#i only use my white woman powers for good (emailing places to get shit done) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

a blip in the reader-verse

chapter 6: extra! extra! read all about it

series summary: a minor mistake causes a shift in the multiverse that only you have the capacity to fix.

chapter summary: you kept your friends close, and your enemy even closer.

pairing: politician!andy barber x journalist!reader, steve rogers x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: american politics, fake dating/marriage, angst at the end, heavy codependent behavior at the end

author’s note: i saw @jtargaryen18 post about politician!steve a while ago and must’ve internalized it because this chapter pretty much wrote itself. just a heads up: all of my political knowledge comes from political sitcoms, so sorry in advance if i get some things wrong. another warning is that there are still some very unhealthy relationship dynamics at play here, so promise me you won’t be like reader okay?

previous chapter / series masterlist

Is Andy Barber Really the Best for Our Nation’s Future?

Opinion

by Y/N L/N

Feb 7, 2021, 4:36 PM ET

After tonight’s debate, the question that’s begged is if Andrew Barber is truly fit to run our country. Although he’s clearly a front runner for his party’s nomination, he’s shown time and time again that he may actually be our weakest candidate.

His weaknesses were highlighted during the debate, with his dodged questions and vague answers. At this point in time, it’s hard to tell if Barber has a platform at all.

With Super Tuesday just around the corner, I ask you to reevaluate your support for Barber. Though a charming candidate, it seems that that’s all he has, his charm. His policies are weak, and borderline impossible, and he certainly isn’t the right person to become the most powerful man in the world.

—-

When you became conscious, you were no better than unconscious. Your eyes opened and were immediately met with a harshness from the sun peeking through a window. You shifted away from the brightness, body sinking into a memory foam mattress while your nude form rubbed against similarly soft sheets. You sleepily rubbed your eyes before they flitted throughout the room you were in. Observing an oddly clean, generic looking area, you’d quickly connected the dots that you were in a hotel room. A rather fancy one at that.

Soft breathing came from next to you, and as you turned your head a bit more, you were met with the back of a fluffy and dark haired man. You weren’t completely sure, but judging by your history of finding your way to Steve, you’d assumed that it was some alternate form of your partner.

The man in bed next to you yawned, and haphazardly threw an arm in your direction, before rolling over to greet you, “morning sunshine,” he slurred sleepily.

The beard was a bit of a surprise to you. Though you’d begged and begged your Steve to keep it, he often refused for one reason or another. Seeing the man next to you who (what was now much clearer to you) a version of your boyfriend, was a rather pleasant surprise.

“Morning,” you responded in an equally sleepy manner, ignoring the rhythmic vibration coming from your night stand.

“Mm, you should get that,” he mumbled, pressing a disoriented peck to the side of your head while you reached over to grab your phone, which you could now see was the perpetrator of the vibrations.

“Hello?” you asked into the phone.

“Are you dumb? Or are you fucking stupid?” Aaliyah’s voice scolded through the phone. “Do you know what kind of position you’ve put me in? This is a fucking mess, Y/N. All for some dick? How could you be so careless?! Jesus!”

“What are you talking about?” You glanced over at Andy, and sat up a bit, pulling the crisp blankets over your body in an attempt to retain some form of modesty.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re fucking Andy Barber, but you’re writing articles about him like you just watched him kill your dog. You realize that this puts all of us at risk, right? You’re gonna lose your job, I’m gonna lose my job since I decided to edit and publish your shit, and you and I will lose any sort of journalistic integrity we’ve ever had, or will have, for the rest of goddamn time! Seriously, you could’ve had anyone, but Andy Barber? Andrew fucking Barber?” she groaned over the line.

“Uh, I’ll uh, call you back,” you whispered.

“You’re joking right? Are you with him right now?”

“Aaliyah!”

“Oh my god, you’re with him right now. You’re a fucking mess,” she huffed before hanging up.

Why did the universe have to send you off to such a shitshow?

You rolled out of bed, and sulked into the bathroom, desperate to find out what was going on. While sitting on the toilet, you scrolled through the wall of notifications; tweets directed at you, messages from confused friends begging you to call them when you had a chance, and even the occasional concerned email.

You grimaced as you read through each one of them, eventually clicking on the article that many seemed to be referencing, which included a paparazzi photo of you and this Andy Barber character entering a hotel together sometime in the late night to early morning, partnered with an article or two of your own criticizing him. At first, you wondered if he was some sort of celebrity, but what you ultimately found out was much worse.

He was a politician. A senator who was running to be president.

You screamed into your hands, before tossing your phone aside, and starting a warm shower for yourself. Perhaps the shower could help jog your memory a bit.

Stepping into the steamy chamber, and letting the water pelt down onto you did do wonders for you, and it gave you a moment of focus. With both your memories from this universe, along with the information you’d been given through your phone, you were able to piece a few aspects of the universe together.

You were a journalist, a popular one at that, Andy was Steve, but not Steve, and also a presidential candidate. Aaliyah was your editor, and a higher-up at the Times, and you were about to have your ass handed to you over an affair. At least Andy wasn’t married.

Your shower must’ve taken longer than you’d expected, as there was a soft knock on the door after some time.

“Everything okay in there?” a slightly muffled voice asked.

“Yeah. Just peachy. Why aren’t you more worried about this?” you called back.

“I have a good publicist. And campaign manager. I just have a good team,” Andy paused briefly. “When you’re ready, room service is ready.”

----

Over aggressive mouthfuls of fresh fruit and bitter coffee, you conversed with Andy.

“How are we gonna fix this?” You questioned while setting down your fork.

“Well, it’s simple. We just have to find some kind of spin to this whole story. Maybe you were just interviewing me, or getting a soundbite from me.” “Why would you agree to get a soundbite from someone who clearly has it out for you?” You set your fork down, and crossed your arms over your white robe clad chest.

“That’s a good question,” Andy nodded a bit, “a good question for someone else to answer.”

“Why don’t we let your publicist figure out how to play this?”

“I’d say I’m a bit of an expert at this at this point, but I’ll call my team.”

“You do that, I need to assess the damage to my career,” you huffed, moving to sit on the bed so that you could aggressively scroll on your phone in peace.

Andy called someone, and you patiently waited while he chatted with them.

“Okay, Y/N. We can’t leave through the front, so my guy’s gonna pick us up in the garage. We have like, half an hour,” he tossed his phone aside, then maneuvered himself to get in bed with you, setting both hands down on either side of you, and placing a soft kiss on your lips. He slowly began to inch down your body, untying the belt of your robe as he did so, when you interrupted him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Andrew?”

“We have time.” He looked up at you.

“We are not doing this. What do you think got us into this mess in the first place?” you frowned, moving one of his hands so you could slide away from him.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! Why aren’t you taking this seriously! Do you realize that both of our careers are at stake here? I don’t want to lose my job because I’m having an affair with you. You shouldn’t want to lose a shot at office for a woman you’re not even with.”

“Come on, we’ve been doing this for almost a year, and you only have a problem with it now?”

“Yes! The public had no idea before! They’re going batshit now! And the worst part is that I’m the one taking the most heat,” you sighed, and Andy gave you a frown.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I didn’t want this to happen.”

“It’s kinda too late for sorries now.”

——

You stepped out of your suite about five minutes after Andy left, suitcase in tow, blocky sunglasses on your face, and a heathered grey peacoat draped over your shoulders. Although you were stressed from the controversy you’d found yourself in, you couldn’t help but feel the buzz of excitement from having to hide from the paparazzi. At the same time, you felt quite bad for this version of yourself.

When you finally got out to the designated Cadillac, you asked for his driver to roll up the partition, like you’d done a million times before, then looked out of the tinted windows. The ride was pretty awkward, considering you were in no mood to talk to Andy, and Andy felt bad about the issues he’d imposed on you from his own carelessness. He set a cautious hand on top of yours, and though you were agitated, it did brighten your mood the slightest bit.

After what felt like forever, you arrived at his campaign building, and you were ushered into a small, soundproof space, with a large and round pine table in the center of it. Surrounding the table was a very tired looking Aaliyah, and… Tony Stark?

“How’s everyone’s weekend been?” Tony asked, breaking the ice as you and Andy settled into your seats.

“Are we really doing small talk right now?” Aaliyah deadpanned, “sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Alright, straight to the elephant in the room then. You two were out spotted, big deal, happens all the time to politicians and their mistresses-“

“I’m not his mistress! You know this, Tony,” you huffed.

“Tony knew and not me?” Aaliyah gasped.

“Well-“ you began.

“Save it.”

“It was on a very need-to-know basis,” you muttered.

“Back to what I was saying. I suggest that we don’t address it, unless addressed.”

“I don’t know if you’re dense, or what, but that’s the exact opposite of what we need to do. We have to get on top of this story before the story is that you,” Aaliyah gestured at you, “are packing your shit at the Times.”

The door shot open, and quickly closed. A slightly flustered blonde man stumbled through. “Sorry to interrupt,” he began.

Aaliyah rolled her eyes at this notion, muttering a ‘sure you are’ to herself.

“We just finished polling numbers, and Andy, you’re up?” He projected the screen of his iPad onto a TV in the room, then passed the device over to Andy on his way to sit down.

“Thanks, Vis,” he gave him a curt nod.

“Why would our candidate allegedly hooking up with someone who hates him boost him in the polls?” Tony asked.

“Middle America loves a family man, you know that,” Vision said in a matter of faculty manner. “Andy has had a hard time connecting with that demographic because when they see him, they see an Elitist East-coaster.”

“Hooking up with a hot reporter does not make you a family man,” Aaliyah retorted.

“That brings me to my next point. If you don’t mind, I’d like to add a proposal of my own,” Vision stated, and received a shrug from the rest of the room. “Well, if we need to put a spin on this, the obvious choice is to explain that they’ve been seeing each other the whole time. Under wraps, of course. The photos the paparazzi received are not damning by any means, and look more romantic than sexual, to be quite frank. Y/N wrote those articles to throw the public off her scent, and she didn’t really believe anything she said, and Andy? He’s just a good, all American man who was tired of keeping his relationship under wraps. Everything’s to gain from this plan.”

“Well, I lose my journalistic integrity. That’s a pretty big loss to me. I may never work again,” you rubbed your forehead in a distraught manner.

“You won’t have to worry about working when you’re the First Lady. Think about it, if we can get votes from the swing states, we’ve secured enough electoral votes to have a Barber win. All over a little character rebrand.”

“Excuse me, the First Lady?” You nervously glanced between Vision and Aaliyah while you attempted to pick your jaw up from the floor.

“Well, yes. We can’t exactly get the full ‘family man’ look without Mr. Barber being a real husband.“

“Are we talking, real wedding?” Aaliyah questioned.

“Yes. You just have to be legally bound together for around four years, eight years tops. About twelve would be preferable, but I understand that not everything works out.”

“I don’t object to that,” Andy winked and nudged you a bit.

What a mess.

“Back to what I was saying, we’ll probably need about a two week PR period before we do a press briefing announcing the engagement. Give or take. During that time, we could have your publicist arrange all sorts of good photo ops for you two.”

“Either way, my career is ruined,” you sighed, and Andy set his hand on your back.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re not currently standing in front of 30 cameras.”

“Well, we should prepare for when we are in front of 30 cameras.”

“Is it though?” Vision interjected, bringing you and Andy back from your aside. “We can just deflect, maybe have a few of your friends make articles about how what you did wasn’t all that bad.”

“Is it not a valid criticism of me that I was sleeping around with the person who I was also slandering?”

“Is it not possible to criticize someone you care about? In fact, helping someone learn how to improve can be very romantic,” Vision shrugged.

There was a brief silence throughout the bunch while everyone pondered a counter argument.

“That right there, that kind of insight is why we call you the Vision,” Tony shook his head and proudly clapped the man on his back.

“So it’s settled then? We’re really doing this?” You glanced around at your peers while Aaliyah spoke. “Any objections, love birds?”

Andy shrugged, “I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life with her.”

You, on the other hand, weren’t so sure.

——

Barber and his Greatest Critic Break Bread Together on Friday

Y/N L/N Announces She’s Not Resigning from Senior Position, and That She’s Been Seeing Barber!

BREAKING! Barber Announces Relationship with Critic Y/N L/N

Is L/Nber the Ship that Shows us How Relationships Are More Powerful than Politics?

Our New Favorite Political Power Couple Showed Up Together at a Rally, and We Couldn’t Be More Excited.

Barber 7 Points Ahead in the Polls, Leaving Loguidice and Kline Trailing Far Behind

Was Y/N Really in the Wrong?

“L/Nber” Celebrate Valentine’s Day Together

These L/Nber House Hunting Photos Are Giving Us Life!

This was your reality for the next two weeks. The news cycle was filled with a plethora of articles about you, some criticizing you, some criticizing Andy, but most, supporting the two of you in your romantic endeavors. Unsurprisingly, the world loved a good story about two attractive people getting together.

During this period, you didn’t particularly feel like leaving, though the thought had certainly crossed your mind. You just weren’t sure that you wanted to be dealing with those terrible symptoms again in the midst of an already stressful stage of your life. At the same time, it seemed like the universe was not going to be fair with your time in this reality. You were convinced that you were here for the long haul, or at least, until Andy proposed to you.

Although it was a bit annoying, cameras around every corner, a watchful eye on everything that you or Andy even considered doing, you found yourself growing on Andy. In some ways, he was a bit more intense than Steve, whose personality had mellowed out a bit since the Snap.

This had been the first time in all of your travels where you felt like ‘Steve’ was the one pursuing you, and in all honesty, it made you feel good. Even if everything the two of you did had an aftertaste of artificiality.

You spent more and more time with him every day, staying together with him in hotels across the country, visiting local businesses with him to get the perfect photo op, and attending galas with donors. It seemed like in every candid photo of Andy, you weren’t too far behind. By the time the day of your proposal arrived, you weren’t even all that opposed to the marriage.

When the proposal finally arrived, the two of you were sat inside a rather fancy restaurant, finishing up your meal when Andy settled on one knee in front of you, “Y/N,” he began, and you felt the all too familiar tremble of your watch on your wrist.

You almost had to restrain yourself from exclaiming out loud. It’s not that you didn’t like Andy or anything, he’d genuinely grown on you. In the least cheesy way, it wasn’t him, but you. Being somewhere so unfamiliar for so long had begun to create a cumulative exhaustion that wore a bit more on you every day. Feeling homesick was an understatement.

You brought your hands up to your face, and gasped dramatically, squeezing your eyes shut to see if you could possibly produce a few tears, while mobile cameras and a few professional flashes were directed towards you. A few warm droplets slipped down your face, and for a moment you weren’t even sure how fake they were. It seemed like once they started, they couldn’t stop.

You missed Steve, your Steve, the man you’d fallen in love with. You missed your friends, teammates, and family. You missed the stability of knowing what the world held for you next.

In the midst of Andy’s proposal, in what should’ve been the happiest moment of your life, all you could focus on was your overwhelming desire to have a sense of normalcy in your life once again.

——

You woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing in your chest, and shaking your ribcage. You looked up to the ceiling of what you had grown to know was your room in the Compound, your real room, and felt your eyes well up in tears that stung you.

You sat up, and took as deep of a breath as you could manage, when you noticed Wanda sitting by your bedside.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said softly, coming closer to you, offering you a glass of water before sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, trying to gauge where you were.

“Honey,” she sighed softly. “I’m so sorry. He’s still missing.”

Your lip trembled as you took a sip. You really were back home.

“I know you’re hurting, but when you feel a little better, we’re going to Medbay. Banner decided that we should probably keep an eye on your vitals, but you were gone before we even had the chance to get you there.”

You gulped down the water, then set it on your bedside table, “so was that all just a dream or something? Why isn’t Steve back?” you huffed frustratedly.

“I don’t know why he isn’t back, but I don’t think you were dreaming. I was trying to watch your dreams, but I couldn’t read you, or your thoughts at all.”

“Hmm,” you mumbled, throwing your legs over the side of the bed, “let’s go.”

As you settled into the cold, and sterile medical facility you were hooked up to a plethora of monitors, and a cacophony of devices beeped as they read your physical state.

You tuned out the words being spoken around you, zoning out and looking forward to your vital signs monitor. Your mind wandered to your last few thoughts in your previous reality, the desperation to come back, to see your estranged lover again. You couldn’t help but to feel disappointed, lamenting the fact that you’d found your way home, yet felt the ever present void in your heart where your Steve used to be.

“Y/N?” a voice asked you, and you glanced in its general direction. “What happened while you were out? What did you see? Did it work?” Bruce pelted you with questions.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet,” you sighed softly, bringing a hand up to your neck and rubbing it. “The watch worked though, I was definitely in other universes. I just couldn’t reach him. Bring him home. I failed.”

“Do you think he’s really out there?” Bruce whispered to Wanda hoping that you might not pick up on it.

“I’m… I don’t know. I just don’t know how likely it is that we’ll manage to find him,” she responded in a hushed tone. You bit back tears as she spoke, resuming your empty gaze on the pixelated green text of your heart rate on the monitor.

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to go back,” you interrupted. “I can’t give up on Steve yet. I know he wouldn’t give up on me.”

“Y/N, you could be gone for centuries before you find him, then return back here with no time passed at all, and possibly no Steve. You don’t deserve to take on all of that pain,” Wanda set a hand on your shoulder. “Steve would’ve wanted you to move on from him. To find happiness without him.”

“I can’t do that, Wanda. Without him I don’t even know who I am,” your voice trembled as you spoke. “He’s literally been my only tether through all of this.”

“I just don’t know that this is the best thing we could be doing. Sure, you’re physically fine, but it almost seems like you’re doing worse emotionally than you were before you left,” Bruce added.

“I’m not!” you sniffled before continuing. “I’m just tired from going to all those new places.”

Bruce and Wanda didn’t seem too convinced. “Don’t you guys believe in me? When have I let you down on a mission before? I’m gonna find him, okay? I’ll find him if it’s the last fucking thing I do,” you blubbered.

Wanda’s hand slid down your shoulder, and to the watch that was currently on your wrist.

“Don’t,” you uttered, swinging your opposite hand to grab onto your own wrist. You were aware that there was absolutely no way you could overpower her in taking the watch from you, but even in your minor hysterics, you were able to think fast enough to press the round button before the watch was able to be taken off of you.

You, and your wrist shook. Wrist shaking from the watch, and promise of sending you elsewhere, and you from a mixture of sobs and adrenaline. Though not the most ideal exit, it was an exit nonetheless.

You weren’t even sure if you cared that you were on good terms with your teammates anymore.

You just needed to be with Steve again.

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #marvel fanfiction #ABITRV

42 notes · View notes

ramblinganthropologist · 4 years ago

Text

N7 challenge 21 and 22 - Undercover and Red Sand

Summary: Alistair Shepard’s back at it at Krispy Kreme when a contact informs him about red sand on the Citadel. So... how easy is it to get into Chora’s Den when you’re wearing OTT Sweet? He’s about to find out...

---

Nothing like showing C-SEC up by blowing the lid off their latest red sand problem. If only it hadn't wound him up in interrogation.

“Alright, Commander... I can understand a Spectre shutting this down... but how?”

Alistair shrugged as he shifted his weight so the uneven chair didn't bother him. They had one main way of dealing with suspects, even the ones who had helped them out. Unlucky for them, he understood physics. After all, they drummed the basics into recruits during boot camp. Chairs could eat his ass – ironic, considering he was sitting.

“Well, I heard rumor of it, so I investigated and found out what was going on. The rest was easy with my squad.”

The C-SEC agent looked almost incredulous as they glanced at him from across the table. “And... how did you do that? We've been working to get someone in for months.”

“Oh... I went undercover.”

“Undercover?”

And here was the time to get creative. He couldn't give ALL his methods away. Besides, no way such a straight-laced C-SEC agent was going to believe this.

“Commander Shepard, it's been a long time since we've worked together. How are you doing?”

Alice was looking good. He still wasn't sure why they were meeting on the Citadel like this, however. Good thing he had brought her things along to return, otherwise he would've had to mail it the next time he was in port.

Ah, the life of a wandering Spectre. Never in one place long.

He sipped at his tea before he answered. It was good tea – strawberry. He liked strawberry, good to know she did too. It went with her outfit more than his, mind you – today's coord was OTT in pink and white. Not a bad look on her, definitely different than the mint-chocolate number in the bags by his side.

“As well as can be expected. I hope you haven't been bothered by anyone since I dealt with the Blue Suns.”

She smiled at him as she took a dainty nibble at a biscuit. “Not at all. Things have been quite peaceful, actually.”

That was great... but it didn't explain why he was sitting in a lovely little cafe, drinking tea with his sister's friend. There was something she was going to ask him, and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like it much.

Maybe he should've just done it by text... it would've been easier to say no.

In the pause, Alice took another sip of her tea and daintily put the cup down without making a sound. Her eyes were on him, burning not with desperation, but determination. Something about that made his stomach shift, yet at the same time... well, curiosity didn't just get the cat. Sometimes it got hamster-handling Spectres.

“In the time since then, I've become aware of something on the Citadel. I come here every so often to shop. Omega unfortunately leans a little too Classic for my taste, though I do believe that it would be the perfect style for you-”

Nope. Taako was good out here, to quote the old 21st century classic.

