might as well be pulling the trigger, himself. It would be his fault that Braig slipped up and died. He knows that Braig is extremely talented, and, as they find out later, apparently magic - he knows, but, beyond that, he knows that Braig knows. So, he looks at his son and thinks to himself, he’s going to get himself killed, but he also thinks, if he feeds that ego, there’s the danger that Braig’s just going to coast along on his talents and not work to improve. And, in a way, he’s right - Braig definitely needs to be pushed. But, some positive reinforcement would go a long way, and Braig can’t even remember the last time his old man told him he was proud of him, or even really… Gave a sign of vaguely tolerating him. At home, they either don’t speak to each other, exchange very few words, or they’re bickering (or outright arguing). They haven’t really gotten along since Braig was young. And, at work? Well, it’s. … The tension is palpable, friends. Most people know not to talk about Braig’s dad much around him. Again, Eadric has his reasons, including the above, but, also - He’s Commanding General, and Braig’s dad. How’s it going to look if he pampers, or even shows favouritism towards, Braig? It makes them both look bad, it throws him into disrepute, even a little, which is something he can’t afford, and it would be awful for Braig - might make people think he’s only Captain because of his dad, or he got gifted the rank, or something like that, and Eadric’s been in that boat. It sucks. (Now, to his peers? They can’t get him to shut up about his kid. Yes, Eadric, we know, you think he’s going to be the best marksman we’ve ever had, can we go five seconds without talking about it. If you told Braig about this, though, he’d think you were joking.)

So. He may not have intended to be a shit dad, but the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Doesn’t mean he won’t wreck your shit if you hurt his kid, though.

Anyway, moving to the final points:

It’s often been said that Eadric expects the best from the men he commands.

This is false, and often a misheard quote.

Eadric accepts the best from his men. Nothing less.

Because, as far as he’s concerned, expectations are largely worthless, especially when placed on other people. He could expect the weather tomorrow to be nice, and the sky might decide to rain, anyway; similarly, he could expect the best from his men, and not get it. So, no, he only accepts their best, and anything else is a disgrace. Anything else is an insult. How dare you show up and waste his time with anything less than your best? How dare you come before him like that, but how dare, even more so, how dare you put such a burden on the people who stand at your side? You go out and embarrass yourself in uniform, you’re not tarnishing your own reputation, you’re disgracing the Guard entire; If you get in the habit of slacking off, if you don’t perform your duties to the best of your abilities, people might die, or we might lose battles or wars or ground or who knows what, and how dare you take the safety of your countrymen so lightly? So, he makes sure that his men are in the habit of giving their all until they’re incapable of doing anything else (within reason, of course). The men he, personally, trains, are usually hand-picked, and therefore have nothing to worry about, but pity the poor soul who had so much as a crooked shirt collar when he decided things had gotten a little too slack, and it was time for a surprise inspection.

He made two very noticeably exceptions to this perfectionism of his: Injuries and PTSD (or other disabilities). There’s a story his longer-standing troop might tell you, if you get added to their ranks, about the time Eadric was watching and critiquing artillery drills, and one of the troops was very jittery, making mistakes on even the most minor things, and it was pretty obvious. Eadric pulled the guy aside, and everyone thought, oh, well, he’s going to die. Once they were a ways away, Eadric said something along the lines of ‘What’s going on, you’re normally one of the best, one of my best, this isn’t like you’, and the soldier apologised and explained that he’d just gotten back from a nasty tour in Cardell - and of course, you know that, sir, you knew I was there - but he’d had a rather unpleasant experience, and there was just something about the big guns that was making it hard to concentrate, and– And, well, that was all Eadric needed to hear. He sent the poor man off with Donovan (who you will be properly introduced to, momentarily) to get a drink of something warm, and strong enough to calm him down, in Eadric’s office (the only place Eadric was sure would be quiet and private), and sit for at least an hour; Following that, the young man’s assignments never consisted of artillery duty, again. … On the other hand, there are also stories like the time Eadric noticed two of the Guard had left their weapons unattended, so he had them scrub the dining hall floors with a toothbrush, until they met his standards (vicariously, of course; Grieg was left to supervise, simply because Eadric knew he would give them the worst time of it), and then took the cost of the small pile of ruined tooth-brushes out of their paychecks to make sure the Guard didn’t lose any funding. He’s either the best guy to work for, or the worst, and it wholly depends on whether he thinks you’re a waste of his time, or not.

So, I’ve mentioned two names so far, without explanation - Donovan and Grieg. Eadric, when he’s on duty, is typically followed around by his three assistants/aides, those being Lieutenant Colonels Thomas Liam Sampson and Johan Kristopher Grieg, and Corporal Patrick Andrew ‘Donnie’ Donovan (He hates the nickname, but that doesn’t stop Grieg from using it). Braig’s been known to refer to the trio as ‘the three stooges’, and, in case you couldn’t tell, he’s not very fond of them.

