its a baton

These two made quite the team in my playthrough! 

7

The Superlatively Superfluous Adventures of Legolas (and Tauriel)

Dateline: Gundabad (19/25)

Marrying the Violence

I have taken the blueprint of your back for granted 
as if the sidewalk were not an altar
and the sound of the shower not a hurricane
bearing down – there is no ceremony for this.
the night goes on in spite of the rain, much
like the mail. make me a bullet of a mouth,
sex love and money on the radio. not a bullet,
a gun. not a gun, a harbor. to hold you, against
this, against the night with its sirens and batons,
I fly down the block to you and the lights, in
harm’s way, all sixteen muscles of my tongue
pulled, meat for the men who don’t love you.
my love, ink is fool’s armor. your good luck
works on no one in uniform. if it’s true
that bone is harder than steel, make me
a building, a garden of calcium
and mineral in bloom, deadbolt
of a spine, you coming home whole,
the apartment of my head on your bulletless
chest / each time the cry of fight goes up
on the street I remember your hand, the man
rocking back on his heels, his mouth
a sidelong oval shocked into quiet
at last, his pale hand torn from your forearm –
love, lay your burden down, here, tell me how
to make this body a safehouse and not
a prison, how hold your hand when its every lifting
is an act of self-defense, how take the knife from you
and not call it murder, or surrender – the cabdriver,
the cop, the woman gripping her purse
on the L train conspire – you are already
a weapon. I am no building, no shield,
less than cotton between the violent night
and your skin, less than teeth
ground down to bonedust
small, white as I am.

— Marty McConnell

6

The Superlatively Superfluous Adventures of Legolas (&Tauriel)

Dateline: Laketown refugee camp (39/40)

Polywag and an Eevee pop up outside of my apartment at 10pm.  So I go out in the parking lot, why not.  Keeping an eye on any cars, there’s some yellow flashing lights at the far end of the lot.  Figure it’s a tow truck.  It starts coming toward where I’m at, then does a slow loop of the parking lot.  I realize it’s a police car (we have a few cops in residence doing security).  He pulls up alongside me and I realize just how weird it looks to just be wandering aimlessly around a parking lot at 10pm.  So, kinda nervous.  He rolls down his window.

“You catchin’ Pokemon?”

katsuraa  asked:

clizzy + “This horrible umbrella won’t extend! Oh shit I just hit you in the stomach/crotch! I’m so sorry!”

It’s an onslaught as Clary is pushed off the train by impatient passengers. Like having to stand on the over crowded train with wet hair because her hairdryer decide to break that morning wasn’t bad enough. Now the thick dark grey clouds have unleashed their vertical downpour. Clary digs out her umbrella, a cheap neon pink small one, and struggles with the sharp clip that keeps it in its baton like shape.

“Come on…Come on…” She mutters to herself, shaking the glaringly pink stick in her hand as she’s pushed around the moving crowd like a human pin ball. “Come ON.”

She yells, already at the end of her rope before nine. “Stupid, piece of -”

Clary waves the stubborn umbrella stick up and down hoping to dislodge it. She’s soaked through now and would be better served getting to work on time but screw it, it’s the principal of the thing. She will not be beaten by Walmart’s cheap design.

“Urgh!”

With one last frustrated downswing that would make Darth Vader proud, the baton extends into a long stick of steel and pink…and with all the force of the Dark Side, low blows a beautiful businesswoman in the crotch. The woman doubles over and Clary squeaks in shock. Oh god she’s going to wind up sued for assault on the worst Monday of her life.

A tall man is already helping her stand upright again, sending Clary the dirtiest of looks as he pets the woman’s arm and holds her hand.

“Oh f- I am so sorry!” Clary says already reaching out but the woman is chuckling and brushing herself off.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” She says leveling Clary with a bright smile that drys Clary’s throat in an instant. She’s stunning, long dark wavy hair, tanned skin, sparkling eyes and a skin tight black dress under a blazer with matching heels that are so high and thin it’s a wonder they haven’t snapped and cost the goddess an ER visit. Clary’s pretty sure she’s still at home, hitting the snooze button because the woman before has just stepped out of Clary’s dreams onto a mould ridden train platform.

But her tall friend is still holding her hand and Clary’s dreams sink, plus if the look the beautiful woman’s tall boyfriend is giving Clary is anything to go by, then Clary should have updated her last will and testament. He looks like he’s attempting to set fire to her with sheer force of will.

“I am so, so sorry.” Clary reiterates. “My stupid umbrella just wasn’t working and I really didn’t mean-”

“Really, it’s fine.” She waves it off. She looks Clary up and down with a glint in her eyes. “Buuutttt if you feel so bad about it, why not buy me a coffee?”

Clary’s mouth drops open and her gaze shifts to the very tall angry boyfriend who is rolling his eyes. Clary can feel her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find the words.

“I’m Izzy and this is my brother.” Izzy introduces herself, she holds her hand out and Clary reaches for it on automatic. Izzy twists Clary’s hand in her’s and ducks to drop a lingering kiss on Clary’s knuckles.

Clary feels a bit like a boiling kettle. “Uh, Clary and I’d be delighted to buy you a coffee.”

maggiescwyer  asked:

captain canary: "careful, someone might think that you actually care" "i do."

(I apologize in advance)

“And that’s your weakness,” Leonard sneered and fired his cold gun at her again.

Sara barely dodged the blasts, feeling the icy cold brush past her. She tried to throw one of her knives, but he held up his gun in time and knocked it aside. It clattered to the ground as he shot at her again. This time, her staff took the brunt close to her left hand, making the metal chill in her hands. It was hard to get a grip on the staff now with the cold piercing her hands, so Sara split it into its separate batons. The one side that was frozen was useless, but she could still fight with one.

The look in his eyes told her he knew what she was going to do next as he shoved his gun in his thigh holster. They seemed so cold and empty. He seemed more cold and now. There was no light, no recognition.

As she charged toward him and started to fight, she could feel her bloodlust threatening to rise up. It urged her to go to the extreme, to give in and kill. But she pushed it down as she fought the man she loved. He was matching well against her, going blow for blow or dodging her punches. Merlyn must have taught him some tricks.

When she had a knife pressed against his throat, his eyes met hers. She stared back at him, unable to let herself add more pressure to drive the knife in. His eyes narrowed just as a intense freezing pain shot through her legs. It hurt like hell and Sara couldn’t help but shout out . She glanced down and saw ice encasing her up to her knees. When she looked up, she found herself getting shoved back roughly. Gravity took over then, pulling her to the floor.

Sara reached toward her hip to grab a knife before the muzzle of the cold gun pressed against her hand. Leonard was staring down at her. He looked determined to pull the trigger. 

“Leonard,” she groaned through the blood that had dripped from her nose into her mouth. “Don’t do it.”

“How do you know my name?” he snarled.

“Because you know me,” Sara said. “And I know you. And there’s me and you.”

For the first time since she had found out he was alive, something flickered in Leonard’s eyes.

Recognition.

The gun slipped away from her hand, and he stepped back. Leonard seemed confused now. 

Before she could say anything else, a yellow blur sped into the room and disappeared with Leonard in a flash of red lightning.

Prompt-a-thon