“Anyway... during one of my trips, I happened to catch whispers of something when I stopped for a refreshment. I believe you know what red sand is, Commander Shepard?”

His eyebrow zoomed to his hairline. “How does red sand come up among lolitas?”

Alice put a hand to her mouth to hide her chuckle. “Why, it doesn't. When did I say I only associate among lolitas?”

Yeah... that was his mistake. Still, his mind was wheeling. If Alice had heard mention of red sand on the Citadel... just the thought of it made his stomach turn. It was the sort of thing she definitely shouldn't be around...

And he sure as hell shouldn't. After all, as a biotic that shit fucked him up six ways to Sunday.

“At any rate, I tried to contact the proper authorities about it. They laughed at me and dismissed it as ramblings of a little girl with an active imagination.” She sniffed. “Ignoring the fact my ID says I am almost 30, by the way.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they're a real crack squad.”

“Which is why I came to you. You know my information is real, and more importantly, you are a Spectre.” She took a sip of her tea. “You can get to places that C-SEC cannot.”

Both of these facts were true. Still, he didn't see why they needed to meet in person. For something like this, all he really needed was an email. More than that, Alice had the same tone she had used the first time she had asked him for a favor.

You know... when he wound up in the dress in the bag he was currently holding.

“Right, but... why do I get the feeling this is going to involve a petticoat again?”

When Alice smiled, there was nothing friendly about it. “I may have neglected to mention when I was in this establishment, I may have slipped to my acquaintance that a friend of mine was a gorgeous petite blonde with blue eyes and a taste in OTT sweet...”

Alistair's cheeks turned scarlet. “You set me up again?!”

“Well, you did it so well the last time...” her voice dropped. “Please, Commander. I know you know the danger of red sand. I heard about your accomplishment on Illium with the Justicar. C-SEC refused to believe me, and I know this was true. You need to investigate this for the good of every biotic in the Citadel.”

She had made a grab for his hand with this, her eyes shifting from crafty to pure pleading. Part of him wanted to believe this was an act... yet the gaze she was giving him was downright desperate. Alistair felt his resolve dropping away as he glanced down at the bags.

Good thing he had made sure these were properly cleaned and ironed...

“Where do I have to go?”

Alice smiled as she poured him more tea. “Have you ever heard of a bar called Chora's Den?”

“Yeah, I almost got shot there twice.” His voice was flat, his eyebrow even higher. “A lolita at Chora's Den is going to stick out.”

His contact chuckled as she reached for a biscuit. “That's the point, Commander. Now, you're going to need to be there by 22:00-”

Why did he get the feeling he was going to regret this...

---

“Commander, are you ready?”

Yes, he just needed to fix his petticoat.

Alistair had never expected to wear one ever again, and yet there he was. Apart from some new accessories borrowed from Alice to help with the change in fashion and season, it was the same damn dress, petticoat, and wig he had worn the last time.

The purse was different, though. Made hiding his gun and a few other tools easier should he need it.

“I'm ready, Alice, just had to make sure everything was sitting right.”

The line for Chora's Den was short that night as he approached with quick, even steps. The second time in rocking horse shoes was easier, not that he had practiced for the occasion or anything. He was just more confident this time as he made his way to the entrance. After all, this wasn't his first rodeo.

“Now, I told them my friend's name was Jane. You can fill occupation and hobbies in yourself, just remember that we met at Baby the Stars Shine Bright's store on the Citadel.”

He knew that brand – it was a classic. Not quite OTT due to the prestige of being one of the cores of lolita fashion, but it was famous. Hell, he'd watched Kamikaze Girls the first time he'd been preparing for a mission like this. A brand only lasted that long through staying power and appeal. It wasn't quite to his taste, but he could see how it had made it to the late 22nd century.

…

And now he was forming opinions on clothing brands. Shit. He was getting way too into this undercover work.

“Right... thanks for the ad-lib room.”

“Bo said you were an expert at it. Now, I'll let you know when I see them. This contact camera is amazing, did you really design it yourself?”

Alistair had to resist a chuckle as he waited in line, pretending like he was taking a call on his omni-tool. “Oh no, it was a customization of an existing design that didn't quite meet my needs. I could show you the fabric when I get back tomorrow.”

Alice was a smart woman – she caught on quick. “Impressive. Is this what working what a Spectre is like?”

Oh, she should see him when he had tech in his hands. That's when the magic happened. His contact cam was just a fruit of that effort from having to go undercover one too many times. After all, he could hardly rely on cameras where he went half the time. It was better to have one on hand that was constantly being saved to his hard drive on his computer back on the Normandy. There was also a backup version Alice would have, and a second version on his omni-tool. You could never have enough backups in case things went wrong.

Some might call him paranoid. They could kiss his ass, he had died once before – you could never be too careful.

“Excuse me, sweetheart, I think you're lost. The Tea Room is up a ways.”

There was a man leering at him. The outfit had definitely turned him off, so his only reaction to what he perceived a woman was scorn and minimizing. Alistair had seen this plenty of times before, and dealt with younger versions in his teens. Luckily, it didn't bother him.

So he shot them a blank, dignified look down the bridge of his nose as he walked past. “I do believe the line is back there. Chora's Den isn't fond of nobody line cutters last I checked.”

The man's friends laughed as he sputtered. Naturally, an assault to his identity would prompt a desire to beat the shit out of the one who had caused it. The question is, would he go after someone in a dress and petticoat?

Looks like the answer was yes – he was leaning forward.

“Why you little-”

With a swift movement, he had the man off balance and knocked on his ass. Then he kicked as a reminder to stay down. It wasn't hard enough to hurt anything seriously – just well aimed. It left his annoyance groaning on the floor.

He gave the friend group a blank look as he kept walking. “I would advise keeping your friend on a leash. I think he's in heat.”

Then he entered Chora's Den under the eye of a more than amused bouncer and with the chorus of a bunch of already drunk men. They were quickly drowned out by the music of the club and the energy that surrounded it.

It looked a little different since Fist had been running it. Cleaner maybe, though probably just as corrupt. There were still dancers of various council species, and those who enjoyed watching. These he gave a wide berth, making his way to the bar. This was the same person- he hadn't seen their body when they had cleared the place out. Smart woman.

“Nice going with the guy out front, honey.” She gave him an appreciative nod. “Saw it on the cams. What can I get you?”

He smiled, carefully. “Please tell me you have some form of sprite here. I don't exactly drink, but I'm here to meet someone.”

The bartender laughed as she reached under the bar. “Last time I heard that, Commander Shepard was still on his first life. It's why I carry the stuff. Here, I call this the Red Shepard. It's got a little grenadine in it for color.”

…

Apparently, there were drinks named after him in bars. Who knew? At least it seemed to be the designated driver special. He was happy to accept, though when he tried to pay she shook her head. Part of him was worried it was his borrowed credit chit, but then she smiled.

“You did us a favor, honey. The bouncer almost threw out his shoulder tossing him out. Drinks are on the house tonight.”

Well, that was good for him. He smiled and went off to find a place to sit so Alice could get a view of the floor. Though the music was loud, his ear piece had a noise blocking feature he was more than happy to turn on. When it came down to it, he just didn't like night clubs. Add in the dancers and he liked them even less.

If they were dudes... well... he probably would've been too embarrassed to stay long.

“See anybody yet, Alice?”

“No, but your performance outside the Den was impressive. Was that aikido?”

He smiled as he sipped at his drink. “I picked it up in basic because I was smaller than everyone else and got tired of getting my ass kicked.”

“A friend of mine learned judo for the same reason.”

Good to know someone else was kicking ass on the small side. Alistair raised his glass in tribute as he took a careful sip. He had needed the sugar anyway – he had started to feel a little shaky after walking in. Low blood sugar was fun like that.

As he waited for his blood sugar to raise as Alice looked around, he took the chance to glance around Chora's Den without moving his head. They had definitely cleaned the place since Fist had run the place. They probably had to – his squad had left more than a few bodies and bullet holes when they were breaking out to go rescue Tali. He could still remember where he had almost collided with a wall running after Bo to make sure everything was alright.

She had left quite the trail of destruction. It was kind of impressive. Good they had fixed it in the two years since he had been dead, though.

“Commander, the target is approaching you now. Play nice.”

Alistair picked up his head as he took another sip of his drink. There was indeed someone approaching his table. Surprisingly, they weren't wearing a coord. Instead, he would have said they were any normal resident of the Wards.

Which of course, meant nothing. Out of uniform he looked like any random twink with a minor obsession with hamsters.

“Jane, is it?”

Right, that was his code name. He gave his best cordial smile, much like he had seen Alice give, and nodded. The person in front of him smiled as well as they took the seat across from them, already carrying a drink in their hand.

Theirs was definitely alcoholic – it was making his damn eyes water.

“It's so good to finally meet you...” he trailed off. “Forgive me, Alice didn't give me your name.”

They answered a little too quickly – someone was eager. “It's Rax. I was a little worried you weren't going to show up. Chora's Den is kinda rough, I'm still surprised Alice comes here when she's on the Citadel.”

People were just full of surprises, weren't they?

Alistair took another sip of his drink as he gave Rax the once over. While he didn't see any tattoos for the major gangs, the lean muscle and scarred hands suggested they were into something. Part of him would have considered undercover C-SEC, but they were obvious from a mile away. Garrus had taught him to to tell them anyway. So this guy was probably either a low level merc striking out on their own, or they were from a third party gang trying to muscle in on the big three.

Poor sap. They'd be lucky if they survived the year.

“So... why don't you tell me about yourself? Alice played this close to the corset I'm afraid.”

They were already stammering as they swallowed half their drink in one impressive gulp that dribbled down their chin. Gross. At least Alistair was a master of keeping it off his face as he kept the camera trained on his target. C-SEC might need this data later after they wiped the egg off their faces.

“Oh uh... nothing special. I just do some work locally.” Another sip – someone was nervous. “How about you? Alice says you're not on the Citadel much?”

He shook his head carefully, taking another sip. “No, my work takes me off the station frequently. I work for a small organization doing research on how the various council species construct clothing.”

“Makes sense, what with how you dress and all.” They obviously then bit their tongue. “Sorry, just... don't see a lot of women like you on the Citadel.”

Alistair chuckled much like Alice would as he played with the straw of his drink. “Oh, I'm not that rare. We just keep to different places on the Wards.”

Why did he get the feeling Rax would love nothing more than to know where those areas were? While he wasn't exactly a member of the subculture, he could tell someone trying to scratch an itch when he saw it. The guy was kind of pathetic, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. A little more charismatic, and maybe he'd be concerned.

Then again, he was just pumping the guy for info.

“Oh... m-makes sense I guess. I mostly stay down here.”

The Spectre in disguise took another sip of his drink, careful to monitor the level. “What kind of work do you do? You look strong... C-SEC, maybe?”

The person in front of him snorted into their way too strong drink. “C-SEC is a fucking joke, Jane. They're just glorified pencil pushers sweeping the Citadel over.”

While this was true... maybe he could lean into this to get somewhere. Alistair nodded along as he played with his straw again. It was easy to see Rax was watching his every move. Maybe it was a good thing he had painted his nails for this...

It was the little touches that made the role worth it.

“Sounds like you get into some dangerous things, Rax.” He smiled, leaning in. “That's kind of exciting.”

Rax grinned, but there was nothing friendly about it as they lowered their voice. “Oh, you could say that. C-SEC doesn't even know I exist. Those idiots keep pinning my shit on other small time idiots. It's really clearing the market for me.”

Man, he must have been drunk to let go this easily. That, or he was puffing himself up. Alistair wasn't sure right then as he started putting the pieces together. With dealers, he could never tell. Usually they weren't too friendly with him... but that was when he was in armor.

So he lowered his voice again. “Market? Do you mean like... drugs?”

“Oh, I got something better than that, Jane.” Rax was so close that Alistair could smell their breath – gross. “You ever heard of red sand?”

“There, you have them! Pump them for information!”

Alice was getting excited, but the Spectre remained calm as he took a small sip of his drink. Every motion he made was deliberate, due in part to the fact he knew he was being watched. Rax's body language was screaming some rather lascivious things to say the least. Sadly, they weren't Alistair's type.

He liked his merc on the good guys's side.

“Red sand... that's that stuff that makes you biotic, right?”

Rax nodded as they drained their drink. “For a bit. I have a guy who supplies me from Ilium. C-SEC still thinks it's coming from Omega, the fucking morons!”

Yeah, they were... but now Alistair needed to find out where he was keeping it. Oh, he was going to regret this part... but it was what he needed to do. Luckily, he had a gun in his purse and a well-modified omni-tool to put up kinetic armor should he have the need.

So he smiled, finishing his drink. “Sounds thrilling. Skirting the law, working with that kind of material. You live an exciting life.”

“You don't know the half of it, Jane.” They looked at both empty drinks on the table. “Say... looks like both of us are out. I got something a little better at my place. It's not far if you want to come with... I can walk slow for you.”

Alistair smiled as he stood, straightening his skirt as he did. “Maybe you can tell me a little more about your exciting life while you're there. I've never tried... you know...”

He looked away, willing his face to blush. It was hard to do it on command, but it gave him a chance to look through his altered eyelashes. Rax was watching him, looking as though they had just won the world series.

Too bad they wasn't getting lucky tonight.

“Well, I think I could give you a taste.” They held out their arm. “Follow me, then. This place was getting a little too loud anyway.”

The pair were soon leaving Chora's Den, walking out of the club entirely. The bartender gave Alistair a concerned look, but when Rax wasn't looking he winked and patted his purse, briefly showing the outline. Then she shook her head, but smiled anyway.

It was short walk, like the merc had said. This part of the Wards was pretty run down, just like the Spectre remembered it. Luckily, they were heading for a small group of ramshackle warehouses. Honestly, it was just the place he expected someone to hide red sand.

Still... talk about keeping it right under C-SEC's nose. If Rax hadn't been so horny for a pretty face in a long skirt, they might've pulled it off longer.

“Here's my little piece of heaven.” Rax's smile turned to a smirk as they nudged Alistair closer to the door. “So uh... how about we get to know each other a little better? It's gonna be hard to do this in such a big skirt a-”

Alistair was all smiles as his eyes glowed bright blue and pinned his target against the wall. “Yes, I do believe it's going to be a little hard to do this if you keep trying to undress me with your mind. Now, about the red sand?”

Now it was going to get fun... he had plenty of sugar to work off from that Red Shepard. Might as well put it to use.

Poor Rax. All they had wanted to do was get laid. They had even been nice about it. Sadly, that's what happened when you tried to fuck a Spectre pumping you for info.

---

“So you went undercover in Chora's Den and wound up meeting with the middleman.”

Alistair nodded as he finished his compacted story. The C-SEC agent still looked incredulous, but he had filled in the needed pieces. Naturally, he had kept out the parts about him being in a dress, but they were more window dressing anyway.

“Yep. They showed me the warehouse, I restrained them when they made a move against me. Then you guys showed up.”

Turns out Rax had been sitting on a small mountain of red sand, enough to really fuck some people up. They were still working on locating their supplier, but Alistair had a feeling they had long since cut and run. After all, there hadn't been nearly enough to strike out as a solo dealer. More likely, they were just holding for someone more powerful.

But... that was one supply cut off he supposed.

“Well... you managed to clear up a red sand smuggling ring we had previously thought was connected to Omega. Not to mention a few assaults, a missing person, and a possible murder.” The C-SEC agent looked rather sheepish. “You uh... you do good work, Shepard.”

Alistair smiled as he rose. “Thank you. Can I get going, though? I need to get back to the Normandy. They kind of can't take off without me.”

“Oh uh... sure. If we hear anything else, we'll let you know...”

With that, Alistair took his leave of the station. As he did, he walked past the office of a few other officers. From the looks of things, they were clearing the cases he had managed to bust open for them with a few hours work.

Not a bad job for a Spectre.

“I don't get it... are you sure that's what she said?”

“Yeah, bartender at Chora's Den said a woman in a green, puffy dress with blonde hair was seen leaving with Rax. Nobody's seen her since.”

And then he was walking a little faster. After all, he had a ship to get back to, and a lot of questions he didn't want to answer. Besides, he had a dress he needed to iron and return once it was back to pristine condition.

He was definitely returning it this time. No more cross-dressing...

…

At least not in this dress. Green wasn't really his color, and Alice probably wanted it back. Maybe he should...

Fuck. Now this was a road he didn't want to go down.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #n7month #Alistair Shepard #He's starting to form a hobby poor man

4 notes · View notes

stevenuniversetanzanite · 5 years ago

Text

The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) part 6

Two posted in one day? what? Never heard of her. Its a short one. Like 2000 words. I considered saving this for the next chapter but I can’t without slipping up that one and I don’t really want to at the moment. Could change later.

Warnings: Murder

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6, Part 7 (will be added when done)

Upon heading upstairs and to the woman’s office, the three had fled. The man got enraged, claiming this was unfair. They're gone! Where would they have gone?

Michael spoke to Mead, who told him to forget about the witches and change plan.

You walked around the room getting a good whiff of the air. Your hand glided across the backing of one of the chairs located in the middle of the room. They heard the gunshots and the screams of their students dying. The two older ones rushed to the doors to lock them. Mallory complained telling her that they needed to save them but Mallory wasn’t ready.

“They teleported out of here.”

“Obviously.” Michael spat. “Where would she go?”

“This was the only place that she had. I can’t predict this.” The man huffed. “Ms Mead as a point,” you looked over at the woman. “Not like it matters but isn’t the world meant to end in flames or something. Are witches really worth your time? End the world before she can end you.” You make your move over to Cordelia’s desk chair. Now that she was gone, you could sit there. You’ve never been compelled to sit there until now. Maybe it was the hyperthecial power of it, it is only hers, the Supreme’s. You ran your finger of the grooves of the armrest. Resembling the woman towards the end of her life cycle, the arms had indents from being dug into. “Life is a game of, I don’t know chess- never played but that’s beside the point. You got all your pieces laid out and you go back an forth knocking each other’s out. Some pieces have a power to end the game if you get rid of them, but you don’t have to. There are other ways to end the game if that’s what your wish.”

“I don’t think you understand chess.”

“And now I hopefully never will.”

“You got aboard this really quickly.”

“You promise answers, something these witches couldn’t.”

To test your newfound loyalty to him, he schemed up something that would kill two birds with one stone. The two of you reached the warlock school in record speed. He refused to explain your purpose for being there until you stood outside the sculpture that hid the entrance of the underground school.

Your task was simple and if you chose to accept it would grant you a spot beside his side in the end times. “Kill them all,” was his instructions. “In the name of my father.”

You smirked, “Why not for us? Doing it for someone else seems better than for selfish reasons and I thought we needed to be as bad as possible.” The boy handed you a dagger. You removed it from it’s sheath and ran your finger along the edge of the blade. “A knife?”

“Make it a pure massacre.”

“A bloodbath,” you said chipperly. “Let’s go, Michael.”

There was no way you could fake this.

“Ladies first,” the boy said using his magic to open the door. You skipped onto the grounds. No one was guarding the entrance allowing the both of you to easily slip in. “I should warn you I’ve never killed before.”

“What about all those women- Oh~ I forgot. You’ll do fine.” What women? You shook your head and removed the knife form its cover. “You don’t need to be clean. The messier the better.”

The two of your stormed the school removing anyone who crossed your paths. At first, you had to hide your pained expressions as you had to stab the students. As time went on, it became second nature. Screams filled the air, students crying out for help. Soon you ditched the knife and used your powers figuring out tricks that Michael did and copying him.

The two of you strutted into the last room. Your joints was loose like a ragdolls. You would have toppled over by now you didn’t force yourself to finish the job.

“Who are-” The staff’s eyes shifted from you to your associate. “Michael.”

“I’ve got to thank the both of you, I wouldn’t have found my kin without the both of you,” Michael said. “I would thank the other two as well but sadly there gone. I guess you’ll have to thank them for us.”

John’s eyes flicker back to you. He analysis your face. It was Behold that said your name first, “Y/n?” it came out more of a question unsure due to you ghastly appearance.

“Bingo.” You cackled yourself to insanity. The man found you to be nothing but nice to him when he had his short stay at the school.

“The She-devil,” the other man muttered out.

“Hey! That’s mean,” you squeaked out getting up close and personal.

“You don’t kill men-”

“-I kill whomever I like.” You stabbed him in the chest. Michael made quick work of the other man.

“I warned Cordelia-” the man crocked out. You got into his face and dug the blade deeper into him.

“She’s dead. All the witches are dead-” you ripped the blade clean out of him. “and so too are you.”

You watched the man’s life fade from his eyes. Michael clapped and congratulating you on passing his test with flying colours. The man worked on his little display piece as you cleaned your blade on your skirt.

You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, your skin paled revealing noticeable veins in your face. Eyes pitch black, covering the white of the eyes. No wonder they didn’t recognise you. The ‘you’ was gone. The colour came back into your skin and your eyes settled down by the time Michael was done with his inverted pentacle of human corpses.

“We should head home.”

“Home?”