Lt. Col. Thomas L. Sampson, Braig finds to be the most tolerable of the three. He’s also the oldest, though still a few years younger than Eadric, and the tallest, by a few inches. He’s often viewed as the most laid-back of the entire group, though, when you’re talking about three grizzled war vets [and Donovan], ‘laid-back’ very quickly becomes a relative term. Sampson boasts broad shoulders and a sturdy frame, topped off with dark, curly hair pulled into a tight bun, and a thick, well-trimmed beard. Grieg’s in the habit of referring to him as a ‘mountain man’, and this has spread through the ranks, though it’s usually only his equals or superiors who use it to his face. He’s a reasonable man, especially when he’s off-duty, and some of the troops have discovered that he’s actually quite fun to go for drinks with. But, if he’s on the clock, he’s pretty imposing. Pretty much good cop-bad cop personified, but, not to a cartoonish degree. He won’t be buddy-buddy with you at work, but, catch his eye, and he might treat you to a round, later, just for impressing him. He and Eadric served at about the same time - Eadric joined the Guard a few years before, but they were relatively close - and have been good friends since well before Braig was born. Sampson is, as a matter of fact, Braig’s godfather, but I don’t know how aware of this Braig is. Sure, he was told it at one point, but, I dunno if he remembers. It’s never really brought up, Sampson treats Braig the way he does everyone else, and they don’t do a lot of talking. But, aware or not, that’s his god-dad. He’s also the one who kept an eye on little baby Braig during Shiv’s funeral, since Eadric was understandably not in the best state.

Lt. Col. Johan K. Grieg is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Sampson joined the Guard because he wanted to see the world, make something of himself, and good, old-fashioned patriotism; Grieg joined the Guard as an alternative to prison. That’s not to say he’s not a good person; He’s grown a lot, emotionally, physically, mentally, etc, since then, and it’s been years and years since he was at that low point of his life. But, he is very jaded, and very, very callous - Braig has described him as ‘only being nice to the other three’, being, of course, Eadric, Sampson, and kind-of sort-of Donovan. At once point, Grieg tried to strike up pleasant conversation with Braig, and Braig immediately decided that meant something was up. (He was right, something was most definitely up, but that’s beside the point.) He’s a few years younger than Sampson, but, no more than about two and a half. They bicker frequently, but are good friends, in spite of this. Grieg is shorter than the others (aside from, again Donovan), and has bleached-blonde hair buzzed into an undercut, that, at one point, had been a mohawk. He has tattoos on his arms, neck, and chest - the ones on his arms and chest represent men he has served with who were KIA, aside from the two on each wrist (representing his four very much alive dogs), and a rose at the hollow of his throat (representing his little sister, Em, who recently graduated college and he is very proud of her!!). Grieg was also at Shiv’s funeral, but, didn’t chase after the kiddo - he was trying to make sure Eadric didn’t literally collapse. So, he’s known the other two for… Well, about fifteen years, by BBS time. He’s the one Eadric will occasionally leave in charge of supervising punishments, when he can’t be bothered to do it, himself, simply because he know Grieg will give the wrongdoers the worst time of it, for kicks. He can be a massive jerk, when he wants to be.

Cpl. Patrick A. ‘Donnie’ Donovan is… the one Braig likes the least. Braig will refer to him as ‘Corporal Dogbreath’ or ‘Corporal Kissass’, depending on his mood, and Donovan is a bit of a yes-man. Let’s say, if the four of them were canines, Eadric would be a wolf, Sampson would be a Russian bear dog/Caucasian Shepherd, Grieg would be a doberman, and Donovan would probably be either a baby golden retriever or a dachshund. That’s because Eadric, Sampson, and Grieg are senior officers in their 40′s and 50′s, and Donovan’s a very low-ranking soldier in his twenties. He’s- I’d say 20-21 to Braig’s 25. He’s younger than, and a lower rank than, Eadric’s son/Sampson’s godson. And he’s not there ‘cause Eadric picked him. Sampson and Grieg were picked by Eadric, because of their skills, track record, experience, and the trust he could place in them. Donovan was chosen to get his uncle to shut up. Donovan’s uncle was convinced that, because his nephew had rather severe asthma, he wouldn’t be cut out to be in the army. Donovan thought that was ridiculous, and wanted to be a soldier, anyways. The resulting conversation between Donovan’s uncle and Eadric went as follows: “I can’t take him just because he wants to be one of us. If you really think he’s not fit to be a soldier, perhaps he should pursue a career, elsewhere.” “But, he’s so stubborn– And he thinks so highly of you.” “I don’t see why.” “I’ve told him stories.” “Of course you have. … How do you think it would look, Keiran, if I take him on because he asked nicely?” “Better than it would if I did.” “…” “He’s a hard worker, Eadric. You won’t be disappointed.” “I have standards, Keiran.” “And he’ll meet them!” “You don’t know that, any more than I do.” “Just, please, give him a chance? –You still owe me for Morrenzo, you know.” “… If I agree to give him a chance, will you stop bringing that up?” “Only if it’s a fair one.” “… Fine.” And that’s what lead to Donovan joining their little group. He’s not really in the ‘Old Man’s Club’, as some people will call it, but, he’s proven to be a hard worker, eager to learn and always doing what he’s told, which has earned him his place as, well, the errand boy, usually, but they treat him well. Aside from Grieg, but, he ribs him more in a teasing way, usually, instead of a ‘oh, you mean you just finished scrubbing this floor for General Ellery, when I came in here with my muddy boots? Guess you’re back at square one’ kind of way. Braig dislikes him because, well, he’s a yes-man, and that’s irksome enough, but, why does this kid get all of dad’s attention? Why is he good enough? What has he done that I haven’t? It’s a jealousy thing. He’d never admit it, though. (Honestly, while he finds Donovan tolerable, useful, and not a bad kid, Eadric’s rather indifferent to him, thus far. He’ll look out for him, but, Donnie’s still in his ‘trial’ phase. Braig, on the other hand, is his son - as we’ve covered, Eadric’s shit at showing it, but, he does love him.)

