bakerstreet | Calm You Down

Calm You Down

The Calm You Down Smut Meme

You're about to go off the rails. No, no "about," actually. You've left that train track fair behind, and you're crazy. Rage fills every inch of you, and there's no doubt you're about to do something dangerous, stupid, or reckless. Or all three. There's only one person who can calm you down: your lover. They have tried everything they know to get those thoughts from your heard. Everything except for this...

Now, they're using physical intimacy to remind you what really matters, which is the two of you. Surely, this will bring you back, letting the anger ebb out and you'll be able to think straight again, even if your lover was the actual cause of all this mess.

Won't it? Surely you won't direct your wrath towards them, no matter what.

Comment with your character, your canon, your preferences, and which side you'd like to play (the calming one or the one who needs calming).
Reply to others.
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[Can be calmee or calmer!]

[Want to try a switch from the usual and have it be Anders calming Hawke down?]

[Sure!]

Hawke was in a towering rage.

This wasn't something often seen. She was too controlled and had too much of a sense of humor most of the time; insults were met with a raised eyebrow and a sardonic remark, idiocy with rolled eyes and...well, more sardonic remarks. Most things inspired sardonic remarks from Hawke, frankly.

But even Hawke had limits. Bad enough that the Carta had broken into her house in the night and attacked. Her house, the first place she'd ever lived in that was safe, not that she needed to fear Templar invasion anymore with Bethany already in the Circle and Anders protected by her title. That was annoying, but she could have coped. No one had been hurt, after all. (and what had Sandal done to that one dwarf, and how? She wasn't sure she wanted to know)

But they'd also broken into the Circle and gone after Bethany. And when Hawke had discovered that, she'd started making plans to wage a one-woman war against the entire Carta, on her own if need be. She'd drag as many of her friends as she could along with her to help, but if it was Hawke alone vs every single miscreant who'd dared to threaten her sister, she'd be just fine with cutting them down one at a time. Aveline would be out of a job because there'd be no criminals left in Kirkwall.

Varric and Anders combined had managed to talk her out of that plan (for now), and Varric had promised to find out what was going on. But she was still pacing back and forth, alternately cursing and describing in vivid detail what she was going to do to the bastards when she caught up with them. Most of her ideas were physically impossible; all of them were very messy. She didn't show any signs of calming down, especially not when she snarled, pulled out one of her smaller knives, and launched it into the opposite wall. It was very clear that the slightst provocation would send her down into Darktown with daggers drawn.

Edited 2015-03-23 15:23 (UTC)

Just watching Hawke was enough to make him feel exhausted, in all honesty. Yes, he'd been livid when he'd realised what had happened, flaring up blue and ready to go hunt down the Carta himself, but the realisation that Hawke was just as ready to do so had made him stop, regather and think. They couldn't charge in blindly - that was how people got killed and he'd be damned if he let her die on his watch.

That being said, a knife being embedded in the wall startlingly close to his head is cause for concern.

He glances at the still quivering blade with raised brows, then turns to the woman with clear concern in his face, carefully moving closer. "Hawke, you're doing no one any good in this state."

"That's the idea," Hawke says pointedly. How else can you say things when you're holding very sharp daggers? She hadn't been aiming for Anders, of course; he just happened to be near the target she had up on the wall. Still, best to find a different target. Her next knife goes into the dresser, in the center of one of the diamond-shaped decorations on the edge. "I'm going to do very, very not good things, just as soon as Varric comes back and tells me who to do them to. Also very messy and deadly things."

Another diamond, another dagger. She scowls, regretting her promise to wait. Normally Hawke is an excellent tactician--it's one of the reasons she's stayed alive despite any number of people and things attempting to make her dead--and wouldn't even consider just charging in, not unless there was no choice or there was some strategic advantage to it. And under her fury, she knows just how bad an idea it would be. It's just hard to care. In theory all this blustering and pacing and throwing things should be letting her blow off steam, but it doesn't seem to be working that way. She's not a whit less angry than she was.

Anders waits until all the daggers (at least the ones he can see) are embedded in the dresser before approaching the furious woman. His hands are gentle on her shoulders as he tilts his head to one side, staring down at her with barely-masked concern. "Did that make you feel any better?" he asks with a slight teasing note in his voice, because he knows it didn't but he has to ask anyway. "Bodhan's going to have a fit when he sees the marks."

