#without touching the internet shit storm that's happened in the background of this

[heeroyue]

I'll preface this with we don't know officially at time of writing if she's being stripped of her medal yet. I'm gonna assume you don't know the ins and outs of gymnastics rules and scoring (which can be complicated as hell and have gotten somewhat mixed up the last few days). I will explain to the best of my ability what has happened over the last five days.

So for back story, with Jordan's original score the placements were 3rd Ana Barbosu 13.700, 4th Sabrina Voinea 13.700 (lost a tie break), 5th Jordan Chiles 13.666. However, one of the leaps that Jordan does didn't get credit in her difficulty score (D score). Gymnasts (and their coaches) are allowed to submit an inquiry for D score, time violations, and line violations (out of bounds). Jordan hasn't gotten credit for one of her leaps for the entirety of the games because it's iffy on if she gets the rotation around enough to count (must be withing 30 degrees of complete and if not gets credited as a lower value skill). however in the floor final her coach thought she did it a lot better and so put in an inquiry to raise her D score. The superior jury accepted the inquiry and credited the intended skill raising her score by .1. So now we have the placements of 3rd Jordan Chiles 13.766 USA , 4th Ana Barbosu 13.700 Romania, 5th Sabrina Voinea 13.700 Romania.

Now on to what happened today. The Romanian gymnastics federation brought an appeal to the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) about the final. They contested two things. First, that Voinea had an unearned OoB deduction that cost her the bronze. Second, that the inquiry for Jordan was submitted after the time limit allowed and so shouldn't have been accepted in the first place.

For the first, while Voinea's coach did submit an inquiry during the competition she did so about the D score and not the OoB and the inquiry was denied. Since she didn't take the proper steps to fix the issue and the issue was considered a field of play decision CAS threw that complaint out.

That leaves us at the second, Jordan's inquiry being in too late and should not have been accepted. So in an event final each gymnast has until the next routine is complete to submit an inquiry. routines are 90 seconds. However, Jordan was the last gymnast to perform in the final and the rules say the last gymnast has 60 seconds to inquire. There was apparently video evidence of Jordan's inquiry being submitted at 64 seconds so her inquiry should not have been accepted by the superior jury. CAS ruled that the FIG (International Gymnastics Federation) didn't follow their own rules and wrongly accepted the inquiry. They ruled the inquiry overturned and Jordan's original score reinstated putting her back in 5th. The FIG was required to change the standings and now it goes to them and the IOC as to what to do about medals.

The IOC now has two options. 1) make Jordan give back the medal and give it to Ana. 2) award a second bronze medal. In the past when there's been judging scandals the IOC has gone with awarding 2 medals (thinking figure skating in 2002(?) I think) because the athlete not being at fault. From what wikipedia says (the best list I can find of all medals stripped from athletes) only 11 medals have every been stripped for something other than doping and of those 11 all have been for something the athlete was at fault for (under age, unsportsmanlike like conduct, violating the old amateurism policy, ect.) If they choose to go the medal stripping route this would be the first time (at least that I'm able to find) that an athlete would be stripped of a medal for something not in their control.

From here it's speculation for now as to what will happen. Rumor has it that USA Gymnastics and the Romanian Gymnastics Federation agreed to share the bronze but the FIG and IOC denied the request. However, as of time of writing we don't officially know that to be the case.

Let us all be clear here, none of this is the fault of the athletes, their coaches, or their national federations. The athletes did their best in the competition. The coaches and national federations have every right to advocate and fight for their athletes. The blame here lies solely on judging and the superior jury made up of the Women's Technical Committee.

explain to me like i’m five why taking away jordan chiles medal five days late makes sense

[crobby]

mistakes were made

word count: 1285

pairing: peter parker/johnny storm

summary: spidey makes an onlyfans account. it doesn’t go well for him.

for the spideytorch gc bwahaha

___

Peter’s not a charity case, he’s just… making a financial choice that may involve getting practically free money from strangers.

Things are a bit tight right now, is all. JJJ is paying him even less than usual, rent got bumped up, and he needs to pay for a repair on the spidey suit after an especially gnarly battle.

So, yeah, he could use some extra cash, which is why he’s up at ten-at-night slouched over his computer and creating an OnlyFans account.

It’s a perfectly respectable thing to do in his situation. He’s not going to be posting spider-porn or anything like that. He doesn’t know what he’ll post, actually. People would probably pay to see Spider-Man do anything, even just read a book. Oh! He could do little biology lessons. That’s a great idea because he’s literally a biology teacher. Big brain boy.

After putting the final touches on his account, he gets set up to start filming. He’s not going to splurge on fancy equimptment, so his phone camera and a lamp are going to have to do.

He feels weird talking to an inanimate object as if it was a real person but he makes it work. Adding in his usual brand of bad jokes to help ease the awkwardness of it all, he goes over a (not-so) simple biology concept and posts it. An hour later, he checks his phone to see hundreds of notifications. That was quick, he thinks.

Peter gets on a posting schedule, releasing a few videos each week. He quickly amasses hundreds of thousands of followers after Tweeting about it on his Spider-Man account. It’s not verified, but people generally accept that it’s actually him.

He was right about the whole ‘I can post about literally anything and people will eat it up’ thing. He doubts anyone actually cares about biology; they just want to see his face--well, Spider-Man’s face.

Peter’s never been more liquid in his life; he’s got cash flowing out the wazoo. It’s nice, which is why something has to go wrong. The infamous Parker Luck never lets him catch a break.

The day in question starts out fine; he catches his train, doesn’t get mugged, and there’s no villainry for him to stop.

It’s when he walks into the school that things begin to take a turn for the worse. His students are whispering, which is normally fine because they’re asshole kids but today they seem like they’re all whispering about the same thing: him. On top of that, several students whoop and whistle at him in the halls.

Something’s up.

He makes his way into his classroom, trying his best to avoid anyone and everyone. After a bit, the students start filing in.

A boy shouts, “Get it Mr. Parker!”

Peter’s head shoots up from where it was bent over various papers. “Excuse me?”

“We saw what your husband tweeted,” a girl pipes up, blushing.

“I--what?” Peter scrambles to find his phone in his messy bag.

The girl places a hand over her mouth. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t know,” Peter snaps. Oops, he really shouldn’t snap at his students. He finally finds his phone and opens up Twitter to see an alarming amount of missed notifications. Yikes. Going directly to Johnny’s Tweet, he nearly bursts a blood vessel.

Johnny Storm

@thehumantorch

Yeah, me, my husband, and Spider-Man had a threesome. What about it?

Why on Earth did he post that?!

“Give me a second,” he tells his students, angrily dialing Johnny’s number and stepping out into the hall.

It rings once before Johnny answers, “Hey babe.”

“Hey? That’s all you have to say? Hey?”

“Oh. You saw the Tweet.”

“Yeah I saw the Tweet! What the fuck, Johnny?”

“Hear me out! It was necessary! Okay so basically I accidentally walked into the background of one of your videos in my underwear and everyone thought that I cheated on you with Spider-Man and people were getting really mad about it so I had to do some damage control!”

“Your idea of ‘damage control’ was to tell the entire world that we had a threesome?!”

A startled student looks up at him from the water fountain. Sorry, he mouths to her, pointing at his phone.

“It was the best I could come up with! People believed it and nobody thinks you’re Spider-Man! I think I did alright!”

“I have an entire class of teenagers making fun of me right now! Nothing about this is alright!”

Johnny pauses. “I, ah, didn’t think about that.”

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. “What are we gonna do about this?”

“I don’t think we can do anything, hon. People will stop talking about it eventually.”

Sighing, Peter resigns himself to his fate. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. Sorry I got so mad.”

“Lol it’s okay, sorry for making some teenagers make fun of you.”

“Did you just… say ‘lol’ out loud?”

“Yes.”

“I--okay. I’ve got to go. Bye, love you.”

“Love you too!”

Peter hangs up, pocketing his phone and heading back into the classroom. “Sorry about that, I had to… talk to someone. Let’s do some biology, yeah?”

Getting into the lesson, he can almost forget the shitshow on the internet. Almost.

A boy raises his hand.

“Go ahead,” Peter says.

“Is it true?”

Peter plays dumb. “What, that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell? Yeah, that’s true.”

“No, the thing about Spider-Man.”

Peter sighs. They’re all looking at him expectantly and he can’t really deny it at this point without raising a whole horde of other questions.

“Yep,” he lies, “It’s true. No more questions about it, though.”

The statement is met with a chorus of disappointed groans.

“Come on, biology is better than gossip,” he tries.

“No, it’s not.”

“Regardless, we’re not talking about this anymore. Get your textbooks out and turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four.”

___

Peter was graced with three lovely, peaceful weeks before shit hits the fan. Again.

He’s teaching, just like last time--why do bad things always happen when he’s teaching?--and he’s just told a hilarious joke when he notices a student acting weirdly.

It’s not the ‘I have a vape pen hidden in my sleeve and I really hope you don’t notice’ type of weird. Peter’s not sure what type of weird this is, just that he doesn’t like it.

He tries to ignore it--he really does--but the kid’s barely hiding the fact that he’s doing something, which is gathering the attention of a handful of other kids.

He peeks over the boy’s shoulder as he hands out worksheets to find him watching one of his OnlyFans videos. That’s not good.

“Care to tell me why you’re on your phone in the middle of class?”

The kid jumps. “Sorry, Mr. Parker! I wasn’t doing anything--just, uh…”

“Watching Spider-Man’s OnlyFans videos?”

“...Yeah. Do you steal his jokes?”

Peter frowns. “What?”

“It’s just--a minute ago, you said the same joke he did in this video.” The boy turns up the volume and rewinds the video to the point where Spider-Man does, in fact, say the exact same joke Peter said not even five minutes ago.

“Why does his voice sound like yours?” a girl asks innocently, not knowing that she just ruined Peter’s whole life.

“It, uh... doesn’t?” he stammers.

“No, it definitely does,” a boy says, “Wait! Oh my gosh, you didn’t have a threesome with your husband and Spider-Man, you are Spider-Man!”

The students break out into a roar of chatter, all asking questions and sharing their own theories.

“Nope,” Peter decides, walking out of the classroom--nay, out of the country. This is it. He’s done for.

He never should’ve made that OnlyFans account.

[gustafsnightangel]

A Softer Side Part 6

“Sounds good.”

“I’d be there in person but I can’t leave. We need to keep her hidden and alive.”

“Absolutely.” Steve paused. “Have you heard from Meekland?”

“She fired me and Jerry.”

“Same with me and Davis. Good to know we’ve been given the green light to fuck shit up.”

“Oh we’re going to do more than fuck it up.” Strand chuckled.

“You sniffing something boss?” He could hear the grin in Wainwright’s voice.

“We have the syndicate and all their buyers and sellers. Once this trio of girls have been sold for the year we’re going to razz their entire operation to the ground.”

“Count me in.”

“Absolutely.” He eyed Ayla as she jumped out of her chair and moved to him, the urgent look on her face piqued his interest. “I’ll get Jerry to open a link between us and forward the information we have.”

“I’ll do the same.” Strand hung up as Ayla tapped him on the arm lightly and waved him to follow.