Aaand that’s all I can think of, for now, ‘nonnie! There’s more info in his tag (just add ‘/tagged/eadric+ellery’ onto my url), but. Shoot any specific questions I missed my way!

#eadric ellery #;member database (ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ)#;reloading (ｏｕｔ　ｏｆ　ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒ)#;spare rounds (ａｓｋ)#anonymous

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varietyofwords · 7 years ago

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Addendum, Part Seventeen (Chicago P.D.)

Title: Addendum

Chapter: Talk About It (Part Seventeen)

Fandom: Chicago P.D.

Rating: T/PG-13

Author’s Note: This oneshot was written to be inserted in between Jay leading Antonio out of the interrogation room and Atwater informing the victim’s father about the status of the case in “The Cases That Need To Be Solved” (3x16).

The hallway leading from the interrogation room to the bullpen feels longer, narrower than it normally does. The number of doors and, therefore, exits becoming more obvious with every step. And his right hand instinctively curls tighter around Dawson’s shoulder. Tries to keep his fellow detective from ducking into a room with a lock or from making a break back towards the interrogation room where the suspect sits mouthing off about how six-year-olds should be targeted. Tries to keep himself from turning around and busting in on Voight’s interrogation, from laying into their suspect until he understands that killing a six-year-old -- that even witnessing the death of a six-year-old --.changes you in a way you can’t undo.

So he keeps a tight grip as the two of them step into the bullpen, as he guides Antonio past the desk with pictures of his son, Diego, and past the desk without any pictures towards the breakroom. Hs hold is tossed off with a shake of Dawson’s shoulder as he steps through the open door to the break room; his eyes widen with concern as Antonio moves over towards the windows crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to face him.

“You don’t kill a six-year-old,” Antonio spits out in anger at the windows. Yet his words reach Jay’s ears as more of a low, anguished moan, and Jay’s eyes immediately slide downward and his chest constricts at the similarity because he’s heard this cry before. Heard the cry of a father mourning the fact that he once held a little six-year-old boy’s hand in his and marveled at all the promise of the future. Heard the cry of a community mourning the fact that another one was taken from them.

“No matter what, you don’t kill a six-year-old,” Antonio repeats again and, this time, the anger sharpens his voice. Causes Jay to lift his head as he nods in agreement, as he leans up against the side of the fridge and stares at the at the back of Antonio’s head.

And he wonders what he can say to help him out as Antonio begins to move around the room -- arms folded across his chest as he stares at the windows and then the sink. What exactly he can say to calm him down and keep him focused on the fact that they got the guy and will be able to get justice for a life snuffed out too early. An outcome that doesn’t always happen in the world let alone in the city of Chicago.

“We got the guy.”

The words formulating this reminder are clearly the wrong ones because there is a ripple of anger visible in the way Antonio’s hand releases its grip on his folded arms to toss up backwards towards him. To offer the back of his hand in a silent pronouncement that Jay should cease talking, cease trying to make a shitty situation okay.

The dismissal is taken with a nod of his head and a shaky exhale of breath, and Jay exits the break room without a backwards glance. His determined strides back to the viewing room with its one way glass stop short at Atwater’s desk when he sees Olinsky, Atwater, and Erin moving down that long hallway towards him, and he waits for each of them to pass him by.

Shakes his head side to side when he catches the look in Al’s eyes and the nod of his head towards the break room. Feels a ripple of anger tear through him when Atwater informs him that their suspect is pinning the murder on his twelve-year-old brother. And his face takes on the same look of disgust plaguing Erin’s as Atwater sinks down into his desk chair and mutters something about how their suspect claims to be strong enough to put out a hit on a kid, but is too weak and scared to face twenty-five to life without parole

“Voight sent Ruzek to pick up the brother with some patrolmen,” Erin says after a moment where Jay’s eyes meet hers, where the desire to be professional falters at the sight of the tears rimming around the bottom of her eyes. “Uh, he wants us to ride out and inform the parents about the arrests.”

“Uh, actually, Lindsay,” Atwater interrupts clearing his voice before he lifts his gaze up to stare at the two detectives hovering over his desk. “I’d like to be the one who tells Noah’s father.”

There’s no hesitation on Erin’s part when it comes to agreeing because they had all seen the rapport build up between Brian Johnson and Atwater over the time it took to solve this case, but Atwater is already standing with his coat in hand before she can find the words to agree. And the two of them watch him slip out the back entrance to the bullpen before letting their gazes linger on Dawson staring out the window, Olinsky sitting on the couch, and the now shut door to the break room.

Or, at least, that is where Jay’s gaze lingers because his head snaps back around at the sound of Erin’s voice to find her staring at the picture of Noah Johnson -- big smile, sparkling eyes -- taped in the middle of whiteboard. Taped right above the photographs of his murder and right between photographs of the man misidentified as his father and the man who actually was.

