Finished with my woman 'cause she couldn't help me with my mind
Who: Harry Dresden and Puppetnade
When: late Friday evening, Harry's room.
Summary: Tsunade's been acting off all week. Things don't add up, and Harry's gotten paranoid. When something pushes him past the edge, there'll be hell to pay by the thing impersonating Tsunade. The real question is... exactly how sure is he?
Warnings: Death, blood, all the usual good stuff. R rating.
Harry wasn't feeling his best. This week had been taking a toll on his usual detective's paranoia, and not knowing for sure who was actually who was an exhausting game of mental second guessing. Some of these things were obvious, others... he was catching little glimpses, little slip ups, and it was infuriating.
So maybe he was a bit stressed out.
So maybe he'd been firing tiny icicles into his ceiling for the last half hour, his left arm covered in white frost, his right holding a beer.
So sue him.
It was his ceiling. he thought it happened to look nicer this way.
Real men worry about drywall on the bedsheets later.
When: late Friday evening, Harry's room.
Summary: Tsunade's been acting off all week. Things don't add up, and Harry's gotten paranoid. When something pushes him past the edge, there'll be hell to pay by the thing impersonating Tsunade. The real question is... exactly how sure is he?
Warnings: Death, blood, all the usual good stuff. R rating.
Harry wasn't feeling his best. This week had been taking a toll on his usual detective's paranoia, and not knowing for sure who was actually who was an exhausting game of mental second guessing. Some of these things were obvious, others... he was catching little glimpses, little slip ups, and it was infuriating.
So maybe he was a bit stressed out.
So maybe he'd been firing tiny icicles into his ceiling for the last half hour, his left arm covered in white frost, his right holding a beer.
So sue him.
It was his ceiling. he thought it happened to look nicer this way.
Real men worry about drywall on the bedsheets later.