The two of you ended up at mead’s house. The three of you rested at Meads dinner table. In the short time you were there you’d gotten along well with the woman which shocked you since she was a Satanist and that went against everything you had stood for… You guess a lot had changed today. You spent half an hour in her bathroom reliving what you had done. Crying didn’t solve your problems. You didn’t cry because of what you had done, you cried because you enjoyed it. You wanted your old life back and if you had the chance, which you were well aware you didn’t, you would have to burn for your sins. You played your part, slowly loosing yourself in the act.

Mead ended up suggesting going to the men that rebuilt her after all of Michael’s terrible ideas of how to end the world including the plot of omen 3.

You asked about these men she spoke of, and Michael filled you in about these two coke heads with bad hair that ran a robotics company. You said you wouldn’t mind meeting the men who played god by creating a replication of a life. Worse case, you waste a day. You asked Mead to call them up and telling them you were heading right over. You grabbed Michaels and asked him where it was located. A second later you were outside a tall white building with the company’s logo pasted up the top. “Not bad,” he complemented. You told him you would stay by his side and make sure he didn’t accept any stupid ideas and just introduce her as a business partner or something.

The men hand him a list of names and all of them were members of the Cooperative which was really the Illuminati but with a new name. All members had they've sold their soul to the devil and therefore, Michael controls them. Jeff and Mutt encourage him to use nuclear weapons to end the world, You second the idea. Michael agreed but only if it'll also destroy the witches. Jeff and Mutt reassured him that it will, but he needs to talk to the Cooperative first.

“Will it kill them?” Michael asked you. You had stolen one of the desk chairs and you were now playing with a robot part. You looked at them like they asked you’re the stupidest question on earth.

“They’re human, of course nuclear bombs will kill them.” You wouldn’t allow it; you’ll find them before the bombs go off and save them. Then you can warn them of what’s to come.

The idea for the end of the world was simple, a few hotspots full of people will be saves. The richest of the rich, and some others to help work. But all, the best in their fields. Michael placed you in charge keeping Jeff and Mutt in line as well as overseeing the project. You had managed to gain the antichrists trust by then.

You sat in the corner of their lab reading one of their occupant leaders strange requests. “God this woman is a riot,” you chuckled to yourself.

The clicking of heels signified the entrance of their secretary/Human resources person along with everything else important. For someone who walked with a can, she was quiet with it, her heals made more noise than it did.

You never bothered to turn around and look at her, too busy working to care about the likes of her. Your back was always facing her, so she never got a good look at you either. She gathered you worked there now even though it was never passed through her. One day you didn’t work here and now you did. The men the woman worked for acted like you’ve been there for years, they didn’t even call you by your name anymore but by an assortment of nicknames, none of which you were fond of.

“Thanks Ms Venable. Oh, that minds me, you will receive an email about the purchases for outpost… which one again?”

“3 and 4,” you answered.

“Yes, 3 and 4 by the end of the day, we need to you place the orders today before you leave.”

“Can you also order some cigarettes? I’m out. Order a lot please.”

“Is that all?” The woman was dismissed.

“Wait? Is that Venable?” You spun around to see the woman, but she was already gone. “You gave your secretary a job as outpost leader?”

“That or she would quit.” You nodded before going back to work.

“Hmm~” After sending your email, you decided to go one break. You groaned, your eyes aching from the constant strain they’d been forced to endure. You tossed your glasses of your head and rubbed your eyes furiously. “Stupid piece of shit doesn’t even work,” your eyes were better off without the stupid eyewear. It was probably time for a new pair you thought. You swung your chair around notifying the two you were popping out for a bit. One of them men notified you that a packet of cigarettes had been brought up for you. They tossed it to you as you walked towards the back exit.

When you returned you noticed a change in the air immediately. A presence that didn’t belong here entered when you were gone. Light. “Did you two have client while I was out?”

“No. We did however get four tickets bought for outpost 3.” You hummed, walking up to the board to see who bought it. St. Pierre Vanderbilt. Oh, those witches, they are good.

“All good. This works with my order. Everything’s good.” You were happy at the knowledge that at least one of your students was alive.

#cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia x reader #cordelia goode x reader

20 notes · View notes

akitokihojo · 5 years ago

Text

In Between: Chapter 9

Here we gooooooooooo! Chapter 10, the final chapter, is in the works. So, hold on to your butts, shit’s getting real y’all!

Previous chapters can be found in my fic masterlist, as well as on AO3 and ff.net.

-----------

Kagome grimaced, leaning over the counter to get a closer look at the bruise on her face in the mirror. Her cheek and part of her under eye were painted scarlet and purple, the intense darkness of the wound saved for the very side of her cheekbone where he'd hit her hardest, shaded navy and shadowed slightly with swelling. Swiveling her head, she pulled her damp hair away from her face, analyzing the cut just outsider her hairline. It was angry and tender, especially whenever she made any sort of facial expression, but it was easy to hide beneath her waves so long as she left them untamed. The marks on her neck, though, were an entirely different story. The splotchy bruising marred a portion of the center and the sides of her throat. She was grateful the marks weren't as dark as the one making up her left cheek; he was hitting her over and over in that spot, whereas on her neck he was controlling his strength so as not to choke her completely. The mauve and rouge colors blended and lined where his fingers had squeezed, hardly sensitive and serving as nothing more than a reminder that he'd had her pinned.

"You okay?" Inuyasha asked from the open doorway to the restroom.

"Why does it look so much worse today?" She moaned, lightly poking her cheek to test the soreness of it. She winced, instantly regretting her stupid action.

"It's usually worse the day after. Here." He held out a cloth-wrapped bag of frozen peas.

"Thanks." Kagome smiled, happily planting the icy vegetables on the side of her face.

"Come on, I need to get a bandaid on your cut before you start oozing all over my clean floors."

"It's not bleeding, I can do it." She grimaced again.

"Shut up and sit." He pointed behind him to the couch, watching as she rolled her eyes but followed his order. Pulling open the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink, he fished out the small first aid kit and followed her out, sitting on her right and setting the box in front of him on the coffee table.

Kagome dropped the bag of peas on her lap to pull her hair over her shoulder, using her right hand to keep it held back just behind her temple. There was no need to clean the wound since she'd taken a shower less than an hour ago - her third shower since they'd finished cleaning the apartment, and second since they'd woken up this morning. While she was handling the situation well enough, it was understandable that she'd want to try and "wash" the violation from her skin. Carefully, Inuyasha applied some ointment to the cut with a q-tip, spreading it out evenly before grabbing a small butterfly bandage from the box.

"I'm surprised you have those. It's not the most common type of bandaid to see in someone's house."

"Pfft," Inuyasha scoffed, applying the bandage securely and ignoring her little wince. "I'm a cop. I'm a reckless cop. And I've got just enough demon blood to avoid the constant visits to the hospital for a scratch that'll disappear in twelve hours. Put the peas back on your face. How's your head?"

"It's okay." She shrugged, leaning fully back into the cushions of the couch as she did as he said. "I'm more concerned about my face."

"Is it sensitive? I've got some Ibuprofen."

"No, the way it looks!"

"It's not that bad." He tried to comfort

"Are you kidding? I can't go to work like this, I work with children!" Kagome flailed her free hand in the air in exasperation, giving Inuyasha a look like her ailments were common sense.

"Well, it was stupid of you to still plan on working in the first place! You need to take time off!" The half demon argued.

"I can't just take time off, Inuyasha!"

"You literally never take vacations, you've probably got P.T.O. up the yin yang!"

"It's not about how much time I have accrued, it's about the lack of notice I'm giving! I'm a teacher!"

"With a teaching assistant!"

"She can't make teaching plans!"

"It's a preschool, Kagome, have her recite the ABC's and give the kids some coloring books!" He rolled his eyes so hard his head lolled to the side. Kagome scoffed.

"These are vital learning years in a child's life, I'll have you know!"

"Fine, go to work." He shrugged, leveling his expression, a hint of arrogance in the cock of his brow.

"Hello! Have you been listening? I can't go to work!"

"Then it sounds like you need to take some damn time off, you idiot! Two weeks, just for cushion!"

"Two weeks!?"

"God, you just keep arguing." He drawled.

She threw the peas at him. "And tell them what? "Hi, I can't come into work because I've caught the fourteen day flu."" Kagome mocked, holding her finger-phone to her ear.

"How about, and bare with me because this is pretty out there, a family emergency." Inuyasha spread his hands out like he was drawing a rainbow in the air above his head.

"What?"

Inuyasha chuckled hopelessly, shaking his head as he picked up the wrapped-up peas and gently held them to her cheek. "Man, this knock to the head really isn't helping you think straight, is it? A family emergency." He reiterated. "Say you have to fly out because your grandpa's in the hospital and you'll keep them posted, call again in a week and let them know things are worse than you expected. Boom, two weeks covered and no doctor's note needed."

"That's-" Kagome looked slightly stunned, blinking as the tension in her brow faded. "That's actually a good idea."

"Imagine that." Inuyasha nodded.

"God, you're so full of yourself." She snagged the frozen vegetables and pushed the half demon away, ignoring his cocky laugh as she rolled off the couch to grab her phone from across the room. Before she could open her email to prep her excuse, Inuyasha's phone rang right next to her, Koga's name illuminating the screen. She tossed it over to him, unable to hear what the normally-boisterous wolf was saying on the other end, only able to gather that it must have been semi-good information being fed through the line from the way Inuyasha didn't ignite in curse words but only nodded and responded with a simple "okay."

Hanging up his phone, he looked over at Kagome from his spot on the couch, sighing out before speaking. "So, they may have caught your attacker from last night."

Kagome sealed her lips, trying to swallow the nerves that suddenly began to inflate.

"They need you to pick him out of a lineup."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

She hadn't imagined having to see that man again so soon, and the thought was intimidating. She figured it would be through a two-way mirror, just like the interrogation room she sat in last night, and he wouldn't be able to see her, but what if he picked up her scent? What if he gave her that thin-lipped smile like he'd already done so many times?

"Will you be there?" Kagome asked.

"I can't for this one." He hesitantly admitted, looking half-ashamed. "I saw his profile in the system last night. I know what he looks like. They haven’t specifically told me I can't yet, but I already know Kagura won't let me ten feet near that room. This is just so no one can say I influenced your answer."

"Got it." She breathed with a nod, completely understanding the logistics behind it. "Then, alright. We've gotta do what we've gotta do."

"Come on," Inuyasha stood, walking around the room to gather his necessary belongings. "Let's get this over with."

SVU Precinct

Sango sipped her piping hot mug of coffee, ignoring the sting on her tongue so she could get the caffeine rolling through her system. It had been a long night and she'd only been able to doze off for a quick power nap in the cot room before her busy mind and restless legs demanded she move. It was hard to be still when they had a criminal detained, even more so when he was playing smug and abiding by his right to remain silent. Not once had he asked for a lawyer since they sat him in the interrogation room, though. As fishy as it seemed, it could potentially end up working out in their favor. No lawyer means they had room to play a little dirty.

She looked up from her half-drunk cup as Inuyasha's silver hair caught her peripherals. He walked in at a leisurely pace, dressed down in a thin, maroon hoody with a plain, white tee underneath, loose jeans making up the lower portion. The guy practically lived at the station with how busy he liked to keep himself, so seeing him dressed in his civilian wear was on the odd side of things for her. What was even more odd was how soft his features appeared as he shifted his body to let the woman behind him step in front, his hand not touching, but hovering at the small of her back to keep her near.

It was a suitable change for him, and one she hoped he got to permanently adopt this time around.

Sango rose from her seat, hoping the coffee would hit her sooner rather than later, her muscles feeling heavy and sluggish. Inuyasha's ember eyes landed on her instantly, and he led Kagome down the hall of desks to meet her.

"Hey, thanks for coming." She greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm okay. Don't worry about me." Kagome responded with a pleasant shake of her head. The thick bruise on her cheek crinkled slightly with her controlled grin, the smile appearing crooked so as not to anger the blue and purple mass. Her black, wavy hair was brought to the front of her shoulders, curving and covering most of the marks around her throat, and the only evidence of the nearly-shielded cut on her temple that would catch one's eye was the redness just outside of the swelling that traveled towards the outer tip of her eyebrow. She was wearing a charcoal pullover hoody with the brand name stitched across her chest, the bottom hem hugging the hips of her dark blue jeans.

"I'm glad to hear it, though." There was a brief pause before she continued. "So, I'm sure Inuyasha told you, but we have to have you pick the perp out of a lineup. Think you remember his face well enough to do that?"

"There's no way I could forget it." Kagome said earnestly. "Shouldn't be a problem at all."

Kagome was confident, but Sango couldn't help the pang of guilt she felt that a man's face was so unwillingly etched into her mind. She wondered if she was troubled with nightmares of his brutality as she slept last night, or watched him leap at her whenever she blinked. The way she held herself seemed calm and nicely put-together; there was no evidence of fear or lingering anxiety written in her body language, and Sango couldn't help but think this woman was fantastic at putting up a front in response. But that wasn't it. If Kagome was hiding behind a facade, Inuyasha's protective demeanor would give it away. She'd worked with the half demon for long enough to understand that he feeds off of the reactions of those around him; those he's closest to. Especially victims. If they wanted to shy back, he'd give them shelter behind his broad shoulders. If they were nervous, he'd compensate with his surety. Kagome was temporarily living with him, so it would be entirely too exhausting to keep up a lie all hours of the day until this mess was put to rest. And Inuyasha was undoubtedly synced with the woman at his side, standing close but not smothering, there for assistance if necessary but allowing her to stand tall without a crutch. If she was even slightly nervous, he'd pick up on that emotion like it was broadcasted clearly on a billboard. Sango watched him stiffen a smidge as Kagome took another step forward, a silent indication that she was ready. He was the nervous one.

Sango took Kagome's arm to guide her towards the back, letting Inuyasha know they'd return shortly as he plopped down in his own desk chair to wait. They walked through a small curve in the halls, coming up on an open room, greeted by Hojo and Kagura as they entered through, simple pleasantries exchanged as Hojo did his part to make sure Kagome was as comfortable as manageable. They stood before a two-way, illuminated from the opposite side, the room they watched completely empty aside from Koga standing next to a door on an adjacent wall.

"Koga's going to let them in through that doorway. Everyone will be holding a number, so if you see the man that attacked you, I want you to tell me which number he's holding, okay?" Kagura instructed. Kagome nodded, a note of hesitation finally crumbling her stature.

"He can't see me, right?" She asked, walking up to the window, placing her fingertips on the metal frame at the bottom of it.

"No, he won't be able to see you at all." Hojo steadily affirmed. Again, she nodded. They all stood there silently, giving Kagome a moment of composure. Her brown eyes didn't shift from the brightly-lit room they looked in on, and as she took in a deep breath, there was no more sag to her body, even her chin raising a hair. Hojo gave two deliberate knocks to the glass, and Koga turned to push open his door, ordering the row of men to enter without bark to his tone.

As each man passed through, Kagome quickly studied their faces, all looking slightly similar to the next. She immediately disqualified numbers two and three as they appeared for their five o'clock shadow. The man she'd been attacked by had such feminine features, she didn't think it'd be possible for him to grow facial hair. Number four walked through, shortly followed by number five. Neither were him. As soon as number six walked in, Kagome tensed considerably, her fingers gripping the frame.

"Number six." She announced, watching the man saunter to his spot, the number held just in front of his navel. His nose was slightly crooked, the bridge an off shade of magenta, green and yellow outlining and expanding to the inner corners and beneath his eyes. There was a cut on the side of his head that she swore was twice the size when she'd given it to him, little, angry nicks decorating the skin around the wound. That was her doing. That was the memento she was glad he was stuck with, even if his demon blood hastened his recovery. It didn't matter. She wasn't the only one currently standing marked.

"Give it one more moment." Kagura said, lightly placing her hand on Kagome's shoulder. As soon as all ten of the men were in the room - some detainees, some cops in disguise - and Koga had closed the door, she spoke. "Take a look at all of them. Are you sure?"

"Number six." Kagome stated again, more fervency in her tone. "That's him. He was the man at the coffee shop and he was the man that broke into Inuyasha's home."

Hojo gave six steady knocks against the window with the knuckle of his middle finger, and they watched as Koga emptied the room, the smile on the accused criminal's face growing wide and thin as he was personally led out by the wolf demon.

"You did great, thank you so much for your help." Kagura smiled.

"What happens now?" Kagome asked, turning around to face the lot of them.

"We interview him. Now's the time where we press him for any information he can give. He's our link to Naraku, so we're a step closer to tracking him down, and we're going to make sure this guy works with us." Sango replied assertively.

"Once we catch Naraku and trials begin, he'll be present. You'll have to testify against both of them." Kagura added.

"I'll do whatever you need."

"Good." Hojo grinned, watching Kagura walk off and in the opposite direction of the main office, lightly patting Kagome's upper back to lead her out the door. "Let's get you out of here."

"Wait," Kagome stopped in the center of the hall just outside the room, staring intently into the detective's blue eyes. Her determination took him back a bit as his fingers flinched away from her spine. "What's his name? I deserve to put a name to the face."

"It's Byakuya." He answered after a small moment of hesitation. "His name's Byakuya."

She swallowed the information, biting her bottom lip as she glanced to the floor, then darted her brown-eyed gaze back to him. "Thank you."

They walked out into the main office where Inuyasha sat, tapping his claws impatiently against the lining of his desk, his leg bobbing like a wind up toy bound tight. He jumped up at the sight of Kagome, quickly crossing the distance to meet her more than half way as she greeted him with a smile, her fingers loosely gripping the cloth of the arm of his sweater.

"Was he in there?"

"Yeah." She nodded curtly.

"Good, time for the interrogation?" He asked the detectives behind her.

"You know it." Sango replied.

"Let me see that fucker."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Hojo stepped in front of him, halting his path.

"Come on, I just want to look. I'm not gonna do anything." Inuyasha drawled.

"Why do you want to see him so bad all of a sudden?"

"Well, I had plenty of time to think out here and I've decided I'd get some nice closure if I got to see this man, too.” The half demon feigned innocence, the smile curving his lips only serving to disturb the detectives before him.

"No." Sango crossed her arms, planting her weight on one hip. "No way. You're gonna punch him."

"Just once!"

"Get out of here!"

"I can break him faster than you guys!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you can!"

"I just have a few words for him!"

"Well, write him a letter and we'll make sure he gets it!"

"Let me through!"

"Go home!"

"I should be part of the interview process! It's a good tactic to bring it down to a personal level, and he could potentially start talking faster!"

"You know damn well you can't do that! You aren't on the case, Inuyasha!"

"So!"

"You'd compromise everything!"

"No, I wou-"

Kagome reached up, gently flicking Inuyasha on the tip of his white ear, watching the appendage jerk to the side in response as his entire body froze and his voice completely hitched in his throat. He didn't look at her, his eyes stunned while facing his coworkers. "Come on," She spoke, her tone simple and level. "It's time to go, Inuyasha. You're in the way." She spun around on her heel, traveling to the door, only stopping to wait for her companion.

Sango blinked, covering her mouth to block the amusement she knew was written so clearly on it. She sniffed and cleared her throat, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible as she noticed her partner struggling to do the same, his lips pressed into a tight line. Inuyasha straightened, his body language no longer radiating defensive but slightly awkward and put off, scratching his temple as was his particular ism, and fixing the sweater over his shoulders to line up neatly.

"So, I'm gonna go." He raised his brows, pressing his own lips together. A small popping sound came as he released them and continued. "But it's only because I don't want to hear shit from you two. Got it?"

"Yup, sure, got it." Hojo nodded, a smug expression foiling his casualty. The half demon squinted his ember eyes in a meager challenge, spinning around and allowing his silver ponytail to fly behind him, following after Kagome and promptly exiting the office.

—

Sango unbuttoned the ends of her dress shirt sleeves, rolling her left up above the crook of her elbow, then swapping sides to roll up the right. She looked in on the man beyond the two-way, his pasty forehead dampened with sweat, the fine, ungroomed hairs of his bangs sticking to his skin. It was an effective tactic of theirs to spike the thermostat in the room. It was one thing to make them mentally uncomfortable with loaded questions, it was another to increase their physical discomfort - all around aiding in their quicker crumbling. On top of that, Koga had gone through and removed some of the bulbs in the overhead lamps before throwing Byakuya to sit alone in the room over an hour ago, the setting dingy and humid and uninviting.

Perfect.

Hojo approached, his button up and tie entirely removed as he prepared for their routine in his black tee shirt. He faced his partner, the back of his right forearm held out to her. "Good cop."

"Bad cop." She winked, tapping the edge of her right elbow to his.

"How long do you think it'll take to crack him, doc?" Totosai asked from the sidelines. Miroku observed the perp before them. Byakuya was tapping his foot against the flooring at a steady pace, his lips curved down in disapproval, his chest raising as he heaved a heavy, throaty sigh.

"Hard to say until he starts talking. He hasn't said a word since he's been apprehended. My guess is he's testy. He's secure, but he's guarded. He hides behind his rooted confidence. Find his weak spot and he'll give. Or potentially snap."