“Six-years-old and now a twelve-year-old will go down for his murder,” Erin says in a low, gravelly whisper as her gaze remains fixated on the board. And his hand moves to touch her elbow, the offer her the kind of support he tried to give to Dawson a few moments ago, and she responds with fingers that slide down along her crossed arms to touch his. To tangle together for a few seconds so she can find the strength to move forward, to take a step away from him and towards her desk to gather coat and her keys and her courage to tell a family the only good news possible in a shitty situation like this.

And he turns on his heels to watch her, to let his gaze linger on her rather than on the board with its photographs and the reminders its triggers in his head. But those reminders cause him to hesitate when she asks if he’s ready, cause his head to turn slightly so he can peer at the empty desk with its collection of monitors and computers situated between the hallway to the interrogation room and the main staircase.

“Uh,” he drawls out as his head turns back around, as he jerks a thumb over his shoulder to point at the desk behind him, “I need to talk to Mouse real quick.”

Her features falter -- her eyebrows knitting together in confusion -- at his announcement, and he quickly interjects that he’ll catch up with her out front in a few. That this conversation shouldn’t take too long.

He leaves the elaboration as to how he knows this conversation will be short -- how he’s not interested in hashing out what happened in Landigal, how he just wants to make sure Mouse is still out in front of whatever Noah Johnson’s school photo triggered for him inside his head right now -- out his affirmation that he’ll be down in a bit. Keeps his gaze neutral as she slips past him and heads towards the stairs, as he hears Al’s low voice seeping through the crack under the break room door, as he moves in the opposite direction to grab his coat and head down to the tech lab down in the garage.

The motion activated fluorescent lights overhead flicker on as he steps into the garage, as he carefully moves around the torched SUV that Evidence and Recovered Property haven’t come to collect just yet despite him filling out the paperwork as soon as the thing was towed over to the district last night. Chain of command requires a cop to sit with car -- in the locked garage or not -- and Jay’s gaze scans the room to make sure someone is here with it, to make sure Jordan Lockett’s lawyer won’t be able to get him or his brother off on a technicality.

The beat cop -- one of Platt’s newest recruits to the District -- seems to have, at least, noticed the flickering of the lights because a guy wearing blues -- fresh face and bright eyes marking him as fresh out of the Academy -- peeps around the corner from where a second break room with vending machines and a table is assembled around the corner and across from the cage. Glances at the badge fixed to Jay’s hip before asking if he can help the plain clothes detective with something.

“The tech guy in?” Jay questions gesturing with the hand holding his coat towards the tech lab, towards the area jokingly known upstairs as the mouse hole.

“Uh, no, he split maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago,” the officer replies with a frown that deepens when he realizes that Jay isn’t going to ask him to help with more than watching the burnt car because the detective has already started to move towards the door leading outside. Mutters a half-hearted thanks and lets the door slam shut behind him before the officer can ask if he needs anything else.

It takes him only a few steps to make his way around the building to the parking lot where the 300 was left earlier in the way and, thus, he is offoreded only a few moments to pull his cell phone out of his pocket and debate what to say.

But he doesn’t know what to say. Or, more accurately, he doesn’t want to try to find the words to say. And he hopes his attempt at outreach -- the squeeze of his hand on Mouse’s shoulder earlier -- is enough to let his brother in arms know that he gets it. That a six-year-old shot in the head simply because a war raged around him in Chicago is gonna bring up those memories for him, too.

But he also needs the memories of what happened in Landigal to remain behind him so he can do this job. So he can catch those who murder six-year-olds in this portion of the world. And, so, he shoves his cell phone back in his pocket as he wrenches open the passenger door to the 300, as he plops down in the seat and prepares to set out to do his job here after doing his job over there.

#linstead #jay halstead #erin lindsay #chicago pd #antonio dawson #kevin atwater #halstead x dawson #jay x mouse #cpdfic #mine #story: addendum

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easkyrah · 8 years ago

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Elorcan Possessive Billionaire AU part 1

Summary: Elide wants out of Morath CO. Lorcan wants in.

rob·ber bar·on [noun]

a person who has become rich through ruthless and unscrupulous business practices (originally with reference to prominent US businessmen in the late 19th century)

Three Years Ago

Las Vegas, Nevada, United States

Elide hummed as she flipped through the stacks of paperwork, filing them into the respective cabinets. With brutal efficiency, she re-organized all of her uncle’s loose papers and re-wrote all of his scribbles of writing other business mergers deigned to look over.

“Elide! My coffee!” Her Uncle Vernon roared into the intercom, thick syllables rasping out. The machine’s blaring grated against her ear drums at it whirred off. Slamming the last cabinet shut, she locked up, and headed towards the kitchen. Not only was she the secretary, but the kitchen staff as well—and the event coordinator, personal relations specialist, and treasurer.

Because she was Vernon’s only employee; everyone knew his ruthless practices: With low wages, long business hours, and little respite, Morath Company frequented as the one of the business that still practiced brutal techniques, not only through the use of vertical and horizontal integration, but also through the filled corruption of scandals and feuds. No one dared to work for him save herself—ruined and crippled and chained to her Uncle.