“Slow down Ayla.” He said gently, knowing the speed at which she was moving was painful to her. She pointed to a photo of Meekland on one of the monitors and tapped a few keys bringing up all the information on his boss. Some of it he knew, some of it he didn’t. “What’s the connection?” His brow furrowed as she tapped her DNA laptop and turned it for him to see the screen. Tapping her photo on the large monitor she then tapped her laptop. “That’s Meekland?” He asked looking at her with bewilderment and she nodded. There was more than tears in her eyes, there was sorrow, remorse. “You’re sure?” She nodded and pointed to herself and then at Meekland. “You knew her?”She nodded. “Was she one of the stolen infants?” She nodded again and opened up another file on her laptop. Strand began to read as she sat, eyes watching him intently.

“I know this is an old photo but why is this guy familiar?” He said and tapped her laptop screen without thinking and it went dark. “Shit sorry.” She logged back in and shrugged as if it were no big deal. Turning to the bank of monitors she brought up the commanding officer of their department, Meekland’s boss. “Oh fuck me.” He breathed. “I never saw it.” He felt his gut plummet. All this time they’d been fucking each other, the dominance play, he’d never even considered. He felt sick as his thoughts churned along with his stomach. “He bought her.” He stated more than asked.

Ayla’s hand rested on his to comfort, but he flinched and slapped it away, not caring if it hurt, not giving a shit as she scrambled away. He recoiled violently at the thoughts screaming through his head. Standing abruptly he walked away without a word, needing space, needing to crawl out of his own skin, needing to fucking breathe.

“Karl.” Mia said sternly as he stormed past her and out the French doors. “What the fuck was that?” She snapped.

“She was one of them Mia.” He spat pacing the dirt. “Sarah Meekland.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You slapped Ayla’s hand away, did you forget what ninth circle of hell you just pulled her from?” She seethed.

All Strand could do was glare at her.

“She was only doing what you asked her to do. Just because you found out something about an ex girlfriend that even your black heart managed to love doesn’t give you the right to slap her away and treat her like shit.”

“I never said I loved her and we’re not together.”

“You didn’t have to, it’s practically written over your face.” She snarked.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He warned, he was in no mood for her sarcasm or teasing.

“You fucked her again didn’t you? After everything she put you through the first time, you fucked her again?” She said in disbelief.

“We both needed to blow off steam.” He mumbled. “It’s just sex.”

“Ok sure, I get that, but despite who she is and how she was raised, she nearly killed you Strand, you do remember that yes?”

“Fuck you Mia.”

“No.” She snarled and got in his face, which for a petite girl of 5’ 2”, was impressive. “Fuck you. I was the one who had to bring you back from the brink after that op went south on her orders, so fuck you Karl.” She drilled a finger into his chest. “You almost died in my fucking arms.” She spat, the tears in her voice evidence of how much she cared about him. “So fuck you for doing the one thing I asked you not to do, to not get personally involved with that soul sucking bitch again.” He reached for her. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” She snarled and slapped his hand away, the contact painful. “You treat Ayla like that again and I’ll fucking murder you in your sleep. You were right, you’re no good for her.” The barb struck deep as it had been intended. “You’re such an asshole.” She turned and walked back inside, it was only then he saw Ayla at the door, witness to everything they’d just said, turn, and disappear from view.

“Fuck!” He snarled, the overwhelming urge to shoot something thrumming through him.

It took him nearly an hour to pace and calm down, the look skyward at the stars and the moon making him feel so much worse than Ayla hearing his dirty laundry. “Well, I’ve been trying to tell you I’m an asshole, now you know.” He breathed and mentally kicked himself. “Fucking relationships.” He growled, sitting in the dirt he stared at the moon. Every interaction, every moment with Sarah went through his head, pulling it apart, analyzing it. The sex between them had always been consensual, had always been rough. Not once had she uttered her safe word or a color for stop, and her pain threshold was virtually non existent. “That should have been a red flag right there.” He muttered. How was he to know who she really was, her background, her upbringing?

******

It was almost midnight when he ventured back inside, the house quiet. Thinking everyone had gone to bed he turned for the rec room and saw Ayla still working hard and his heart cracked, had he hurt her too? Mia was nowhere to be found and Jerry’s door was shut which meant he was probably passed out.

He went to take a shower, the need to feel clean before he tried to mend the rift with Ayla. When he came back out she wasn’t at the computer. Standing at her bedroom door he saw the silhouette of her tiny body curled up, pressed against the wall. “Sweet girl.” He choked and walked to her, she shrank back as he sat next to her. “I know you’re angry at me and I’m sorry, but don’t sleep here sweet girl, get comfortable and warm in bed.” She shook her head and pulled away from him, the keening whimper warning him to back off. “Ok.” He sighed. “Ok. You can come lay down with me when you’re ready too.” She wanted nothing to do with him, that vacant stare breaking him, he’d caused that. He’d caused her to withdraw, to scamper away from him like a kicked puppy. Climbing into the bed he could hear the soft sobs and knew he may never get her to trust him again.

Karl woke to an empty room, the other side of the bed undisturbed, she’d slept on the floor all night and disappeared before he’d woken. “Back to square one.” He sighed to the ceiling and felt like the asshole he was. Venturing to the rec room he saw Jerry hard at work, the girls nowhere to be seen.

“Morning boss.”

“Morning. Mia and Ayla?” He asked taking a seat and watching the feed of the prime merch factory.

“No clue but our feed is up.”

“Thanks.” He said quietly.

“Not me, Ayla had it up last night.” He said pointing at the monitor. “She found background on all of them, the missing pieces from her laptop.”

“Pity we can’t print it off.”

“She did, well, sort of.” Jerry looked at him. “She didn’t show you?”

“Show me what?” He snarled.

Jerry pulled her DNA laptop over and started to pull up the data.

“How come you can touch it?” He asked growled.

“She gave me access, to everything.” Strand touched the screen and it shut down.

“No surprises there.” He growled.

“Did something happen I don’t know about?” Jerry asked and Karl pinched the bridge of his nose as he told Jerry what happened last night. “Oh.” He said simply.

“Yeah, I fucked up.” Karl scrubbed a hand over his face and paced. “So where do we stand with all the information, the case?” He had to just get on with it.

“The prime merch is under surveillance, we have background and parental info. Once we shut this down we can reunite. Ayla found the link to the milk money and I was right, runaways and homeless, the occasional school kid but those were borderline runaways. She’s taken every missing persons list from every county nationwide and run it against the websites buy/sell list, we’re still getting hits and that list is going to be astronomical. The websites have been up and running since the dawn of the internet.”

“So this goes deeper than Allen Raven.”

“Much deeper, though that part of the case will be for another time, we’re still collecting info.” Jerry leaned back in his chair and pulled the laptop into his lap. “The op is set, we have weeks to observe, but where it gets interesting is where Meekland’s involved. This asshole.” He tapped the screen in front of him and a photo of her boss filled it. “Is a prime merch purchaser. He’s a prime asshole too, but we’ll shelve that rant for another day. He’s purchased six girls over the past thirty years funneling money from the company we’re a part of, correction, were a part of. That’s a girl every five years, Meekland was, or is, his first, and he’s up for a new girl this year. He usually takes the third 16 year old prime Raven has to offer.”

“Good, we’ll be geared up to take his ass down. What happened to the others?” Strand asked already knowing the answer.

“We’re still running the searches for them. They’re either dead or chained somewhere much like Ayla was. There’s also connections to others in the department, some on Meekland’s list, some that Ayla found on top of it.”

“She’s uncovered all of this?” He looked at Jerry.

“I’m only just scratching the surface of information she has on here.” He said tapping her laptop. “Every transaction, every girl, prime down to milk money, every client and what they like.”

“She’s trying to right wrongs that aren’t even hers.” He murmured, echoing Mia’s words from the other day.

“She’s trying to help you.” Jerry said gently.

“I really fucked up didn’t I?”

“Yeah you did boss, but she’ll come around, give her time.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“She will, she loves you, you saved her.” Hunt said gently.

“I hit her.” Strand snarled.

“You slapped her hand away, it’s not the same as what was done to her and you know it.” Jerry said finding his spine.

“It may as well have been a full on backhand across the face.”

“Boss, that’s not who you are, but you did it and you can’t take it back.”

“No I can’t, and she may never trust me again.”

“Give her some time, Mia too.” Hunt said and got back down to it knowing Karl wasn’t one to talk about his feelings. They were all on edge, maybe the distance was for the best.

******

Strand spent the day reading and compiling notes on their next op, monitoring the feed from Wainwright. When it was apparent the girls were not going to surface he set his own searches to run, his own lists to compile and went to bed early, Jerry doing much the same. This would be their routine for the following weeks leading up to the op.

He was restless, the thoughts of what he’d done to Ayla, to Mia, how did he fix it? Time sure, mending the rift with Mia was easy enough, it wasn’t the first time they’d gone head to head, but Ayla? He may never be able to fully mend that chasm between them now. “Mia was right, I’m no fucking good for you sweet girl.” He growled and punched the pillow trying to make it more comfortable. “No fucking good at all.”

******

The following morning Strand made his way out to a silent house, the girls were still tucked away somewhere, his only concern was Ayla. Was she eating, sleeping, was she ok? Mia, he knew would surface eventually and they’d snarl at each other again for a while and things would get back to normal. Ayla on the other hand, she was alone again, he’d left her alone, the one thing he’d promised he wouldn’t do. With his thoughts on Ayla he sat and noticed his searches were complete, his notes compiled, and new searches running along roughly the same lines as his thoughts were at the new data.

“Ayla left that running for you this morning.” Jerry said as he sat, handing a coffee to Karl.

“She...” He breathed. “Was Mia with her?” He asked and Jerry shook his head.

“I haven’t seen Mia.” He said and Strand nodded.

“She’ll be back when she’s ready to strip another layer of skin from my hide.” He snarked and sipped his coffee. “Quite rightly.” He added in a low growl.

Settling in at the computer he got to work, more reading, more notes, more tugging loose ends to see what they unraveled. Jerry did much the same, the pair working in a comfortable silence. That would be their routine for the next few weeks. Get up, silently thank Ayla for finding whatever she was able to find for him and Jerry, work, sleep, rinse, repeat.

He put Ayla out of his mind as much as he could, he had to if this op was going to be successful, which was increasingly difficult as the days turned into weeks. He missed her, that slight smile, her touch, her kiss, the way she looked at him as if he was her whole world.

“Shit.” He snarled one night as he sat outside looking up at the moon, the soft halo that surrounded it. “That’s because you are her whole world you fuckhead.” He swore, this was all she knew outside of the concrete shit hole Raven had put her in, he was all she knew. Coming back into the house he wasn’t expecting to see Ayla at the computers, working hard to find them whatever lead she could. He felt his breath rush out at the sight of her, she’d put on weight, the gaunt, frail look gone from her limbs.

Without hesitation he walked to her and dropped to his knees beside her, he’d grovel if he had to, anything to make it right. He saw her hands freeze on the keys as he turned her chair and rested his forehead on her knees.

“I’m sorry.” He choked. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He knew this had freaked her out just by the way she sat stock still, barely breathing. He kept his hands in his lap, not trusting himself to touch her in case he damaged their tenuous relationship any further. “Nothing, absolutely nothing excuses my behavior, for slapping your hand away, for terrifying you, hurting you. I’m sorry.” He stared at her bare feet, her toenails painted a sunny yellow, the manacle marks at her ankles only a slightly darker shade of pink now instead of angry red welts, the silver scars from years of wearing them like a spiderweb. “I’m no good for you, but I know I’m all you’ve got. I’ll do better.” He left it there, half expecting the silence that followed, half terrified she’d push him away. When her shaky hand cupped the side of his head tenderly he almost choked on a sob. “I don’t deserve you, someone as forgiving as you.” He whispered and leaned into her hand eager to feel more of her, that loving touch he craved.