Sango spared Miroku a brief side glance, smiling softly when she noticed their chief wasn't looking. His face was serious, violet eyes captivating her gaze as he discretely mouthed the words, "Be careful."

Hojo stepped through the entry first, expression straight, holding the door open with one hand and a notepad in the other as Sango followed through. It was incredible, she'd been told, how fast her demeanor could change; how she could step into any roll necessary for the part. Next to Inuyasha, who'd rightfully earned his place at the top as lead detective in the precinct - despite his unorthodox practices - she fell just below him for her strong abilities to make perps fold. She was versatile in her tactics, adaptable in the room, and justifiably a force to be reckoned with.

Byakuya tilted his head upward to face the two detectives, his skin glowing beneath the yellow light from the slimy-looking film of sweat on his cheeks. Without the slightest hint as to what anyone should have expected, Sango crossed the room, curved around the corner of the table and demanded the criminal to stand. He did nothing but stare at her, thin brows pinching together audaciously. Again, she told him to stand. There was no degree of malice in her tone, no aggression, no attitude. The order she spoke was with the sincerity of a ship's captain. What she said would be heeded no matter what, and as he chose to ignore her once more, wrists bound close together in his lap with metal cuffs, she flicked her foot around a leg of the chair and kicked it from beneath his seat.

He fell to the ground, clambering up to his feet with dangerous chuckles mixed with growls brushing past his thin lips. Sango made sure the chair was out of reach from him, turning to push the wooden table to the far wall and out of the way. Hojo stood back, leaning against the wall at the very edge of the mirror, his face unchanged.

"You don't want to talk, you don't get to sit."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall in back of him.

"You're not looking too good there, woman beater. You tired?" She baited, closing some of the distance between them, stopping with just a couple feet to spare.

Byakuya ground his jaw forward, the muscles at the joint flexing as he brought his teeth back where they belonged.

"Had a long night?"

His upper lip twitched.

"Hitting girls take a lot out of you?"

His head shifted slightly as Sango took two small steps forward, damn near in his face now, eyes slanted dangerously as she spoke again.

"Or was it the pounding she gave you that wore you out?"

Again, he scoffed, this time hard enough for spittle to fly from his mouth as he dramatically rolled his dark eyes. "I'd hardly call this a pounding."

"Really?" She feigned curiosity.

"Have you seen her face? I'm sure the marks I left have set in nicely."

"Sure, she's looked better. But there's one small detail you're neglecting. She's human. She, like most of us, get bruises from bumping the corner of a table.”

"What of it?"

"Well, you're a full-blooded demon. Your kind is difficult to harm and heals at a ridiculously fast rate, and yet..." Sango took an obvious glance at his wounded face and gashed head. "You're looking pretty worse for wear."

Another eye roll, this time swiveling his head to the side to face the neighboring wall instead of her.

"What's even better is once we lock you in a cell, you'll be labeled a woman beater. A lot of men in there don't take kindly to that."

"What, because a bruised septum and a cut on my head is clear indication of my crimes?" Byakuya chuckled. "How the hell would anyone know?"

"Oh, I'll make sure of it." Sango grinned, cocking a brow. "You think I don't have pull beyond these walls? You think one slip of the lip to the right guard wont spread your little secret of assault like wild fire? You'll have an awful rep before you're even indicted. The moment men see you walk through those doors, you'll be targeted. Your prissy, feminine looks will be scarred and bruised, and your ego will rightfully be smeared in the dirt. Your broken nose will stay this way, because everyone in there will want you to hold onto the little trophy Kagome gave you. Out here, you think you're something big, don't you? You think you're invincible because you hurt an unsuspecting girl, right? You're nothing. Not out here and definitely not in prison, and you'll have plenty of reminders coming your way for years to come."

"You're not allowed to threaten me! I know my rights!" He hissed.

"Who's threatening? I'm only trying to be informative. Hojo, did you hear me threaten Byakuya?" She asked with a smile, irreproachably. Hojo shrugged and shook his head, grimacing as he pretended he didn't hear a thing.

"You guys out there, knock twice if you heard me threaten him." Sango called to her coworkers watching in. Nothing. She turned back to the perp before her, raising a shoulder as she dismissed his accusation.

"You're all corrupt!"

"What, are you mad now? Are you mad because a woman's in charge? A woman's in your face and you can't do anything about it?" She badgered, finally beginning to raise her voice.

"You don't know shit!"

"Don't I? Enlighten me, then!"

Byakuya stared at her, violet eyes flickering over every inch of her face, studying as his chest rose with an unsteady inhale. As he dropped his breath, he let out an incredulous chuckle, shifting his sights to the side.

"Or, is the only way you know how to teach a lesson-"

"God, woman beater, woman beater!" He drawled, unamused, bobbing his head from side-to-side. Byakuya stood up straight from the wall, leveling her challenge. "Is that all the material you've got? Look, if you think this has anything to do with the "reputation" you're giving me, you're sorely mistaken." He'd made quotation marks with the index and middle fingers of both chained hands, lifting them between their bodies so she'd see.

"Is that so? So, what did it have to do with?"

"Is that a loaded question?" He smirked.

"No, a loaded question would be me asking how much Naraku paid you to attack her." She watched his conceit fade. "I was fishing for you to admit it yourself."

His discomfort notably increased as his Adam's apple bobbed with the thick swallow. He moved to step away from Sango, to create some space, but she clutched the front of his shirt and yanked him back, slamming him against the wall.

"Did I say you could move?"

"Sango-" Hojo calmly warned, dropping his pad of paper on the discarded table as he apprehensibly stepped up beside her. "Ease up a bit."

"What? No." She smiled, shaking her head, the collar of his tee still balled in her fist. "He's obviously the type of guy that likes being told what to do. All I gotta do is smack him around a little to show him who his new boss is, and he'll break."

"This isn't the way to do it. He's talking now, let's just keep the conversation going." He held up his hands, trying to break the two apart. Sango brought her other hand up to grab Byakuya securely, bringing his body forward only to crush him back against the wall, his head colliding with the cement.

"Here's what's gonna happen, princess,” She spoke low, leaning closer to hover inches from his face. "You're gonna tell us everything we want to know, or I'm gonna give you a glimpse of what you have to look forward to in prison! Got it?"

"Sango!"

"Get the fuck off of me!" Byakuya growled.

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

"It's not even ground-breaking that you know who he is, don't act like you have the upper hand!"

"But don't we? We have his lackey in custody, and he's seconds away from giving us what we need." She patronized.

"Like hell!"

Sango stepped back, the hint of an arrogant grin pushing the corners of her lips up as she crossed the floor and grabbed the discarded chair, dropping it down in the center of the heated room. Hojo created his own space, backing away to the table's new home, his fingers landing on the notepad but not picking it up. She silently commanded their perp to sit with the shift of her eyes that dragged from his body down to the seat. His expression was clearly ambivalent as he stayed put, thin lips twitching, eyes untrusting, sweat crawling down the side of his face.

Finally, he moved, squatting into the uncomfortable chair that only worked to further unease him, eyes inside and out of the immediate area focused on him as one of the remaining working lamp lights flickered in and out three times before going back to burning yellow.

"So," Sango began again, pacing around the room to stand before Byakuya. "How much did he pay you?"

He rolled his violet eyes, cocking his jaw out and in, a small popping sound heard from the grinding motion.

"Alright, we'll make this easy. We'll come up with scenarios and you can just confirm or deny. Ready?"

No response.

"You're having trouble paying your bills. Or, better yet, you're an addict - that explains the sweats you've got right now. Jonesing. Craving. Your blood must be boiling, poor thing. You met Naraku by pure coincidence, and he offered you money in exchange for your assistance. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. Money means drugs, so you took the bait."

"No." He plainly refuted.

"You're right, that doesn't make sense. How would Naraku have even a dime to his name right now? It's not like an asylum-escapee could hold down a normal retail job. Unless he's selling-"

"No."

"What about blackmail?" Hojo asked, his tone kind and approachable. "You don't seem the kind of person that's capable of concocting something this dangerous just for the hell of it. I can see there's more to you, and if he's holding something over your head, now's the time to tell us. We can work with you, Byakuya."

"You don't know shit about me." He dismissed with a sneer. "I'm not in this for money, I'm not into hard drugs, if anything I'd be the blackmailer in this scheme considering the way this man's twisted mind works, and I have the sweats because you assholes turned the heat up to eighty-five fucking degrees!"

"Doesn't feel hot in here to me." Sango shrugged.

"So, you're saying he asked you to do his bidding and you agreed? Just like that?" Hojo inquired.

"Basically."

"Did you aid him in the murder of-"

"Oh, here we go again!" Byakuya rolled his head back and around dramatically, landing on his bony-looking shoulder as he laughed. "History's repeating itself, and you're about to chalk up the whole story of how Naraku's some sort of serial killer, aren't you? Don't bother!"

"What do you mean?" Hojo and Sango glanced at each other from the side.

"He didn't kill anyone!" He shouted, fervency in his beliefs, eyes glowing in his defensive hunch. "You guys had nothing, nothing, and you were only able nail him down by planting incriminating evidence that didn't exist!"

"You don't believe he's a criminal?"

"That's not what I said. He's broken some laws here and there, he's built a record. He's just not the criminal your system has painted him out to be."

"A murderer." Sango stated, crossing her arms where she stood.

"Exactly."

"How do you know anything about Naraku? What makes you so sure?" Hojo pulled up a chair, opting now to sit across from Byakuya, sparing five feet's distance between them.

"Let's just say we have history." The demon shrugged, sitting back in his seat.

"That's not the answer we were looking for." Sango declared.

"Well, that's the only answer you're gonna get, sweetie."

"Try again."

"Go fuck yourself."

She grabbed a chair for herself, swinging it around to straddle beside Byakuya who leaned away as she neared. "Big talk for a guy in your position. See, here's the thing, considering you aren't cooperating but have confessed to your affiliation with Naraku, you could be pinned for everything he's done, and the potential is strong here."

"Aside from the assault, you don't have a thing on me."

"How about aiding an escapee?"

"Alright, you've got one thing." He smiled. "I'll do my time."

"How about stalking on two accounts?"

"So he took a few photos. Big deal."

"How about the murder of Abi Phoenix and her unsuspecting mother?" She delivered with more vehemency.

"Now that's where I have to stop you, because he hasn't-"

"He shot her mother in the head and tortured Abi all night until she bled out, you piece of shit! And before you defend his innocence again, he personally left his DNA on Abi by biting her thigh! We have the strongest evidence necessary to prove it was him!"

"Do you have an eye witness?"

"We have his saliva!"

"DID SOMEBODY SEE HIM!?"

"Yes! You! Apparently, you're the only person since his escape that has had any personal contact with him! You seem to know his every move, so you must have known he murdered the two women! Maybe you even helped him! You think the men in prison will be hard on you for brutally attacking a woman, wait until they find out-”

"You're making shit up!"

"We have to work with what we've got, don't we!? This is what you could be indicted for! This is the fire you're playing with, Byakuya!"

"He didn't kill anybody!"

"Sure, he did! He did, and so did you! How strong do your roots run, huh? Did you help him back in the day, too!"

"You mean the crimes you incorrectly pinned on a mentally unhealthy man!?"

"I mean the murders he committed on women and children! He killed a little boy! He kidnapped and murdered him in the backyard of his family's cabin!"

"Our family hadn't been to that damn cabin in three years, and Naraku hated that fucking place!"

Sango's mouth hung agape as she straightened her back, allowing this new information to bleed through. His cheeks went a sickly pale, neck tensing as he stared at her, the hollow of his throat emphasized with his discomfort.

"Our family?" Hojo spoke, leaning in slightly with an air of caution. Their perp was breaking, sweat dripping from his jaw line and soaking through his dirty, white shirt. He was nervous, a noticeable pulse pumping at the side of his neck, breathing elevated and heavy.

"So, you're related. That's how you know so much about him." Sango said.

"So fucking what!?" He spat defensively.

"That doesn't make sense, though. We have both yours and Naraku's DNA in the system and neither were matched to one another." Hojo said, brows furrowed as he reached for an explanation.

"Use your fucking brain, dumbass." Byakuya responded, his confidence raising as he embraced the now-exposed truth. "We aren't biologically related. Naraku was adopted."

"You're his younger brother."

"Ding, ding, ding! My parents thought themselves sterile since they were two clashing breeds of demons. They tried and tried and tried to get pregnant until a professional diagnosed that their contrasting biologics were too unstable an environment for a fetus. Hell, for semen. My mother's uterus was a war zone, you see. So, they adopted. They got my brother before he could even talk and it was a nice few years before I came around. I was deemed the "miracle child," and my brother was officially in the shadows from that day forward. He didn't take it to heart, though. He was... indifferent, I'd say. Indifferent to almost everything, really, but if there was one thing he hated, it was being still. If the house was too quiet or he ran out of things to do, he'd grow irrationally angry; he always had to be doing something stimulating. My brother's mentality began to slip when he was around, I don't know, ten or eleven. I was young, only seven, but I still remember the depthless look in his eyes when he first hurt an animal. Sure, I thought it was terrifying. How could a person do that to a cute, little bunny, right? It didn't take me long to realize Naraku wasn't a normal person, though. He never showed a hint of remorse when he did something wrong, was the biggest pathological liar you'd ever meet, either lacked or neglected control over his behavior, but still managed to be the most suave motherfucker around. That guy could manipulate the pants straight off of someone, but he was so charming not a single person batted an eye. Not even me. He was arrested several times over his teen years for animal cruelty; not the best hobby he could have picked up, even I can admit that. But not once did he ever target people for his twisted gimmicks. Not to mention, the last few times my family went up to that stupid cabin in the woods, Naraku lost his absolute shit! And I wish I was exaggerating! He'd break things, and scream, and curse, and kick, and punch holes in the walls, and demand to go home the entire fucking time. He wouldn't sleep while we were there, and he'd wander off into the woods and disappear for hours on end, which clearly wasn't a good thing considering what he was notorious for. So, we stopped going. Simple as that. Who knows why the hell he hated the place so much; probably because there's hardly anything to do in a secluded area. All I know is, it doesn't make sense that he'd ever willingly go back."

"He was arrested in the woods near the cabin."

"Fake."

"The little boy's body was dug up in the backyard."

"That doesn't mean he did it." Byakuya shook his head. "Hell, my father was more likely to kill a kid before Naraku ever would! He and my mother treated him like he was nothing, even after paying good fucking money for the adoption! I didn't want the limelight! I didn't want my brother to be treated as he was just because I was the one sperm that survived her fallopian tubes' ruthless defenses! For all I care, they caused his mental instability or whatever personality disorder he was diagnosed with! They threw him out on the street when he was seventeen! They kicked him out and moved so he wouldn't be able to find his way back! I was the only one that thought he deserved a little leeway! He wasn't right in the head and wasn't getting any sort of therapeutic help! How was he supposed to cope!? He was accused of all these murders, and it drove me crazy how that ugly, half-breed cop pinned all this false evidence on him like all psychopaths are bad! They aren't! There's this stupid stigma placed on psychopaths, that they're all murderers, but they're not! My brother may lack empathy, but he's not stone cold! He has a heart! He's never done a single bad thing to me! Not once! He lied about a lot of shit he did as a kid, but never once placed the blame on me! He was a good older brother!”

"No, not all psychopaths are killers." Sango spoke. "Not all killers are psychopaths. You're right. But you're brother-"

"YOU SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH!" Byakuya heatedly rose from his seat, cutting her off as he kicked his chair away and raised his cuffed hands to strike. She jumped back, but Hojo was on him before anything could happen, spinning Byakuya around and pinning him against the cement wall. He was gasping for air, struggling to escape the hand Hojo gripped his untidy, black hair with, body weight applied to his core so he was effectively restrained.

Sango held up her hand to the two-way mirror, knowing someone was probably preparing to break up the scene in case things were about to get messy, which she wanted to prevent. That couldn't happen yet. He was finally talking, and if they ended the interview now, the next time around would be twice as difficult. So long as Hojo could calm the detained demon, they could continue.

"There's no need to get angry, alright? Take a deep breath. That's it. One more. Good." Hojo soothed, backing off of Byakuya as his temper diminished. He took the liberty of grabbing the thrown chair and placing it where it was before, allowing the demon to sit and wind down as the tension in the room dwindled.

"He didn't kill anybody." He stated again, staring at the floor. "Abi's just a casualty in your half-demon's twisted game. He wants Naraku back in that hell hole so bad, it's pathetic."

"And how do you suppose he got the saliva sample?"

"Oh, please. Like that's even real. All you guys have to do is say you got it, and the system would take your word for it."

"What if we showed you the proof?"

"Then I'd insist you attained the DNA from his stay at the asylum and planted it.”

“Why would they have his DNA?”

“Who knows, but it’s a possibility.”

"You're very adamant in your opinion. You're incredibly loyal to your brother. It's understandable that you'd fight for him now that he's free; even going as far as running his errands." Hojo leaned in from his seat again, playing up the empathy.

"He's been through enough. I don't blame him for wanting payback." Byakuya's knee started bobbing up and down, growing faster as he tried applying more weight into it to get it to stop. "He justifiably hates Inuyasha, and I'm on board with anything he has planned for him."

"So where does Kagome land in all of this?" Sango asked, her tone notably softer than any other time she'd spoken before.

"Just like Abi, she's a casualty." He smirked. "My brother can be... obsessive. He started following her to spike the half-breed's anxiety and paranoia, but then it evolved into something more. He had a reputation given to him by Inuyasha, kind of like how you tried to pin one on me, so he's decided to live up to it. Polaroids. Polaroids, everywhere. Quite frankly, it was annoying, but who am I to tell him how to get his revenge? In all honesty, though, Kagome deserves the backlash she's getting if she's choosing to stay with the guy."

"I thought he's never targeted people before." Hojo posed.

Byakuya shifted uncomfortably, handcuffs jingling as he brought his sweating palms closer together. "Well, yeah. Before now."

"That's a pretty big leap. And you were ready to kill for him?"

He half-scoffed, half-chuckled. "I was actually under strict orders not to kill the girl. He wanted her maimed, really. He wanted Inuyasha to see the damage he was inflicting."

Sango sunk into her chair a little lower. It made sense. Kagome had mentioned he wasn't cutting off her air supply when he choked her. He was only trying to leave his mark.

"And you still believe he didn't hurt a single living being, human or demon, before this?" Sango tried.

"God, are you not listening!? Your corrupt officer framed him!"

"But why?" Hojo asked. "For what reason would Inuyasha have an innocent man put in prison?"

"Probably because these crimes were really taking place, but you guys arrested the wrong man. Inuyasha seems prideful. Like the kind of guy that doesn't like to admit when he's made a mistake. He couldn't take the embarrassment since this was such a high-profile case, so he made sure all signs pointed to Naraku."

"Don't you think that's a little too coincidental? I mean, Hakudoshi's body was pulled from your family's backyard. If Naraku was falsely accused-"

"Planted. He was planted. Keep up."

"How could Inuyasha have had the time to plant Hakudoshi's body? We have tapes, plenty of eye-witness proof, that proves Inuyasha was here, at the precinct, interrogating Naraku the entire time most of the searches for evidence was happening. The only time he went on the field was when we drove up to the cabin and unburied Hakudoshi."

"Then he had a buddy working with him. All of you have partners, who's his?"

"I understand your stance on this, I do. You want to believe your brother. You probably feel like you even have to because of everything he's been through. There's guilt gluing you to Naraku's side." Hojo said, allowing Sango to pick up where he stopped, instinctively knowing they were riding the same wave.

"But you're looking at this all wrong. Believe us when we say we want to help you. We are not against you here. You need to think of us as deforesters, not landscapers. We're in the business of uprooting every fine piece of grooly evidence, not planting it. Inuyasha was here, and we can show you. Abi wasn’t just some casualty, she was the link that pointed to your brother's arrest. Hakudoshi was innocently slain. He was a little boy. You think your brother doesn't deserve this treatment, but what about Hakudoshi? What about all the other innocent people killed by Naraku? What about them?”

Byakuya’s deep eyes pierced the ground at his feet, face contorted and wet, stray hairs sticking to his cheeks and neck, breathing unsettled as he clasped his hands together but couldn’t seem to hold them steady. He began shaking his head, the rhythm small and barely noticeable, allowing his mouth to part, a drop of sweat flowing over his upper lip and meshing into the line where it met the bottom.

“Show me.” He whispered. “I want to see every piece of damning evidence you have.”

—

The room was sitting at a more comfortable temperature now, the thermostat adjusted accordingly and a water bottle delivered for Byakuya as he sat in the room alone once more. The table was put back in the center, his arms resting against the wood as he stared down at it, waiting.

Sango and Hojo reentered with manilla folders in their hands, choosing their seats opposite Byakuya and placing their items on the tabletop.

"Sorry it took so long." Hojo said.

"Just show it to me." He mumbled.

Sango opened the folder she held, dragging out a glossy, black and white, overhead photo of Inuyasha questioning Naraku almost exactly nine years ago, six days from the date, the timestamp printed clearly in the bottom, left corner. She placed that in front of Byakuya, turning it around so it was right-side up for him. The next was a photocopy of an incident report where evidence was found at Naraku's apartment, dated and timed only eighteen minutes apart.