Until she turned eighteen years old, she could not legally walk away from her guardian. When that long-awaited time came, she knew Vernon would have finally found a way to hold her permanently within his grasp. The wait drew anticipation within her, a source of murky hope. Unclear her future may be, but it had to be better than to slave away.

She hummed softly to herself, swaying on her feet as best as she could. By the time she had delicately carried the cup of steaming coffee into Vernon’s office, he had moved on into requesting an apple fritter, declaring he’d slash half of her pay for being too slow. Again.

Elide had merely bit her lip, and wobbled out of the office.

Maybe if he had hired more employees, Vernon Company would ruin more smoothly. Maybe if he had increased her pay, she would have more motivation to work harder. Maybe if he hadn’t chained her into his office when she first worked there, she wouldn’t move so slow.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Never affirmatives, always questioning.

Always dreaming for the future, always living in the nightmare.

Vernon had slapped a new assignment on her desk by the time she returned her little work room. Elide inhaled sharply through her nose as Vernon instructed her to organize his latest dealing with the EPA in convincing them to grant them permission to build an oil well near the Mississippi. She wanted to say no and protest the outright disgust that the risk of the oil spill and build up of a harmful infrastructure for the environment was not a potential investment—especially as a distributary channel.

But she had learned the hard way to keep her mouth shut. It was the only way to prolong the pain. To bite her tongue was to save skin, but drive her mind into pieces. What she could eat, wear, love—all aspects restricted to her Uncle, her last living family tie. Of all strung love, the sneers had snipped away the strings of bent loyalty. Only time remained as her closure.

Her fingers traced the outline of her calendar, nails tapping the date of her eighteenth birthday.

Soon.

Smoothing down her business skirt, she scheduled a phone conference with the EPA and placed that vapid smile onto her face. A blank face for the future clean slate.

She was Elide Lochan, and she would find a way out of this prison, coming in all shapes and sizes conjured by the metal at her ankle and bars in her mind.

Until then, she would play with Vernon.

Los Angeles, California

“Dammit!” Rowan cursed. “How did we lose this rutting business deal with the EPA? Our policies ally with their every move.” The desk splintered from impact with his fist.

Fenrhys threw his hands up in the air. “Why—how—are we losing our connections all to the horrid Morath Company?”

“Stop bloody shouting!” Gavriel shouted, pulling the roots of his hair. “We need this to work. So stick your nose back in the desk and breathe.”

Vaughan pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled his full cup of herb tea in one swallow. The others either paced around the room in hopes of releasing their anger while the others stormed out. The anger radiated within the room, a broken instrument victim of the feats of reckless runned reactions.

“Does it look like I give a flying fuck?” Lorcan snarled. “Maeve is blackmailing us again. If we don’t get this deal, she’ll rip apart our company for sure.” The duty to hang onto the shred of their independence hung volatile among them.

Fenrhys slammed his head against the desk rather violently, again and again, until the noise created a short cacophony. Gavriel grabbed his shirt’s collar and tossed him against the wall. “Stop acting like a child.”

“Obviously they have a mastermind in there,” Rowan said, ignoring his companions, and the rumblings of complaints. “Someone with the brains and words. The persuasion and the manipulation.”

“Someone with more hold than Maeve,” Lorcan mused.

“Impossible,” Gavriel snapped, ignoring Fenrhys’s sulking. “Maeve has been controlling us for the past damned ten years. You can’t get more powerful than that.”

Vaughan rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like we’re at the top of the hierarchy.”

Fenrhys narrowed his eyes at him, rubbing his jaw. “Who’s side are you on?”

“It doesn’t matter. We need to start searching through Morath’s database and narrow down the selection of employees and see who we’re going to kidnap. Use him to our advances. Bribe him to stay quiet. Then release him if his heart still beats.” Lorcan stalked towards the computers and flipped on all the switches, feeling the familiar humming of electricity under his fingertips. His dark eyes flickered to the lines of codes, full of simplicity past the facade of complexity.

“Kidnap?” Gavriel demanded, rising from his worn seat.

Lorcan slowly turned towards his cadre, sparing them a feral glance. “Did I stutter?”

Rowan swore, and strode next to the whirring computer. “If Maeve finds out the prisoner we capture, she’ll wire him. Transform him. Manipulate him.”

“You’re going along with this?” Gavriel scowled. “Break a plethora of laws, so cross another?”

Lorcan tensed, his fingers flying across the keyboard, clacking away lines of code. Stiffness coated every inch of him, but he merely growled lowly in warning.

Vaughan shook his head, ignoring the amber-eyed male seething. “Maeve won’t find out. Not if she sees it as a conquest and nothing more. If one of us...show interest in him, then this scandal would not arouse suspicion.”

Fenrhys coughed. “You aren’t suggesting—”

“One of you will seduce CEO Vernon’s head informants,” Lorcan clipped out. “Whether male or female, I do not care. But you will make it happen.”

Fenrhys bristled as all heads turned towards him.

The Las Vegas Strip, Nevada

Work had drained her, ten hours of relentless scribbling and talking, full of sweet, empty words. If only the interviewed her insides and intentions, then would they see the black water running through her, flooding her lungs. Every breath tasted of the lies of liberty and poison of power.

The lust filled looks washing over her body was nothing new. Neither was hurrying through the less dense streets where lamp light rays flickered away into ceased existence.

