i'm a hurricane

Name's Astrid Moreau. 28 years old, living in Tilden, Maine. And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones. 'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.

[msastridmoreau-blog]

baelandbrimstone:

“Good plan. Though it’s pretty much gone to shit already, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah, well, it can always get worse.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

zed-the-guardian:

“You know what they say about making assumptions.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never really minded making an ass of myself.”

[kjerstin-eklund-blog]

Strangers

[msastridmoreau-blog]

kjerstin-eklund:

— Open

Kjerstin was just a constant mess of drinking these past few days. Just drinking.  It was just her only coping mechanism, not that it was nearly the best one. All she wanted to do was forget about the shit that was going on. For the most part, it worked. She got to dive into stranger’s beds, sleeping with them in exchange for a place to stay for the night. She couldn’t face Grace yet, especially because she probably put the poor girl through so much stress with the police force showing up.

She offered a drink, grinning. “Hey, hun. I know, I’m a total stranger, but this is such a great drink. You’re gonna love it.”

Even though the world seemed to be ending around her, not much had changed for Astrid. It wasn’t like she’d had much before the apparent apocalypse; she had no family, very few friends, and nothing outside Tilden at all. The situation could be better, sure, but she’d survive. She was good at that.

Hearing the person next to her address her, Astrid turned to look. She recognized Kjerstin from her movies, and raised a brow at the offer. “If there’s alcohol in it, I’m already sold,” she said with a little smile, taking the drink. She took a sip and nodded. “Not bad.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

baelandbrimstone:

“So much better than a Boy Scout, for both of those reasons. Why are you so prepared?”

“Damn fucking right. And when the world goes to shit, it goes fast. I’m not getting caught by surprise.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

zed-the-guardian:

“Well, that’s okay.”

“...What do you need help with, anyways? You look pretty fucking capable.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

zed-the-guardian:

“Sorry, I’m really busy.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

guardianspike:

“I think she thinks it’s a British thing. I’m not going to fucking correct her, now am I?” He laughed. “Shame, it’d suit you.” He could see Jorge wandering into Astrid’s hospital room. He could also, weirdly, see Roza and Alli in combat. Alli would just insist that everyone stop, sit down, drink cocoa, and discuss how they’d gotten there. The idea amused him. “He’s hard to let go of, I’ll admit.” Not exactly what she’d said, but the closest he’d ever get to saying anything too replete with feelings about Jorge or Sam or Raz. “It’s better when it’s a group of us, but the other angels aren’t really allowed to hurt demons. Poor fucking sods. I get to but only on a technicality. Raz could too, but I doubt he would, he’s not the fighting type. More the type to tell them about the beauty of fucking nature and why they shouldn’t spoil it.” He shook his head, amused. “Kicking demon arse is a blast. Until there are more of them than there are of you. They’re nasty fucking buggers. Had one take a bite out of my shoulder once during the fucking siege of Malta. Made him choke on it, of course, eventually. Still, fucking hurt.”

“Man, it’s probably too late for me to fake a fucking British accent so I can get away with that shit, isn’t it? Should have fucking planned ahead.” She flashed him a quick grin. “Have you seen me? Everything suits me. I could pull off a fucking trucker cap and overalls and make it look hot.” It was obvious that Spike felt for Jorge, too. That was hardly surprising, Astrid thought. Jorge had that effect on people. People liked him, just naturally. She’d always wondered how he did that, but never cared enough to ask. Astrid didn’t really give a shit if people liked her or not. “He’s a good guy. You’ve got pretty good taste. ‘Course, historically, Superman’s taste is kind of shitty, so let’s hope you’re the exception to that rule.” Jorge tended to do okay with fuck buddies and one night stands, but something told her Spike was probably a little more than that, and the biggest relationship Jorge had had was Kelly. If this ended anything like that had, Astrid was going to have to find a way to kill an angel, and that was honestly more work than she’d like. She’d do it, of course, for Jorge, but it’d be a chore. “Shit, why can’t they? That’s fucking bullshit. Not like the demons are following that rule.” It seemed stupid, but then, things like that always did. Not fighting when you had the ability to wasn’t something Astrid understood. “Yeah, that’s most fights, I think. I mean, it’s probably easy to kick a bunch of humans’ asses when there are more of them than you than it is demons’, but being outnumbered is never fun.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

leklonthecurious:

“Brand has formaldehyde. I think that’s expensive. Or would you prefer something less poisonous?”