Her finger hooked under his chin and she tugged enough for him to lift his head, a silent plea to look at her. He felt his heart lurch as he laid eyes on her face for the first time in nearly three weeks. Sea green eyes looked back, intense, sharp, loving. The weight she’d put on had filled out her cheeks, the hollow look gone without a trace of the tortured woman beneath.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his voice catching and the slight smile that tugged the corners of her mouth melted him as she brushed a thumb over his lips. Melted, him, the asshole Karl Strand, on his knees, a fucking mess at her feet.

The ping of the computer had her head whip around. She studied the data, as he studied her, before turning back to face him. Her eyes searched his and before he could stop her she kissed him, that slow burn that told him she’d not only forgiven him, that she wanted more, it spoke of a love he wasn’t entirely sure he was worthy of. Turning back to the screen she dropped her hand from his face and with a few keystrokes pulled up the data he’d been searching for earlier.

“I’m sorr...” She touched a finger to his lips and shook her head, it was finished now. He stayed where he was, reading the data she’d pulled up, her hand casually resting on his shoulder, fingers absently toying with the collar of his shirt. It was such a tender intimacy he’d never had before and it floored him.

“Thank you for you help the past few weeks.” He said softly as his emotions settled. “Jerry and I have been able to get this case organized and progressing. We’d still be neck deep in it if we didn’t have your help.” She looked at him and he felt her eyes search his face, her soft kiss melting him again.

A little after three she set a few searches to run and pushed back her chair to stand. Karl was still on his knees, not game to move from his spot, terrified the spell would be broken and this little slice of peace with her would be taken from him. He looked up at her, the rich whisky colored hair framing her face, damn she was stunning. Holding out her hand for his, he chuckled. This was a turn of events he thought, the slight smile telling him it wasn’t lost on her either. He stood, his tall frame dwarfing hers, the urge to kiss her, hold her, overwhelming. Taking his hand in hers she led him to her room. He stopped on her threshold and looked at her. “Sweet girl.” He breathed as she tugged his hand. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” His gentle tone trying to ease her into the rejection. He couldn’t sleep with her tonight even though his body yearned for it. His emotions were a mess and if he fucked this up now they’d be done forever.

Her eyes pleaded and the hand in his shook slightly. “I want to, but...” She shook her head and tugged his hand. Stepping into the room she surprised him when she shut the door quietly behind him. He looked around her room, it too had changed, there were books on the nightstand, clothes in the closet he could see via the slightly open door. Mia had taken her shopping, or online shopping at least. He watched as she sat on the bed and patted her hand on the covers.

“You sure sweet girl?” He asked and at her nod he walked to the other side and climbed in. Watching her she climbed under the covers, switched the lamp off, and tentatively moved closer to him, the need to feel her in his arms making his fingers itch. With the moonlight streaming through the open curtains he let his eyes adjust to the glow. Her fingers twitched as they touched his arm, still unsure and timid of sleeping beside him in a bed. He was about to suggest he go sleep in his room when she shifted, laying beside him, body flush with his, her hand fisted in his shirt as her head rested on his bicep. “Sweet girl.” He breathed and wrapped his arms around her slowly, the press of her against him stirring something inside him that should have stayed dormant. “I missed you.” He whispered and kissed her head, the scent of her clouding his mind, his reasoning, his judgement. “I’m so sorry.” Her head tipped back to look at him as her fingers trailed thought his scruff, those soft lips brushing his tenderly. “Sleep sweet girl, we both need sleep.” Because if she kept touching and kissing him like this he would fuck her to satisfy his own craving for her. She curled into him, her head burrowing under his chin and relaxed. Holding her close he leveled out his breathing and willed his over confident cock to stand down. How the fuck did he end up with these sorts of feelings for her?

He felt her plummet into sleep, but his mind raced. She looked peaceful in his arms, the weeks of food, water, sleep, and safety blossoming her into a very attractive woman. “Sweet girl you undo me, make me feel things I’m not sure I have the right to feel.” He murmured into the night, the scent of her filling his senses and pulling him under. “I’m still no good for you.” He mumbled.

******

He woke with a start as she shifted, the sun painting the sky beyond the curtains pretty colors. They’d only been asleep for a few hours and he growled as he hit the button to close the curtains for more darkness. She trembled as the sun disappeared, the soft blue glow from the curtains the only light in the room. “You’re safe sweet girl, sleep some more.” He cuddled her in close, the softness of her body a sharp contrast to the body he’d held weeks ago after bringing her out of the concrete prison she’d been forced to live in. She turned into him, face buried into his chest, the soft whimper tearing at him. “You’re safe with me.” He brought his arms around her tighter and kissed her forehead, sleep still held her just as tightly. “You’re always safe with me.” Her body slowly went lax, the warmth from him soothing her as much as his voice.

******

He woke hours later to the prickly feeling he was being watched. His eyes snapped open to see those sea green pools staring at him from under dark lashes. If things weren’t as fragile as they were he would have stripped them both naked and taken her. He found being this close to her, with that look made his blood boil in the most erotic way. “You have the prettiest eyes sweet girl.” He murmured, his voice husky with need. Feeling this way about her wasn’t healthy. She tilted her head back, stretched up, and kissed him. “We can’t Ayla.” He breathed as he pulled back, fuck this was killing him. “I...” She kissed him again sweetly and pulled back the covers. “I’m not good for you.” He said as she climbed out of bed, the flat look she gave him was one of annoyance, she didn’t want to hear it. “Fuck me.” He swore as she closed the bathroom door. “I’m trying to do the right fucking thing here.” He sighed to the ceiling.

He couldn’t get involved with her. Once the case was finished, what then, he wasn’t the settling down type. He didn’t want to play happy families. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to fuck her and leave her, she didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve the domination game he liked to play. He played hard and rough and that was far from what she needed. Sex for him was explosive, was a primal need to be sated, to take and give only what he allowed, where he was in control, he was the one making choices. It was always concentual, but his tastes ran a little wild.

Dressed she came out of the bathroom and glanced at him before disappearing, closing the door behind her. He ripped off the covers off angry at himself, fuming at this whole fucked up situation. Heading back to his own bathroom he shucked his sweats and shirt and stroked his raging hard cock, fuck he needed release.

Under the hot spray he soaped up and began to find it, the image of Ayla invading his mind. His hand pumping slowly as if he was sinking into her, her tightness enveloping him. Letting his fantasy run wild he took her with his mind, every inch of her devoured while he fucked her. His soft grunt as he came more a sigh as he rode the pleasure the mere thought of fucking her gave him. Rinsing off he turned the water off and wrapped a towel at his hips. Staring in the mirror he was disgusted with himself. “You have no business lusting after that woman.” He snarled at his reflection. “She doesn’t need your shit you asshole.” He dressed and headed out to hunt down some food.

******

Seeing Ayla at the workstation with Jerry he smiled, she was looking good and seemed happy. Mia glared at him from the kitchen and he thought now was as good a time as any to clear the air between them.

“I apologized to Ayla last night.” He said softly and took a seat on the opposite side of the kitchen island, he wasn’t completely stupid. “On my knees.”

“As you fucking should.” She growled.

“Mia, I really want to move on from this, for her sake, but if we need to go a round where you beat the shit out of me for it then step the fuck outside.” His tone was irritated, he wanted to move them all past this.

“I’m not as naïve as she is Strand. I know what you’re capable of and exactly what you are.”

“I’m an asshole, I’ve never lied to her about that. I even reiterated that last night. I’m an asshole and I don’t deserve her, but as you keep pointing out, it’s her fucking choice.”

“You can always say no.” She ground out.

He stalked around the island and got in her face, in her space. “I have. Repeatedly.” His glare lit the fire in her eyes. “Take a swing Mia, you’ll only get one.”

“You fucking know ones all I need.”

“Then consider it a free pass.” He welcomed her violence, the pain would be better than the ache in his heart for Ayla.

“You’re in love with her.” She whispered, the realization dropping from her lips seriously as she clued into the internal pain he was feeling.

“I don’t know what I feel for her Mia, and that terrifies me.” He backed off, his eyes flicking to the rec room entrance. “She’s the complete opposite to what I’m usually interested in. Sex aside because it’s not happening, what do I have to offer her? I’m a loner, I’m a prick, I’m controlling, I’m everything she shouldn’t want to ever see again after what she’s been through.”

“She doesn’t see it that way Karl. God you’re so thick sometimes.” She blurted out suddenly exasperated. “You’re the first male to care about her, and despite the situation of how you met, she loves you. She’s discovering who she is and what she likes.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, intentionally or not, I can’t bear to see her in pain or upset, it fucking guts me Mia.”

“You’re helping her find her way Strand, it’s a big deal for her.”

“Has she talked to you?” He asked.

“No, she hasn’t uttered a word to me. We did girly things, shopped online, ate ice cream watched some movies. I gave her a taste of what normal single girls do.” She looked at him. “She not naïve about sex, she didn’t get upset at sex scenes in the movies we watched, she knows the difference between what was done to her and what’s normal.”

“My sexual taste is a little on the wild side Mia and you know that.”

“You’re never going to know hers if you push her away and deny her.”

“I like the domination the spanking, the hand at the throat, and I like it rough, I highly doubt she’ll be into that.” He growled.

“Like I said, you’ll never know if you don’t talk to her. She’ll find her voice when you do Karl. You want her to talk to you, to open up? You need to do the same.” She sat the coffee in front of him and took a bowl of ice cream in for Ayla, he smirked at that, it had become her normal.

******

Each night Ayla curled up with him he thought about what to say to her, chewed on Mia’s words. In the morning he would shower after her and stroke himself until he came, thinking of her and those sea green eyes he’d fallen in love with. Did he love her or was it just lusting after her because they’d been forced together? During the day the four of them worked, the sell date creeping forward, the methodical task of closing the net and catching every last one of these monsters. Then and only then could he really dive into his feelings for Ayla and determine a way forward, that’s if she didn’t make his choice for him in the mean time.

******

As the days crawled toward the second auction Ayla had settled. Working with Jerry, curling up at night with Karl, spending more time venturing outside to unwind with Mia. Strand had noticed the spark in her, taking chances, making choices, becoming herself. She was still reserved and calculating, but more at ease with the three of them.

“I have a question.” Jerry said as they sat around the dinner table one night. “In a few days the auction is going to go live, because, hey, we’re the ones initiating it. But will they be expecting an infant to turn up as per usual?” Karl looked at him and thought about it.

“I would assume so.” He mused. “The switch happened after he’d kidnapped the child, it was when he dropped it off that he collected the teen.”

“We might have a problem then. If they’re expecting a baby for the teen, we’re fucked.”

“Not necessarily.” Mia said. “You can always lock it down when you collect the teen. No one in or out.”

“Another question is will they hand over the teen to someone that’s not Raven?” Jerry said softly.

“You’re full of good cheer tonight.” Karl said sarcastically as he tossed his cutlery on the plate. “Plan B?”

“We don’t have one.”

“We better make one.” He growled. “Could Davis or Wainwright pass for Raven with some help?” He asked Mia.

“I can work on it, have them send a scan of their bone structure and I can work some magic.”

“It was a quick handover and in the dark.”