"In the video, Inuyasha is trying to get Naraku to admit to Hakudoshi's disappearance. No one knew he was dead yet. He was consistently pressing him to get him to reveal his location. He was trying to save the boy. At the same time, Naraku had given just enough information to get a warrant to search his home. Detectives found polaroids on the walls of women and children he'd stalked, women and children that had active missing reports out for their safe return."

"That doesn't mean anything. The time on Inuyasha's picture could have been photoshopped in." He argued.

"You can believe that all you want, Byakuya. You can bathe in your denial for all I care, but this is it. This is the proof you asked for. Inuyasha was in this station, locked in a room with your brother for hours, all while other investigators searched his place. How could he have planted anything?" Sango asked, her frustration slowly hiking.

"Well, where was he before the interrogation began?"

"Arresting Naraku."

"And before that?"

"Oh my god." She could tell it was a never-ending cycle, the huff from her nose heated like a dragon's.

"Look at this!" Hojo instructed, his tone striking critical for the first time. He opened his own folder, slapping down image-after-image of the scene they'd walked in on at Abi Phoenix's residence. Pictures of her mother's lifeless body, of Abi sprawled on the floor, slightly decayed, closeups of her brutally-inflicted wounds, the contusions on her neck, the bite just above her knee, her dark hair matted in dried blood. "See that mark on her leg? That's where Naraku bit Abi! That's where he left behind his DNA! She was murdered by your brother!"

"Bullshit! What reason did he have to get revenge on Abi? They had no affiliation with one another, they-"

"She was his girlfriend nine years ago! She was the reason he was arrested!" Sango interjected.

"That doesn't make sense!"

"When she was questioned by the police, she told them the last time she'd spoken to Naraku, he'd said he was heading to his family's cabin with his nephew!" Hojo yelled.

"No, that's not right! Naraku didn't have a girlfriend, and he doesn't have a nephew!"

"Think about it!"

"I'm telling the truth!" Byakuya shouted, slamming his fists against the table. "He's never been able to hold down a relationship in his life! Hell, he even told me he finds the opposite sex repugnant and never felt any desire to be with them - sexually or what have you!"

Hojo sat back in his seat, the heat fading from his expression, though his lips pressed into a flat line as he allowed Byakuya's words to settle, to cool. He nodded, shrugging his brows as he spoke again, this time more levelly. "Think about it."

"E-even if he did have a girlfriend, we don't have a nephew - he doesn't have a nephew." He shakily said, eyes widened with unclarity. Hojo pulled another photo from his folder, placing it on top of the others in the center of the table. The little boy stood with a bright smile on his face, white hair falling over his shoulders as he held a large basketball between his hands.

"This is Hakudoshi. He was eight years old and his body was discovered in the backyard of your parents' cabin."

"Inuyasha worked for hours to make Naraku slip, and a warrant was finally issued for us to search the premises. He was young, and terrified, and alone when he was killed. You want justice for your brother, but what about him?" Sango added, watching Byakuya's shoulders tremble from the applied guilt.

"You honestly didn't know?" Hojo inquired.

"No, o-of course not. I always believed him when he said he was set up, I-I thought I knew him better than anyone." He replied, the breath heavy against his lungs.

"I find that hard to believe."

Byakuya's violet gaze instantly redirected away from Hakudoshi's image, colliding with Hojo's skeptical, blue eyes.

"You mean to tell me you had no idea what pictures were inside the envelope you handed Kagome?"

"H-he didn't let me see them. The envelope was sealed when he gave it to me, I figured they were the same old thing." He hastily opposed.

"Well, it was; you're not wrong there." Hojo smiled incredulously. One of the remaining items in his folder was the very same envelope, slightly wrinkled, pointed corners of polaroids poking out from the opening. He dumped the contents on the table, tossing the empty envelope down beside it all. "Same old thing, same old Naraku! These are old photos he managed to keep of past victims! Look at them, Byakuya! Take a look at all the people he's stalked throughout the years!"

He did so, spreading them out, confused, taken aback, not knowing what to say anymore, studying, looking through and stopping as he spotted the silver-haired little girl he remembered from third street. Bile was rising into his throat as his stomach twisted and lurched in his abdomen. The temperature was normalized in the room, but his cheeks felt clammy. She'd gone missing when he was nine. Naraku used to babysit her for a little cash. He remembered the sirens blaring as they raced around the bend to her house, he remembered the police coming to their door to question his parents and then moving on, he remembered the incessant rumors about her dad spreading throughout the neighborhood community, the pain he would see on her mother's face when she watched little children walk by, the hint of envy as they went to elementary school - something her daughter would never do. And he remembered them eventually moving away.

"What-" His breath hitched as his nerves began getting the better of him, fingers shaking against one another. "What do you want to know?"

"Is there anyone else working with you two?" Sango asked without hesitation.

"No."

"How did you get Inuyasha's spare key?"

"I have a detachable eye, it's disgusting but one of the quirks of being a mixed race of demons. Stole a uniform from one of your cops and my scent was masked enough to blend with the mess of detainees you have in this building. Set up the eye, saw his combo, came back and got it. I got lucky finding the key in the locker; I was beginning to think he didn't have one."

"And Kagome's?"

"Her landlord is a dumbass with multiple masters in an unlocked office in the basement."

"Your parents, we never located them." Hojo stated, waiting for Byakuya to fill in the gap.

"They live upstate on a ranch. They're fine."

"And your brother," Sango leaned inward, maintaining a careful tone. "Where is he?"

He hesitated, eyes slowly shifting back and forth between the two detectives. His throat clenched, and he didn't know what to do. Naraku was still his brother. How could he turn his back on him after everything - no, that was all a lie. Naraku was the one inflicting pain, not the other way around. He was a serial killer.

The thought felt acidic on his brain.

Still, as he opened his mouth to speak, his throat clenched and held his voice captive. He tried again, to tell the truth, to give up the headache-inducing charade, but his abdomen tightened like a shockwave had coursed through the surrounding muscles.

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? What was right? What was wrong? He was going to be doing time in prison anyway, maybe if he willingly took the fall for his brother, Naraku could start anew.

That wasn't the way it worked though, was it? His brother had grown obsessed with Inuyasha, obsessed with his revenge. He was going to kill again whether Byakuya took the fall or not. His brother was sick.

He deserved a chance.

But he was going to kill.

"I," Byakuya's bottom lip trembled as he hung his head, staring at the wood between his forearms. "I want a lawyer."

Two hard knocks against the mirror behind them rang heavily throughout the dense room, effectively ending the interview.

Inuyasha’s Residence

Inuyasha stomped around the apartment, huffing and puffing as he made sure the windows were secure for the fifth time and counting, rushing out of view for his next task. Kagome sat on the kitchen counter, watching him travel through with his ever-prominent scowl, propped with one hand just behind her butt while the other held the strawberry she nibbled. She knew it would be irrelevant to point out how repetitive he was being. She knew how this time of the month spiked his blood pressure, and with Naraku still on the loose and his teammates hardly communicating anything with him, there was very little comfort in tonight's new moon.

She could hardly blame him. She'd tried calming him down a few hours ago, but he had every right to be high strung. If Naraku has been stalking the two of them for months now, there was a huge probability that he knew of Inuyasha's human night. Not that it would provide an inkling of consolation for the irritable half demon, Kagome couldn't help but hope Naraku had spent his time being more focused on her. He could rob her of every secret she hid from the world, just so long as he didn't take this one from Inuyasha.

He walked into the kitchen, stopping close by, ember eyes dulled with anxiety, staring at her legging-clad legs that dangled from the marble counter. Even though he wasn't looking at her face, she gave him a congenial smile, one she hoped would express her empathy for the situation at hand. With a tense sigh, he turned around and she knew he was about the repeat the entire process all over again.

"Hey," She extended a leg out, barely skimming his thigh with a toe but serving to halt his path nonetheless. "You've got it all, Inuyasha. Everything's locked up tight. We're gonna be perfectly safe."

"One more time." He grunted, still not looking at her.

"No more times." Kagome scooted her bottom closer to the edge of the counter, reaching her foot out to nudge him in her direction. He was reluctant. Rigid. Strained. She nudged him again and he finally gave, glancing at her with an unamused expression as he stepped his left foot back to open his front to her. Using the leverage she was granted, she pinned his hips between both ankles and pulled until he gave her what she wanted and came to stand between her knees.

"What?" He grumbled.

She grabbed his hands and gently placed them to rest on the tops of her thighs.

"Kagome."

She shushed him, the sound quick and gentle, tenderly raking her nails up and down his bare forearms. He huffed again, the sound clenched in his throat, but he didn't try to pull away. Kagome dragged her fingers up to the crook of his elbow, tickling slightly from the way he twitched, secretly enjoying how sensitive his skin became when he was on the brink of transforming, traveling up to his biceps and going inside the hem of his tee so she could skim the faded edge of the tattoo on his arm. He was beginning to ease, beginning to soften, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over the material of her leggings. Kagome leaned in, placing a small and playful kiss on his chin.

"I don't have time for this." He said. It was gruff, but wasn't the least bit convincing. He never moved away. In fact, his hands had moved up to her hips, thumbs now meshing between her pelvis and the softness of her thighs.

"You can check the locks as many times as you want, but it won't stop the sun from setting and I know that's what you're really trying to do."

"Don't get all philosophical on me."

"Then relax. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Not if he tries anything."

"Who says he will? Nothing has happened in the previous months on this night, right? Maybe he doesn't even know."

"I can't take that chance, Kagome. You know I can't take that chance." Inuyasha rebutted, shifting his head to the side, glaring at the drawn curtains of the closest window. "If anything happens tonight, I won't be able to protect you as well as any other night."

"I'm not worried."

"Well, you should be." He said earnestly.

"Well, I'm not! Look - hey, look at me!" Golden eyes shifted, landing on the bruise that had settled into her cheek. The last she'd seen it, which wasn't all that long ago, it was a nasty mixture of green and yellow, outlined with sprinkles of purple. It was healing, but he still stared at it as if it were freshly-inflicted and the bane of the Earth. "I trust you. Nothing will stop me from trusting you, not even the moon. Get that through your thick skull, Inuyasha, because I'm really not worried. And if it makes you feel any better, I'll double check everything for you so you can stop second guessing yourself. Alright?"

He rolled his eyes, giving her a small shake of his head as he ground his jaw outward.

"Alright?" Kagome tried again, this time with a little more fervency, moving her hands to grip the slant in his shoulder muscles, giving a warning squeeze so he'd take her seriously.

"Alright, alright. Whatever. It's your funeral."

"Make sure The Black Parade plays at it." She teased.

"That's not fucking funny." Inuyasha groaned, leaning down to bury his face in the curve of her neck. She wrapped her arms around the nape of his, welcoming him, allowing him to clutch her tighter than normal as he hissed a curse and shuddered. Through the curtains, Kagome could see the night resting in, the orange and pink hues of the sunset vanishing completely.

His hearing dulled incredibly, making him feel stuffed up, his equilibrium swaying slightly as he gathered himself against her. Tucking inward even more, he felt a swarm of gooseflesh travel over his body like tiny electric shocks thieving away his supernatural gifts. Everything was bland suddenly. Plain. Limited. He hated it. It was unsettling to be this vulnerable.

He felt the tips of her fingers caressing over the bumps of his spine at the base of his neck, and he finally blinked open his eyes. Her inner thighs were relaxed alongside his hips, her mouth pressed to the shirt on his shoulders, the hot exhales leaving her nose seeping through the cloth and gracing the skin beneath. She was being so patient, tender, as if the transformation was something painful for him. Of course it wasn't, and he was sure she was well aware. It wasn't the first new moon they'd spent together in all the years they've known one another. Still, that never stopped her from waiting him out, never saying a word until she was sure he was adjusted.

Inuyasha sighed defeatedly, stepping back and standing tall, unable to hide the way he avoided looking at Kagome. Maybe he was sloppy, or maybe it was because he was human for the next twelve hours or so - truth be told, probably the former; he couldn't blame everything on the night of the new moon, no matter how overwhelming his emotions became. - but his shame was evident, as was his lack of confidence the darkness had graciously provided. He believed her when she said she trusted him, he had no reason not to, but that didn't stop him from thinking she was stupid. So fucking stupid. He had a horrible feeling pooling in the pit of his gut, bubbling, churning wildly, heating his core like his demon blood used to, and it put him on edge.

It had been six days since Kagome was attacked; six days since he initially failed to provide her the protection he promised. If something happened tonight while they were under the same roof and he failed again, he didn't think he could live with himself. But that was selfish, wasn't it? He was only thinking about the way he felt. She wasn't worried, wasn't scared, wasn't even bothered by the diminishing marks on her face. Yeah, she was stupid and he would argue that until the day he died, but she was also way more intuitive than he was. If her gut wasn't telling her to tread carefully, then maybe it was just his human emotions and the effervescent need to protect that was fooling him into thinking something may go wrong.

Kagome pulled Inuyasha's ponytail to the front of his shoulder, combing the stark black ends she'd always expressed she loved so much with her nails. He still hadn't looked at her but, god, did he want to. The sooner he looked, he realized, the sooner she'd stop her ministrations. Selfish, yes, but that's a degree of greed he could accept within himself. She shifted her head, he could see in his peripherals, and her hands slid up his neck, fingers gently massaging the lobes of his ears, the feeling foreign and slightly weird. He didn't stop her. Instead, he subconsciously leaned into it, effectively blowing his cover. There was mirth in her brown eyes as he caught her gaze, her smile scrunching her nose, and her fingers fumbled to the tops of his ears, still rubbing, still foiling his act.

"Move," She said, a giggle on her breath. "I've gotta check the house since you clearly didn't do a good enough job."

"Punk ass." He grunted, stepping out of her way. Kagome grabbed a strawberry from the bowl beside her and put it in his eagerly-accepting mouth before hopping down from the counter and working her way from window-to-window. She pushed up on the borders, making sure they were all stuck securely by the locks, readjusting the curtains she'd pushed aside and moving onto the next. Lastly, she checked the the door, unlocking and re-locking so Inuyasha had the satisfaction of the bolt clicking into place.

"Everything looks good to me. What about your gun?"

"Loaded and on me."

"You can't sleep while wearing it." She grimaced.

"Makes sense since I'm not sleeping." He shrugged, discarding the top of the strawberry in the trash.

"Oh, that's right. It's the all-nighter. I'll stay up with you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no need.”

“Four eyes are better than two.”

“You can’t stay up. You’re practically an old lady with how early you usually fall asleep.”

“Just because you have the unhealthy habit of doing it all the time, doesn’t mean I don’t have it in me!”

“I don’t need to sleep as much as humans!”

“And I’ve been reserving my energy just for tonight!”

“Bullshit! Ten bucks says you don't make it past two am."

"Twenty says you're the one that falls asleep first." Kagome challenged, laughing as he chucked a strawberry at her.

Her eyes were heavy as she watched one of the lesser-rated episodes of The Twilight Zone, making sure the volume to the chilling opening theme was low enough that it wouldn't disturb the sleeping man at the other end of the couch. It was surprising that he'd given in to the fatigue, despite how much she'd hoped for it from the beginning. All it took was some simple caressing and he was a puddle on the sofa, melting and dozing off until he couldn't fight it anymore, and she silently thanked his human night for making the guy substantially more sensitive than he’d ever willingly admit to being. Even under the illumination of the television, the black and white contrast bouncing off of his even skin, he looked peaceful. His scowl wasn't dominant, his brows were relaxed, and his lips were slightly parted as he steadily breathed in contentment. For his added comfort, she'd happily stay up all night. Plus, it would be fun to rub it in when he woke up that he owed her some money since it was hitting four-forty in the morning and she was still conscious.

She leaned forward, minding that the motion was controlled to not alert Inuyasha, going for her glass for a sip of flat soda, fully relying on the small intake of caffeine to perk her up for the few remaining hours she had. As she reached, her phone vibrated against the coffee table, claiming her undivided attention as her hand snagged the device instead. It was the god-awful hours of the morning, who in the world could have been texting her?

The number was unfamiliar, though the area code was the same as her own. She opened the message, a chill rushing down her spine as she read the text three times over.

Kagome, is this still your number? This is Kikyo. I need your help...

The last time Inuyasha had spoken to her about his ex was when he was standing in her living room, telling her the truth she had been resistant to hear for so long. He was naturally worried about Kikyo's wellbeing, considering she'd disappeared from his place without a trace while fighting her addiction, and though he seemed to be masking it all well - maybe for Kagome's own sake - it must have been eating away at him. But why would she message her and not Inuyasha? What could she possibly do for Kikyo that Inuyasha couldn't?

Her phone buzzed again in her palm.

I'm sorry for texting at this hour. I don't know what else to do...

She needed help. That's what she'd said, she needed help. She was last seen in an unhealthy state, what if she never fully got better? What if she relapsed?

Even worse, what if Naraku knew about her too?

It's okay, I'm up. What's wrong?

It was only a small moment before Kikyo replied. Kagome couldn't help the sturdy beat of her heart thumping against her ribcage as she waited.

I got into some trouble, I can explain later. I think I'm by your apartment, will you pls meet me?

Yes! Where, exactly? Are you okay?

It made sense that she didn't know Kagome was currently staying with Inuyasha.

Near the old cafe and pancake house. Idk if you're still in contact, but I don't want Inuyasha knowing. Don't tell him.

She swallowed thickly, glancing over to his sleeping form. A guilt instantly washed over her. How could she not tell him? He's probably been so worried, so afraid. If there was anyone that deserved to know, it was him. Why wouldn't Kikyo want Inuyasha knowing? He would do anything to make sure she was safe.

Nonetheless, it was her choice. She needed to respect that, didn't she? Maybe if she met with Kikyo, she could convince her to come back to Inuyasha's. Then it would be right on all accounts. Wouldn’t it?

The thought of the two of them together made it feel like a large, dense rock was dropped into her stomach, causing it to sink. It wasn't important, though. Her feelings weren't important right now. Kikyo was in trouble. Choosing not to help to spare her from the sting of jealousy was the worst thing she could ever consider. There was more than just herself involved in this. On top of it all, Kagome desperately needed to get to Kikyo before Naraku targeted her too.

Stay there.

She hit send. Stared at the virtual keypad beneath her hovering thumbs. Then began typing once more.

I’ll be there in ten.

As carefully as possible, she unfolded her legs from beside her, glad she was too comfortable to change from her leggings when they sat down to watch T.V. hours ago. As her bare feet met with the throw rug, she slowly rose, freezing as Inuyasha readjusted his position. Kagome stood in a semi-squat, her quads burning from the power pose as she waited him out, letting him settle, holding it until he gave that heavy sigh of deep sleep she’d been impatient to hear, then fully extended her legs in relief. She took every step with the intention of silence, clutching the notches of her shoes in her hands and deciding it’d be safer to slip them on in the hall. His car keys, thankfully, weren’t attached to an obnoxiously large set of keychains and rings like hers were, so folding her fingers around the three keys attached by a belt clip was easy to do while preventing a loud jingle that would no doubt wake Inuyasha. At a time like this, she legitimately didn’t know how to express how grateful she was that he kept his work set separate, as well.

Unlocking the door, though slow, was simple. The small scrape the chain gave hardly disturbed him, and the bolt was slid open right as a commercial flickered on the tv, so it masked the sound. Kagome twisted the knob, cracked the door enough for her to slide out, and pulled the door shut. She wouldn’t be gone for long - thirty minutes at the most. He’d, of course, be pissed when she got back, but seeing who she was with would hopefully provide some cushion. She had a legitimate reason for leaving.

As she got downstairs, Kagome dropped her canvas shoes to the ground without worry, sliding her feet in and adjusting the heels and tongues as necessary as she stumbled outside and to Inuyasha’s car. The vehicle came to life as soon as she twisted the key in the ignition, and she slid the seat forward and adjusted the mirrors as quickly as she could. She glanced at her cellphone one last time before driving off, checking to see if she had any other texts from Kikyo. Nothing. It wasn’t anything too abnormal for the woman, she was never very good at responding. Nonetheless, at a time like this, an “okay” or a “thank you” would have been nice.

The roads were dark as she stepped out of the car, sunlight still a couple of hours away. The street lamps were few and far between near her apartment, the neighborhoods slightly sketchy. She’d parked behind the coffee shop she used to frequent, venturing around the corner and to the front. The pancake house Kikyo mentioned was most likely the mom and pop shop a half a block down, but as she made her way closer, she realized there wasn’t a single sign of life around.

Kagome pulled up their texts, sending one saying she was here and waiting for a body to pop into her line of sight, but as the seconds ticked away, an uneasy and dreadful sensation made home in the pit of her abdomen. Something was wrong. Something was coming. She could physically feel the undoing taking place. It was getting increasingly difficult to swallow, to stand still, and her eyes were flickering over the streets around her until something told her it was time to go. Now.

Never in her life had she felt more like a sitting duck.

Kagome spun around, speed-walking her way up the street and back to the car, relieved when it was in view. Clicking the second button down on the remote, she unlocked the door so she could slide right in, but as she latched onto the handle and yanked it open, a powerful force slammed it shut, ripping the lever from her grip. The light from within had turned on from the initial open, bringing the face beside her into comprehensible view.