The moment Elide walked down the alley, she knew something was wrong. The night was a calm tranquility harboring deeper secrets than the sun’s horizon, but never did it fade into utter silence.

Something was off.

She wormed through her bag until she palmed her pepper spray, and slowly inched up her skirt where her laid strapped against her thigh. No one, not even Vernon, knew that she carried weapons with her.

Except Manon. The cunning mafia leader had taught her how to survive on the streets when she’d save Elide from near assault after she was caught in the after-effects of a crossfire. Howls had filled the air, snarling and savagery whipping around her.

But this was a silent, sinister after thought. A rattling her bones left hollowness seeping through her.

Stone from the slanted roof clattered to the floor on her left, and Elide froze.

“Shit,” a male’s voice said.

“Shut up, Fen—”

The entire roof collapsed, and Elide let out a shriek as the stones hit the floor along with bodies.

Beautiful, male bodies. The most beautiful creatures she’d ever seen. Flesh did not scare as they rose from the ground, dark abominations with crooked halos. The closest—she assumed was Fen—held up his hands in protest.

“We come in peace,” he said, his voice a low melody.

But dark and dangerous.

Another dark-haired figure next to him snickered out, “Hey, props that she’s a girl.”

The shape of another male appeared from behind him, this one formed with broader shoulders and arms corded with sheer muscle. His fall had ripped apart his black-pressed shirt, a thin line of blood trickling across his chest. He snorted at his companion’s statement, rubbing his jaw with his large hands. A rough-hewn face met her own trembling posture, her bottom lip threatening to spill.

Yet—never had injuries looked so magnificent. Never had the darkness so called to her. Never had she tasted freedom.

Elide mentally slapped herself. Bit down on her tongue. Gripped the pepper spray tighter.

“What do you want?” She managed.

The male raised an eyebrow, his midnight black hair rippling with the night. “What I want to know, Elide Lochan, is why you’re the only person working for CEO Vernon.”

Elide Lochan trembled. No one knew that—no one. Vernon had even coded millions of nonexistent names with false identities into his computer to seem as if he had millions under his command as his last action of actual work. No one could re-route that direction and clear the coding and decipher the assortment of jargon.

Unless—

A mocking bow. “Expert hacker, Lorcan Salvaterre. And CEO of the Cadre Companies.”

Now

Jakarta, Indonesia

Elide wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, sighing as the beads of sweat continued to run down her forehead. California knew storming deserts and tepid springs, but Indonesia oozed humidity that had each of her pores leaking in response.

Pressing her bag closer to hip and grasping the clasp tightly, she weaved through the bustling streets. Vendors leaned forward at her sides, nimble hands flashing forward, the town the perfect hole to pickpocket. Vibrant cloths and teeming displays glamoured the wiped-down fronts. Every smile and wave of a hand served as a distraction as the unsuspecting pockets or zippers opened, only for seconds later, curses to fill the air as victims realized their foolishness.

Elide reasoned she would be the same victim to the games if she weren’t a werewolf.

Her hands instinctively enclosed around a wrist, and squeezed. A little boy fell out of a stall, his face beet red. A warm wind had his long locks of dark curls slapping across his face, coated with black streaks of grime and dust.

As Elide gripped him, her eyes absorbed the thin scars painting his scrawny arms.“Who did this to you?” Elide murmured softly, her other hand firmly tightening its hold on her bag, ignoring the rest of the curious eyes peeking from behind the tapestry stall.

The boy shook his head, hitting some of the hanging threats of rainbow hues. “Can’t say.” His other hand flailed out and pantomimed zipping his lips.

She slowly sniffed the air, narrowing down the scents. Of all the vendors in this street, this particular stall held the only one inhabited by werewolves—young ones, to be precise, which was odd considering the fact not one smelled rogue. Lest the laws forbid it, any pack forbid young wolves, prone to be subject as pawns or used as threats, wander alone.

“Where’s your alpha?” Elide asked, and slipped her fingers around a pendant in her bag. Yanking it out, and angling her body closer to the stall, she palmed the ruby.The boy’s eyes widened, his other hand reaching out.

Elide retracted the gem. “Alpha?”

The boy loosed a small, defeated sigh. “Dunno. Probably killing or fucking.”

Her eyes widened. A sound escaped her throat. “Are you sure?”

The boy’s eyes turned dark. “Alpha killed mother. Alpha fucked sister. Alpha does same to others.”

Elide knew by the sweeping undercurrents of bitterness and acerbic taste in the tongue that the boy’s sister simply hadn’t been taken without strand of dignity or consent. It seemed she had come across one of the boundless alphas, spending wiles and wills on the wild mind rather than the collective security of duty. Her insides shuddered, her skin prickling in sorrow for the fate of the pack, for only the true chaotic cursed ruled in this new era. “What’s your name? I’m Elide.” She knew it was a risk to expose herself openly like that, but by the boy’s fragile state, he wouldn’t be able to fully mind-link his alpha that another werewolf not from his pack set on his claimed territory. By tomorrow, she’d completed her mission and be sailing back towards California.

It’d been too long before she had been in the eastern hemisphere, where two years ago, no alpha pack had deigned to rule over the torrid terrain and scorching soils of Jakarta. Only the ruined would dare claim the chance to tame the lands.