“Burke will be on that night, we’ll get her to answer the door. Maybe he had trouble getting an infant? Would they accept that?” Karl mused and watched as Ayla slipped away and came back with her DNA laptop. She silently worked on something while they tossed ideas around and he mentally kicked himself he hadn’t thought of this issue sooner. Had your mind been where it should be, he scolded himself, on the op and all the logistics that went with it, this would have been rectified weeks ago not days before. Instead you’re off chasing a piece of ass that you shouldn’t be tangoing with.

“I don’t see why not, it’s his operation.” Jerry shrugged.

Ayla looked at Karl. “What is it sweet girl?” Her eyes flicked to everyone in the room and she turned the laptop around. Strand scanned the list. “The dates are different.” He looked at her. “For the ones you highlighted. He’s had issues with snatching a kid on the anniversaries in the past.” She nodded. “We can use that. At least this isn’t going to be a once off.” There was sorrow in her eyes tonight, the case and what they had to do weighing on her, her own trauma and history. “Thanks.” He smiled at her and she nodded again as Mia dished up ice cream. He watched Ayla take her bowl and laptop back and get down to work again. “She’s already feeling it.” Strand said quietly to the other two. “The case, the apprehension, the pressure.”

“She feels powerless.” Mia said and took another bite of strawberry ice cream. “Vulnerable. She knows she’s safe, but she knows other aren’t and she can’t stop what’s happening.”

“She’s helping though.” Strand said as he saw her pull more data up on screen and run more searches.

“Maybe you should tell her that.” She shrugged. “She feels responsible Karl, and I know that sounds ridiculous, but she was with him for her entire life, watched as he destroyed others. She was powerless in the literal sense, she’s not now.”

“Righting wrongs that aren’t hers.” He sighed.

“We know that.” Mia said, leaving it hanging, she squeezed his shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.

They continued to work the slight change to the op, Mia and Jerry finding their beds at around 11, Ayla was still plowing through data. Strand sat next to her as he compiled op notes to send to the team and setup a call tomorrow to run through it. He saw the tears, her eyes intent on her work, the fact she ignored them breaking his heart.

“Sweet girl.” He sighed and brushed a knuckle against her cheek. Her fingers hastily scrubbed them away and she shook her head before trying to focus on her tasks. Pushing herself, he thought, pushing so hard to save them. “Ayla? None of this is your fault, you’re not responsible fo...” She pushed his hand away and shook her head. “You’re not.” Her tears turned into sobs. “Look at me.” He said gently. “Please.” Those stormy ocean green eyes held pain and anger when they looked back. “You had no choice but to do as he commanded.” He started. “None.” His fingers held her under the chin tenderly, his thumb stroking her tears away. “You were stolen, abused, used, you’re not responsible for what you had to do to stay alive and to keep him from torturing you.” His voice cracked at the keening sound coming from her. “You’re a good person sweet girl, you’re here helping. We didn’t ask, you made a choice to help the other girls. Made the choice to help us shut down the auctions, to get the girls to safety.” As he watched her those eyes saw parts of himself he couldn’t hide, parts he struggled to bury. “This is not your burden Ayla, that’s all on Allen Raven. You’re allowed to be angry at him, but not yourself. You had no choice back then sweet girl, none of this is your fault.” She nodded and he raked his fingers through her hair gently cupping her head and urging her close. Crawling into his lap she wept for the girls, for her part in it, for herself. “My sweet Ayla.” He murmured as he soothed her.

The tears subsided and she sat in his lap staring at the screens, that vacant look in her eyes, it had been weeks since she’d retreated inward. Setting a few searches to run overnight he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He tucked her in and reassured her he wasn’t leaving for long, before taking care of his business in the bathroom. Leaving the curtains open wide he curled in behind her, his body cradling hers, protecting, soothing. She eventually rolled over, those slender fingers fisting in his shirt, her head using his bicep as a pillow. It had become their normal which Strand knew would be harder when it came time for him to leave. “Sleep now sweet girl, you’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.” For as long as I can, he added silently.

******

He woke to Ayla still huddled into him, the fragility of her blindingly obvious. Resting his lips on her head after a kiss he combed his fingers through her hair in an attempt to soothe her awake. “I don’t know what I feel when I’m with you.” He said quietly. “I don’t know if it’s love or lust, whether it’ll last beyond our time here. I don’t know if I should keep you at arms length for your own protection or for mine. Sometimes I’m not sure starting something with you is a good idea, but then when I’m near you I crave every inch of you.” He kissed her head again and breathed her in. “It terrifies me.” He whispered. “I don’t know how to be what you need me to be.” Her head tipped back and soulful eyes pinned him.

Her fingers toyed with his scruff and held him there as she kissed him, slow and tender. She was so giving, he thought, he’d done nothing to deserve that. “You sleep ok?” He asked changing topics quickly before he ended up doing something he’d regret, her nod set him at ease. “You don’t have to sit through the op review or any of it if you don’t want to.” She shook her head and started to get up. “Stay a minute.” He said quickly. “Please.” She snuggled back in and let him hold her, the feel of her hair between his fingers soothing him more than her.

******

He showered first, the op review looming closer by the minute and he wanted his thoughts in order. Leaving her to sleep some more he sat with a coffee and got down to business.

“Ayla not up yet?” Jerry asked as he sat with his own coffee.

“Rough night.” Karl thumbed through his file. “She blames herself.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. She’s retreated inward a little which is understandable.” He tossed the file on the desk and brought up the prime merch feed. “I gave her an option of not joining us for the takedown, it’ll be her choice whether she joins us or not.”

“Fair call.”

“If only.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face as he punched in the number for the team and bringing them online for their briefing.

******

“It’s a solid plan Strand.” Davis rasped. “We’ll have the girl safely stashed away before the auction goes online.”

“You sure you’re ok for this?” Karl asked as he stared at the dark bruising against Davis’s throat.

“It sounds worse than it is.” He chuckled, which sounded like he’d smoked ten packs a day for a hundred years.

“Coms check and in position by 22:30. I want to watch the outside of the building for a while, make sure we’re not walking into something we’re not prepared for.”

“Copy that boss.”

With the briefing done and their operation stitched up tightly Strand wandered back to Ayla’s room. Curled up in a tight ball in the middle of the bed, she barely registered he’d appeared in front of her.

“Sweet girl.” He murmured. “You’re not alone, I’m right here.” He stroked her cheek gently before laying down next to her. His huge hands stroked and soothed gently until her body uncoiled and she looked at him. Her finger played with his scruff, as if it reassured her it was him. “Hey there sweet girl.” He smiled at her and her lips twitched into that half smile. What he wouldn’t give, he thought, to see a full happy smile, hear a belly laugh. Her finger trailed to his chest where it fanned out, the need to ground herself, feel safe. “You’re safe.” She nodded and looked up at him. “You hungry?” She shrugged. “I think Mia stashed some chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer earlier.” He grinned. “How about we go eat some?” He kissed her brow and she shook her head. “Tummy upset?” She nodded. Stress, fear, grief, he was so not equipped for handling this. “Understandable.” He kissed her brow again and just held her.

She drifted back to sleep, Karl able to separate himself from her to grab some dinner and make a mug of soup for her.

“She still in bed?” Mia asked as she stacked the dishwasher.

“Yeah, tired, overwhelmed, stressed. She blames herself.” He said quietly and Mia nodded. “I’m turning in for the night, staying close to her.” He mumbled and headed off to her room, but not before seeing the smirk plastered across Mia’s face. He felt ridiculous. He was a grown ass man getting all soft on a girl he had no business getting soft over.

He managed to persuade her to eat half the monster cup of soup he brought in, nibbled on the dark rye bread she liked. Sitting, legs stretched out he was consumed by his thoughts. Thoughts of past relationships, if he was being honest with himself he’d never had a long term relationship, it was one night stands or an arrangement like he and Meekland had. He hadn’t even contemplated that clusterfuck, was she loyal to her owner or to the girls, the case? Where did their relationship fit into it all, had she used him, too blinded by what he thought was love to see it? Was that why he couldn’t admit he loved Ayla? He watched her set the cup of soup aside and visit the bathroom. Was he in love with her? The eternal batchelor? Just be what and who she needs, he thought, as she climbed back into bed and curled up at his hip. A while later he lay behind her and cocooned her with his frame, safe, secure, dare he think it, loved.

******

The morning of the op he had to separate himself from her, get his head in the game, do his damn job. He pulled her from sleep gently, those eyes fluttering open as his fingertips brushed the hair from her face. “Morning sweet girl.” His smile brought that twitch to her lips he liked. “I have to get to work, I need to prepare for tonight.” She nodded but her hand gripped and scrunched his shirt. “I’ll be right here in the house, safe with you.” She nodded again. “I need to know you’ll be ok while I’m taking care of these assholes.” She pressed her face against his chest and relaxed, her grip on his shirt lessening. Nodding she looked up at him before her lips claimed his. It floored him every time she did that, made him feel emotions he wasn’t ready to handle. He deepened it, fingers raking through her hair to cup her head, greedy for a taste of her, to feel her, his cock stirring to life at the rush.

Resting his forehead on hers he eased away before he took it a step further. “I wish you’d talk to me.” His voice husky. “I’m skating a moral line with you. I want to do right by you, not take advantage of you or the situation, but at the same time I want to throw caution to the wind and give you what you want, what you’re asking for. Sex with me isn’t gentle Ayla, I like it rough, I like to dominate, and honestly, that’s the last kind of lover I want to be if I’m with you. Because I know it’ll hurt you, not physically, even I have lines I won’t cross, but psychologically.” He looked down into those pretty eyes. “I can’t do anything that might hurt you sweet girl. It’ll end me.” He kissed her brow and lingered. “It guts me when you cry, like there’s a tangible bond between us. I don’t know how to handle this, to do what’s right for both of us, I just don’t know. And though with most women I’d wing it, you’re different. So different that I want to do it right. And I’m fucking rambling.” He huffed a chuckle. “You’ve got me all tied up in knots.” She stretched up and kissed him, his soft groan into her mouth startling him. “I don’t deserve you, deserve what you freely want to give me. I’ll only disappoint you sweet girl.” She shook her head as if to say no you wont or you haven’t yet.

“I need to go to work.” He needed to step away to collect himself. She nodded and smoothed a hand over his chest. “I won’t deny I have feelings for you Ayla, I’m just terrified at what that’ll mean for us.” He kissed her forehead quickly and pulled back the covers.

A shower and some food in his belly seemed to settle the ragged edges of his emotions. Sitting with a coffee he digested the overnight searches enough to get his head in the game, they were closing in. To his surprise Ayla ventured out as they sat for dinner, showered, dressed, with a look of determination on her face. She sat next to him, her hands slightly shaking as she ate. My brave sweet girl, he thought, she was going to put herself through hell tonight. The internal war inside him to say something, tell her she didn’t have to do it, raged. Her choice, the little voice in his head whispered, she’d chosen to fight, to help the girls that had no choice in where they were, what they were forced to do.

He watched her take her ice cream into the rec room and sit at her laptop, fingers already moving as she worked, studied the op, took it all in. “Her choice.” He said gruffly as Mia looked at him disconcertingly. “I’ve explained she didn’t need to be in on this, that we understood if she wanted to sit this out. Her choice. Don’t chew my ass on it.” He grumbled and went to sit beside her. No way was he leaving her alone tonight.