“Long time no see,” Onigumo grinned, the charming glimmer in his ruby eyes as evident as the day she’d first met him. “I’ve missed you so much, Kagome.”

“Shit!” She hissed, instantly running in the opposite direction. She’d made it three steps before a sharp yank to her hair stopped her in her hurried tracks, yelping more from fear than pain. He walked forward, holding her captive with the fist full of locks, pressing his torso flush against her back, curving his calloused, scratchy fingers around her throat, her head firmly tilted back to rest on his shoulder. His breath stank as he chuckled, the sound malevolent all on its own.

Naraku moaned, kissing the bruise on her cheek, his chapped lips lingering in place before the click of their separated moisture rang in the night. Kagome shuddered, gasping with every touch.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

31 notes · View notes

plaguedparadox · 6 years ago

Text

Anything You Want - Chapter Six

The Boss

There were times I regretted just waking up at all, usually there was no reason apart from feeling as if I needed more sleep but this time there was definitely a reason as the people around me started whispering things around me, my name being muttered and giggles following as the corporate sense of dread chilled my blood especially as the giggling voices near me quietened down, indicating the new head of the company’s presence behind me. My gaze meets Thomas’s but all he can do now is give me a good luck smile before he turns to work on his files. Once again in a short amount of time, a plethora of the word ‘shit’ chanted across my thoughts, my body shaking slightly as I worried about being fired. True, I had only made my new boss spill coffee on himself but in previous jobs, I had been fired for less.

With a gulp and a deep breath to try and calm my nerves, I turned to face the devil. My jaw dropped as I looked up at him, the smug look on his overly handsome face, his well-kempt hair with not a strand out of place, his fitted tailored suit hugging his body while his shirt seemed to be struggling to hold together as the buttons strained against the material, his dark eyes stared down at me with flickers of amusement running through them. His smile widened as he leaned down slightly, I could just about hear that small purring sound as I watched his sharp, slightly elongated canines scrape gently against his bottom lip. I gulped once again as I continued to look up at Daemon, cursing my luck as I did so.

“Well now, this is certainly something. Isn’t it, my dear~?” His voice purred, the sound covering up the actual purr. I felt a bit dizzy as I tried to think of something to say, but I’m pretty sure I only made myself look silly with my mouth opening and closing in shock. “You need to be more careful with where you’re going but don’t worry, I know it wasn’t your fault. I’ll talk to the culprit afterwards.” The man threw me a smirk and winked before walking over where I had been tripped up. Quickly, I turned to face my computer as to make sure I wasn’t harassed for watching the person get told off. Some office workers really were worse than kids. A few far too silent moments went by before the whole floor practically shook as Daemon’s furious voice flooded the room. I slid down slightly into my chair, knowing that I really was going to get it at lunch.

Silence filled the room again as Daemon finally had enough at yelling at the employee that dared to trip me over. Thomas and I met glances before we both turned to look in the direction, the person who tripped me was now on their way out of the room, sobbing their heart out. “Something tells me that we shouldn’t anger him.” I looked at him with a ‘really?’ look before making a joke about how his temper was hotter than the coffee that got spilt. The atmosphere in my section of the room now calm as the joke got some of the surrounding cubicles giggling or at least smiling.

Agonisingly slow, that’s how I’d describe my day. There wasn’t much in the way of files or spreadsheets being sent my way and most of it was basic email work with some of the lower floors. Nate caught my attention as he made his way over. “Shorty, you got a problem.” Confused, I ask him what’s wrong as I look over his now pale face. “Big boss wants to see you.” He mutters before offering to come with me on the way but I wave his offer away and mention to him and Thomas that I’ll see them tomorrow before nervously making my way to the elevator, I leaned against the side wall and gingerly pressed the top button for the first time since I joined the company.

Why does Dae need to see me? My thoughts questioned as the elevator slowly raised through the building. Nerves were slowly getting the better of me as I began to pace around, my nails landing between my teeth as I began to think of all the possibilities ranging from him firing me because he didn’t want to have me work for him while we lived together or even him demoting me to show me he wasn’t going to play favourites. Or worst of all, him bringing up the rejection and causing an argument over it despite us both being at work. All I wanted to do was finish anything up and go home, it was easier to deal with him there as there wasn’t the power difference. A shaky sigh left me as the elevator dinged and opened their doors straight into Daemon’s new office.

The office was in a modern black and white style, much like our apartment so it was clear that Daemon had done the decorating. The walls and floor were a pure white, the tiles on the floor were extremely well polished too making me more than glad I was wearing trousers at that moment. I looked to the very end of the extremely large room, Daemon was talking to the current secretary who was rather blatantly trying to flirt with him. She was bent over, hands on the arm of his chair and a huge grin on her face, the way she moved her body showed that she was trying to drag his attention lower to somewhere else on her body but fortunately, his eyes stayed purely on her face. In fact, he looked like he was a moment away from hitting her. My feet were quiet against the floor as I made my way over but I still caught the attention of my new boss and his inappropriately behaving secretary who gave me the stink eye. “You wanted to see me, Mr Morningstar?” I ask sweetly, looking between him and the woman who was seemingly trying to sit in his lap. I wanted nothing more than to rip her away from him and show her that she was never going to have him but I pushed those thoughts away and instead focused on what was going on at that moment.

Daemon, despite clearly not liking the woman’s advances, gestured for the woman to leave us alone while remaining as polite as possible in his own smooth way. Once alone the man’s shoulders dropped and an irritated look crossed his face. “God, I can’t stand women like that. One look at a guy they deem attractive and suddenly they’re throwing themselves at them… It’ll just get them killed.” He snarled before making his way around the desk so he was standing in front of me. “Luckily, with you, I don’t have to worry about that though. I served you myself on a silver platter and even then you didn’t take a bite. I’m sure a handsome stranger would have less luck.” It seemed as if it was meant to be a joke but the words made my stomach feel as if it dropped, my gaze falling to the floor as a subtle hint of accusation crept over. With a not-so-gentle tug, my head was pulled to look up by the chin, Daemon’s single finger refusing to let it drop back down. “Perhaps I should offer using a gold plate next time~”

Crimson was painted across my cheeks but the sinking sensation faded as I realised that he wasn’t hurt by my rejection, skip of the beat of my heart as he made it clear he wanted to keep trying. I shoot him a smile before asking if he needed anything.

My boss made his way back around his desk and picked up the coat that was laid on the back of his chair. “Just wanted to know if you wanted to head home with me, we live together after all.” I barely even noticed him scoop up his briefcase as he walked in front of me once again. I mention that my bag is downstairs and I felt a bit awkward collecting my things with my boss waiting for me but he barely seemed bothered by my words and calmly said: “I’ll wait in the parking lot then.” and then sent me on my way.

Nate was still standing by my desk once I got back but I was too nervous about spilling to them that I lived with the boss that I just collected my things and gave them a quick goodbye before rushing down to the first basement level which contained the parking lot. I didn’t realise how cold the basement was until I was down there, a shiver ran through me as I could feel the hair on my arms begin to stand. I quickly jogged around to find the boss’s car space as fast as I could so my body would stop begging for warmth.

About five minutes of wandering occurred before I found the right spot but I didn’t go anywhere near the familiar Merc as it rocked from side to side slowly. My guts felt as if they were being twisted and yanked out through a tiny hole, the pain nearly sweeping me off of my feet as I hoped that he hadn’t been swayed by the secretary but that was most likely true. I could feel my eyes well up with tears as I began to slowly walk away, my feet lazily carrying me as tried to work out if I was dreaming still. CRACK. SNAP. THUD. The sounds of something seemingly being ripped apart caught my attention, my head cautiously turning back to the Merc to see it now no longer rocking, not even slightly.

My head snapped back to staring ahead of me as I could hear one of the doors click. I slowly walked forward and made my head look side to side as if I was looking for the car despite clearly knowing where it was. I felt a presence behind me but I continued my faux search, only turning when I heard someone clear their throat. With a fake surprised expression I turned to look at my roommate standing in a shadowy area that the weak lights failed to reach, his eyebrow raised. “There you are! I’ve been wandering for a small bit now!”

The dark, cold parking lot even seemed to chill Daemon’s smile that was clearly meant to be warm and inviting but for some reason seemed dishonest. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. You walked passed my car it seems.” He murmured, his tongue flicking out and licking away the substance that was at the corner of his mouth, I could barely tell what it was before it was gone. The dark didn’t help. Gah, it’s so cold. My hands came up to wrap around my arms, rubbing them to try and fight away the icy air. A concerned look crossed his face before he ushered me over and into his car.

I had to try and stop myself from gagging at the smell that emanated from the car, sex and blood were probably a nice mixture to smell for some but it just made me feel sick. I quickly glanced into the rear view mirror to see nothing there which made me worry a bit, I had only heard one set of footsteps and the secretary had heels so it wasn’t as if her shoes would have made her steps quiet. My gaze fell over to Daemon who looked a lot calmer than before, his hair was even over his face again much like it was at home but it was messier than normal, his chest heaving ever so slightly. Was… Was he masturbating in here? It was the only thing I could think of that made sense. I asked about the odd sounds I heard shortly before I saw him. My question seemed to confuse him at first before he leaned back into his seat, his arm reaching across and behind him, to something that seemed to be in the footwell of the seat behind him.

A few grunts left his lips as he seemed to struggle for whatever he was trying to grab. “I… seemed to have snapped… something at the bottom of my seat. I don’t know what though, might as well just get this stupid thing replaced.” He shrugged, pulling his arm back after he had given up trying to get whatever he was reaching for. He sighed and muttered about having the car since shortly before him and I met before telling me to buckle up as he started the car up.

The journey home wasn’t as bad this time, Dae let out a few choice words for those who had cut him up or were driving in a way he thought was more than just subpar but he committed to the speed limit which was good for my heart. Once we had gotten back, and into our apartment, we both went to our bedrooms to change. I was more than just glad that he wasn’t made that I had rejected him and a bit part of me was thrilled that he hadn’t slept with someone else but I did feel a bit silly at getting jealous and hurt over just suspecting him of doing that. It wasn’t as if we were even together.

Awkwardly, my sweet tooth began to play up as I started to crave Devil’s food cake which was a favourite of mine, especially when my old friend used to make it. I doubt it was normal to feel weird about walking around my own apartment in my old boyfriend’s top but something told me that Daemon probably wouldn’t like it, I elected to ignore that something as my stomach begged for the chocolatey goodness it desired. So, with my stomach winning over my head, I ventured forth towards the kitchen, grabbing my cookbook from a shelf along the way.

The delicious aroma of chocolate surrounded me and filled the air, catching the attention of the other sweet lover that was my roommate who was now donning a baggy pair of jogging bottoms and a loose white top instead of his usual well fitted suit and somehow he looked just as attractive. Before he could ask what I was making I thrust the bowl of the deep brown cake batter towards him, exclaiming gleefully that he should try it. I wasn’t as good as my old friend when it came to baking but I was ecstatic to see it come together nicely. I waited with held breath as he lightly licked some of the sweet substance off of his finger, a pleased look washing over his face as he licked the rest off.

We both waited, watching the cake bake in the oven, like a pair of children with our butts on the floor and knees pulled up to our chins, arms wrapped around our legs. Shoulder to shoulder. For some reason, the wonderful smell made me hungry, in more than one way. My legs rubbed together slightly, my tongue ran over my top lip and my eyes flickered over to the very appealing man next to me. I thought back to the Merc rocking and how he must have really been having fun as he dealt with his own frustration and that made the current moisture problem in my once clean underwear a whole lot worse.

My eyes snapped away as I noticed him begin to look at me, embarrassed with the more than lustful thoughts running through my mind. I’m not going to bang my boss. I’m not going to bang my boss. I’m not going to bang my boss. I chanted internally to myself as I turned my attention back to the cake. The minutes slowly ticked by and the mess that was in my pyjama bottom became worse and worse with each annoying tick of the clock. A quiet groan left me before the timer on my phone finally decided to blare out, alerting me to the fact the cake should have had enough time in the heat.

Loud purring dragged my attention away from the now cooling cake, my head turning to look at the man making the sound to find him leaning against the island, a huge wolf-like grin on his face as a massive blush covered his cheeks. Seems like I’m not the only one feeling the heat. I could feel my own face flush as he made his way over to me, his arms curling around my waist and pulling me close. “So, will a gold platter work this time~?” His soft lips ghosted over mine as his fingers worked their way under the loose fabric of my oversized top, his fingers brushing lightly over my skin causing goosebumps to rise over my arms and coating my legs - but that wasn’t the only thing coating my legs.

A low mutter of his name left my lips but his lips covered mine, shushing me in a wonderfully passionate way. The kiss quickly transformed from slow and sweet to heavy and passionate, teeth and tongue crashing as our breaths became hot and mangled, my fingers tangled in his black locks and his were pressing roughly into my skin most likely bruising it. The raised bite mark on my neck tingled and burned but intense lust coursing through my veins and a single look from him had me ignoring it as I pulled him towards my room, a grin on my lips. I could barely concentrate as I felt his hot lips land on my skin, sending chills down my spine.

Eventually, piece by piece, our clothes were shed and landed on the floor. Fingers brushing and teasing some of the most sensitive areas we could think of, moans, groans and pleasure filled whimpers left us in bucket loads as we collapsed onto my bed, barely noticing the bouncing of our bodies as they became entangled and becoming one. Almost scorching hot skin pressed against each other in such amazing ways as we began to do one of the oldest and most intimate dances known to man. And I didn’t want to regret a moment of it. I barely even noticed that the strong smell of chocolate that followed us into the room.

#darkiplier #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fic #x reader #anything you want

3 notes · View notes

notallbloodmages · 6 years ago

Text

My studio was out of power for almost a week

I’m re-vamping my Patreon again in an attempt to make up the lost $ from this past week. I lost a lot of work time, mostly time that would have been spent making and releasing new products. Luckily I got it back just in time to fill in orders that were due.

Details of the studio power troubles below the cut.

The first week that I had the studio, we spent a ton of time just making it clean and slightly warmer. The second week, I was able to move in all of my furniture and start using it to take orders!

Halfway through that second week, however, the power stopped working. The wiring had just given up and was honestly probably dangerous at that point. I called the building manager at 4:30PM and was told that I’d have to wait until Monday because the maintenance man only worked 8 to noon. I was furious, but didn’t get mad. I did have my first panic attack in months, though, and ended up hanging up on the guy.

Monday came and went, and I texted the building manager. The maintenance man would be there Tuesday. He was, but he didn’t fix anything. He just took apart the outlets and called it a day. On Wednesday, two of the power outlets we working and there seemed to be no intention of fixing the rest. I decided I could live with that, since they were luckily within reach of my computer and my machine.

That was all in October.

Now, in January, the power went out a second time. This time it wasn’t just the outlets in my studio, it was also the ones in the hallway. I called the manager, doing my best to stay calm, and was reamed for not saying “good morning” straight away (sidenote: it was 2pm). He seemed way over the top angry for such a little thing so I offered to call back at another time. He stated that he was at his daughter’s birthday, but that he had time and wanted to know if I was a tenant. I told him yes, but insisted on calling back later since I didn’t want him to miss his daughter’s birthday. I hung up as I could feel the anger rising in my throat - both at his shitty attitude and at his gall to answer his work cellphone at his daughter’s birthday. I had only planned on leaving a polite message anyway.

The moment I hung up, I started crying, but got myself under control quickly. I sent a long and very strongly-worded (yet still polite) e-mail to the management company about how frustrated I was that this happened yet again, and included what the manager had said during out short one-sided conversation. E-mail means a record of contact, which I definitely prefer now since the first time this happened was only over the phone.

Sunday- nothing Monday- nothing. I know Monday was a holiday, but these are rich white realtors who could be bothered to answer an email. Tuesday- I sent two more emails in the morning.

When I didn’t hear back by about 2pm, I wrote another email (mentioning legal action this time) before calling the leasing office. They’re desperate for new tenants right now, so naturally it didn’t even ring once before I was answered. I was greeted by an over-the-top-polite woman who called me “sweetie” every other sentence. She at least allowed me to share the whole story, starting from when I moved in. I complained to her about the hired management’s lack of professionalism, constant sub-par “maintenance” experienced by myself and the other tenants, and that I was not afraid to break my lease if this happened again. She promised to have maintenance call a professionally licensed electrician this time, and stated that that’s what should have been done in the first place.

Right when I got off the phone, I received an email back from the management office. No apology, just one sentence saying that an electrician would be out by the end of the week. It was something, but I didn’t have “until the end of the week.” I had orders to fill and new products that needed to be stitched out ASAP. One of the other management office folk called me, the man who showed me the unit in November, and asked me for the whole story. My fiance was there for the whole conversation so that I didn’t forget anything. He also promised that this would never happen again, and he was going to be talking with maintenance.

Quick note, every time that I e-mailed, talked to, or texted anyone at all, I made sure to say that I did not want maintenance to go into my unit without me present. Fully knowing that they wouldn’t listen, because this request had been ignored before, my fiance and I set up a security camera in the corner and had it alert us of any movement. Sure as hell, the maintenance man was in and out of my studio dozens of times between 9:30AM and 11:30AM on Wednesday morning. What was he doing? Going around with one of my plug-in devices to check each power outlet several times and then scratching his head while looking at the ceiling. I also got him calling the leasing office to tell them that I wasn’t there. The woman on the other end of the line sounded frustrated, as if the problem was going to have magically fixed itself and they weren’t going to have to spend any money.

Around 11:30, I got an email from management saying that an electrician would be there in an hour. No hello, no goodbye, no apologies for the trouble. Just, “an electrician will be out within the hour,” and the nested email that she was replying to. I checked the camera, and the electrician was already there. The maintenance man was letting him in, despite my repeated requests to not do that. I had a friend go with me to my studio so that I would hopefully not embarrass myself. On the way, I call from the leasing office saying that an electrician would be out around 4pm. I didn’t question it at first, since I’d already seen that an electrician was there and maybe they meant they’d be there by 4pm.

The moment we got there, I composed myself and was polite but firm to the maintenance - an old bald white man missing most of his teeth and any actual know-how about how to fix this problem. Which would be fine except that he did try to fix it previously. He left naked wires just sitting in the wall with no caps on. He installed outlets wrong. Worse things that the wiring getting fuzzed out could have happened. I was lucky that his idiocy and the management’s cheapness didn’t cost me my equipment.

The electrician was in the middle of disassembling one of the breaker panels in the hallway. The maintenance man literally told me he had no idea where the breakers for my unit were. WHAT THE FUCK. I knew where some of them were. I didn’t know about this one, because it’s still labelled with the room numbers from the goddamned 1940s. I was about to lose my cool when the electrician - someone I had not right to be mad at yet - asked me to tell him what all wasn’t working. So, I led him into the studio to point out what stopped working back in November, what still wasn’t working, what maintenance had “fixed”, what maintenance said he fixed but hadn’t, what still wasn’t working since November, and the “fixes” that had re-broken. He was confused at how all of this happened when there was nothing I was running that should have made this happen. He opened one of the outlet panels that maintenance had “fixed” and discovered that it was installed incredibly wrong. Another sidenote - I know how to install an outlet safely. But maintenance dude didn’t, but tried anyway. You don’t do that. I also asked the electrician if he could please re-install some of the outlets that maintenance removed completely for whatever-the-hell reason.

Once the electrician had a good idea of what was going on, my friend and I left because there wasn’t really anything we could do. Needless to say I continued watching on my camera until they left. I got a text from management reminding me that the electrician would be there around 4. Upon calling them back, I found that maintenance and management called two separate electricians without communicating with each other. I was too stressed out to go back to my studio. I also fell asleep around 10-ish when all the stress of keeping a cool and collected demeanor all day hit me.

On Thursday I could still feel the stress of dealing with this shit again in every single muscle and joint. Also it was like, -13*F here and that never helps. Upon checking my studio, I found all the outlets to be in working order and gingerly started working on an order, certain that the power would bust again.

Luckily it’s all still fine, and I got a whole week of backlogged orders done today.

However, I still missed out on 5 and a half days of productivity. I did stress this to management, and it looks like I’ll be comped for a month of rent. We’ll see if they follow through. Now I know that threatening legal action and threatening to leave and spread their shit through the artist-seeking-studio community (definitely still gonna do that last part) does work.

The other artists in the buildings are planning a straight up coup against management. This realty company treats its tenants terribly compared to every other similar set-up in the area. My documented issues will definitely come into play very strongly when we rise up. We will not be treated this way. We will not allow these people to profit off of our tenancy while they do jackshit to improve or fix the building., or respond to complaints.

Last week there was a guy violently yelling in the halls and the tenants were told not to call police by the management because they “didn’t want trouble”, and instead simply escorted him out. Glad I have both a security cam now and 12inch shears.