"No, he won't," Hawke answers, still looking at the dresser rather than at Anders, for all that he's standing right in front of her. She's out of throwing daggers. She has a few others strapped here and there, but they're more unwieldy and better suited to other methods of fighting. And she's not accomplishing much by destroying her own furniture. That's the problem. Right now, she can't accomplish anything, much less the mayhem and retribution she so fervently wants. "Bodahn never has a fit about anything, he's far too polite." She makes a face, and there's a little chagrin in it. "Orana's the one who'll be upset about the damage. I'll have to remember to apologize to her."

She doesn't meet Anders' gaze. She knows he's worried, and not without reason; she's never lost her temper like this, ever. It must be unnerving. Usually the situation is reversed, and she's the one using wit and practicality and concern to calm him down. It's strange to be on the other side of things. She's almost shaking with rage, and part of her wants to bat his hands off and go back to pacing. She doesn't, because he deserves better.

"And then Orana will be disturbed that you're apologising to her since she's still not used to being treated with kindness," he points out drily, teasing to try to lighten her mood just a tiny bit. A hand shifts to stroke back some of her black hair, thumb smoothing over the high arch of her cheekbone. "See how you throwing things disrupts everything?"

Normally, that would earn a bit of a smile, or she'd close her eyes to concentrate on the caress; she loves the touch of Anders' hands. But she feels itchy with inaction, anger running like venom through her blood, and staying still is about the best she can manage. "Tell me I'm overreacting and then you'll see me throw things," she retorts.

It's meant to come out more humorous than it does. She sighs and steps away, running a hand back through her hair, which sticks up a bit afterwards. "Sorry. I shouldn't take this out on you. Or the furniture." She glances ruefully at the dresser. She really will have to apologize to Orana, who really won't know how to cope with that. "I just hate this..." She looks for a word, struggles, growls, and finally shrugs. "This."

Having to wait. Knowing her sister was threatened and she wasn't there, just as she wasn't there for their mother. Underneath the anger is fear, mixed with a different, sharper anger directed at herself. She failed her brother and parents. She failed to keep Bethany out of the Circle. She can't fail Bethany again. Much easier to concentrate on killing Carta lowlifes than to think about what a close call it was, and the fact that she wasn't there when it happened.

"I can see that," he answers wryly, reaching up to smooth down her hair, leaning in to gently press his lips to her brow. Then he's dropping another kiss to the corner of her eye, her cheek and finally pausing by her ear, murmuring quietly, "You need to calm down. Bethany is safe for now, as are you. Varric will find someone for you to kill, and it'll all be sunshine and kittens in no time."

He's right, and she knows it, even if she doesn't like it. She lets out a long, controlled breath as he places light kisses on her face, then leans towards him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. Her body is still as tense as a taut bowstring, but it's at least an attempt. "Are you offering to distract me?"

"Yes, but obviously only if you want me to." He shrugs and puts a hand to her nape, staff-calloused fingers lightly rubbing circles over her skin as he kisses just to one side of her lips. "Otherwise we could take a quick trip through Darktown. I'm sure someone would eventually volunteer to become your pincushion in exchange for taking a swing at us."

"You shouldn't tempt me like that." A small but genuine smile quirks at her mouth, and she relaxes minutely, leaning that much more into the half-embrace. The irony of saying he shouldn't tempt her with a trip to Darktown isn't lost on her, especially with the implication that it might be preferable to sex. There's a situation that doesn't arise every day, and she has the wit to see the dark humor of it even now. She turns her head to nuzzle his cheek with her nose. "The goal was to keep me away from Darktown and the Carta, after all. The idea of playing bait and seeing what rats come out to bite is exactly what I had in mind to begin with." If they'd attacked her here at her home, they'd be even more eager to attack her on their own turf, and she'd be just as happy to take them all on there. Happier.

She feels her shoulders tense again, and grimaces, trying to force her mind back to here and now. "Are you sure you want to seduce a woman who just threw a knife at your head? That's a little masochistic, wouldn't you say?" The arm wrapped around his waist holds him hard for a brief moment, by way of apology.

[Can be both!]

(ooc: either she's keeping him from rushing off to do something stupid or she uses him to let off steam?)