******

Focusing on the op they monitored the prime merch factory, the team in position, and Wainwright looked like a carbon copy of Raven. So much like him he saw Ayla cower, the soft whimper escape before he placed his hand on hers and she gripped tightly. “That’s Wainwright sweet girl. I know with 100% certainty, Allen Raven is on Hades 6. That’s not him.” She nodded and kept a tight hold of his hand, the tremble in her body gutting him.

They watched with baited breath as Wainwright knocked on the door, the tense moments as it opened and the girl handed over to him. It wasn’t until he’d dropped the girl at the safe house and driven away that Strand broke the silence.

“Did they suspect?”

“No, I got no vibes that they knew something was off.” He was breathing a little easier now. “Burke and I are heading back to wait for the drop location. Davis is standing by with his team for deploying the net, just like last time.”

“Good job.”

“Save that until after we nail this next buyer.” He chuckled. “Were not done tonight.”

“No, we’re not, but you going undetected is a damn good start.” Strand said honestly.

In the brief hiatus between the teen pickup and the auction due to go online the team took a moment to calm the nerves. Ayla was quiet, too quiet, Strand thought, as he watched her out of his periphery. He was concerned when she turned down the bowl of ice cream that Mia had placed beside her. Those eyes were intense as they watched every screen, every bit of movement, preparing for Allen Raven to jump through the screen at her.

Karl tugged her hand gently and she looked at him. “Sweet girl.” He said gently, the invitation to curl up with him in his tone. It took her a moment to process his words, the offer of the safety she found in his arms. Without a word she hunched onto his lap, curled in as tightly as she could. “You’re safe sweet girl.” He murmured and kissed her hair, the scent calming him, her hand fisting in his shirt.

Jerry waited until 12:01 precisely to send the auction live, the quick paced bidding war had begun as the silence was interrupted every so often with a ping.

“There’s a few new buyers, I don’t recognize these four.” Jerry said pointing at the screen. Ayla was watching and her hand shot out to pull up data from her DNA laptop with a few easy strokes. “Ahhhh, that explains it. Another like our asshole commanding officer.” Jerry growled. “This guy is on a three year replacement deal.” While Jerry read, Ayla pulled the keyboard into her lap and pulled data on the other three. Even Karl had to admit her hacking skill were out of this world. Snuggled into him as she worked he started to watch her finesse the data, tease it out of every corner.

“You sweet girl, are amazing.” He breathed, that low rumble of his voice only for her to hear as he kissed her head. They worked through the early morning, jumping on every new bidder to obtain as much information as they could.

“These are the wannabes.” Jerry said as he compared this auction history to the last. “These guys bid for the thrill, knowing that the big fish have yet to enter. It hasn’t even tipped over 800 K.”

“Give it until nine tonight, things will start to pick up then for sure.” Karl said as he shifted Ayla in his lap.

“She’s asleep boss.” Hunt chuckled.

“I know. My ass is asleep too.”

“I’ll hold down the fort, go sleep. We can switch at lunch.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, I’ll wake you if the shit hits the fan.” Jerry turned and got to work and he looked at Mia. Her slight nod told him she’d keep the rookie company.

*******

Ayla barely moved as he carried her to her room. So not to disturb her too much he decided to sit up in bed, the mattress slightly more comfortable on his ass than the chair had been. Eventually he slid them horizontal and under the covers. Her dreams kept him awake, the soft whimper, her hands first pushing him away then pulling him closer. “Sleep sweet girl, you’re safe now, you’re safe with me.” He caged her in, his massive frame protecting her. Her sigh shuddered out and with it every ounce of terror and stress. “Sleep now Ayla, you’re safe.” She dropped into sleep like a stone and once he was sure she was out cold, he followed.

******

He knew she was watching him, could feel her gaze. Her finger brushed his scruff, the tip tickling his lip and he felt her jump at his chuckle.

“That tickles.” He smiled and opened his eyes to see those deep sea green pools looking at him, so soulful, a small smile tugged at her lips. He went to say something but her finger silenced him, the shake of her head telling him she didn’t want words, she wanted silence. Laying there in the quiet, her fingers mapping his face, he fell for her a little more, how could he not?

“You up boss?” Jerry called softly through the door as he knocked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m out. I need at least a solid six.”

“Sounds good.” He looked down at Ayla, eyes searching hers. She stretched up and kissed him, slow and soft, the tenderness from her melting him. He deepened it, the yearning for her tugging at him. Rolling he pressed her into the mattress, the feel of her beneath him igniting an inferno inside him, he wanted her like his next breath. “Ayla.” He breathed, losing himself to the moment, her mouth enticing him to linger. “I have to go to work sweet girl.” He said resting his forehead against hers, voice husky with need. She nodded and splayed her fingers out across his chest. “I could use the company, the help if you’re up for it?” He asked gently. She nodded again and tapped her fingers against his chest as if to say, get your ass up then.

He rolled off her and let her take a shower first, the tent in his sweats would be a dead giveaway as to what that kiss had done to him. Was he in love with her, he pondered, could he love her how she deserved, how she needed? She needed slow and tender, loving, could he be that for her? He watched as she came out in leggings and a sloppy knit sweater, how did that turn him on where he wanted to strip her naked and fuck her senseless?

He took a shower, a cold one, and joined her in the rec room where she’d made a coffee for him.

“Thanks.” He said sitting and she nodded as her fingers were already flying over the keyboard hard at work. “You find something sweet girl?” He followed her finger as it tapped the screen for the newest ping from the auction. “Ivan Petrov.” He murmured and Ayla nodded. “And he’s serious with that bid.” The auction just took a 1.3 million dollar hike as it evened it out to a cool 2.2 million total. “He watched as her fingers caressed the photo of Jerry ’s sister. “I know sweet girl.” He sighed. “Here’s hoping he’s the winning bidder.” His growl was feral. “Because then Jerry can beat the location of Eva out of him.” Her hand covered his and he calmed, it was almost instantaneous. “Before I ship him off to Hades 6.” He added looking down at her, understanding looked back. She stood and collected his cup, kissed his cheek, and wandered out to the kitchen.

They worked side by side until Mia surfaced around eight hungry. Ayla helped her out in the kitchen, her eyes intent on what Mia was doing. It was these simple everyday things that she’d been denied, he thought. Mia had taught her how to cook, how to do laundry, basic self care. She’d been denied so much.

Jerry made his way out at the smell of food and Karl filled him in on the current bidding situation with Petrov. “As much as I’d love to rig it so he wins, I want to see his fucking face when we take him down and he was none the wiser. There’a a great deal of satisfaction knowing he did it all himself and we’re going to nail him.”

“We may have to offer him a deal for your sister.” Strand watched him carefully.

“Then he gets a deal. He’ll still be shipped to Hades 6 even if I have to fly the damn shuttle myself.” Jerry spat.

“I wasn’t finished.” Karl growled, his irritation evident and Jerry backed off. “We’ll offer it to him, but there’s nothing in my current job description that says I have to honor that offer.” Strand watched as Jerry’s face split with a grin.

“You really are an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.” He said wryly.

They sat and ate, the conversation about anything but the case, the need to step away briefly before submerging themselves in the job, the overwhelming nastiness that was sex slavery and pedophilia. Karl smiled at Ayla eating through a full meal, it seemed like only yesterday she was barely able to stomach half a cup of soup.

“Tomorrow we’re taking the day off and making burgers.” He said quietly. “I promised this sweet girl a juicy burger when we came here.”

“Mmmm, bison burgers.” Mia said wistfully. “I have some in the deep freeze.”

“Oven fries.” Said Jerry. “Gotta have the oven fries, all nice and crispy. You’re in for a treat Ayla.” He smiled. “Oooo and sourdough buns, toasted with mustard. God damn I haven’t had a decent burger in a while.” He chuckled.

They talked about other food she needed to try, tacos, gyros, hummus, roast turkey, laughed at Mia as she was virtually salivating. With full bellies and bowls of ice cream they ventured in to run the remaining part of the op. At 11:30 they were all business, the laughter put aside, the jokes saved for another time.

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

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas: Power Transfer

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: 

One for all is a power that has been passed down for generations. Turns out the most recent generation can afford to be a whole lot more liberal with his sharing. Also turns out sharing quirks runs in the family.

An AU where Izuku can share OFA full cowling with multiple people at once.

shared power ofa,

izuku giving aizawa 5% of one for all durring the usj or izuku giving toshinori 99% of OFA durring the last fight

cause consider the world never finding out about small might, all might retires but izuku knows

the rescue team all having the max amount of ofa they can use, which is around 2% each, cause a lil sparking team of heroes

izuku using kirishima to give bakugo some too n them using it to get away

izuku having two quirks is my favourite goddamn thing bc him being able to share his quirk but not having anything to share is great

he gives bits to allmight, like a constant 1% so he can teach classes and do press stuff

some rando wants to do an "all might" where is he now segment and it spans a good few months so izuku is continuously in the background just

conspiracy theory starts that izuku is a villain or allmights son

a villain and all might's son

izuku has no double toe joint but the doc cant find any evidence of a quirk? so he tells them izuku is either quirkless or has an invisible quirk. something subtle, or specific enough to have not activated by now

bakugo kinda,, is chill with izuku. he was waiting for izuku to develop a quirk till he judged him, but he never did so he kinda withheld judgement long enough for them to become decent friends

anyway, izuku likes to ramble about different things his quirk could technically be, bakugo likes to join in. they can go at this for h o u r s cackling about stupid hypotheticals

they workout together, they both do boxing and try out random moves they see on the internet on each other. they have a pile of gym mats in the woods like the weirdos they are

bakugo is like,, convinced izuku's quirk is actually an intellect up but he just shrugs

izuku has to grab something before he heads home so he takes the underpass and we get basically episode 1 from there. all might says no, the villain gets away, attacks Bakugo. izuku runs in, throws dust in the villain's eyes and pulls at bakugo's hands. all might jumps in, saves the day yada yada

some background for u about all might bc his past is a touch different here. during the battle with afo, afo was distracted. all might sustained the same injures but won more easily.

night eye never looks into his future because "my purpose is done, nighteye. let's live like everyone else, no fate of the world on our shoulders" he never looks into all mights future again at his request

they stay together

so instead of the big argument they go get ramen and get drunk because they don't have to be superhuman anymore, they can relax now

back to the main timeline-

so izuku is already fit, cleans the beach in 8 months, nighteye supervises

all might gives izuku the quirk 2 months before the entrance exam, nighteye is there to "oversee" (he wants to see izuku choke on a hair and laugh at this kid hes become pretty fond of)

also mirio! is izuku's bro because i love he

izuku eats the hair and gets the quirk like, instantly which?? is confusing nighteye and all might. nighteye has like,,, hidden behind a car because hes the only person with self-preservation

allmight touches izuku and the lightning climbs up his arm and he just pOofs out into swolmight. hes ShooK, so is izuku

anyway, he manages to turn it off and izuku is just standing there like "oh my god what the fuck"

"izuku,, what,, happened there"

",,,, one for all??? leaked out??? into allmight????"

...

"nighteye come over here."

"izukU nO"

"STAND STILL NIGHTEYE I JUST NEED TO TRY SOMETHING"

nighteye is forcibly given a little of ofa and regrets a lot of stuff

anyway, izuku breaks an arm trying to use ofa and hes muttering trying to work out how to use it, nighteye basically says "well, think back to how ofa came about" and izuku is like ",,, what"

and nighteye screams because TOSHI YOU DIDNT TELL HIM?????? and allmight ",,, o o p s"

so izuku gets to hear the story of all for one while hes being driven to UA for recovery girl hes,,, really quiet for a second

"when did you fight him?"