#art studio problems #honestly this realty company is basically tumblr staff #they bought the buildings hoping to make a quick buck without doing any work to make the spaces safe #there's literally asbestos tile in most of the rooms #and the pipes have been exposed to TCE-laden water

1 note · View note

eco-lily · 6 years ago

Text

Raindrops and Rooftops ♡

It was quiet. So noiseless, it made the dark haired woman uneasy. Unable to rest, where she sat on the couch. Normally, Lily was enjoying the solitude. Able to think freely, without the constant interruption from her roommate. Yet, that was when Morgane was away for work. Traveling, for her job, in wanderlust fashion.

Now, however, it made the area colder. Her friend was just down the hall, door opened a crack. Silent. There was no constant streams of conspiracy theories , or aliens, or cryptids. Leaving Lily pouting. There wasn't messes across the apartment; no sticky notes or lost articles of clothing. No books she stumbled over. Her obsessive compulsive behavior was calmed.

It wasn't right. Something was wrong.

It was movie night, damnit. Lily, dressed in an overly large sweatshirt and spandex shorts, was waiting on an event that wouldn't happen. There should have been popcorn kernels strewn over the area rug. Sticky stains from sour candies on the coffee table. Screams from some b-horror movie actress, or an old black and white Hepburn film with tissues at the ready.

Her bare feet padded towards the bedroom door, hesitant. Still, there was a silence. And from her position, Lily could clearly see a bottle of red wine on the bed. A figure lying upon the mattress, fingers gripping the bottle, at she stared at the ceiling.

Something was wrong, that much was clear. The scientist vaguely wondered which coworker it was. To have brought the flight attendant to the depths of her depression all over again. It wasn't Morgane, when she was like this. The constantly optimistic, opinionated, and boisterous woman was just... Not there.

Lily held a hand over her aching heart. The empathetic nature filling the woman, as if Morgane's pain was her own. Oh, darling...

Then, an idea. Like a light bulb sparking to life above her head, as a smile broadly spread across her lips. She darted back to the living room. The noises of opening, and closing doors. Cupboards. Rustling of fabric. Metallic clinks. It resonated from the apartment; a symphony of noise it seemed the other didn't care to measure.

Probably another late night cleaning expose'. Per Lily's OCD.

It took about forty five minutes to set up, and Lily was proudly standing with hands on her hips. It was quick, really. Nothing perfect. But, it would do.

The bedroom door swung open with such a force it bounced back from the wall. Startling Morgane, who's eyes widened before narrowing at her roommate.

"What the hell, Lil?"

"C'mon."

"I'm busy."

"You're not busy. Bring the wine." But, the shorter woman was already reaching over. Tugging Morgane to her feet, to follow closely behind. The bottle in tow. They were going to need it.

Down the short hall, past the kitchen and through the living room. Where the tiny balcony sat. Doors swung open, as the drizzle of rain began to fall from the clouds. Mimicking Morgane's mood. Upon the cement sat their two chairs, often only used during the day. Or late night drinking that brought more than laughter. That balcony was one of a million memories; all good.

Blankets and pillows piled onto the chairs, and the old glass coffee table was squeezed in front of them. Upon it, a simple laptop. With Netflix brought up, and ready to go. The string of violet lights Lily had placed around her bedframe, had been drug out. Dangling at the metal railing haphazardly.

"C'mon." The dark haired scientist tugged Morgane's hand, out into the crisp autumn air. For a moment, she stood still. Giving comforting squeezes to the flight attendants hand. A silence spread between them, as two different pairs of eyes stared out at the city. The violet lights only a blot against the thousands that littered New York City in its beauty.

The city of hope. The streets had once been rumored to be paved in gold. A new life. A stretch of creativity, from the single most starving artist using spray paint on street corners. All the way to the men in skyscrapers eating caviar. People of all walks of life traveled to this city. To have a glimpse of its wonder.

"I know some things wrong.." It was quietly spoken, and Lily didn't look to her roommate. Merely stared out at the wonders they had accomplished. "You don't have to tell me. The whole 'been there, done that' spiel. But, I wanted to remind you that.. You've come this far."

Morgane sighed, merely staring out at the city scape. Sparing a glance at Lily, as her hand tightened around her fingers. "Lil, I'm sorry-"

"This is life, Mor. I mean, shit happens." Lily shrugged, "But.. We came this far. Y'know? Even if we take two steps backwards, not everyone can say we didn't make it. Because we did. We have."

The scientist tipped her head, to look at her friend. A small smile tipping her lips. For any friend in her life, Lily was not one to back down. Especially, Morgane. The one person who gave her confidence. Gave her moral support, and reassurance in any situation. Made her brave. Even in the face of danger; while hacking systems during Morgane's nightly escapades as a vigilante. Lily would lie if she said she wouldn't give her life for the woman.

"I'm just taking a wild guess that it has something to do with work. Since you've not been the same since you've come back... Tonight's movie night, you never miss that."

"Its just-"

"All I need is a name."

"Its a list."

"I can work with a list!" Lily was exuberant, leaning forward with a tongue sticking out. "It's a simple malware that can be transferred via email. Phones, laptops, desktops, I mean it works across the board! I could change a few things, make ringtones sound like porn noises. Freeze a bank account. Even... Get this, leak their fetishes to the world..."

Morgane let out a laugh, that seemed almost strangled in a sob. It was swift, as her arms wrapped around the scientist. Bringing her into a tight hug, that was quickly reciprocated. Lily's arms winding around her waist, as she breathed a sigh of relief.

There she was. Her Morgane.

"You're a brat, when you get like this." Lily's muffled voice came from Morgane's shirt. "Totally ignore me. Lock yourself up. You know I need constant human contact." The joke was effortless, causing more chuckles.

"Its like I have a cat."

"Just feed me. Give me attention when I want it. Change my litter-"

"Oh my God!"

Lily pulled away, grinning through her giggles. Before sobering, and speaking more on a subject that seemed past.

"Morgane is the name of a Celtic Goddess. She was a warrior, powerful in battle, often depicted riding alongside men in her time. When no woman was. She also healed people, treating ailments and helping others. Don't you ever forget you are a warrior Goddess. You can overcome anything."

Another embrace, so quick and strong it nearly knocked Lily backwards into one of the deck chairs.

"I care too much.." Lily expressed with a sigh.

"Only because you almost didn't get movie night."

"Yeah... I mean, I was really excited about watching that new It movie.." The dry joke was brought with more laughter. An endless sea of it, as the night wore on.

A Goddess, and a Hacking Scientist. Who would have thought the two would have found a friendship?

#eco lily #lily #aimless horizon #morgane #Fo My Lady #You are a warrior #Named after a warrior goddess #never forget that #I got you #i also never break a promise #heres that Lily and Morgane drabble #♡

5 notes · View notes

florrickandassociates · 7 years ago

Text

TGF Thoughts: 2x07-- Day 450

Recap under the cut!

Big things, of the secret variety, are happening at LG. The conference room’s walls are covered; NDAs are laid out on the table. There is also one big, comfy looking chair in the conference room, looking out of place amid all the standard office chairs.

Lucca’s the first to ask what’s going on. Marissa isn’t sure—it’s top secret; all she knows is that the partners’ schedules have all been cleared.

“Have you seen this?” Marissa changes the subject. “Chicago lawyer playing cards.” “What?” Lucca asks. “Most wanted playing cards. They already have the four dead lawyers,” Marissa explains. The website peddling these cards? Is in Comic Sans. Thank you, whoever made that choice. I’m guessing you did it intentionally and I appreciate it. It’s an alt-right website, Marissa says. “What are you doing looking at an alt-right website?” Maia asks. “I look at everything,” Marissa states. I don’t think it’s that weird! Weren’t they just on a case about belonging to radical groups online?

Lucca wants to know if any of the RBL lawyers are in there. Marissa says she’s going to order a deck and find out. Maia’s appalled at the thought of giving this group money (tbh I am too).

Maia asks what’s going on in the conference room, and Marissa shrugs and says, “The ways of the partners are mysterious to us mere mortals.” Have I mentioned that I love it when we can see the power structures at work? Because I do.

Marissa tries to get information out of Diane—even how long the meeting will last—but Diane doesn’t say anything.

Luckily for us, we’re viewers and not employees, so we get to know what’s happening. It’s an audition for the DNC’s business, conducted by Ruth Eastman. I didn’t expect to see Ruth back on the show, ever, after how badly the writers botched her season seven arc (so much promise squandered!) But here she is. And she’s used much more effectively in this episode.

While I’m thinking of it, the promo for this episode was in Russian, but nothing in the COTW (aside from a few mentions of collusion) is about Russia. So… was the entire promo a shout-out to the TGW/F/The Americans fans? It wouldn’t be the first time. And I’ll take it.

“We’re in a very peculiar time,” Ruth says. Diane laughs, because a good 25% of Diane’s dialogue these days is just laughter. Ruth isn’t bothered: she says laughing is the “only sane reaction these days.” Diane agrees wholeheartedly. “We’re living in a time of farce, not tragedy,” the writers have Ruth explain. (I phrase it like that because, come on, that’s exactly the point of this season’s tone.)

Ruth is there with an interesting opportunity: the DNC wants a plan to impeach 45 ready to go if a blue wave happens in November, and so they’re auditioning law firms to decide which arguments (and which lawyers) will be the most effective. For now, this all has to stay hush hush, lest voters get the idea that a vote for a Democrat is a vote for impeachment and get scared off.

After some build up, Ruth turns to write on a white board. The marker doesn’t work. “New!” she says, pleasantly, discarding it. She starts the build up again: “This is the question we want you to ponder and answer…” But the next marker doesn’t work either. “WELL, SHIT!” she says angrily, throwing the marker to the floor. This is the best thing Ruth has done on this show.

Carine, a woman on Ruth’s team, volunteers to get more markers. Ruth keeps going with her spiel.

Carine grabs the nearest employee, who happens to be Maia, and asks where the black markers are. They flirt/banter on their way to the supply closet, and Carine thinks Maia looks familiar. Maia deflects the question and shows Carine the markers (they only have pink and purple, because it’s funnier that way).

“Seriously, I know you from somewhere. Where?” Carine insists. Maia thinks for a minute. “Okay, so you know how we just had a little exchange back there and I made you smile, you made me smile?” “Yes, I remember.” “Well, remember that when I tell you who I am,” Maia says. I wonder how many times she’s used (or will use) that line.

“Are you a serial killer?” Carine jokes. “Oh, close. Maia Rindell,” Maia introduces herself. Hee.

Carine recognizes that name. Maia walks away to avoid prolonging the awkwardness, but Carine isn’t as put off as Maia assumes…

Meanwhile, Lucca is working on a case about a film shoot when she notices Francesca walking down the stairs. She excuses herself from a meeting, and her client assumes it’s because she has to pee. His pregnant wife always has to pee, so he feels it is his place to inquire about Lucca’s bathroom habits. No matter how many times Lucca says she doesn’t have to go to the bathroom, the client won’t believe her.

Maia greets Francesca. Lawyer, professional greeter, same diff.

Francesca has brought Lucca a present, and Lucca asks Maia to go deal with her client (“and tell him I’m not going to the bathroom”). I have a question! If Lucca could spot Francesca from the room she and the client were sitting in, can’t the client see that Lucca is by the stairs and not, in fact, in the bathroom? ANYWAY. Maia’s job in this episode consists of knowing where markers are kept, greeting visitors, and informing Lucca’s clients she’s not in the bathroom. Is… there no work for Maia to do? Should I be concerned about RBK’s future? Are they overstaffed?! WHY DOESN’T MAIA DO WORK?

“Very nice meeting you. I think your dad stole some of my husband’s money,” Francesca tells Maia. Ok, People Recognizing Maia is my new favorite running gag. “Sorry,” Maia apologizes. “That’s a good thing. He’s an asshole,” Francesca says, emphasizing asshole. She’s so fun.

In Lucca’s office, Francesca tells her that she’s given up drinking, except wine. Well. That’s… something, I guess?

Francesca’s gift is a stuffed dog that sings “If You’re Happy and You Know It” and claps its hands and waves its ears. It is adorable and grating. “For my grandchild,” Francesca says, touching Lucca’s stomach. Why do people just go and touch pregnant women’s stomachs without asking if they can? I have never understood this.

Over the course of this whole scene, the dog’s flapping ears are visible, at least in part. It is wonderful and distracting and the only thing that could make it more Good is if they were in an elevator.

Even rewatching this scene, with captions on, I cannot see anything other than the dog and its ears. I think Francesca is saying she wants to be in the baby’s life and Lucca’s saying she doesn’t want Francesca involved. But I don’t know. Because ears.

After Francesca leaves, Lucca immediately moves to discard the dog. Francesca doubles back and almost catches Lucca in the act, but the second she turns around again, Lucca shoves the dog in a drawer.

“People understand emoluments,” Adrian is saying when we return to the conference room. They do? By that name? ‘Cause I just had to spell-check that word (even though I know what it means). I’m joking, because I think what Adrian means is that people understand the idea behind it. Still, a weird sentence.

Julius is opposed to the whole idea. He thinks the Dems are starting with the goal and working backwards. Some other partner wants to go after collusion. And Diane wants to go for obstruction, because of the precedents. (And the fact that there are so many paths that could make a good case is why I disagree with Julius. Maybe they’re starting with the goal, but how much does that matter if there are many valid reasons for having that goal? But then, I guess Julius would take issue with my use of “valid”…)

Adrian is against what Andre (the other partner) wants to pursue: collusion. He thinks it has too many Russian names for the public to understand it. Adrian’s whole strategy here is to find the argument that will be the easiest to sell.

Diane is so fired up about this, and I love it. (I also think she’s making the best case.)

“He’s not above the law!!” Diane exclaims. Nobody’s above the law! (Sing it with me!)

Julius won’t quit with these silly arguments. Now he’s comparing Republicans wanting to impeach Obama to what’s going on here. I don’t think it’s just my political bias speaking when I say that’s ABSURD.

Julius’s whole thing is that 45 was voted into office so he shouldn’t be impeached and then removed from office. So… Julius is anti-the concept of impeachment? I think his argument is a little more nuanced than that and he’s making the better case: that impeachment isn’t a tool for political parties that didn’t get their way. I’ll spare y’all my half-informed political rants and instead make this point: I appreciate that even Julius’s points have some validity to them. Too often, this show simplifies these arguments or handles them poorly, and this episode… does a pretty good job.

Ruth steps out for a minute, and reminds RBL of their mission: to choose a strategy, something that will stick the way emails stuck to HRC. (Don’t remind me!! Those goddamn emails.)

With Ruth out of the room, Adrian tries to get Julius to stop losing them a client. Julius says he’ll play devil’s advocate. Then Adrian tries to get Liz to speak up. She’s been watching and taking everything in.

Ruth takes a call about “Barnsdale. Illinois 1st.” She asks Lucca if she can use some random office, and commandeers it before Lucca can respond. She picked a bad office to have a private conversation in, though, because it’s one of the ones with the angled glass walls. These offices—which I’ve been wondering about for WEEKS because they don’t seem the slightest bit private—have gaps in the windows and it seems like (and turns out to be the case that) someone in the hallway would be able to hear every word said inside of the office.

And it just so happens that Lucca overhears the exact conversation she needs to overhear: a Congressman up for reelection is being asked—well, more like told—by the DNC that he can’t run again because he’s a groper. Lucca recognizes what this means: it’s the district Colin was thinking of running in.

So Lucca does what all Good characters would do: distracts Colin at work with her presence until he forgets what he’s talking about, then walks away.

Colin’s first thought is that something happened with the genetic screening. Lucca says it’s not that; it’s about his mother. “I didn’t want to run; my parents wanted me to run,” Colin says when Lucca asks him about the Illinois 1st. “Oh, so you’re not running?” Lucca counters. And Colin? Can’t answer that definitively.

Colin says he won’t run if he has to campaign, but if all he has to do is get the support of the DNC, he’ll run. Uh huh.

Lucca’s fear is that she’s being used for political gain. It’ll look better if she and Colin are together. Colin tries to keep Lucca out of it, even going so far as to say Lucca can tell his mother to “fuck off,” but… you don’t have to watch the rest of the episode to understand that’s never going to happen.

Then Colin asks about the genetic testing. Lucca says, “Oh, everything’s… good.” Colin mentions a family history. Does anyone else feel like she might be hiding something here? This is a weird scene. She’s already said the baby’s fine, yet they have her double back for this conversation AND they mention Colin’s family history? It would not shock me if Lucca was waiting on some test results and keeping it to herself. But also, like, I have seen this show and it would surprise me even less if we never heard about this again.

I may have to take back what I just said about Julius, sadly. Diane makes the more nuanced point I extrapolated from Julius’s words and Julius tries to rebut it. So. Whatever. It’s in early scene cross-talk (you know, the lines that aren’t meant to make a point but are rather meant to show you that there’s heated debate, so you can jump in mid-scene and it won’t feel awkward), and I’ve heard weirder things (like Alicia explaining why we don’t need female politicians in 220, a line I don’t think I was supposed to notice because I was supposed to be paying attention to her poise and the ease of her answers) in early scene cross-talk.

This audition doesn’t seem to be going well. That’s when Liz speaks up. She starts talking about some evidence that came across her desk at the DOJ. At first, I thought the writers were trying to introduce new facts into their hypothetical, and I was disappointed. But that’s not what they’re up to. Instead, they’re having Liz tell an increasingly elaborate, and possibly not baseless (would ANY of you be surprised if pieces of evidence similar to the ones Liz invents actually existed?) story to prove her point. Liz is demonstrating that the story keeps changing. “You’re all missing the point! It’s not about choosing one charge or another for impeachment. It’s about everything. It’s about who he is. It’s about what the presidency is. Charging him with obstruction, that’s going by the old rules. And the new rules are these. ‘I have a tape.’ ‘Where’s the tape?’ ’15-year-old was raped, and I’ve got the evidence.’ ‘Where’s the evidence?’ ‘Same place as the tape.’”

Diane laughs. “My God, this is insane!” Julius replies.

“No, no no no. This is shameless,” Liz clarifies. “And impeachment has to be shameless, or else it’s gonna fail.”

“So. You lie,” Julius accuses.

“No, no no no no no. You just don’t back down,” Liz says. “But there is no tape!!” Julius says. “Uh-uh. That’s what you said. I didn’t say that,” Liz argues. God, that’s what reading the news today feels like. Like logic and facts are no longer persuasive.

“Listen. This isn’t about truth anymore. And it’s not about lying. It’s about who’s backtracking, and who’s attacking,” Liz concludes. I don’t know what to think, and I love that. Liz’s approach is outlandish. It’s also convincing. And it’s maddening. These things should be based on facts. And yet!

I love that I can agree with Liz and think her point is absurd/laughable at the same time. I love that the show is able to capture the way that laughable and strategic can be the same today. It’s super effective.

When Ruth leaves for the day, Adrian immediately begins talking down to Liz in front of all of the partners. “Liz. Liz, Liz, Liz, what the fuck are you doing?!” I do not like this side of Adrian, especially when Liz is (obviously) being strategic and novel.

And also effective! Ruth tells her colleagues at the DNC that “we might have something here.”

Aaaand, credits. Another female writer this week! She wrote an ep last season too. And she’s great: I spent 17 minutes convinced the Kings had written this one because she captured the tone and the big moments so well. Also, I just googled her (her name’s Tegan Shohet) and she has a really fucking impressive resume. She did her undergrad at Harvard, has a law degree from Yale, and she has another degree from Oxford.

Maia and Amy (hello, Amy!) are kissing at a bar after the credits end. They’re out on a double date with Marissa and Drew, the guy from the ricin scare. Drew has this look in his eyes like he’s on something. I don’t like it one bit.

He and Marissa start making out mid-conversation. It’s almost aggressive, and not like Amy and Maia’s kiss just moments ago. Part of that is, I think, that we’re supposed to see Amy and Maia as a bit passionless right now, but it also seems… weird. Something is up with this dude. I don’t trust him.

But I would rather watch him and Marissa making out than hear Amy and Maia state “facts” that screw up the timeline!!!!!!!!!!! LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU WITH YOUR “WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR FOUR YEARS” BUSINESS WHEN I LITERALLY WATCHED YOU MEET AT MAIA’S 18TH BIRTHDAY PARTY; I’M BUSY WATCHING THIS AWFUL DUDE STICK HIS TOUNGE IN MARISSA’S MOUTH.

Drew also has no filter. Oh, and then he gets up at hits someone, claiming they took an upskirt of Marissa. But before that happens…

Amy and Maia are talking about getting married! And we didn’t get to see how they smoothed things over after 2x02? What a shock…

(Well, also, I feel like this ep pretty strongly suggests they didn’t really work through that.)

Seriously though, what the hell is Drew doing? What is his deal?

Marissa, who believes someone took an upskirt photo of her, reacts to Drew’s actions as though he’s a hero. She rewards him with a kiss. That makes Maia smile, because… I don’t really know. It makes Amy roll her eyes. Can we have Amy as a regular and not Maia?

“We need to toast your news!” Marissa says, making plans for the second consecutive weeknight. “Our news?” Amy wonders. OOOOOF. That relationship cannot be in a good place.

Maia seems kind of… turned on? By Drew and Marissa.

Amy doesn’t believe that the dude in the bar was actually trying to take an upskirt. Amy thinks Drew just wanted to hit someone. I agree with Amy here.