“Yeah, not poisonous would be a fucking plus. I was thinking more along the lines of whiskey.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

leklonthecurious:

“The satisfaction of helping me right a terrible wrong? Is there something in particular you’d like?”

“Nah, not really interested in the whole ‘righting wrongs, justice for all’ bullshit.”

“Make it a big bottle of something alcoholic and expensive and you’ve got a deal.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

leklonthecurious:

“Excellent. I too wish to have this talent.”

“I am Leklon, Jorge gave me your name, and I wish to hurt the person who’s been committing the murders.”

“What do I get if I help you?”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

leklonthecurious:

@msastridmoreau

“I’m told you know how to hurt people. Could you possibly give me some pointers on that?”

“It’s a talent, yeah.” 

“So, who the fuck are you, who gave you my name, and who do you want to hurt?”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

guardianspike:

“Fuck sakes. Save me from Roza’s fucking obligations. She has them to everyone. Can’t she just be selfish like a normal person?” He filed away the nicknames, though it would seem odd to call them Superman and Robocop. He’d start having seriously impure thoughts about both and never be able to watch the movies ever again. He shrugged about her kid. “I call him Spud, mostly. He seems to like it. Makes a funny sort of smiley face and giggles. Grabs my fucking mustache though.” He laughed. “Is everyone in this town former military? Or just the decent ones?” Biblical shit was generally to be avoided. He could appreciate that. “To be honest, I’d avoid it too if I could. Except the part about kicking demon arse. That’s the only fucking perk of the job.”

“I fucking wish. She’s been like that for as long as I’ve known her.” Astrid knew that she was probably one of said obligations. She knew she wasn’t exactly an outstanding person, knew that she was hard to deal with on the best days, knew that Roza deserved better friends than her, but Roza would never voice it. She was too good for anyone in this shit town. “Spud,” she repeated with a snort. “Roza lets you call him that?” Imagining the baby pulling Spike’s mustache brought a grin to her face. It was a funny image. “That’s why I don’t have a mustache,” she quipped with a laugh. “Anyone worth knowing, yeah. Except maybe Roza and Alli; can’t imagine either of them in combat. That’s how I met the guys, though. Superman -- Jorge -- wandered into my room at the hospital. Never managed to shake him.” Of course, if she were being sappy, she’d probably say it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Without Jorge, she wouldn’t have made it through the last five years. “Honestly, that sounds like a fucking blast. Next time you get into a demon brawl, call me.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

guardianspike:

“Like I said, too fucking sheltered. Doesn’t know the level of arsehole that Krzysztof’s sunk to even exists. Just like bloody Roza all over again.” He would defend Niven against any kind of attack about her being crazy or stupid. She was nice and clever. Spike was confused about who Superman or Robocop were. “Like, in the fucking movies? I don’t think watching action movies is gonna fucking help.” Though Robocop was an excellent film. They still hadn’t made a decent Superman film, though the last one at least filled out the suit well. “Pretty much. Though I’m fucking regretting it in the case of Roza. Not that she’s not a decent girl, but dear God, she has problems, and her problems have bloody problems, and those problems have bloody problems.” He grinned. “So what do you while you’re drinking then?”

“I’m sure she’ll figure it out. I give him, like, a day before he shows her what a shit person he is. Maybe she’ll figure it out before she starts feeling the fucking obligation Roza feels for him. I hope so.” She didn’t know Niven, but if Spike said she was a good kid then she definitely didn’t deserve to put up with the likes of Chris. Astrid snorted, shaking her head. “Jorge and Sam,” she elaborated. She used her nicknames for them so often, she almost didn’t realize she was doing it. She was pretty sure they’d have heart attacks if she used their real names to their faces, and similarly, she couldn’t even remember the last time Jorge had called her Astrid. It had probably been years. “She’s got shitty luck,” Astrid agreed with a nod, feeling a pang of sympathy for Roza. The list of people she felt empathetic towards was short, but Roza was definitely on it. “It’s good she’s got somebody looking after her. Who can pronounce her kid’s name, even.” She’d pretty much just taken to calling the baby ‘kid’. Laughing, she shrugged. “Whatever the fuck I want,” she said cheekily. “I used to work at a shitty bookstore, but they shut it down a little while after the barrier fell. Was in the Air Force before that, but they discharged me. These days, I pretty much just hang around the bar and try to avoid getting involved in all this bible shit. No offense.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

baelandbrimstone:

“I can see that. I like a woman who’s prepared.” 

“Yeah, I’m like a fucking Boy Scout. Minus the shit uniform and homophobia.” 

[msastridmoreau-blog]

guardianspike:

“Guaranteed not, or she wouldn’t be at home trying to convince me to be nice to bloody Krzysztof. Why would anyone want to be nice to that idiot? Maybe. Might help. I mean, I told her just to, you know, do the whole touchy-feely thing and tell her little pink-haired friend how she feels and kiss her, but she’s all bloody nervous. It’s not that hard, but apparently she thinks it is.” He waved away the problem. Folly of youth. Either people liked you, and then you kept going, or they didn’t, and you moved on. Or they were Kana and you resented the hell out of her husband and wished you had the excuse to punch him in his no-doubt stupid face with terrible hair. “It’s not usually this - busy. It’s this bloody barrier business.” He also had to admit that he might be taking more of an interest in his humans’ affairs than usual. “What do you do, when you’re not drinking?”

Astrid snorted. “She wants you to be nice to him? Is she okay? Like, in the head.” That was the only excuse she could figure out for someone wanting to be nice to anyone like Chris. Astrid had never been shy about sex; even as a teenager, she’d pretty much just gone for it as long as the other person was attractive and into it. Romance had never really been her style; there’d been a few, but anything that required her to put that kind of trust into another person, anything that required her to be open and vulnerable and give someone the power to hurt her didn’t come easy. If this kid had a crush, that nervous feeling was more understandable than it would have been if she’d just been looking to get laid. “Well, if there’s touchy-feely shit I’m out. Get Superman or Robocop to help you out with that one. They’re better at it.” Jorge and Sam both had far more experience in the relationship department than Astrid, even if neither of their great romances had ended particularly well. “I guess that’ll do it. Might as well get involved in their personal lives; nothing else to do in this fucking town.” She chuckled at the question, raising a brow. “That assumes I ever stop drinking.”

[guardianspike]

“Not fucking literally. She’s just fucking sheltered. Don’t think she’s ever been drunk or kissed a girl. Both of which I’m trying to encourage, otherwise she might go in-fucking-sane and murder a bunch of people. It’s always the repressed ones that go round the fucking bend.” He sipped his drink and shrugged. “They don’t exactly get better when they get older.” He matched her salute and clinked his glass with her. “Cheers to that.” He’d never considered himself as having parents. Siblings, sort of. Bethor and him had always called each other brother and sister, but that was because of affection rather than an official connection.”I dunno. I explained the basic to a few kids. They tend to ask me. Not sure why. Guess they figure an angel would know or something. They usually just make a face and tell me it’s gross.”

[msastridmoreau-blog]

“Shit, she probably doesn’t even know what the fuck she’s missing out on. If you need someone to help you wingman, I’m damn good at it.” She and Jorge had been playing wingman for each other for five years now, so she had plenty of practice. “Yeah, that’s good to know, I guess.” Her brother had departed before he’d gotten out of his teens, and she’d long since lost hope that he’d return. Smiling, she took a long swig of her drink, the familiarity of the whiskey’s burn comforting her. “So, you’re a wingman, a sober companion, and a babysitter? Being a guardian angel must fucking suck. No offense.”

[baelandbrimstone-blog]

“Damn. You’re not kiddin’. Wouldn’t wanna be the murderer if he happened to get into your place.” 

[msastridmoreau-blog]

“Yeah, I don’t fucking fuck around. If somebody gets murdered in my house, it’s not gonna be me.”