"six years ago, april?"

",,, this has to be a coincidence"

hisashi went out on a "business trip" 6 years ago and they haven't seen him since. he calls, but hes never visited and izuku has this terrible feeling

because izuku cant calm down and because nighteye thinks this kid might be on to something they call tsukauchi and he agrees to meet them at UA

izuku gets treated, naomasa is in v quickly afterwards before he calls his dad he turns to nighteye, allmight and Naomasa

"i've never been able to lie to my dad. i thought he was just really good at reading me but,,"

"if hes afo he might have a quirk"

"yeah. so i'll just twist the truth. im good at that, but thats all i'll be able to do"

anyway, he calls up his dad and slaps this big grin on his face. the phone is on speaker

"hey dad!!!!" "izuku! is something wrong?"

"oi, cant i call my dad for no reason?"

"you, willingly calling someone? dont make me laugh"

izuku giggles despite himself

"anyway, you'll never guess!!"

"did youuuu,,,, hmmmm, meet all might?"

they freeze but izuku just laughs

"yeah,, but thats not the most exciting thing!!! my quirk came in finally"

"oh?"

"yeah! imagine the worlds most basic power enhancer, but i can share the energy! you have any idea where that could have come from?"

"no! i can't think of anyone in our family with a quirk like that! sounds crazy!"

naomasa looks grin, and mouths "liar"

izuku pales but keeps his smile

"do you think you could visit, id love to show you!! oh, maybe we could test it together! you always had the best ideas for my quirk notes"

"id love to izuku, but im stuck in america for the near future, you know it is. i'll see what i can do tho, ok champ?"

naomasa shakes his head again "lying" izuku looks like hes going to be sick. nighteye is pale, all might looks stunned. izuku grits his teeth but his voice is still light and happy

"i'm gonna make it into UA so you can watch me kick butt from america! you better cheer me on!"

"im looking forward to it. say hi to your mother from me."

naomasa nods. hes telling the truth. that makes nighteye feel the sickest

"love you izuku"

",,, love you too dad"

izuku hangs up the phone and retches into the bin. nighteye is shaking. all might storms out. naomasa punches the wall

izuku looks up with tears in his eyes

",,, does my mum know?"

nighteye wants to cry

"i dont know kid"

izuku tells katuski that his quirk finally came in! but,,, in the worlds biggest mess of a way

basically hes lying in bed, trying to work out why he can't use it without breaking bones but the people he shares it with can, he bolts upright

"POWER MODULATION OH MY GOD"

he runs out his door all the way to bakugos house and climbs in through his window, grabbing a sleeping bakugo by the shoulders

"KACCHAN ITS POWER MODULATION"

"IZuKU whAt tHE fuCK"

"my quirk!!! i was breaking bones because i wasnt modulating it!!!"

",,,,q QUiRK/???/?"

",,,, oh yeah oops"

mitsuki runs in with a frying pan ready to murder a villain but its just izuku

"carry on"

izuku doesnt tell him its ofa but he explains his quirk has finally showed up, bakugo asks him if hes registered it yet

",,,noooooo"

"wait what? you, breaking the law? mister "i cant kill an ant because all might himself will call me a villain""

izuku, w the most shit-eating grin, explains that you only legaly have to register your quirk when it shows up, or after you are tested when you are five, whichever happens first so, legally, he doesnt need to register because it would be seen as voluntary updating

cut to the enterance exam

aizawa is holding the papers for the kids hes observing right then

"quirkless? that kid doesn't look quirkless"

and yagi sighs

"of course he didnt,,,"

"all might? do you know him?"

"NO NO IDEA WHO MID- THAT YOUNG CHILD IS"

",,,, r i g h t"

“aizawa listen i have never seen young midoriya in my life ever”

basically, izuku is hiding the "transfer" part of his power from most people bc hes stubborn and thinks it could be useful

also,,, in this au shinso makes it in on hero points thanks

bakugo is about to rush the 0 pointer but shinso can see its going to fall on him shinsou yells

"HEY FUCK FACE"

"HA-"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE GET OVER HERE BEFORE YOU FUCKING DIE OH MY GOD MOVE I DONT WANT TO SEE SOMEONE DIE TODAY"

shinsou and bakugou are the type of friends that flat out have no love for each other but would punch anyone who says anything bad abt the other. like shinsou walks into school and bakugou s just

“dammit i thought u fucking died smh”

“i wish i did then i wouldn’t have to look at ur ugly ass”

in this au shinso and izuku bond when they are standing outside they door bc izuku looks like hes gonna fucking cry hes so scared and shinsou is like "wow big mood"

shinso is not shinson in this au! bc izuku is gonna do a soft

basically, quirk test? shinsou is s w e a t i n g bakugo looks a little worried for his new friend but no one would notice if they weren’t izuku

shinsou turns to him like "my quirk is mental im going to fa I L"

izuku grabs his hand and he feels this rush of energy, you can almost see it dancing along his skin. izuku grins

"i think you'll find you do just fine"

(izuku gave him like,, less than a full 1% but hes like doubled in strength and speed and hes??? shook?? bc whats happening)

aizawa is lost bc shinso has a mental quirk he shouldnt be doing this well, so he tries to cancel it

nothing happens and aizawa is so lost??? bc shinsou is kinda reedy and not super fit but hes placing solidly in the middle

and he noticing that shinso’s eyes seem to be glowing and so are they eyes of the kid coming in second and gives a big "hm,mmmm"

anyway, ball pitch, he cancels izukus quirk and turns to look at shinso, his eyes are dim. izuku looks sheepish but also like hes ready to throw down and its an interesting look

aizawa just sighs "you know what? just throw the ball."

izuku g r i n s and yeets it into next year using more of his quirk than he like,, really should have? to prove a point (his finger is bruised, not broken. he used 25%)

anyway aizawa shows the results, shinso is in the middle, izuku second, hagakure is last and sadly shes not getting expelled bc plot reasons – im sorry I have a thing against her shes perfectly valid probably im just still convinced shes the traitor even tho its totally a teacher

he calls izuku out on it but does admit he didnt say you couldnt help eachother, so its kind on him. shinso looks like hes going to pass out with relief

Hagekure is the traitor in this au though, 100%

during the camp she is at the pick up zone, hiding. izuku pulls bakugo out of the way, they all seem safe

but

she pushes izuku in through the portal as it closes

fyi afo takes her quirk and leaves her braindead in the nomu factory bc shes not useful anymore. also because now he needs to have a really awkward conversation with his son he was hoping to avoid

also usj? is really melodramatic

he gives aizawa 4% which is the max nighteye could hold without it hurting

aizawa takes a hit from the nomu and he reaches out his hand

izuku cries as he gives him an extra 4% and aizawa gets free but he can see bruises forming with every step his teacher takes

[djbimbu-blog]

Bruce Springsteen - Darkness on the Edge of Town

For the first review why not start with the album this blog is named after, Bruce Springsteen’s fourth album, 1978’s Darkness on the Edge of Town. Why did I name my blog after this album? Is it my favorite album? Favorite album by the Boss? Nope. It’s not even my favorite Springsteen album (that would probably go Born to Run, but Darkness is close). It’s just what I happened to be listening to when I decided to start a blog because I needed a hobby, and I spend most of my time reading about whatever record I’m listening to anyway, so I might as well write down my half assed research and opinions.

I don’t remember when I got this record, a few years ago at some point. I bought it from one of my usual record stores. I had already tried to buy it once at a flea market, but when I got it home  the record actually was an Elvis Costello record inside of a Springsteen sleeve. And try as I might, I just can’t get into Costello. I learned the hard way (probably about $8 hard) that you don’t just look at some of the grooves for scratches, look at the label and make sure its the right fucking record in there. So I had to buy a second copy. It’s in decent shape, has a few crackles here and there, but I don’t go for mint condition stuff. I go for the record that’s the cheapest one out of the three copies the store has, because the sleeve is a little worn and one song has a scratch in it. I buy records to listen to first and foremost. I’m not rich, and I’m not buying them to look at, so some of my records are of questionable condition. 

The first copy I bought is now framed and hangs right above my stereo. A reminder not to be such a dumbass with my record shopping, and a reminder to stop being so quick to shit on artists based off mental cliches you’ve made about their fans. Basically a reminder to be a more open minded person, and less of an asshole.

Most of my life I had written off the Boss as boring baby boomer dad rock, stuff you hear on the radio in the waiting room of an automatic car wash, stuff along with solo Clapton, Toto, The Eagles, Journey’s slow songs. So you’re drinking free Keurig coffee while ESPN plays on the TV, hoping the balding, goateed man next to you doesn’t ask you you’re opinion on the draft because you didn’t watch it and don’t want to deal with the awkwardness of a judgmental look for being a 20 something man who doesn’t care about sports. In his mind my dull, offended, smart phone generation is destroying the spirit of the country, and in my mind, I thought Springsteen was his music, music from when “men were men”, worked at factories, ate McDonalds when it was still legally a food product, and Reagan was going to turn everything around from the malaise years of Carter. He probably listened to Springsteen back in 1980, played high school baseball, dealt with all the bullshit in his life by looking forward to Friday night when he could get drunk, hang out with his girlfriend, and drive around with his friends in a shitty rust box Nova (with the inline six, not even the v8 that still didn’t make 200 horsepower). Needless to say, I had judgmental opinions about Bruce Springsteen and the kinds of people who listened to him.

At some point something happened. I honestly think it was mostly just that I grew the fuck up just enough to hear Springsteen on the right day and it finally connected, finally all made sense. I remember where the change happened. I was sitting in one of my old apartments, a few years out of a bad break up (and dropping out of college), living with some of my best friends, working a dead end job, starting to drink too much, mentally planning a half impulsive move across the country away from it all…and binging The Sopranos for the first time. At the end of the first season finale, Tony and his family are driving in a bad storm, and seek shelter in the restaurant of Tony’s long time friend Artie. Artie, trying to close up, reluctantly lets them in to eat. Other friends and family are there dining, Tony and his family sit down, then Tony toasts to remembering “the little moments, like this…that were good.” Fade to black, and this faint acoustic guitar comes in over the credits, with this haunting voice, coated in a slap back delay, singing about having a “clear conscience for the things that I’ve done.” It’s a beautiful scene from one of the pinnacles of television. And I had to find out what the fuck that song was. It was like a combination of Elvis singing “Blue Moon”, Bob Dylan’s “The Ballad of Hollis Brown” with a touch of Suicide’s Alan Vega thrown in. I do some internet digging, and find out it’s this song called “State Trooper” by Bruce Springsteen. Bruce Springsteen? The guy behind that “Born In The USA” song drunk assholes ironically jammed on the Fourth of July, that I couldn’t stand? Was I wrong about him this whole time? So I started to dig into the Boss, first into the Born to Run album, since the song “Born To Run” I always had sort of guilty pleasure liked when it came on the radio. Within a year or so I would consider Springsteen a musical genius, and one of my absolute favorite musicians of all time (though I must admit I only deeply know his first 7 albums). All from hearing one of his least Springsteeny songs in the end credits of a tv show I was watching more than 10 years after airing.