Amy then asks if they have to see them again. Maia says that Marissa’s a friend.

Amy tells Maia to talk to Marissa because people like Drew can be “dangerous in a relationship.” I had that same thought just from the way he was kissing her in public (it seemed quite possessive). And you know what I don’t need? For another investigator on this show to end up in an abusive relationship.

(That said, this is MILES better than any Kalinda/Nick bullshit.)

Now cameras are being installed in the conference room.

Marissa clearly stayed out for several more hours after Maia and Amy headed home. She’s wearing sunglasses at her desk and can barely answer questions. That’s also a big warning sign. Marissa’s hungover at work. It’s not a pattern yet, but I’d hate to see it become one.

Lucca meets with some partners about her client, Lock. She wants to give them a heads-up, but it seems he’s already left the firm because of Lucca’s pregnancy. Well, he said her “mood swings,” but lol.

Even Liz, who’s very understanding, is inclined to believe the client. Every time Lucca tries to defend herself, someone tries to comfort her or calm her or tells her not to get upset. I love Cush’s delivery of the line, “I’m not getting upset…” because she says it with just a hint of confusion. She doesn’t sound upset (at least not unreasonably so). She sounds like someone who’s slowly realizing that no one will take her words seriously as long as she’s pregnant.

Every time Lucca tries to take action, the partners shut her down and offer to help. It’s just weird. I can’t speak to whether or not it’s realistic because I’ve never been pregnant, nor do I work at a law firm managed mostly by non-parents (or any sort of law firm, for that matter), but it feels like it’s realistic. It’s subtle and the partners are encouraging, but they are making assumptions about Lucca’s work performance and capabilities based on the fact she’s having a baby.

Ruth appears! RBL is now one of four! Naturally Adrian believes this is because of what he and Diane were saying, and not because of anything Liz said. He believes this so strongly he calls Liz aside to give her an order. “No more shit Liz, okay?” He says like she’s a child (a child with a potty-mouth, I guess). She calls him on it. “Adrian, when did you get the impression that you could order me around?” He denies it, and Liz goes STRAIGHT to talking about their marriage. The teacher who married his student for her ties in the legal world CONDESCENDED TO HER? I’m just shocked. (Lol no, this is how I have been picturing their marriage for a few weeks now.)

Adrian asks Liz again to get behind the obstruction charge (Diane’s idea) so they can seem united. She says she’ll consider it.

I wonder if the reason Adrian can’t see that Liz has a plan, and that her plan is working, is that he’s so used to underestimating her.

Adrian and even Julius get behind Diane’s plan. It’s so transparent that they’re trying to show they’re united. “Now, we may disagree, but we find consensus,” Adrian explains. LULZ.

As soon as Adrian says “consensus” and Julius echoes it, Diane announces she’s changed her mind and now sides with Liz. This surprises even Liz! Ooh, will we get more on the Diane/Liz tension?

“I’m tired of ‘when they go low, we go high.’ Fuck that! When they go low, we go lower. Impeachment isn’t just about the law. It’s about persuading people. And if it’s one thing that we’ve seen this past year, it’s that lies… persuade. Truth only takes you that far… and then you need lies.” Guys, I’m seriously terrified by how much I understand this. Even the fact that my first reaction upon hearing this was, “she has a point” and not, “what??? That’s a lie!” scares me. When TGW was airing, I wouldn’t have believed that Diane would ever say this. And I wouldn’t have believed that would be my reaction. But, then, I also wouldn’t have believed this country would elect Donald Trump. What I’m saying is that regardless of whether this is a good strategy or not, or if it’s morally sound, or hypocritical, the way that it’s not easy to dismiss or laugh at is… the point.

Julius calls this “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” “You’re just as bad as you’re accusing him of being,” he explains. ACCUSING? Come on, Julius. If you think the word “alleged” would need to be in a sentence that calls him a liar…

Anyway. Another thing I love about Diane’s speech is that it’s coming both from a character place AND a political place. The next part of her rant makes this point well: “I’m just done with being the adult in the room. I am done with being the compliant and sensible one. Standing stoically by while the other side picks my pockets, while the other side gerrymanders Democrats out of existence. A three million person majority and we lost the presidency. A Congress that keeps a Supreme Court justice from being seated because he was chosen by a Democratic president.”

(I am gonna keep going on this but LOL Julius what planet do you live on where that’s not what happened? FACTUALLY THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.)

Diane has always been the adult in the room. That’s a role she’s fantastic at playing, and she loves it. And now she’s tired of it?! That can’t just be because of Trump. That’s what someone who lost her best friend, lost her husband, lost her money, lost her clout, watched her candidate lose an election, and, finally, felt and still feels like there’s a target on her back would say. Why should she be the one to hold things together when everything else is falling apart? What’s the point of acting like the rules still apply?

Julius says some nonsense about how if Diane really believes that, she’s lost all faith in the law. To which Diane replies that she has a gun in her desk “and I’m this close to taking to the streets.” That, my friends, is someone who is all of the things I said above, and also on drugs, would say. And somehow, that person is… Diane Lockhart.

(And weirdly, while I can’t say it’s necessarily the direction I want to see the writers take Diane, I can’t honestly say it’s out of character. Terrifying, right?)

IT DID NOT CATCH MY ATTENTION THE FIRST TIME THROUGH BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT MAIA IS DOING AT WORK? CHECKING TWITTER. (I mean, I check Twitter at work. I’m sure most people check their phones at work. You could catch the most productive employee on Twitter at work. But somehow we have endless amounts of time to show Maia not working and no time to show Maia working.)

Carine is back, to tell Maia about her own father. He was a disgraced senator, so she’s part of the “damaged offspring club” too. Hey, where are Zach and Grace? Is Zach still in Paris (lol) with his wife (hahahaha) writing his memoir (bwahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaha)? How’s college treating Grace? ANYWAY. NOT THE POINT.

The point is that Carine and Maia are making a connection.

Also that in one scene, Maia manages to: Surf Twitter on her work laptop, flirt, and make plans to go drinking. Writers, come on. Throw me a bone. Give Maia work to do. (Two of these things are not her fault—Carine and Marissa come over to talk to her—but still!)

Marissa pops by to invite Maia to go out dancing at 10 pm on a work night. Maia turns it down initially, but then says maybe. What does she have to lose? She could show up hungover the next day and it wouldn’t matter. IT’S NOT LIKE SHE HAS ANY WORK TO DO!!!!!!

When Marissa leaves, she’s all “luv uuuuuu” (that is my approximation of the tone) and Maia quietly whispers back “love you.” Am I supposed to be getting the feeling that Maia’s crushing on Marissa? She also smiles a little after Marissa walks away.

“There’s a tweet I think you should see,” Maia informs Lucca. Lucca asks if it’s about work (of course it isn’t; that would require Maia to be working NO I WON’T STOP) and it’s about Colin’s campaign. Specifically, a horribly racist tweet about how he got a “black girl” pregnant (“hashtag Sally Hemmings”)

“So I’m a black girl. A black, pregnant, plantation girl,” Lucca responds. Maia is like “I don’t think it implies that” which, I mean, I buy Maia holding that opinion because it would mean she is super privileged, white, and didn’t pay attention in history class and you KNOW I would believe all of those things. But also, it’s a mean tweet that refers to Lucca as “a black girl.” Why would Maia even want to defend that?

Lucca’s TRENDING too. I wish Lucca would trend. Not for this. I mean publicity for the show.

Also trending is Earth Day. Wanna know something fun about Earth Day? It is in April. Specifically it’s April 22nd (which is a Sunday and the day of the next episode, but I will ignore that because it’s close enough and Earth Day could be trending in advance). Lucca is due in May. She is four months pregnant. WHAT MONTH IS IT, SHOW?

Maia accidentally kicks a drawer under Lucca’s desk and it begins to sing. “What is that?” she asks. “It’s a dog,” Lucca replies, as though that explains anything.

Lucca furiously begins to type—to Tweet! This is a bad idea. Has Twitter ever been a good idea on this show when it was controlled by anyone other than Eli or Marissa Gold? (No.)

Lucca (@lquinn) has fired off a reply tweet (“I’m the black woman having Colin Morello’s baby and my name is Lucca Quinn. Did Sally Hemmings have a law degree? #MoreLikeMichelle”) that is snarky and probably misguided, especially since it’s a trap laid by Colin’s campaign manager NotEli. (He isn’t getting a name.)

More bickering, verging on nervous breakdowns, are happening on the DNC live feed. The juiciest live feed since the NSA was listening to Alicia? Anyway.

“I’ve spend the last few months feeling fucking deranged! Like I’m living in some bad reality show! Going numb! All Trump, all the time! What’s real? What’s fake? Well, you know what? I just woke up,” Diane yells. And by yells, I mean yells. Damn.

Liz takes Ruth outside to try to get her to get Julius out of the audition. Liz always has some kind of plan.

Later, Adrian walks into Diane’s office, concerned. “I have never been more all right,” Diane says. U SURE? Did you just take a hit of something? Adrian asks how much of this is show and Diane is like, it’s a show!

Adrian wants to know about the gun in her desk. Yeah, I feel like that’s a valid concern, given that there is a GUN IN HIS WORKPLACE. Not only is that probably illegal but it’s also a hazard.

Marissa brings more bad news: the Chicago lawyer playing card deck, and we get to hear a few of the names in it. David Lee (IS ANYONE SURPRISED?). Patti Nyholm (Ditto). Laura Hellinger. WAIT WHAT? LAURA HELLINGER IS THE SWEETEST. (Can you tell I just rewatched season 4?) What is there to hate about Laura Hellinger!? Why bring her name, of all the names, into this?!

The partners decide to ignore it for now—why give it more attention?—but Adrian, Liz, and Diane are all in the deck. Damn.

Upon seeing her own face on a card, Diane says, “To answer your question, Adrian, yes, I have a gun in my desk.”

It’s at that moment Ruth interrupts to ask Julius not to join the RBL team for the remainder of the audition. Julius, after hearing he’s out, flips off the other partners. Professional. Though I can’t really criticize him, because it’s not like anyone else is being professional.

Maia tries to convince Amy to go to the dance club with her. Amy has a trial starting the next day and she doesn’t want to go, so it’s an impossible sell. Maia makes a bogus excuse: she thinks she should go so as not to be impolite. To Marissa. She sees. Marissa. Every. Day. She and Marissa are friends. It is not impolite to say no to going to a dance club at 10 pm on a work night with someone you went out with the night before. This is an excuse. Maia wants to go out; Amy doesn’t. So Maia’s looking for any reason she can find to go out.

Maia also misses a crucial detail—that Amy’s trial starts tomorrow so there’s no reason to wish her good luck now. This seemed weird the first time through, but then I realized: Maia and Amy live together. And that’s the kind of comment you make to someone you’re not going to see for a little while.

Lock wants Lucca to be his lawyer again. Lucca suspects that Maia might have called him (no that would involve Maia taking initiative so it’s unlikely). But no. The answer is that he’s on Twitter. And that’s when Lucca realizes that she has power.

She shows up at Colin’s door. “I’m not gonna marry you. I’m not gonna pretend otherwise. I’m not gonna lie, I’m not gonna mislead, and I’m not gonna be the woman who stands by your side. I’m the mother of your child, a close friend of yours, and a registered voter in the 1st Congressional District of Illinois. You want my support, you’re gonna agree to my terms,” she demands.

She goes on: she will do one appearance a month, issue a statement, and do interviews. Damn. Colin didn’t even have to negotiate for that.

Francesca is also at Colin’s house. So is NotEli, whose first words to Lucca are “Wow, that’s pregnant.” Off to a great start!

NotEli’s name is Stephen Rankin-Hall. I will continue to call him NotEli.

Now we get some exposition about the campaign. We’re actually doing this. The writers wrote Alicia out and found a way to bring campaigns back.

More deliberations in the conference room. The DNC is watching in real time, and they’re missing the fire of the deliberations with Julius. Using all the coded language in the world, Ruth requests that RBL show their “more pugnacious attitude.”

As soon as she leaves, the partners prove they got the message loud and clear. “They want us to be street,” Liz says, with a trace of anger. No one’s thrilled about it, but they’re all willing to play along. “I will be the angry black woman,” Liz decides. “And you can be Black Lives Matter,” she says to Adrian. (He chuckles.) “What about me?” Diane wonders. “You keep us calmed. But we can’t be calmed. But you’re the white conscience,” Liz says. LOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOL.

And back to the conference room they go, playing their roles perfectly until they’re screaming at each other about how fantastic Ta-Nehisi Coates is. It’s hilarious. And it piggy-backs off of the point the show made last week: there are certain roles that even (especially) those who call themselves progressives expect people to play based on their race. Diane’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown and she gets to be the conscience because she’s a classy white lady. Liz and Adrian have been strategic throughout all of this and they’re understood when they play up their anger in a very specific, stereotypical way.

(I don’t know that this strategy actually works in the context of the show, since we know that Liz and only Liz is chosen, and I’m going to guess her initial idea helped her more than this show. Even still. The firm is flat out told by the DNC that they will do better when they fit into an easy, familiar (racist) narrative.)

Liz and Adrian sit together in his office after their performance. “I never know how far is too far,” Adrian says. “At least you’ve reached a point in your life where you can admit it,” Liz says. That’s pointed.

Just want to take a moment to say I’m very happy with the addition of Liz. She’s fascinating, Audra’s fantastic, and I can tell so much about Liz from even the tiniest moments. Also, usually characters who are as sneaky as she is towards the other regulars come off as villains. That’s not how Liz comes off, and she was literally introduced as Alicia’s biggest rival and reintroduced as someone who made a move against Diane.

Maia invites Lucca out dancing. She’s going to turn it down anyway, but then Colin, Francesca, and NotEli show up and she has a good excuse not to go.

NotEli and Francesca want Colin and Lucca to get their story straight. “Look, we’re not expecting you to be the good little wife or girlfriend. That’s the old playbook. It stopped working in 2016,” NotEli says. Oh for fuck’s sake. You can’t just add the word “little” in there and distract me from the fact you are talking about Alicia.

But this line reminds me of two things that I’ve been thinking about lately. The first is that the Good Wife narrative really isn’t timely anymore. It certainly was in 2008. It even was in 2011 when I started watching. But now? Who cares? A dude abuses his office, and now, I think, the media is more likely to wonder about what woman is going to run for his seat than about whether or not his wife will stand by his side. Well, either that happens or absolutely nothing happens and millions of people think it’s perfectly okay to have a president who makes comments about “grabbing women by the pussy.” Either way: it’s not the narrative that fascinates people (or the media) today. And if you’re not caught in the middle of a scandal? It’s even less essential. “Family values” haven’t totally disappeared from politics by any means, but this isn’t 2008.

The other thing this line reminds me of is that, well, I fucking miss Alicia Florrick. It may be accurate to say that “the good little wife” is the old playbook. It’s been on the way out for a while now, so it’s only semi-accurate to say it stopped working in 2016. It is, however, accurate to say that The Good Wife ended in 2016. I like the idea of revisiting these themes, in a very different world, with a very different character. What I don’t like as much is that every time I see Lucca get pulled into situations that very, very few people would understand, I can’t help but want her to call up her close friend who’s lived through it. There are very few other moments when I long for Alicia to be on this show. And I still don’t, really, want her to make a guest appearance. But I want Lucca to have a friend. I want Lucca to have that friendship. And I can’t believe that Lucca and Alicia had a falling out, off screen, big enough that Lucca wouldn’t have reached out to Alicia for advice. If they’re not going to give me Alicia, can they at least stop teasing me?

(“Good little wife”? TEASE.)

Anyway I love how blunt Lucca is. For some reason, NotEli believes Lucca and Colin will be asked where their child was conceived, and he also believes this is a question they should answer. Colin starts to answer, saying things got intense when they were on opposite sides. Lucca jumps in and bluntly says, “So we worked through all that tension by fucking in the courthouse restroom.”

NotEli and Francesca stare at her and Francesca laughs, thinking (hoping) Lucca’s joking. But she’s not done. “It was a family restroom, so we locked the door,” she adds. NotEli says maybe they’ll have to massage this a little. Or you could, like, not talk about where you fucked?

And then the toy dog starts to sing, because of course. (It’s less effective this time.)

Now we’re at the club with Marissa and Maia. Maia’s theme song is playing. Seriously, just read these lyrics: “I clock out my 9:00 to 5:00. I’m ready for the weekend to bring me back to life. Don’t live to work, I work to live.” See?! It’s Maia’s song! Working normal hours (in a profession notorious for requiring long hours) and viewing a job as a chore and not something she’s passionate about!

MAIA IS SO AWKWARD, BUT SHE IS ALSO SO COMMITTED TO ACTUALLY TRYING TO DANCE.

(As you might expect, Marissa is not at all awkward.)

Carine appears at the bar when Maia goes to get a drink! They start talking about their fathers until Maia’s like, “Do you really want to talk about this?” and Carine says no. And then Maia says she wants to dance, so they start dancing. And they get pretty into it.

A little later in the evening, Maia and Marissa talk at a table. Marissa has her arm around Maia. “Am I boring?” Maia asks. You want me to answer that, Maia? You are, and it’s not because you have a stable relationship. I actually find that interesting. ANYWAY. In the world of the show, Maia is worried she’s boring because she’s in a long-term relationship.

Marissa calls Maia a “fucking ninja.”

“I feel like I’m cheating,” Maia worries. “You’re dancing. Or do you mean with me? Because I’m ready for anything,” Marissa responds. Is Marissa saying she’s bi? Or is she joking? Or just drunk? I feel like we may see more on this front. But maybe not.

Oh my God. I have accidentally paused the screen on the most awful drunk!Maia face and I’m not going to post it because I’m not cruel.

“What do you want?” Marissa asks. “I don’t know. Sometimes I want stability. Sometimes I don’t,” Maia answers. Hmmm. Much as I would love to see Maia in a committed relationship, what I would love even more is an arc where Maia, whose life had been very stable up until the scandal, realize that actually, maybe she doesn’t need to follow the easiest, most stable path. Maybe she’d rather be single, or with someone else, at this stage in her life. Wanting stability is a very Alicia thing. It doesn’t have to be a Maia thing, too.

(Nope, I will not turn this into a backdoor way to talk about Alicia and her priorities. I am tempted, but I will resist the temptation.)

Marissa just asks Maia wants right now and Maia says, “That’s the question.” Marissa tells her to go dance, but Maia decides to leave instead.

Maia also tells Marissa that Drew is “great.” I am on Amy’s side here…

Carine finds Maia outside and starts to say goodbye when… Maia kisses her. In the middle of the street. Carine kisses her back. And then they get in an Uber together and make out. Nice, Maia.

I don’t have strong feelings on Maia cheating, mostly because I am not sure I consider her a cheater for this. This behavior—and the behavior we’ll get to in a minute—is cheating. But… she’s cheating on someone she’s had doubts about, someone she barely wants to spend time with, someone who testified against her in court (??), and someone we’ve barely gotten to know. That’s not to say that cheating is justified if that’s the case. It’s not. My point is that I don’t know what Maia’s going to do next. If what she does next involves keeping this from Amy and acting like everything is normal, then yes, she is a cheater and ughhhhhh, Maia. But if this is really the final straw/a wake-up call that causes her to either work through her issues with Amy (including actually telling her she cheated) or break up with her, then it feels like less of a betrayal to me. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Moving on. I am sure I will have more thoughts, hopefully clearer and more fully formed ones, once the next episode (that addresses this plotline) airs.

Carine gets called into work, where she falls on the ground because she is drunk. They have to leave, but she wants to stay a few more days!

Ruth tells the name partners the DNC’s decision: they’re hiring a team of lawyers from various firms, and they just want Liz. “Like the Avengers,” Diane observes. Yes, you read that right. Diane made that observation. Diane Lockhart.

Adrian calls Liz “Wonder Woman” and Ruth corrects him that “That’s the Justice League.” Hee. Look at Diane and Ruth, knowing their superheroes better than I do! (Though I actually understood both of those references.)

Will Liz actually take the offer? I’m unsure. I don’t want anything that means less Liz, so I’m hoping either she doesn’t take it or she does but it doesn’t reduce her screentime.

Ruth tells her assistant to turn off the DNC cameras. But he can’t, because Maia and Carine are busy having sex, on camera, in the office. You’re such a good employee, Maia.

Carine would know about the cameras, but I don’t think this is a set-up (I think she’s just drunk, though wouldn’t be shocked if it was a set-up). Maia wouldn’t know about the cameras, but for fuck’s sake, Maia, do you think you’re supposed to be having sex at the office? Oh, you know what? It’s Maia. She probably thinks that’s what offices are for.

(I so badly want to end my recap there, but also, this Trump impeachment Schoolhouse Rock style song is A++++++ and I’m not sure why it exists but I’m glad it does. It’s also by the same guy (Jonathan Coulson) who did all the BrainDead recap songs (if you did not watch BrainDead, you should) so I’m a very happy fan.)

(Omg, and the slow instrumental “If You’re Happy and You Know It” over the credits is great.)

#The Good Fight #TGFThoughts

12 notes · View notes