“I’m Nox.” The boy blushed. “Nox Owens.”

Elide released her grip and slid the ruby into the boy’s hand. Before he could disappear behind the fluttering, threaded colors of clarity and brightness, Elide leaned in, whispering, “Don’t grow bitter, Nox, but better.”

She set off for the streets, attempting to cover her scent with newfound vigor—her only supposed gift for her runted wolf side. Hiding in rabbit burrows did have advantages, but brought out whispers of disgust and pity to those who saw her other form. If she completed her unspoken task easily, then she’d be out of the ground quicker. Intruding on another's territories had never been one to her liking, unlike Aelin’s boldness. Being the one of the several Alpha females must have had its perks, a craving Elide would never have fulfilled.

Hurrying up the steps into a small building with a slanted roof, she pushed past the wooden door, the blast of the cranked of air conditioner eliciting a satisfied sigh. Footsteps rounded from the corridor, and Elide grinned as she stared at the familiar white-haired acquaintance, dressed in the ever trademark dark clothes.

“It’s good to see that Aelin hasn’t quite roughened you up yet,” said Manon, twirling her favorite blade in her fingers. “I’ve not got much on my end except for an Alpha Lycan settling here in the wastes.”

Elide unpacked her bag, pouring out the sparkling jewels for later bartering and bribing. “A Lycan?”

The more feral and wild kind of werewolves in the supernatural world, Lycans dominated over packs and reigned as royalty. Feared by most younger vampires and worshipped by regular werewolves, Lycans challenged the social order of the supernatural system. She’d met not just five three years ago, but one certain dark-eyed Lycan well enough to wish herself dead and nothing but dust in the earth; an encounter enough to drive her into a frenzied state of one she’d never envisioned herself, the simplicity rested in certainty.

“I saw a little pup today,” she murmured. “Alone in the streets.” The urge to protect the small one had rammed repeatedly in her head, ringing with resonance within every crevice. The lost, wide eyes reminded her of a younger version of herself, afraid and in awe of the wide world who offered terrors and tranquility. A desperation had flashed through him beyond that draped curtain of fear.

“This Lycan’s known to treat omegas poorly.” Manon rolled her shoulders. “He may not give a lick about what happens to those who toil in soil, but his warriors form a force of sheer strength.”

“Which is why your Thirteen still haven’t drive him away?” She had an inkling of feeling running through her veins, a snap of hopefulness thrumming through her. Manon’s silence was enough, and Elide rolled an amber stone across the table. The white-haired female easily caught it in her hands, rubbing the smooth surface. As a witch, her stance held hold over other supernatural creatures, only challenged by the ancient throng of individuals, including the older vampires who had seen the early revolutions of barred freedom and processed colonialism.

“Which Lycan are we dealing with?” asked Elide, for the true forest bred creatures of the night called Lycans numbered to a few to be counted on hand’s fingers. Each reigned deadly in their own particular ways, each a foe to be reckoned with, each immortal and an aura of powerful.

The leader of the primeval witch clan snapped her teeth—not at the fellow wolf who held youthful ebullience hidden within the shaded depths of dark orbs, a drawn and drab curtain across that flaring spark of cunning, restrained lore, but at the thought of the Lycan in her wasted lands. Manon crossed her arms. “This Lycan has dared to claim my territory as is, infiltrating my streets and my rings. I’m losing my contacts in a flushed drain.”

“What does this have to do with Aelin sending me here?” If gathering intel was all that was required, then she’d be heading back home to the sunny, albeit windy, shores of California within no time.

Manon gripped the stone tightly, the sharp noise of cracking piercing the air. “No,” the witch said slowly, opening her palm. Elide watched the cracks of the reddish brown hues fall listlessly to the floor, a distant reminder of the salted liquid running through her and scorching her mind. “You need to seduce Lycan Lorcan Salvaterre.”

A heartbeat of silence, then Elide coughed, clutching her chest. Pain sweltered through her, rivulets of rage racing across her vision, clear as the freshwater without a facade of fiction. Lorcan Salvaterre, the newest, most dangerous and wild Lycan that had appeared out of nowhere three years ago, the one who had shaken the very soils of her roots. The phantom bite at her neck flared at the name, her entire body shaking and trembling, the memories of the madness running amuck her mind.

Time healed the blemished bruises and scrapes of scratches, but only bred the psychological damages burning and branding her insides.

“Elide!” Manon called sharply, shaking her shoulders firmly, halting the flood of feelings. “Do you accept the deal?”

The figure of a rough-hewn face emerged through the fog of recollection, onyx eyes boring into her soul, warm hands skimming her skin, sending sparks through her. A dance of danger and dignity, her body a violin to his tune, unleashed and forbidden. The crescendo of emotions that had ruled her into the haunted female—werewolf—that she was today.

“Yes,” Elide managed to gut out, a sick smile spreading across her sunken eyes. Riled revenge spun, a chance of millions emerging through the unsolicited closure of three year’s time. She didn’t have to ask why the new type of mission when another vice wormed through her. “I accept your deal, Manon.”

It was time to return the forged game of unforgotten secrets and tempted betrayal—one in which no longer pawn reigned as herself, but the CEO of the Cadre Company, Lorcan Salvaterre, the robber baron of her heart.