On to the album. Springsteen had already recorded three albums, his last, Born to Run was a massive success, that had him maturing as an artist and writing songs that were absolutely beautiful and somehow could be absolutely depressing at the same time. Listen to “Jungleland". If it doesn’t make you feel every emotion at once, you’re not human. The lyrics tell a story I’m still not quite sure I understand, and it has the best saxophone solo ever put on a record (and for what it’s worth, the “Jungleland" sax solo is my favorite part of any song ever). It’s a perfect fucking song. It was a hard album to top, and I’m still not sure if he did. Darkness is a fantastic record, though I’m not sure if it’s as good as Born to Run (I’m also not sure if it’s worse). But you have to applaud Springsteen for not pulling an AC/DC, writing more of the same, and riding it out for the next 30 years. He came into the studio with a new band member, Steven Van Zandt (who I will still always think of first and foremost as Silvio Dante), and recorded a massive collection of over 50 songs. Some are available on the album The Promise which didn’t come out until 2010. 

Ten were picked for the record, which was harder hitting, darker, rawer, and more stripped down. It wasn’t as poppy (if you could consider Born To Run that), and wasn't as successful. The highest single off Darkness only made it’s way to No. 33 on the Billboard charts. How could he top Born To Run? He couldn’t, but the lack of relative success doesn’t make it any less of an album. It’s his In Utero, so to speak.

“Badlands” kicks off the album. With a rhythm Springsteen claims to have “borrowed” from The Animals “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” it moves quick. It has raw, crunchy guitars, you can already tell this isn’t Born To Run. The lyrics follow similar Springsteen territory, but you can tell right away this is a different album. The problem with “Badlands” though is the version on the Live 1975-1985 album just has that little bit extra. “Badlands” is a great song, but I usually find it just leaves me wanting the live version instead. The version of the live album comes from a 1980 show in Tempe, Arizona, which has concert footage on youtube. Honestly, most of the tracks from that show are better than the album. I have a hard time finishing Darkness sometimes without getting sidetracked watching Springsteen live videos on youtube about halfway through.

“Adam Raised A Cain” is maybe Springsteen’s heaviest song. It starts off with a fast, overdriven guitar, and goes right into a ripping, pissed off, guitar solo. The tempo picks up a bit in the bridge, and then the chorus hits you hard, with yelling background vocals and squealing lead guitar. The guitar solo comes in later, reminiscent of the intro solo, but with a few unique lines thrown in. At the end they go back into the chorus for a solid minute, and jam on it until the end. Springsteen doesn’t have many songs like this. I wish he did. It’s really fucking good.

“Something in the Night” is a slower tune. It’s not bad, but I find it a little forgettable. If I’m scrolling through Spotify for the car or something, it’s not the tune I’d pick out if I only have a 5 minute drive. I do really like last half though, where the vocals get a little less ballad, and a little rougher, a little louder.

“Candy’s Room” has just not aged well. Something about the piano line, the driving bass, the drums, I’m not sure what. Some of the production on this album is pretty dated, but for some reason more so on this one. Maybe because it’s about a girl named Candy, and nobody’s been born with that name in quite a while (at least not that I know). It just sounds very 1970’s, and not in the good way. It’s a little boring, and the lyrics don’t really do much for me. It has a pretty good guitar solo though, so points for that. Probably my least favorite track.

“Racing In The Street” heads right into a different direction. It starts off with a solo piano, and Springsteen singing about his 69 Chevy. I’m a bit of a classic car lover myself, so I appreciate the references, and only a few people could sing a love song about girls and muscle cars and not make it hokey as shit. It’s definitely not Van Halen’s Panama. How though? A song with this subject matter should be corny and terrible, but it’s really fucking good. It’s pure beautiful Americana. It’s the musical equivalent of having a fire on the beach with your best friends in the summertime. It’s simple, but taking simple stories and making them something relatable to everyone is what Springsteen is the best at. Even if you don’t like cars, anyone can listen to this song and have something in you’re life it could be about.

“The Promised Land” starts off with a midtempo guitar and a matching harmonica. I don’t quite know what the lyrics mean, but you sure as hell want to get to the promised land too. The song slows down in the middle, with a guitar solo, and rips right into a classic Clarence Clemons sax solo. This is probably the “poppiest” song on the album, which is not to say it’s “Dancing In The Dark.” It’s still in full rock and roll territory, but it’s fucking catchy. Another song you need to watch the footage of from the 1980 Arizona show. The album version is good, the live one is perfect.

“Factory” is one of the lesser songs on the album. I honestly usually skip it. It’s just a little too slow after “The Promised Land” and the song after “Factory” is really good. It’s not a bad song, but just a victim of track listing choice. Especially if I’m not listening to the vinyl, in the car or the gym or something, it’s getting skipped. If it’s on the record, I’ll listen, but I’m not that invested. The lyrics aren’t Springsteen’s best, a little too on the nose.

“Streets of Fire” is another slower tune, but a little harder. I doesn’t have that much in common, but it reminds me a lot of “Backstreets” off Born To Run. It starts off pretty mellow, with just an organ (some sort of keyboard, I’m going with organ), but starts to pick up and hits hard when the guitars come in, and then goes right into one of the coolest guitar solo’s on a Springsteen album. The guitar tone is just fuzzy enough, it’s loud, drenched in reverb, and the rest of the band just lays back. It comes out of nowhere. The rest of the song is more of the same and fades out, but that solo makes the song.

“Prove It All Night” is a classic mid tempo Springsteen rock and roll love song. Nothing ground breaking, but it’s still one of the better tracks on the album. In the middle it goes into a sax solo, and then up another level with another great guitar solo. This is definitely the best Springsteen guitar album. The solo’s hit hard, sound mean, but aren’t showy or lame 1970’s rock show off stuff. They serve the songs really well. Something about this song though makes me feel like it would fit better on The River. Another song to check out live footage of. It turns into an extended jam, and is just a little bit quicker. I think if they recorded it with the tempo of the live show, it would have brought it from one of the decent tracks on the album to one of the best. I don’t know why, there’s nothing about this song particularly interesting, but I find myself throwing it on quite a bit.

“Darkness on the Edge of Town” ends the album. It’s a little bit of a middle ground between “Racing In The Street” and “Streets of Fire.” It’s one of Springsteens more critically regarded songs, Rolling Stone rated it the #8th best song by him apparently, but I don’t really see it. It’s good, but even on this album there’s quite a few better songs. It’s okay, it’s a good outro to the album, I can see what they were going for, but it just never really jelled with me that well.

Final thoughts:

Favorite songs: “Adam Raised a Cain,” “Racing In The Street,” “The Promised Land,” “Streets of Fire.” 

Least favorite songs: “Candy’s Room,” “Factory”

[hitinmiss]

Here’s my secret Santa gift that the @dailybnha guys are running!

My gift is for Lawrence (@lord-of-homo) ! Merry late Christmas and a happy New Year!

Ship: Bakushima/Kiribaku

Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki, Shinsou Hitoshi

Additional Stuff: canon universe, canon divergence, coffee shop, some domestic Bakushima, implied Villain AU in here as well ;)

Here ya go!

Kirishima liked working in the coffee shop. He couldn’t quite put a finger on why he loved it but he did. The busy lunch period when workers would rush in for a drink and sandwich before rushing off back to work… the students who make use of the free internet access and the low prices of the coffee to try finish their projects. Even the rare sight of a hero, though trying to keep it on the downlow that they were there.

He met all sorts of characters from the job, ones he knew he would never have met otherwise.

“Back for another coffee already?” Kirishima asked, eyebrow raised as Shinsou returned back to the counter, money in hand.

“Yup. All nighters the past few days to finish the damned paperwork and the agency wants it done tomorrow.”

“Take it you’re not finished yet?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, I’ll make it extra strong.”

“Thanks.” Shinsou replied before yawning. He handed the amount over and once he had his change, stepped to the side. One of Kirishima’s co-workers got to making the coffee while Kirishima returned his attention towards the doorway, awaiting the next customer.

Today was a lot slower than usual, despite it being lunch. Sure it was nice to get slower, more relaxing shifts but sometimes he just needed a little bit of something-

The door slammed open to reveal the sight of Kirishima’s boyfriend. Kirishima’s face brightened from seeing Bakugou storm up to the counter.

He looks exhausted. He could almost give Shinsou a run for his money.

“Hey Katsuki! What can I get for you today babe?”

“…the fucking strongest coffee you got.”

“Wow, two people in a row wanting strong-ass coffee. Hero work must be really tough right now, huh?”

“It’s fucking rough. Fucking agency increasing the workload with lots of shitty work even though it’s almost my holiday. Fucking villain alliance pains in the fucking ass don’t know just to fucking stop.”

“Yikes, that does sound awful. I’ll get you your coffee Katsuki. Takeout?”

“Thanks.”

Kirishima took the coins from Bakugou, touch lingering with a smile before putting them in the till. One of his other co-workers got to making Bakugou’s coffee.

“Jeez it’s fucking quiet in here today.”

“I know right? I’m glad you came, I needed something good to happen.”

“Glad to know I’m the best part of your day.” Bakugou grinned cockily, leaning closer over the counter.

“Definitely.” Kirishima replied, going in closer.

“Ahem.” One of his coworkers cleared their throat and Kirishima remembered he was still at work.

“Tell me all about it when you get home tonight Katsuki.”

“I will, though most of it would bore the fuck outta you.”

“Doubtful.”

Bakugou snorted and stepped to the side, showing someone standing behind him.

“What can I get you today miss?”

—

Kirishima’s shift ended, him stepping out of the way of his coworkers, heading through the back to get changed out of his uniform. Eventually, he returned through the front, almost colliding with Shinsou who was leaving the shop, takeaway cup in one hand, bag with his belongings over the opposite shoulder.

“Finally finished huh?” Kirishima asked, going beside Shinsou.

“Finally. Maybe I can get an actual night’s sleep… but that’s doubtful ��cause Midoriya invited me to his place tonight.”

“Ah I’m sure you’ll have fun nonetheless, even if you conk out midway through.”

With a tired laugh, Shinsou parted with Kirishima towards his destination, leaving Kirishima alone on the sidewalk. He should probably head to his and Bakugou’s apartment, give it a little tidy up, considering Bakugou had hardly been there the past few days…

There were some things that Kirishima needed to get out of his boyfriend’s sight. He couldn’t imagine the fallout that would happen if he spotted any of it.

He quickened his step, heading towards the apartment with new found motivation, slamming open the door once he got there.

“Did I really leave most of it lying out?” He asked himself, spying the equipment laying around the floor space. He quickly got to work, scooping it up and moving it to his ‘safe spot’, dumping it in there as quickly as he could.

Maybe he spent a while tidying or maybe it was later than he expected when he got home but just as he put away the final item, Bakugou slammed the front door open.

“I’m home.”

“Welcome home Katsuki.” Kirishima called, going back through the apartment to the door to greet his boyfriend with a hug. “You ok?”

“Better now that I can finally sit down without fucking paperwork and case files in front of me.”

“That bad?”

Bakugou nodded, collapsing onto the couch and groaning.

“Wanna speak about it?”

“Same fucking thing as usual. The League of Villain dickweeds cause another incident, we chase ‘em, they get away just as we almost fucking catch them.”

“That sounds… rough.” Kirishima replied, wincing, remembering some of the incidents. He felt sorry for his boyfriend, knowing he had been a hair’s breadth away from catching one of them before they slipped through Kurogiri’s mist.

“Fucking tell me about it.”

“Wanna watch some movies or something?”

“Need food.”

“Alright, let’s cook something together.”