[ ooc: honestly both work, although i'd be inclined more towards letting off steam? ]

(ooc: that works!)

It was rare when things went as planned, so it was no surprise when things went south this time. The Iron Man had told everyone to hold tight, which meant everyone handling the situation was pulled from action. Thor, who had come to find if he was needed, found that he wasn't just yet and so he stayed idle while others dealt with the problem.

Captain America was in the wind and leadership was still unresponsive. It wasn't like anyone could reach Fury, even those few who knew Fury still lived.

So when Natasha returned, Thor was just sitting on one of Stark's couches. He was dressed in plain clothes though his hammer was not at his side but was within calling should the battle be met. With just jeans, work boots and a rough but too well fitting shirt, he looked more like a construction worker off duty than a warrior.

He sounded curious though unconcerned, as he was very much in the dark of this situation. "Were there complications?"

It'd been one hell of a week, she could say that much. Becoming SHIELD's most wanted with Captain America, being shot at and stabbed by people she had passed in the hall every day... and then dismantling SHIELD entirely and exposing all of their (and her own) dirty secrets. She could hear Stark's I told you so coming.

Well, she could hear it now. Then, she'd just been concerned with surviving - keeping on the move, the way she'd been taught. The revelation of who the Winter Soldier really was - of another of America's heroes brought back to life, but this time as their enemy - was sort of ironic, in a sense.

She felt bad for Steve. No one deserved to tangle with a mess like Hydra more than once in their lives. She was lucky Stark was so forgiving with his rooms. Granted, she had snuck in at first, but he'd promised, backwardly, to cover for her as long as he could. He underestimated how well she could blend in.

Thor was... a surprise, and yet somehow not. She kind of wishes he'd been around to bash some heads in, but it was probably better in the long run that he wasn't.

Her hair was already cut, and she paused, seeing Thor. Her secretive nature didn't lead her to admitting things often. Even if it would be public news soon, she didn't want to spread the information.

"You could say that," she settles on finally, stepping forward to the couch, leaning one hip against it. "Although my first question is, how long have you been crashing on Stark's couch?"

How much did he know already, was the real question.

Edited (rephrased for great justice) 2015-03-22 22:48 (UTC)

He seems pretty relaxed considering all that is going down, which means he's either far too arrogant to let such petty things bother him or he truly knows little. He watches her a moment as she asks and responds in turn, "I have a bed it seems, though I came to this tower two nights ago when I saw Captain America on the news. I asked to assist and was told to wait. I know little of the trials going on outside these walls but I assume they are not so severe as I am still waiting."

Not so severe. So he probably hasn't turned on the TV here. Someone should get this man a cell phone sometime. He has food and drink and it's a plush setting to relax in. Thor could only assume things are fine as they didn't call him in as back up. If they don't need him then Captain America, Natasha and the rest must have had it under control.

So instead Thor gets to grow bored and wait for news. Natasha is the closet thing to a sign of what's been going on. Stark has either forgotten the Asgardian or hopes to keep him truly contained for the moment.

Thor doesn't know much of anything. That's hard, Natasha knows - she could lie to him, tell him everything's fine, but that would be another lie she doesn't feel like telling. She doesn't want to talk about what happened yet, though. That Steve was in the air looking for the Winter Soldier, probably with Sam; that Fury wouldn't be seen again until he wanted to be, that she could very well get pulled up for crimes against the state.

She will tell him. She figures he deserves that much - but for now, she gives a small sigh.

"It's a long story, Thor. I'll definitely tell you about it, but it's gonna be longer than a five minute tale. A lot of things changed while you were gone." She folds her arms. "So I kind of want to relax, since nothing's in danger of blowing up anymore."

[Calmee!]

(definitely the one who needs to be calmed down!)

[Either, but prefer her needing to be calmed. Beware of slowtagging though due to RL complications]

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Calm You Down

Anders | Dragon Age | ota

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If you want to switch to action tags, let me know, happy with either. Set at the start of Legacy.

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btw, that is the best username

thanks :3

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Terra Branford | FF6 | M/F

Jarvis | Marvel MCU | Closed

natasha romanoff | mcu | ota

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steve rogers | mcu | ota

Darcy Lewis | MCU | OTA | F/M

Ares | Hercules/Xena | M/f

Hawke | DA2/DAI | M/F