A retribution for what Lorcan Salvaterre had done to her three years ago.

#lorcan x elide #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #manon blackbeack #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan lochan #tog au #elorcan

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kelsusit · 7 years ago

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Workstation Personal computer

BIOS settings program is also offered on your DELL computer which controls all your hardware configurations. ITC Sales, the number 1 selection for new & refurbished Dell laptops and computer systems for sale at the cheapest costs. Versatile, space saving laptop furniture components adapt to your requirements. Construct a complete workstation for sitting or standing users that installs permanently or moves on casters. Possibilities VESA mounts for flat panel monitors, a CPU holder, laminate and steel work surfaces, and posts with integrated energy strips. Choose from an eye-catching Black or Beige powder coat finish. Simple assembly.

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As you can imagine, that modest frame tends to make it a wonderfully portable personal computer. Thanks to its skinny bezels, it can match into bags meant for 11-inch laptops. But, as usual, there’s a price to being so thin. The XPS 13 2-in-1 does not have space for complete-size USB connections. Rather, it packs in two USB-C ports on every side, which can manage charging and external displays. One particular socket is also Thunderbolt 3. compatible, which makes it around eight times as fast as USB three. for information transfer. Fortunately, Dell includes a dongle in the box to get your older devices connected to USB-C.

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To find the best enterprise pc, we looked at overall performance, memory and storage, connectivity, expansion possible, and help attributes. The most essential function is efficiency, which was evaluated by hunting at the processor’s PassMark score – an market benchmarking score that reflects the benefits of thousands of user testing. The Dell XPS’ processor had the highest PassMark score, which when combined with twice as considerably RAM as any laptop, simply makes it the greatest enterprise personal computer in the $1,000 value variety.

For what ever explanation, we’ve been told by Dell and other computer makers that you folks actually dig huge laptops with legacy functions. Therefore, the Inspiron 15 7000 is amongst Dell’s most well-liked, so considerably so that are often offers obtainable for the device that clings onto what Apple has long forgotten: SD cards and DVDs. LIRA workstations in the Richard Charles Lee Canada-Hong Kong Library, are situated to the left as you exit the elevators. Turn left when you enter the Library. Two computer systems near the Reference Desk are LIRA computers (HKW802, and HKW804).

ISVs test personal computer hardware to make sure software program and hardware compatibility, steady and dependable operation, highest level of assistance that can be provided, and optimal system efficiency for a top quality user expertise. The two-in-1 normally lasted a full eight-hour workday, with around an hour of juice left to spare. In our battery test, which includes playing an HD video on loop till the laptop dies, it lasted about eight and a half hours. That’s about an hour far more than we saw with the original XPS 13, but it is completely bested by Lenovo’s Yoga 910, which lasted an impressive 16 hours and 13 minutes in our test, and the HP Spectre x360, which notched 13.5 hours.

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In the early 1980s, a higher-finish workstation had to meet the three Ms. The so-referred to as ” 3M personal computer ” had a Megabyte of memory, a Megapixel show (roughly 1000×1000), and a ” MegaFLOPS ” compute overall performance (at least 1 million floating point operations per second). a As limited as this seems nowadays, it was at least an order of magnitude beyond the capacity of the private computer the advantage of the time the original 1981 IBM Personal Laptop had 16 KB memory, a text-only display, and floating-point overall performance around 1 kiloFLOPS (30 kiloFLOPS with the optional 8087 math coprocessor). Other desirable functions not found in desktop computer systems at that time included networking, graphics acceleration, and higher-speed internal and peripheral data buses.

Entry-level desktop, notebook and netbook computers these days have much more raw processing and storage capacity than several high-end workstations had a decade ago. Nonetheless, today’s workstations are engineered to outperform desktops in data analysis, image manipulation and information transfer. The speed distinction amongst a workstation and a desktop may not be apparent, nonetheless, when running a word processor application or Internet browser. A workstation’s superior performance can best be observed when you need to encode and render pictures or video files, search by means of enormous databases, recalculate big spreadsheets, manipulate computer-aided design drawings or run several massive applications simultaneously.

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The Surface Laptop continues Microsoft’s tradition of packing fantastic displays into its computers. The 13.five-inch screen features a sharp two,256-by-1,504-pixel resolution, delivering 201 pixels per inch. That is close to what you’d get from Apple’s Retina displays, so there are not any discernible pixels when reading text or viewing images with fine lines. It’s a bright and bold screen – it even appears good outdoors in direct sunlight, though you’d have to contend with a bit of reflectivity.

No disk that can be used for recovering the program disk can be found. Attempt the following: 1) A probable program disk may have been excluded by error. a. Evaluation the list of disks that you have excluded from the recovery for a probably disk. b. Type LIST DISK command in the DISKPART command interpreter. The probable method disk is generally the first disk listed in the benefits. c. If feasible, take away the disk from the exclusion list and then retry the recovery. 2) A USB disk may have been assigned as a program disk. a. Detach all USB disks from the computer. b. Reboot into Windows Recovery Atmosphere (Win RE), then reattach USB disks and retry the recovery. three) An invalid disk may possibly have been assigned as program disk. a. Physically detach the disk from your pc. Then boot into Win RE to retry the recovery.

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