“Ughhhhhhh I’m too fucking tired for that shit.”

“You’re not going to be a good hero if you don’t eat Katsuki.”

“Don’t fucking mother me Ei.”

“I will mother you until you help me cook.”

“Fucking fine.” He growled, standing up and trudging over to the kitchen area, looking to see what they had. “There is like nothing in here. Have you been eating at all the past few days?”

“Looks like the mother gets mothered back.” Kirishima laughed before walking over to beside his boyfriend. “I did eat, just… lots of takeouts.”

“You know that shit’s bad for you.”

“Fine fine. There is still some noodles leftover, if we find stuff in the fridge we can have ramen or something.”

“Fine, that’ll fucking do.”

Kirishima started to dig out the needed ingredients, having more than he expected but…

“We definitely need to go out grocery shopping at some point.”

“Plan that tomorrow. Too hungry and tired at the minute.”

Kirishima chuckled before getting on with cooking, Bakugou assisting where he was needed…

Which was almost constantly because Kirishima struggled to cook. Partially the reason he ordered so many takeouts… partially.

“How shitty are you at cooking?” Bakugou asked at one point.

“You haven’t already guessed that?”

“I knew you were terrible but this is actually impressive how bad you are at this shit.”

“Wow thanks.” Kirishima responded sarcastically, lightly punching Bakugou in the shoulder. “Are you going to take over or?”

“Yeah, actually get a half decent meal outta this shit.” Bakugou replied, bumping Kirishima out of the way and took over cooking, leaving Kirishima to go to the couches and fix some of the cushions so they could sit more comfortably.

“Done, pour drinks or somethin’.” Bakugou shouted, calling Kirishima over to the kitchen to see the plates of food, stomach rumbling.

“Looks good, as always babe.”

Kirishima quickly poured a drink for them, probably something fizzy -he hardly looked at the bottle before pouring it- , and scooped up the plate, almost sliding towards the couch, dropping into his usual spot and eagerly eating the food, Bakugou sitting down beside him.

The TV got turned on and some old movie was playing, not that they minded, the slight background noise nice as they ate.

Bakugou yawned once he finished his plate, getting ready to stand and put it away.

“I’ve got this, i’ll clean up. You can start to chill if you want.”

“Sure, what fucking ever.” He said, handing his plate to Kirishima who scooted away to the kitchen with the plates and glasses, washing them in the sink as quietly as he could to try help Bakugou get a little rest.

Once he was done, he returned to the couch to see Bakugou dosing, eyes drooping. He softly slid back into his spot, laying his head onto Bakugou’s shoulder, hearing Bakugou slowly slip deeper into sleep, soft snores coming from his boyfriend. Kirishima continued to watch the tv, or as best as he could, feeling his eyes start to lower-

*ting*

With a silent groan, Kirishima moved his body slightly to grab his phone on the table, lowering the brightness before reading the notification displayed on the lock screen.

Dabi: are you coming in or what? He’s pissed

He rolled his eyes. His other job could wait. He needed to catch up on spending time with his busy boyfriend, especially since he was a fully fledged hero now.

“The fuck was that?” Bakugou grumbled, tiredness evident in his voice.

“Coworker asking about going out tonight.”

"You going?”

“Nah, need to spend some quality time with the love of my life, my hero.”

“Still don’t fucking know why you never joined up at a hero course Eijirou. Your quirk would be strong as fuck for it.”

“Uh… I don’t know. Don’t think too hard on it, just go sleep again Babe.”

“Sure, whatever.”

Bakugou returned to trying to sleep while Kirishima quickly typed out a reply before putting his phone away, silencing it so he wouldn’t be interrupted.

He glanced back at Bakugou’s sleeping face, peaceful, devoid of the stress of his work… which Kirishima wasn’t really helping with considering his second job was kind of causing the stress Bakugou was facing. But who cares about the details?

Kirishima: not tonight

For tonight Kirishima could forget about what technically caused their forbidden relationship, even if Bakugou didn’t know it.

Tonight they weren’t Hero and Villain.

Tonight they were Bakugou and Kirishima.

That’s all that mattered.

[anexperimentaldisaster-blog]

Daydreaming is for bitches.

There’s some clarity that always comes with these things. Its like my own personal therapy; me, giving myself advice, because God knows no one else will. I’m in a weird space. You, completely faithful reader, happen to know that I’m always in a weird space when I write this shit, but this one in particular is odd. Not because I’m going to write some sort of mind blowing content, but because I feel like I’m a caterpillar stuck in a chrysalis. Not just stuck, however. Suffocating. I feel like the characters from Star Wars trapped in the trash compactor. The walls are closing in and there isn’t the slightest chance of escape. But I’m not sad, not this time. That suffocation reminds me that I’m fucking alive. That I need to breathe, because if I don’t? Well, lets just say I don’t get a second life. The tree in my front yard has leaves in the process of changing color. Green to purple. I find I relate to it. Without a choice its stuck in this transitional space it can’t break free from. Maybe that tree fucking hates the color purple. Weirder things have happened. I’m wearing a jean dress with jean shorts and wishing I could be at the outdoor swim pool with my family. Nothing is better than tossing a beach ball around in the sunlight, summer tunes in the background making me feel all right. You don’t get it, you wouldn’t know. You aren’t me. Nonexistent readers, you may see a connection between me and yourself, but its all in your imagination. My world is a brand new color, never before seen, or the concept of infinity, or the absence of your consciousness. Your brain is unable to comprehend it. I’m stuck in a box, just like you’re stuck in a box, and there’s no way out. I know there’s a fucking word for it, I can just never remember what it is. Give it a google if you have enough fucks to waste.

But I’m not here to lecture you. I’m here to put bullshit smart words on an internet blog and watch as no one reads it. Really helps to validate my sense of self. And yes, this is me being mad at you. Me. Being. Furious. You don’t exist; yet I still feel the need to call someone out for this fuckery. It’s alright, it won’t happen again. I’ve been working on putting my crazy on a leash, you know. It hurts the people around me, it really does. My crazy is a rabid lion, tearing through everyone around me with big, angry claws. Or maybe its better compared as a storm. It comes in, blows away all my dreams and hopes and desires, leaving me empty. My dreams go off to Oz and I get left behind in Kansas. And unlike Dorothy, they don’t come back. I’m trying to be better. I want to improve. I gave a friend some advice that ended up being the best advice I’ve ever heard. Self esteem isn’t about just forgiving yourself whenever you fuck up. It’s about making yourself into someone worth your own love, and realizing when you’re being fucking stupid. I’m not normally about advice. People keep telling me to get help, they say I’m full of bullshit because I don’t wanna be happy. I have no fucking desire to wake up with a smile on my face everyday. Not only because that happiness is a lie, but because depression is the only thing that makes me feel real. Its a certain form of clarity. I’ve never cut myself, but I imagine its the same way. Carving yourself open, feeling that pain, it gives you a sense of reality that feels more real than any drug could ever give you. I wish it wasn’t true. I wish there was some sort of substance that could make me feel sharp. I wanna feel like the edge of a blade, I wanna be able to make sharp little notches in everything I touch. Right now I’m not even a butter knife; I’m a spoon. I touch no one, I do nothing, I just hide in my hole and try to keep breathing. It gets harder every fucking day but I persevere. Its about the one thing I do right in this god forsaken world.

[meghanmcguire]

the Meghan Ban

Last week, I got banned from Facebook. OK, I’m being dramatic. It was only for 24 hours. I could still see everything on Facebook, but I couldn’t post or comment or like or send messages. It was like a fancy piece of art. I could look, but I couldn’t touch. Except instead of being a work of art, it was a Russian Propaganda Machine Website that runs rampant with trolls and nazis. But, really, what’s the difference between that and Van Gogh’s “A Starry Night”?

It all started with a post. One of those fun posts that Facebook does where you can put it on a colorful background. So you can say anything and have it look beautiful. The post read in its entirety: “Stop being surprised that men are garbage, and start taking out the trash.” This is, of course, a play on words, and I do not advocate throwing anyone in dumpsters. This is not an episode of Glee circa 2009. I posted this in the midst of the neverending tsunami of accusations and allegations against many powerful men from Hollywood to Washington to the goddamn Public Broadcasting Company. Every time more allegations surfaced against another man, especially a man that we had admired, we spent so much time being like “ET TU, FRANKEN????” when we need to talk about dismantling the structures that allow these men to take power, do shitty things, and then remain in power without any repercussions for their actions. That’s the trash I want to take out.

After some likes and comments, the post was taken down by Facebook for “violating community guidelines.” I screenshotted the notification of my post being removed and then posted the screenshot on Facebook. Tempting fate, perhaps. But, to be honest, I thought it was bullshit that my post was taken down. Sure, the post may have offended some, but I have see much worse remain on Facebook.

Following my posting of this screenshot, I fielded many comments.

“That’s a little bit sexist.”

“Surely, Meghan, not ALL men are garbage. You have a father and two brothers. They cannot be garbage!”

“A little bit over the top.”

This screenshot of the post was then reported and removed 24 hours later. Since it was my second violation, I was put on probation. After the second post was removed, the brothers whom I had so egregiously offended (according to others’ input) reposted my post.

From there, my post was deemed:

“OK when a man says it.”

“Something something hate speech something something.”

And I just sat there and watched as people continued to discuss the merits and pitfalls of this joke I had made. Had I gone too far? Is it my responsibility to apologize and clarify my words to the couple of people whom this post had offended? Was I too harsh? And on and on. My friends and family and that troll I did a play with in high school continued to talk.

I had lost the ability to speak for myself. My voice was totally removed from the conversation that I had started. And yet, I knew of people on Facebook and Twitter who had reported posts from white supremacy groups that had not been taken down. I knew that over and over again, women have reported rape threats and death threats for merely speaking their minds, and Twitter and Facebook have done nothing. And yet my post about men being garbage could not live on. The army of trolls that lay siege to women’s voices on the internet stays intact, but - DON’T WORRY - no one will ever see my “sexist” post ever again.

Yes, I’m frustrated that my post was taken down. But it wasn’t just about a stupid post. Perhaps it made some blanket statements about Men, but I wasn’t attacking men. I was attacking a system that continues to hold up abusive men and apologize for them, while actively silencing women’s voices and stories. I’m not even mad about the comments storm. I’m mad that I was excluded. That my joke in the words of a man were OK. That other people were able to continue to speak on the subject and chastise me publicly, while I couldn’t even like a fucking cover photo, let alone speak for myself.

And that’s why I left Facebook.

JK JK. I’m still on the garbage-fire of a website. I was ready to throw in the virtual towel, but here’s the thing: I am in the midst of releasing a web series on which I have worked really hard. And Facebook is my primary source of promotion. And so often, that’s what it means to be a woman in comedy, or any other industry for that matter: to continue to support the institutions that silence or undervalue your voice in hopes that maybe someone will still hear you. We have to keep eating shit in hopes that someday someone will finally give us an actual chocolate cake.

And, look, I know that having my Facebook post taken down is not the worst thing that’s ever happened. In the grand scheme of things, it means very little. But also, it reminds that to have people hear my voice, I need to use my voice, and keep using my voice. And God forbid if that gets me kicked off Facebook and gives me back free time I haven’t had for the 10 years I’ve been on that godforsaken website. Until that inevitability, no matter who might try to report me, I’m not gonna shut up.

SOME men OFTEN dispaly garbage-LIKE tendencies. But that just doesn’t have the same oomph, does it?